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mcjeetus0133 · 2 months ago

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Allout Monte is psychotically delusional

TW & MA/C Warning: This is an entire drama that pretty much has it all, insane schizo rantings, pedo/groomer allegations falling flat on its ass, death threats, promoting suicide, homophobia, potentially xenophobia and everything else in-between. As I've stated before, this isn't how I imagined I started out with the Tumblr content/news kind of things, but serious matters and accusations have ruined enough lives, and the fact that this was over a Fallout Mod of all things on something as baseless as "wokeness." It brings me great shame that I have to share the same space as these people. But the most important part is that they need to be called out and in the interest of time put to justice. So if you are someone who has sensitivity to these kinds of topics, this is your one and only warning.

Some time ago, I have written up a post that was aimed towards two faux YouTube Channels. One, was a unassuming YouTube Channel that reuploaded a slop piece that was a two year old video made by an associate of theirs that was a reminiscence of a one sided drama they never had a chance at winning it. The other, was a matter of fact, an impersonation channel that sought to relight the "Fallout: Ashfall Woke" Conspiracy by setting up a series of flaccid guerilla marketing stunts... by using a single half baked trailer that was heavily frowned upon by their own employers mind you. Thankfully by the time this is posted, this channel in question has been purged by the owner's choice *(and not that they failed the guerilla marketing campaign grift).

*(They failed the guerilla marketing campaign grift)

Speaking of employers, that is what I specifically want to talk about today, because what if I told you this can all be dumbed down to the world's most cringiest, mald-ifying temper tantrum ever witnessed in a lifetime? That is what we're here for today.

Today we're talking about the man behind the slaughter, the goofy goober behind the wheelie, Allout Monte.

I briefly talked about him previously upon the discovery of the two faulty channels, where I explained the need to knows on what had happened and what followers needed to beware of. And since Allout Monte appears to be deeply hellbent to clout chase harder than his failing reputation, it is only fair to give the people what they ask for, and that is what this post aims to do.

So once again, who is Allout Monte?

Detailed explanation

Allout Monte was a former Mod "Writer" who was partaking in a DLC-Sized Quest Mod, Fallout: Ashfall. And as previously mentioned he was kicked for inactivity- from a commonplace standpoint, may sound a little silly, maybe unhinged if the initial thought was that the inactivity was only... thirty minutes at worst. But Allout Monte would be inactive for four to five months.

- Detailed recollection of the former lead's rules & what happened

From a very detailed discussion with the former lead dev of this matter, it has been said that Allout Monte would be absent in a range of four to five months. Without warning. In an environment where it is ill advised to be unavailable and/or absent without the immediate notification of your higher-ups so your team can adjust, adapt, and overcome these changes early. With various attempts to reach out to the writer and failing, on top of the growing failures of attending dev meetings, responding to anyone's DMs, nor an explanation as to why or any potential signs he would return. With five months of absence plaguing a team of 30 that'll potentially turn into 29 working on a DLC-Sized Quest Mod, you can take a wild guess on what kind of response was on the table at that time. And that's what happened. He got the DM saying that Allout Monte himself was done & dusted, and the rest was total history. So it would have seem would've been total history. Because the response Allout Monte gave out to the Ashfall Team was...

Eye-opening. To say the least.

As you can obviously see, this was Allout's aftermath response, and he proceeded to do just that. Make an entire hate campaign over the fact that he got kicked out for doing absolutely nothing on the Fallout: Ashfall Project while masking it under the guise that his own creations would be labeled as "Woke" when in reality Allout Monte could might as well be the most laziest writer in the world. Which he did not do alone by the way, Allout was the main figurehead for this, working with another figurehead that spearheaded the hate campaign. In a amalgamation of fortunately and unfortunately, this is not about him, as I have promised a year until that story. (which is really a long one, fairly)

youtube

His contribution to the entire hate campaign towards the former Fallout: Ashfall Lead Dev, can only be described as a bitter and morbid irony of hypocritical irony. One of the ways that Allout Monte contributed to this campaign, was AI Generated Content. Allout Monte would make a compilation of various mad-lib'd videos that were AI Generated and designed for hate towards AshfallDude. Under an alternative channel that called themselves How2Exist Pranks and Tutorials. Below & above, is one such example that was "cordially borrowed" by a Archive Channel who had archived several of his AI Generated works among other things that you can see for yourself if you want.

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He would later be exposed for this as you can tell for he had forgotten to remove his watermark that showed his IRL "Creator Name," and like the world's worst liar, you can imagine how that went. On a Livestream.

Allout Monte would proceed to destroy the existence of that channel, and hide away from the internet for what would seem like forever. Somewhat.

This would be eventually shortlived in regards to a much deeper rabbit hole that comes into play. In a twist of events, there are various other alts that Allout Monte has created.

On the Twitter side of things, (because of course Twitter,) Allout Monte ran several accounts and one very prominent schizo stands out who is called Sneedclave Anonymous. This Sneedclave Anonymous has gone on to do various slop piece posts all with the similar purpose of libel to slander the former lead dev, AshfallDude. Ranging from derranged takes of being autistic, Jewish, or the signature SRS slander of bisexual or trans and groomer assumptions, or sending suicide threats directly with no holdbacks for those really spicy moments.

"SneedA" would always make these ludicrous claims and all that 90% of those would take for them to be debunked was ten additional seconds of thinking. Or in this case, a compilation of various ratios. The one thing in common with Sneed, H2E, and even the first faux channel I mentioned, is the hilarious way of how they deny, deflect, then self report harder that these channels are in fact Allout Monte.

Because if it's not blatant denial that portrays itself as the world's worst form of blatant denial, it is either deflection, more indications that they are way more schizophrenic than they should be, and my personal favorite honorable dishonor of witnessing the cringe of. Shameless dickriding, self-advertising, and unabashed self-plugging of their content and their one video that is apparently the "end all."

When in reality all it is was just a glorified yap session guide on how to say "nu-uh."

Regardless the similarities are painfully striking. The same demeanors, hostility, and the fact that the only resources on the table for them to spam is Allout Monte's shamelessly cringe response. And the worst part is this is not even mentioning his entire friend circle who is just as schizophrenic, just as psychotic, and equally cringe.

One hilarious example being someone who goes by Abrams or simply AehabCries or akin, who was known for writing disgusting fanfictions of AshfallDude, and even going as far as to call him a yandere with zero evidence to provide for. So, very ironic that the clowns at @FalloutAshfallWokeness is taking it upon themselves to make the accusations that Aehab was being harassed by AshfallDude when he never bothered to answer why he writes fanfictions of him without his knowledge.

Another being Cellblock Psycho the current *"Lead" who you would think would support a former lead going through all of this, but basically not only allowed these kinds of people to join in on these projects, but also believed every word of it and threw AshfallDude under the bus every chance they got, whether it is in terms of providing evidence, alleviating troubles, or even just a atom's worth of practical fucking support. They wouldn't even bother just asking if he was doing fine and instead say that baseless accusations were being thrown towards the assailants and not the other way around.

*(Because let's face it ever since this near two-year discourse happened, all they really care about now is keeping this drama going, because they couldn't be competent or fucked enough to actually work on and finish the actual project they wanted to save it from the "wokeness" that apparently plagued the project compared to two writers who got the chance to ratio a AI slop chud. Now they did, and yet, here we are.)

I can keep going on and on about such madness, but the fact remains the same: you are the company you keep. And Allout Monte, picked the ones that are always going to mark him as the most insufferable Fallout Mod Community writer of the community.

As of today and later on in the interest of time, Allout Monte and whoever remains will be doing a one sided schizo "investigation" on AshfallDude for not only being bisexual, but also being a fake gamer and... Jewish...? For whatever fuckass reason. Which at this point par for the course now that not only him and his entire group are known to falsely accuse people of being groomers and bisexual trans people because they put a black character in the mod, they are now going down as the most antisemitic group in the community. So much for being the heroes of your own story if this is how it ends all because you didn't want to accept the fact that you got kicked for putting zero contributions and doing jack shit to the project you were trusted in doing- and not only that, get discovered that the credibility of writer got destroyed because you were playing AI dolls and dressup in the backrooms.

But that doesn't matter. As long as AshfallDude falls, right Allout Monte? If it means that non-existent reputation of yours gets restored?

Fun fact: I know you are already reading this Mr. Monte. Because I have posted this entire story everywhere, and I mean everywhere. So on paper, you can't hide from what you really are and what you'll always be. Which is the best part because whatever you type down on that keyboard of yours or your ChatGPT will just be used against you no matter what. It'll just confirm everything in this story, alongside whatever else AshfallDude, or whoever else is willing to kick your ass to the curb has to say about it. You'd rather deflect it, gaslight it, spin this another way, that's only gonna hit your ass on your way out the door. And if you decide to maybe try to silence this, or the offchance that if you "wish it" it'll "disappear." Well you already know how it'll end. And if you don't remember... convenient, saves me the trouble too. It'll make the year wait worth it if you ask me and that cope addiction much spicier.

But that wraps up this entire story at least. Wanted to talk about it because well, hate speech is hate speech, and none of that was gonna fly today. This will be the only post I'm making about this for a while, and that's pretty much wraps, everything you need to know about Allout Monte is in this post. The videos, the links, all of it. This entire post is the one stop shop for all of that, and I hope the general public spreads the word about it. Because Allout Monte is insufferable and so are the people that have supported him this far into the end.

Anyways, that was pretty much about it.

See you around, Monte.

#drama #controvercial #controversial #fonv #fallout new vegas mods #fallout new vegas #fallout mods #news #Fo:Ash Hate Campaign Flop #Youtube

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noteguk · 4 years ago

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bad attitude | jjk | m

[ ! ] this is part of the bad influence collection. You can read it as a stand-alone though!

— summary; in which Jungkook finally learns how to behave. Kind of.

— contents and warnings; pwp, smut, badboy!jk x goodgirl!reader, enemies with benefits/enemies to lovers, brattysub!kook x dom!reader, actually more of a switch!kook/switch!reader, the oc is kind of a demon with teasing because payback is a bitch, bondage, edging, dirty talk, begging, oral (m receiving), female masturbation, cockwarming, unprotected sex (don’t be dumb), creampie, stuffing, Taehyung makes a cameo, terrible use of the two wolves meme I’m so sorry

— words; 7,2k

— author’s note; yes I started this with a meme and no I’m not okay. This is kind of chaotic tbh but I wanted to write something a bit more unhinged and lighthearted after all that drama from the third part of the series. This happens some time after bad reputation.

Also! Take a look at the text messages that brought them to this moment ;)

Probably one of the dumbest things that Jungkook had ever heard came from his roommate and childhood friend, Taehyung, after a few hours scrolling through Facebook with a blunt hanging from the corner of his lips. Taehyung was in the deep web equivalent of social media: entrepreneur pages, where young, overly-dressed men with obviously rented convertibles promised to teach gullible people how to become millionaires by working at home (if you only pay for their courses). Nevertheless, what started as an ironic scroll through shallow motivational quotes quickly escalated into a semi-believable, mostly high rant about the importance of controlling your inner demons, which Jungkook sadly had to endure, since he was the only person around and, therefore, his roommate's sole target.

Taehyung was high out of his mind, but it seemed as if he would be the last to get that memo: in his twisted conception, he was spilling the hottest of truths (and not the incoherent ramble that it really was). Fighting through Jungkook’s complaints and eye rolls, he simply went on and on about how the page “Alpha Billionaire 101” wasn’t really that off beat when they said that you do, in fact, have two wolves inside you — and the one you feed is the one that wins. Jungkook was basically disassociating by the point that Taehyung started drawing some graphs, looking fixedly at the two wolves on the screen of his computer (one written “success and drive” and the other one representing “failure and procrastination”) and wishing that the gods above would strike him down once and for all.

And why is that important? Well, because eventually Taehyung fell asleep and moved on with his life, only casually mentioning the other stuff he saw on that page, but his words stuck around, glued to the back of Jungkook’s head. Not because they held any sort of meaning, but because the wolf metaphor was just too stupid to forget. And that eventually caught up to Jungkook in the strangest, most unexpected of ways: with you and bondage being involved.

Now, Jungkook had two wolves inside of him: one was extremely laid back and barely cared about most things that happened, as long as he was having a good time. The second wolf was a bitter, prideful, egocentric, mean little thing that simply wouldn’t fold no matter how much the world wanted it to. And it was that second wolf that took him to that position: because Jungkook told you that he was positive, certain, a hundred percent sure that he’d never be like you and beg for something during sex.

Which made both of your wolves absolutely pissed.

“What the fuck…” he mumbled, looking up at your agile hands moving like wasps around his wrists. The room was dark, barely illuminated by the moonlight that came from the window, but that wasn’t really the reason why his pupils were so blown-out. “Where did you learn to tie knots like this?”

You smiled, giving a last pull on the ropes to make sure they would stay still. Jungkook had been elated when you finally told him that you’d be willing to try it out bondage. One thing he didn’t expect, though, was that he would be the one getting tied up. “I was in the Girl Scouts,” you told him, sitting back against his thighs.

Jungkook scoffed, tugging at the ropes. They weren’t too tight, yet they burned his skin a bit — not an unwelcome feeling, but his mind wasn’t too focused on it. He had to live up to his own words. “Of course you were in the fucking Girl Scouts.” He rolled his eyes. “So, how long is this gonna take?”

His gaze followed as your hands unclasped your bra. Jungkook, who had already been stripped down to his boxers, could barely disguise the twitching of his eyebrows when your breasts finally came into view. The bra collapsed somewhere on the floor. “Depends on how long it takes for you to say it,” you reminded him.

Jungkook shifted around, gaze following the rise and fall of your chest. His hands struggled against the ropes, aching to touch your breasts, and you could notice the frustration blossoming at the back of his throat when he spoke up. “I’m not gonna say it.”

With a pout, you leaned back in, placing your hands on his broad chest for leverage. “Then it’s probably going to take a long time.” You blinked up at him, and there was a devilish glint in your eyes that he didn’t remember seeing before. He was doomed. “Comfortable?”

“Not at all,” he complained.

The smile you gifted him made his knees weak for a second. “Perfect.” Your hands traveled to the back of his neck, fingers playing with his hair and eyes zeroing in on his mouth. “Now, be good and kiss me like you mean it, okay?”

Be good?

Jungkook didn’t get any time to digest your words before your mouth was pressing against his, enveloping him in your warmth — and suddenly he didn’t want to think about anything else. How could he? When you had your hands caressing his neck, with a soft sigh against his lips, there was nothing else in the world that could rob his attention.

In the end, past his brooding, unshakable persona, Jungkook was still a weak man when it came to you, he really was. It had become a natural, well-rehearsed reaction of his to explore your mouth with his tongue at every chance that he got; your lips slapping together as he groaned against you. The skin of his wrists was tingling, pressing hard against the ropes that held his hands back from exploring your body; from pulling you closer like he wanted to. Instead, he was at your mercy, following your own pace as you leaned your head to the side, fingers tugging on his hair as you sighed happily into the kiss.

It was exactly the way he liked: sensual, slow, messy; made his head spin when you rolled your clothed center on his erection before sucking on his tongue. Jungkook was sure that you were doing all that on purpose, riling him up as much as possible before finally touching him where he needed so much, and that was definitely going to be a problem.

In the back of his head, Jungkook was currently trying to decide if he hated Taehyung or not: the fact that his roommate had compulsively chosen to attend a party three hours away was the reason that you were there, kissing him like he was the air that you breathed, but also the reason why Jungkook had gotten tied up in the first place. If he had had a bit more time between texting you that he would never beg in sex (a very dumb, very unthought action), and the moment that you actually tried to make it happen, perhaps he would be able to convince you to step down from it. Perhaps he would realize that his prideful side was also really, really fucking stupid when it came to predicting his own limits.

Truth was: Jungkook was pretty much panicking when you moaned against his lips, because his cock was unbearably hard inside his underwear and he just knew that he would fold after some time. Especially when you were acting like that, like a demon trying to seduce him into selling his soul; a siren about to drag him to the abyssal depths of the ocean. He could barely follow what was happening.

Because of his dominating tendencies, Jungkook had never seen you showing your typical neurotic, controlling self during your sexual adventures — which was something he endlessly teased you for, but never thought it would actually have any sort of backlash. It seemed that both of you liked the usual dynamic (of Jungkook taking over) well enough and, yet, as he watched that sadistic expression monopolizing your features, he realized that maybe it was for the best. Maybe you had been training your whole life to perfect the masterful art of having things happening the way you wanted it, and maybe giving you the lead was one of the worst decisions he had made in some time.

As you pulled away, Jungkook chased after your mouth, managing to place another small kiss on your lips before the ropes held him back. “More,” he groaned.

The curve of your mouth was a wicked little thing, almost making him lose his composure for a second. “No, no more,” you were firm in your words. “Be patient.”

He huffed. “You only got an attitude because my hands are tied up.”

“I always have an attitude,” you were fast to correct, getting out of his lap. The lack of your warmth was instantly felt, made his chest heave in frustration as you sat down next to him. There was an embarrassingly large wet spot on his underwear that he was hoping you wouldn’t notice. “But, yeah, maybe I’m a little braver because of it.” Before he could muster up a response, one of your hands traveled between his thighs, faintly tracing its way up his skin. “And what are you going to do about it?”

Jungkook clenched his jaw — it was embarrassing how sensitive he was, goosebumps spreading through his legs. “Don’t tease."

“Or what?” A squeeze of his bulge was everything you need to make him shut up, his hips buckling up to meet your palm. Jungkook was hard and leaking, pulsating as you gave him a few, half-assed pumps through his underwear. A few seconds were more than enough to let him have his fun, it seemed, because you were soon removing your hand from his erection. “Now, stay still unless you want me to tie your feet too.”

He hissed at the lack of contact, but refused to complain about it out loud. You smiled at his reaction: Jungkook was so stubborn when it came to things like that, would never show you his weak, needy side so easily. But you were patient and, from what you had been told, you had all night to get your way.

Call it revenge, call it whatever: there was nothing that you wanted more than to see Jungkook bite back his own words and beg for you. It was an ego thing, perhaps, the mission to leave him just as overwhelmed and desperate as he had made you so many times in the past. Maybe you were a bit mean about it. But it was well deserved.

You took your time pulling one of his legs towards you, watching as his cock throbbed when you placed your body between his thighs. Jungkook could only think about how soft your mouth felt as you kissed up his thigh before, at last, you were nuzzling your face against his erection, placing kisses on his clothed member as your thumb pressed down on his sensitive tip. His breath grew irregular at the feeling, his tongue poking out to wet his lips as you looked up at him with that demonic smirk of yours, those big doe eyes that wiped his thoughts clean. Jungkook was absolutely fucked.

Luckily, he didn’t have to urge you further because, soon enough, you were pulling his underwear down, making it join your bra on his bedroom floor. Jungkook could’ve cried when you rolled your thumb over his crown, spreading his precum all over him, a delighted hum dripping past your throat. “You’re leaking,” you commented, eyes following the glistening of his reddened tip. He could only muster a raggedy, short sigh before you were talking again. “I can clean you up, don’t worry.”

Jungkook moaned out when you wrapped your lips around his cock, not hesitating much before you sank down on him. His head fell back when you started sucking, your cheeks hollowing out and tongue pressed flat against him. “God, your mouth feels so fucking perfect.” His hips thrusted up, but you had enough of a reflex to pull away before he managed to hit the back of your throat. “Take it deeper, baby, do it for me.”

But you did the opposite, removing him from your mouth. You glanced up at him with a disinterested look plastered all over your face, lips glossy with a beautiful mixture of your saliva and his wetness. Jungkook made a mental note to never forget that sight. “I don’t know if you understand what’s going on here, Jungkook.” You wrapped one hand around his cock, pumping it twice. It felt good, but nothing compared to your mouth. “But it’s really not your place to tell me what to do right now. That’s not how it works.”

“Yeah?” He chuckled, eyebrows raised in a silent dare. “And what are you going to do about it?”

Poor decisions: Jungkook’s week was filled with poor decisions. Blame that unshakable arrogant side of his, blame his terribly constructed defense mechanisms; blame whatever it was that didn’t allow him to think clearly when you were so beautifully placed between his legs, but it seemed that he really thought it would be a good call to provoke you when you were already 1) deadset on making him embarrass himself 2) probably the best Girl Scout to ever tie a knot in history.

Jungkook was completely helpless: he knew that, you knew that. So the reason why he mocked you in such a position would forever be another mystery that science could never answer.

And the payback arrived soon enough. Jungkook only earned a few seconds of relaxation, staring at your impassive face, before your mouth was sinking back down around his member.

If Jungkook thought that you were teasing him before, now you were sucking him like you wanted him to cum in two seconds — hands pumping his length, playing with his balls, tip hitting your throat, tongue dragging against his slit: the four horsemen of your apocalyptic blowjob technique that got him seeing stars in no time. “Fuck, that’s my girl,” he moaned. He was sure his wrists would be all red in the following morning from the way he was mindlessly moving his arms around, his mind just so hyper-focused on the need to touch you, to pull your hair when you were wrapping around his cock so well. “Feels so fucking perfect.”

Then, as he was just about to tip over, you pulled away.

“No, what the fuck,” Jungkook’s eyes snapped open, still unfocused and glazed-over. His body flinched at the interruption of his pleasure, and his cock throbbing against his pelvis, angry for attention. “Fuck, why did you stop?”

“That’s what I’m going to do about it.” You smiled, and Jungkook noticed that he was really playing a very dangerous game. In a span of two seconds, he asked himself if he was that mean to you, realized that he probably was, and came to terms with the fact that he wouldn’t change anything about it. “Are you going to behave now, Jungkook?”

He groaned, fighting against the frustrated waves that overtook his body. His orgasm, before so close, had now been washed away, leaving him with a pulsating feeling inside his guts. “You’re pissing me off.”

“Likewise.” You tilted your head to the side, placing one hand on his thigh. “Now, stay still and do what I tell you to do. That’s the last time I’m asking.”

He frowned. “Or what?”

You blinked, pausing for a second. “Isn’t it obvious? Or I’m leaving you like this.”

Jungkook’s brain finally seemed to comprehend the fact that, sometimes, it’s better to keep your mouth shut. So, instead of saying something, he simply watched as you removed your underwear before sitting between his legs, your thighs over his.

Because you absolutely hated him, you had opened your legs wide, pussy on full display, as you used one hand to lean back against the mattress. His eyes almost jumped out of their sockets when you used two fingers to spread your folds apart. “Look,” you said, your breathy voice making something inside his chest switch. “I’m so wet.”

And wet you were. Jungkook exhaled, nostrils flaring. His mouth salivated at the thought of licking you clean, fingers growing white around the ropes. He never hated an object so hard in his life. “I can… I can see that.”

You giggled at the grogginess of his tone, dove into the satisfaction that came from his focused eyes on your soaked folds. A gentle suspire left you as your digits slipped up, covering your clit with your arousal before pressing down on it. You were acting up a bit, whining loudly at the feeling because you knew that it drove him crazy to hear you make sounds for him. “Jungkook…” you trailed off. You had to bite back a laugh when his stare snapped up at you, looking so overwhelmingly horny and pissed off at the same time — the duality of men. “Want to have you inside me.”

He exhaled heavily. “Do it,” he said and you allowed him to think that it was his order (and not your decision) that made you move.

Jungkook’s pupils were blown out in sheer desire, wanting to absorb every light that bounced off your soft skin when you lined yourself with his cock, covering his tip with your warm wetness, allowing it to rub between your folds. By the time that you sat down on him, he was dangerously close to cracking.

“Oh fuck.” His hips thrusted up, wanting to feel more of your tight walls around him. It was heaven and hell, just the way he loved it, but his delight wouldn’t last long. “Fuck, baby, that feels so good.”

“It does,” you agreed, but there was a teasing inflection in your tone that he did not miss. Soon, your fingers were back where they were before, circling your clit. “And I happen to know how to make it even better. For myself, at least.”

It took him a few moments to understand what was going on, but, once it clicked inside his head, he could’ve cried from frustration. “What are you doing?”

“Getting myself off.” You smiled — oh you were such a fucking demon, he thought, a trickster spirit that wouldn’t rest until he was begging you to let him cum. Worst part? He might as well do it. “You don’t mind, do you? I know you love to keep your cock inside me like this.”

They say that revenge is sweet and, as you saw the flash of desperation that crossed Jungkook’s face, you couldn’t agree more. “Aren’t… aren’t you going to move?” He tried.

You could tell that he was holding back from just thrusting up inside you, which was equally satisfying and arousing: maybe, just maybe, he was starting to learn one thing or two about following your orders. “Hmmm… not at all.” You smirked, a tiny gasp leaving your lips as you circled your sensitive spot just the right way. Jungkook followed the movement of your lips as if they were writing the secrets of the universe. “Not if you keep that attitude up.”

He frowned, the corners of his mouth twitching in frustration. From your peripheral vision, you could see his wrists vaguely struggling against your knots — humbly speaking, you were a great Girl Scout, the typical overachiever, and you were positive that they would hold up.

“You’re going to regret this later,” Jungkook warned, but his words didn’t even have the chance to affect you. One clenching of your walls around him was all that it took for his head to roll back, a deep grunt dripping from his mouth at the sensation. It was just enough to keep him dangling over the edge, but not even close to making him cum. “Your pussy is so fucking tight, baby. Feels so fucking good.”

“I’m almost there, that’s why.” Your other hand slithered up your waist, cupping one of your breasts. Being a bit more theatrical than necessary (because you wanted to provoke him as much as you could), you gasped out his name as you rolled one nipple between your fingers, arching your back at the sensation. You swore you saw Jungkook’s eye twitch. “Gonna cum just like this. And you’re gonna be good and watch me.”

Again with that be good bullshit, again not giving him enough time to process it before you were timidly rolling your hips. “Baby,” he gasped. “This isn’t fair.”

“It isn’t,” you agreed, slightly breathless, your hand moving to play with your other breast. Jungkook followed the action like every part of you was magnetic, calling for his attention. “You do that to me all the time, though.”

He frowned. “But I let you fucking touch me.”

“How nice of you,” you sarcastically remarked. Another small roll of your hips made you gasp, fingers working faster around your clit. Teasing Jungkook got you shamefully turned on, it seemed, because you were just about to tip over the edge. “Fuck, feels so good.”

“It would feel so much better if you just— God, you’re so fucking wet,” his mind was barely functioning at that point, the heavenly feeling of your walls clenching around him was making him go insane. “Just ride my cock, baby.”

“No,” that simple word was like an arrow, shooting all his hopes down. Jungkook closed his eyes and threw his head back, trying to fight against the claustrophobic nature of his position. There was no way he could hold himself back, he thought, he would beg you as many times as he needed it that was what it took for him to finally cum. “I’m close, Kook.”

That whimpery, needy tone of yours would be the death of him one of those days. “I can fucking feel it,” he cursed. Jungkook just wanted to thrust inside your dripping pussy, make you cream his cock like you were made for it, but he knew that you would just stop everything again if he did so, and he seriously didn’t think he could take that. “S-Shit, baby, you don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

But you had a good idea of how you were affecting him. Through parted lids, you watched as his face contorted in pleasure when you squeezed particularly tightly around him; a muffled sob perishing on his throat when you vaguely raised your hips. Jungkook was filling you up so perfectly, like he always did, and it was that amazing stretch of his cock inside you, combined with the clear hunger that covered his features, that pulled your climax towards you.

The orgasm that washed over you was abrupt, overbearing, just blinding enough so you didn’t notice the weak little moans that Jungkook let out at the throbbing of your walls around his aching length. You tried to prolong it for as long as possible, rubbing yourself, crying out his name for theatrical reasons, but eventually sensitivity got the best of you and you stopped.

What you found when you did, however, was a glorious sight. Jungkook was a perfect picture of lust and desperation, his chest rising and falling rapidly and eyes locked on where your two bodies joined. There was a thin coat of sweat all over his skin, the small sound of the ropes pulling on the headboard. When he noticed you were staring, he found your gaze. “I- I stood still,” he said.

“I know, you did so good.” You placed one hand on his cheek, leveling your face with his so you could kiss him. Jungkook melted under your touch, a deep sigh leaving his mouth as you pulled away, his cock still deep inside you. “I’m proud of you.”

As if something had magically changed, Jungkook tried to fight against his immobilized hands, only to find out that he was still unable to free himself. “Wanna touch you so bad, baby. You look so fucking hot sitting on my cock like this.” Jungkook was spoiled, you realized, because it didn’t take him two seconds of good behavior to revert back to what he wanted to happen. It was a terrible habit, you realized, one that you probably helped enable. “Fuck, just let me cum, baby. Take these off and I’ll fuck you just the way you like it.”

And maybe if you weren’t so high up in your power rush, you would’ve at least considered his offer. However, having Jungkook turned into a pliant mess beneath you was worth more than anything else at that moment. “I’ll think about it if you say the magic word.”

He frowned, his charm melting away. Jungkook was so adamant on having it his way that it bordered on a joke. “Not gonna do it.”

You kissed him once again before speaking up. “Then we don’t have a deal.” You shook your head, moving away from him. Jungkook searched after your mouth, but your stupid Girl Scouts knots didn’t allow him to go much further. He collapsed back against the headboard with a frustrated groan. “You’re a terrible sub.”

“Maybe because I’m not a fucking sub— Shit.” All his thoughts were wiped clean when you slowly raised your hips, only leaving his engorged tip inside, before, finally, sitting back down. The drag of your velvety walls against his sensitive cock was driving Jungkook up the wall, his tied-up wrists mindlessly knocking against each other. “Fuck. I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” You pouted, repeating the movement. You watched as his jaw clenched, a sharp exhale leaving his nostrils as Jungkook both fought against and searched for his pleasure. “Sure you don’t wanna say it?”

A deliciously slow roll of your hips got him gasping out. “I’m not gonna — fuck — not gonna say it.”

You leaned your head to the side, stopping your movements. Jungkook’s abdomen was caving in with every small brush of your pussy around him, the illumination from the streets making the drops of sweat on his skin look like small diamonds. It was an erotic sight, from the falling of his dark hair over his hooded eyes, to the beautiful inked drawings on his arms. Unfortunately, you had other things to do other than to admire him endlessly.

With a sigh, you got up from his lap. “Too bad.”

“Baby,” Jungkook whined — actually whined — when he felt his cock slip out of your perfect heat, collapsing against his abdomen. The sensation got him flinching, made him bite his lip for a second in an attempt to compose himself. “Baby, don’t leave me like this, come on.”

You frowned, faking annoyance. “How can I not leave you like this, Jungkook?” Your palms slithered around his shoulders, pulling your body closer to his. “You’re being horrible right now.”

“S-Sorry.” His breath caught in his throat when your mouth met the skin of his neck, tongue prodding out to lick a small trail up his skin. Your heat was unbearable, suffocating him and drowning out his thoughts to the point that he had really apologized for his poor demeanor. If your predictions were correct, it wouldn’t take long before he folded the way you wanted him to. “Just, come on, you can’t just— I’m just so hard right now.”

You giggled, fingertips moving down on his chest until you found what you were looking for. “Aw. Poor thing,” you teased, feeling as he grew stiff when you started to play with his nipples. A few weeks back, you had made the wonderful and unexpected discovery that Jungkook was really sensitive there, but you never really had a chance to explore that side of him before he flipped you over and had you his way. But the universe always searched for balance, and that moment was the karmic payback you were looking for. “What’s the problem, Kook?”

“Wanna cum.” He winced away from your faint caresses, but he really didn’t have anywhere else to go. A smirk curled up on your lips as you watched Jungkook fight against the knots, a frail, airy moan leaving his chest as you rolled his nipples between your fingers. He sounded so perfect: so needy and desperate that you could feel another gush of arousal accumulating between your folds. “Just wanna cum so bad, baby.”

“I’m not gonna be mean and hold it off,” you told him, moving back so you could place a kiss against his pouty, swollen lips. Jungkook looked so beautifully messy, so on edge, that you almost cried out at the sight of it. “You just have to say it,” you told him, lowering your hips until you were straddling his cock.

With a roll of your pussy against him, his cock brushed between your wet folds, tearing a broken sob from his throat. “Fuck,” Jungkook cursed. He was never in a position like that: edged for so long that he couldn’t even control the grunts that left his throat. “You’re so fucking evil.”

“You love it.” Another grind of your pussy had him throwing his head back, a loud moan ripping itself from his heaving chest. Jungkook was sensitive, responsive to the tiniest of your touches and, most of all: he was desperate, seconds away from cracking. “You know, if you say it, I’ll let you cum.”

His cock throbbed against you when you finally stopped your movements, raising your hips so your center moved away from his. Jungkook complained at the lack of sensation, practically on the limit of throwing a tantrum, and his pelvis mindlessly buckling up in search of your warmth. Instead, he found nothing, and his member simply collapsed back against his abdomen, aching for its release.

“This— This is torture,” he groaned. You giggled at his distress, taking one hand to brush away the sweaty hair from his forehead. Jungkook leaned into your touch. “Please, baby, just fuck me.”

Your ears perked up at that, a pool of arousal starting to grow between your legs. That sounded even better than you had predicted. “Sorry, what was that?” You teased.

Jungkook closed his eyes, clenching his jaw. “Don’t make me say it again.”

Slowly, you lowered your hips again, pressing your pussy against his cock. Jungkook reacted instantly, taking in a sharp inhale. “Didn’t hear you,” you said.

“God, baby, just fuck me, please,” he finally broke down, his dazed-out gaze seemed to have some trouble focusing on your face. Desperation was plastered all over him, staring at you like a beautiful, shimmering trophy. “Please, just let me cum. Please.”

You hummed, leaning away so you could sit on his thighs, facing his erection. You were a woman of your word: you said you wouldn’t hold it back, and you wouldn’t. “Since you asked so nicely…” you trailed off, one hand wrapping around his base, pumping him a few times. Jungkook throbbed in your hands, his abdomen sinking as your thumb grazed his sensitive crown. “Where do you wanna cum?”

It looked like you had truly broken the poor boy down because, for the first time in his life, Jungkook didn’t have any idea on how to answer that question. “I- I don’t know,” he struggled to speak when your hand was still caressing his member: just enough for him to feel something, but too slow and light for him to actually cum. “Anywhere. Just wanna cum.”

You pouted, letting his cock go. It bounced on his pelvis, tore a painful cry from his throat as he felt his pleasure wash away once again. “I need an answer, Kook.”

And he said the first thing that came into his mind. “Your pussy, baby, please.”

A smile tugged on your lips — it seemed as if that word wasn’t so hard to say anymore. “Of course, you’ve been so good.” You moved around until you were sinking down on him, feeling that fantastic stretch all over again, and earning a shaky moan from his part. You only spoke up again after you were sure he couldn’t go any deeper. “Kook?” You called. His pleading eyes shot up at you. “Wanna fuck me?”

He breathed out, just a tremulous gush of air that he could barely get ahold of. “Y-Yes, yes, please.”

You hummed, wiggling your ass around just so you could watch his face contort in despair, crumbling under the delicious drag of your plump walls around his cock. Jungkook almost looked cute, you dared to think, even if you were sure he would fold you in half the second that he got those ropes off. It was like teasing a tiger in a zoo: people only felt brave enough to do it because there was a thick glass between them. “You better do it, then,” you told him.

After everything you had put him through, Jungkook seemed almost hesitant to do so. “C-Can I move?” He asked, just to be sure. Last thing he needed was to do something wrong and have you walking out on him. His cock was so hard, leaking inside you, and he didn’t believe that he could handle being left like that.

“Of course,” you told him, the tenderness of your voice so different from what you sounded like all night. Jungkook was still on the palm of your hand, but your victory when it came to making him beg had already been achieved. So you could relax and let him do the heavy lifting for once. Being active was exhausting sometimes. “Come on, Kook,” you egged him on, leaning forward so you could find support on his chest. You knew what was coming. “Fuck me.”

That seemed to be the last spark he needed to ignite his fire because, soon enough, he was placing both feet on the mattress and thrusting upwards, your body collapsing forward under the force of his movements. Jungkook barely gave you any time to breathe: he fucked you fast and deep, helped by the gravity of your weight above him; shallow breaths and noisy whines leaving his mouth in a beautiful cacophony of sounds. It wasn’t long before he was making you bounce on his cock, pretty moans melting upon your lips as you fought to keep your balance over him.

“B-Baby,” Jungkook stammered, an airy, high-pitched moan sounding from his parted mouth. His brain was utterly bewildered by the movement of your body above his own, the bouncing of your breasts and the wild fluttering of your eyelashes. And those moans, those gorgeous, ethereal little sounds that you reserved just for him. “S-So perfect. All mine.”

“All yours,” you said promptly, struggling to meet his gaze. No matter how much you tried, you could not follow the speed of his thrusts, so you simply kept your body in place as he used it as he pleased. “Is this what you wanted?”

He nodded, mouth falling open. His lips were pouty and swollen, slightly red from the way he had bitten them before. “Wanna cum,” he breathed out, “inside you.”

No pretty please, you realized. Perhaps it wasn’t your best call to ask him to fuck you, because it dawned on you that you had just handed Jungkook his esteemed control back on a silver platter. That started simply as a doubt in the corners of your mind, however, you were sure that you had lost that battle once his needy whimpers started to wash away, instead replaced by the guttural, rough groans that he usually presented to you.

Not that you truly cared about it: you had already proven your point.

His head leaned to the side, pressing against his elevated arm. Jungkook was hypnotized by the way that your bodies met, the way you held yourself up so he could fuck himself inside you. You were always so good for him. “Your pussy feels so fucking amazing, baby,” Jungkook moaned out, hips snapping up against yours. A hiss dripped from his mouth when he felt you clench around him, signaling that you were close once again. “Look so pretty. Made for my cock.”

“Y-Yes,” you stammered, head falling back. You could feel that familiar tingling at the bottom of your stomach, your orgasm ready to snap once more. Jungkook always fucked you so well, even when his hands were tied up, always left your brain scrambling after the most basic of words. “I’m c-close.”

Jungkook tried once more to pull at his restraints, but it simply wouldn’t bulge. The contrast between the red ropes and the dark ink decorating his skin was beautiful, the veins of his hands getting thicker as tugged again and again. Jungkook was beyond the realms of reason by that point, struggling like a caged animal because there was nothing else in the world that he wanted more than to touch; to suck your breasts and to fuck you the way he wanted to. “Gonna cum too, baby,” his voice was almost a roar, deep and frustrated. It shot straight up to your core, made you tip over the edge and come down spasming around his cock, your high washing over you. “That’s it, cream my cock,” he praised. In the background of your overwhelmed state, you could feel as his member throbbed inside you, ready to release. “Take everything for me, alright? Wanna fill you up.”

You barely had any time to nod before he was spilling himself inside you, a long, throaty moan dripping like sin from his lips. Jungkook tried to keep his movements up for a bit longer, delighting himself in the way you winced at the feeling, but even he had grown too tired to continue it. So, at last, he collapsed back against the mattress, sweaty hair falling over his eyes.

“Get up,” he commanded, breathless. “Let me see it.”

With shaky movements, you did as he requested, planting one hand on his thigh so you could raise your body. His cock slipped out at the motion, already softening, but his gaze was stuck on the gradual dripping of his cum between your pussy lips. As much as you were used to that specific request, it always made your legs weak when you looked at him during that part — no matter what happened before, Jungkook always had that maniac expression plastered all over his face, like the mere image of his cum slipping out of you was enough to send him into a frenzy all over again. And, most times, it was.

“Good girl,” his dark stare slowly navigated towards your eyes. His arms were surprisingly still, no longer battling against the ropes, and there was something ominous about that. “Push it back in.”

Because you didn’t want to anger him any further, you agreed. It was almost impressive how quickly Jungkook was able to take back his control: even with him being immobilized, you were still folding and following his wishes like it was your second nature. “Like this?” You asked, using two of your fingers to stuff his cum back inside.

“Yeah, just like that.” He breathed out, the final seconds of his exhale morphing into a low growl. “Now, ___,” he called, eyes still glued to your pussy. “Untie me.”

You almost wanted to go against that, given the way he was about to break you in half, but that wasn’t probably the brightest of ideas. A bit nervous, you moved off his lap and sat down next to him, hands flying to undo the knots. “Hang on,” you requested. From the corners of his vision, you could see Jungkook staring you down, his piercing eyes focused on your face, silently watching you through the curtain of his black hair. At last, you managed to undo the ropes, the thick material falling beside you as Jungkook lowered his arms and started to massage his wrists. “How are your hands? I hope it wasn’t—“

“Lay down.” He interrupted, dry. Your mouth fell shut — none of your usual sarcastic remarks finding their way past the lump in your throat.

The softness of the pillow was a welcomed sensation, but your body could not relax, not when Jungkook was still looking at the pink marks on his inked skin, thinking about what he was going to do to you. You waited for what seemed like hours until he finally moved around, arms on either side of your head and chest pressed flush against yours. Jungkook’s heat was asphyxiating, his nose bumping against yours as he placed a small, tender kiss on your lips. He was being too calm, you noticed that instantly; still waters with sharks swimming underneath.

“Silly girl,” he mumbled against your mouth, fingers pressing on either side of your jaw. Jungkook pulled your mouth open, thumb caressing your lower lip as he stared down at you like an arrogant monarch. You felt terribly small, shrinking under his presence. “It’s not my hands that you should be worrying about.” He smirked, and his thumb paused its tender motions on your lip. He sighed. “Now that you had your fun, I’m gonna have mine.”

Jungkook was right: his wrists were red the next day. He naively thought that no one would be able to see it through his tattoos, but Taehyung, even in his hungover stupor, had his detective eye ready and noticed the marks right away. There was absolutely no way all his crime documentaries made him such an expert, Jungkook thought, but couldn’t really be sure of it.

“You know… things like this only make me more curious,” Taehyung said after Jungkook had refused to tell him who had come over the previous night. He was munching on his sandwich like his life depended on it, brows furrowed into a perfect picture of concentration. There was jelly all over his mouth, pulling up the corners of his lips and making Taehyung look like a terrible, discount copy of the joker. “Like, a chick tied you up? Come on, I have to meet someone like that. It’s a matter of, like, survival, some alpha wolf bullshit—“

“Fuck off,” Jungkook cut him short, burying his face on his hands. He was too tired to deal with any of that. “I never want to hear about you or your wolves ever again.”

check out the rest of the bad influence collection!

taglist > @minyoongiboongi @bvrrym0re @marcoazam2 @shojotae @youurkryptonite @fan-ati--c @btstrasht @crazy4myself @ft-multi @kooafraid @dianaaviny @ggukkieland @cryinginmypromdress @kissestothesky @imluckybitches @gyukult @jinsalpaca @0901-1230 @we8joon @gamerkooks

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sixstepsaway · 3 years ago

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My rant may have gotten a little unhinged there, so pardon the caps and and wild swerves in topic. You've got a great point in how their interactions show that they know Izzy is mostly talk. And Fang really is worried about poor Izzy's foot, isn't he? Also, in regards to that scene, when injured angry Izzy comes in snarling about the books not being thrown overboard, Ivan looks kinda taken aback. "It's a lot of books, Izzy." Not only is he comfortable talking back, Ivan seems surprised that Izzy would say something like that. I get the sense that while Izzy might be on everyone's ass about work, he isn't generally the type to push people to work harder if they're already doing their job. (I also think this suggests Izzy is afraid of Ed now in a way he wasn't before. They need to move fast, or who knows what Ed might do?) No one's had to deal with forced autocannibalism from Izzy on that crew. And I do know what you mean about the spat and pushing away with Stede. Ed tends to flee when rejected or feeling rejected. But my visions of the future have made me realize something so important. Point 1: We've established poor behavior on both Izzy and Fang's parts in regards to each other, and the need for communication. That means there's a good chance character development stuff might involve them communicating to one another. I have Reasons to believe the Izzy the Spewer incident might come up again as a topic for discussion. Point 2: Confirmed babygirl kinkster who is only capable of expressing physical affection toward men in violently charged interactions frequently pulls large, daddy-shaped man's beard. -dd anon

nonny. nonny. nonny. nonny of my heart. i've been staring at this fucking message since you sent it nonny and i havent gotten any less feral over my brain suddenly opening up and the skies parting and all i can see is izzy/fang. nonny. i had to sit here for this long before i could come up with a reply to the rest, nonny.

Okay, the rest:

I think maybe something that we're not really adding to our thoughts is that we've actually only really seen Izzy as attempting-to-be-first-mate of the Revenge? Not of Ed's ship?

So, as a brief rundown of the Revenge from what we've been shown so far: they are a crew who were scooped up from god knows where, on a ship that's pristine because it was literally built all of a month ago, the crew are being paid wages rather than having to work for their dinner, no one ever actually seems to do ship things except maybe Buttons who seems to have a clue what he's doing but I don't think I've seen him actually work either, and no matter how much some may argue they're real pirates, they all hide behind the ship in 1x01 when the English show up, just like Stede.

Furthermore, the ship's surgeon is actually the cook (and although he's sewed up his shoulder in the past and makes a bangin' orange cake and goes in to amputate Lucius' finger, we don't know that he's actually qualified to be the surgeon), Stede had no idea Jim was "really a woman" (I mean, they're not, but you get my drift for the early episodes), and in 1x02 they forgot to steer the ship, which is why they ran aground.

So when Izzy comes around in 1x05 and is trying to do his job, which is basically to oversee and wrangle the crew into doing their jobs, what he finds is that there are two functional crew members (Ivan and Fang, who they brought along from their ship), and a bunch of folks that... don't do their jobs.

Literally in 1x05 you have Frenchie who went off and put on nice clothes he found from their raid (which is not working, though he did look dapper), Stede and Ed very distracted by the invitation, Lucius and Stede swinging their legs watching Ivan do all the work of going through the bodies for loot, Fang who is--

Wait, hold on. What is Fang doing?

I mean the general, main answer is "attending Ed", which makes sense because they're on someone else's ship and it makes perfect sense to have Fang nearby while Ed and Stede are distracted, just in case something bad happens.

But what is he actively doing in this scene? Is he knitting? Sewing? What? What? WHAT IS HE DOING WITH HIS HANDS? You literally only see him in this shot and I am losing my mind because I want to know what he's doing???? fuck!

Anyway, Fang is off skinning a guy for Ed after this, Lucius and Pete are fucking in the storeroom amongst the food while Wee John takes a nap, Frenchie and Oluwande go over to the ship with Ed and Stede, and when you get wide shots you can see literally no one is working on that ship.

Izzy is losing his shit and yelling at Lucius because every time he turns his head, no one is doing anything. It's a ship! It needs a crew because the crew keep it moving and functioning and clean.

Like, I understand if cleaning barnacles isn't Lucius' job, but someone has to do it?

So Izzy is presented with a ship whose crew is just, not doing their jobs, and all we really get to see is Izzy yelling at them and trying his darndest to actually get them to work, while they're just like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ meh it practically sails itself.

What we don't see is how Ed's ship runs. We don't see how his crew work, we don't see whether Izzy has to yell at everyone on that ship or if all he has to do is hand out a chore roster and everyone does their jobs.

If everyone is doing their jobs and pulling their weight, it's likely that they're treated with the respect they've earned and deserve as working and functioning members of the crew, and that their needs are also seen to, and who would be in charge of seeing to their needs?

Izzy.

Extra points: in the books scene, Ivan calls Izzy by his first name, Fang calls him 'boss', but the tone he uses makes it sound less like a mandatory title like when Izzy tells Lucius he expects sir or first mate hands or god or whatever, and more like he's showing him respect in return, the respect he's earned from that crew.

I get the sense that while Izzy might be on everyone's ass about work, he isn't generally the type to push people to work harder if they're already doing their job. (I also think this suggests Izzy is afraid of Ed now in a way he wasn't before. They need to move fast, or who knows what Ed might do?) No one's had to deal with forced autocannibalism from Izzy on that crew.

This, too. There's "expects the crew to do their jobs" and there's "is unreasonable about it", and there's no actual demonstration that Izzy is ever unreasonable about it. He just wants them to do their jobs and pull their weight!

#izzy's dd anon #ask #izzy hands #izzy hands meta #ofmd #ofmd meta #our flag means death

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grayintogreen · 2 years ago

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You turning Luci-boi into a maniacal melodramatic motormouth is perhaps the best part of OUADYA. He just can’t help himself, going into tirades and rants and tantrums, unaware that he’s only making the albatross even heavier. It’s so… tragicomical, a performance so theatrical that Artie would gladly bitch-slap him just to make him be quiet.

Gods, I hope we get something like that. It would at least make for an interesting canon-divergent ficlet.

I wouldn't say I turned him into anything, because all of that is canon to a certain extent- it's just that no one ever made him quite as mad as Molly makes him and he is... literally being driven insane by the stress of what he's going through. XD

Like Lucien is absolutely a monologuing little bitch if you let him keep talking. The absence of any true allowance for vulnerability in the canon narrative just limited his raving. Honestly, I would argue the speech at the Aether Crux was a breakdown in and of itself, it was just a breakdown that came from a place of vindication and victory.

But his voice still breaks the longer he's yelling about how so much of what he bled for was a lie and only just now got to fix it and he came so close to losing his chance because the Nein were on his damn heels.

He finally gets to say these people hurt me and I'm going to hurt them back and make this right like I deserve because he actually can hurt them back.

He doesn't have that in OUADYA, so he just gets more unhinged and that's been interesting to explore. This idea of what would have become of Lucien if he was pushed into a corner where he couldn't win no matter what he did.

Which, yeah, is a tragedy and a bit of a comedy because it really is a little bit funny when he breaks when you don't think too hard about why it's happening.

#once upon a damn you all #my asks

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dreamii-yume · 4 years ago

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not a request but, Idia seems like the type to make a hentai game based on his darling correct? so he uses that as a base to have experience to woo his darling. but now as he tries it irl, he's confused it worked in the game. so why is the darling crying? is there a glitch somewhere? thoughts?

It all started when he thought that you looked like a character from an anime he watched once. He was a fond of the character so, he couldn’t help but to observe you more than he should, hiding his excitement throughout. There, he found out that you don’t just share a similar appearance but a similar personality as well, the perfect embodiment of that character. Idia almost thought that you were some kind of base for that character, cosplaying even, but you were from another world, weren’t you? Could it be that you’re actually that character and just got reincarnated into his world without knowing that you’re an anime character yourself!?

Reverse Isekai, was it? A twist in that overused genre where the fictional character is the one who gets to be trasported to the normal world. Idia was there on the peak of its popularity, reading all the manga, novels that he can find, watching all the anime adaptations along the way. Then the premise just gets redone over and over again that it slowly became boring. Even if they add twists here and there, it still ended up the same.

But now comes you, a real person that got transported into his world! A person who just happens to look and act like the character from one of his beloved shows! You can’t blame him for being this intrigued by your existence! Because how can he not!? This is an otaku’s dream coming true right here!

And best of all...You have his favorite character archetype! How awesome is that!?

Before he knew it, he was all over you. Well, not really...Since he was too shy to actually talk to you, and all he was just doing is either hide behind that tablet of his and a wall at least five meters away. He had already embraced the joys of being a loner and is practically a master of running away from social gatherings or talking in general, but now that it came to this, it became a double-edged sword.

Ortho said to just build up the courage to talk to you if he so badly wants to and he does. He really, really wants to talk to you, at least once...Or twice...Or thrice- The point is that he really wants to. But as supportive as the little brother of his is, he makes it sound so easy. Of course, someone who doesn’t know jackshit about making friends would never be able to master that skill that easily. He cringes at the thought of doing so without any experience, you’d probably see him as another creepy otaku.

Then, it came to him...A thought that proves that he was actually the genius that everyone claims him to be.

Experience. Of course! He’ll just have to gain experience so he can level up! With that, he can conquer your route doing just that! And what better way to do this than to combine it with something what he’s well-experienced with?

So, he started working. His fingers worked on the holographic keyboard faster than he’d ever been, creating a dating simulator game in less than three days. Ortho himself was surprised to see his usually unmotivated and borderline depressed brother having this intense look in his eyes. Idia barely ate or sleep during all of that, but he doesn’t care, what matters is that he finished it.

He finished the game that can finally help himself out, a dating simulator with only one character to focus on. A character who’s basically a spitting image of you and named after you, he even sneaked in some voice lines that he secretly recorded you saying. Idia had observed you longer to know what to write in the game script, which choices you would make, which words you would say, there was even different sprites and assets of you, depending on your emotions! Though, his hand seems to have slipped and before he knew it, he had already hired some Top-tier doujinshi artists to draw some Not-Safe-For-Work CGs of you for some Not-Safe-For-Work scenes. Yeah...He thought so far ahead that it just kinda turned into...Those kinds of simulation games.

But he regrets nothing.

...Other than the fact that he should probably keep this game away from Ortho as much as possible.

Anyway, it was probably one of the games that he took his sweet time with. Even though it was a game that he himself created, it was like he had developed some form of amnesia and was marvelled at his first time playing such masterpiece. All the twists and events left him in awe, squealing at every single CG when your character goes as little as holding his in-game character’s hand. The more...special scenes had him gulping down his own saliva as a physical reaction, the moans and groans that he recorded from you was when you were stretching in the morning, or when you’re startled or exercising, and yet, it fits so well with each sex scene. His face flushed and his pants felt so tight as he read through the dialogue box, his hand later slipping underneath them just so he could relieve his excitement.

“(Y/N)...Hehe, (Y/N)...♡” He blissfully moans as his hand goes up and down his cock, biting his blue lip in anticipation. Sweat was dripping down his forehead and his flaming hair burned a brighter blue, expressing his excitement. His imagination was going ballistic, imagining your own tightness around him as he slid in and out of your slick insides. The closer the scene reached its climax, the faster his hands became, determine to release at the same time as your character. “Haa...(Y/N)~♡ It feels so good...So good...Haha...”

With a satisfied moan, his own strings of semen shoots against his screen, perfectly coming just in time as your character appears, all flushed and exhausted. Idia let out a sigh, calming down from his high with a few strokes here and there to make sure of a satisfying release.

“Haa...Idia-kun, I love you ♡”

That was his favorite dialogue, no matter how many times he replayed this scene, it never fails to arouse him, making him all warm on the inside. A huge blush covered his cheeks as he smirked, slowly building up into an unhinged chuckle. He brushed his hands down the tainted screen, smudging his cum even more as he imagined it as your face. “Aah...Me too...I love you too, (Y/N)~” He whispered, shivering in excitement. “Aw...I can’t wait to have you for real...Wait for a little while, ‘kay? Hehe...”

This plan was a success and certainly helped him gain the confidence and experience that he needed to finally talk to you properly. Memorizing all the available scenarios and route he can go to, he just felt like he can do just about anything right now. With all these knowledge in mind, you surely won’t be weirded out and things wouldn’t be as awkward as he had already formulated a full conversation on his head. A bad end flag was still left arise, but it was placed so low that Idia can’t just spend another batch of his precious time with it, nothing would go wrong if he just do what he practiced, right? For that reason alone, his birthday was coming up and for the first time in forever, he could use a party as an excuse to talk to you. It doesn’t matter who comes anyway, he’ll have Ortho to accommodate them, Idia’s main focus should only be directed at you.

Plus, if he was going to confess on his birthday, then that’s just a major advantage! Plenty of stuff happens when it’s your own character’s birthday in any game, developers becomes extra generous with the drop rates in gachas, they give you more game currency to spend, and extra scenarios with your favorite characters! Sometimes even free stuff of your choice! This would definitely put his chance rate well above what he expected, it’s you after all!

“Happy birthday, Idia-senpai. I brought this gift for you, I hope you like it.” Ah, there it is, his goddess’ voice echoing through the walls. You said that you were going to conduct a birthday interview with him which got his heart beating like crazy. W-Were you going to start the confession event here!? With all these people!? That’s too daring! Though, that’s really charming of you, and a part of him actually wanted that to happen so he could finally point his fingers to these losers-

But no, unfortunately, he doesn’t have that much confidence to give and so, he ended up having to push you somewhere more secluded. Somewhere more...private. Like his room for example- that’s a good place, right~? Nobody can interrupt this interview that way and...and they can do play all sorts of games right after too...That’s fun, isn’t it!?

The interview was surprisingly fun, although it really just consisted of him ranting to you all about his interests. He ended up spilling all facts about his favorite idol group, games, and movies, his big mouth going off on a tangent once again because of that one question. This wasn’t exactly part of the plan, he was planning to give off a smooth vibe to it but he guessed he was just a tad bit under-level for that. Anyway, you ended gracing him with an adorable giggle so, it doesn’t really affect his motives! He’ll still conquer your route like he did with the game!

A few more questions about his favorite and least favorite food comes, Idia couldn’t help but be impatient. When were you going to activate the scenario, huh? The love confession event, it was the one question that he was waiting for. His heart was ready, his body was ready, his everything was ready...So, why were you standing up with a satisfied look on your face? Aren’t you forgetting something here?

“And that concludes our Birthday Celebration Interview! Idia-senpai, thank you for answering all my-“ Idia’s heart skipped a beat as his hands automatically grabbed your hand and pulled you down, rather aggressively.

“W-Wait! Wait, wait, waitwaitwait-“ Idia stumbled over his words, his face flushed as he stared at you with a crooked but nervous smile. “U-Um...! T-There something else...That I want to tell y-you...”

Oh, no...This was that one scenario in the extreme difficulty mode of the game, where you’re not triggering the confession event at all. You’re probably so conflicted with your emotions that he has to do it himself as the main character. It’s not the original route that he’s going for, but it’s fine, he has the script of this mode in memory too, he should be able to pull it off...That’s weird though, he never remembered activating anything to play in this difficulty...Whatever, real life really is something else, isn’t it?

You were surprised and quite honestly, bothered at his sudden outburst but that’s fine. You were the same in the game too, he just had to take control of the situation. “I-I...” He gathered the words in his head, his face heating up than it ever did before.

“(Y-Y/N)...I like- No...” He stammered as he tries his best to form a nervous smile, his heart was beating so fast but that’s not really something new. “...I love you, (Y/N)...”

Idia heard a slight gasp from you but delusions took over his mind before logic can come bursting through, rendering him practically heart-eyed at the situation. He was distracted, but he still waited for your response even if he was already a hundred percent convinced that his confession was a success. It has to be, he had already seen this exact scenario in the game for a millionth time. “...D-Do you...love me too, (Y/N)...?” He fiddled with the tip of his burning hair, leaning close to you as he knows that it’s a special skill that increases his success rate up to at least twenty percent. “...You l-love me too, don’t you~? Hehe...♡”

Yes. You’re going to say yes. You always had said yes in the game as there was absolutely no reason for you to say otherwise. Everything that happened before this went according to plan, he followed every route, said the correct dialogue choices, so there’s no way that he can fuck this one up. He had definitely conquered your route for real this time!

“Ah...” But he had to wonder though, why were you averting your eyes for? That’s cute, but you don’t have to be shy...Just say that you love him too, he can hardly wait! “Idia-senpai...”

“...I’m sorry.”

Idia blinked, his body freezing on its spot as you bowed in front of him so respectfully. Your mouth began to move to deliver more words of explanation for him to understand, but he just couldn’t hear anything else anymore.

What did you say? You’re...sorry? Haha...For what though? That’s weird, that’s not what you were supposed to say, even if this was set in extra hard mode. He did everything correctly so, no matter what difficulty he’s in, you should be able to accept his confession every time.

...Is it a bug in the system? A glitch that he didn’t see?

You called out to him once again, you called out his name and upon looking up, he could only see your face. So full of concern and pity, but no signs of falling in love whatsover. No...You shouldn’t be looking at him like that, what the hell just happened?

This is all wrong...!

Before Idia could even properly process anything, he had found himself on top of you, both frustration and anger building up inside him. His hand, albeit really shaky, had found itself a dangerous clasp around your neck and your expression suddenly turned white. You’re struggling underneath him, like a deer caught by a hunter, kicking and scratching his arms away. But you were scared, he could tell by that look in your eyes, he could easily squeeze your neck in this position after all.

“I-Idia-senpai...!” He heard you call out but your voice just bounced off his ears, he was too distracted by his own shock. This was not in any of the scenarios that he formulated inside his mind, and he created thousands, for Hades’ sake! His breathing became unstable as he began to hyperventilate, sweating immensely as he tries to wreck his brain for whatever the hell he was supposed to do in this scenario. This wasn’t how the game continues after a confession event! Was he too inexperience or under-level to conquer your route? Did he miss a side quest from you or something? What did he do wrong? Was it the lack of gifts of affection? Normally, you were supposed to say that you love him too, embrace him before the two of you share a kiss and-

...A kiss?

Oh...Oh, that’s right! Maybe this is where the code got rewritten and that the kiss should come first now? Maybe your character was taking a different turn, you were probably shifting to other character types to accommodate your new-found feelings...You’re being a Tsundere, aren’t you~? So cute, but you don’t have to push him away though, he’ll keep coming back to you anyways.

...And so, in hopes of desperation, that’s exactly what he did, he leaned down at you as he smashed his lips onto yours. You widened your eyes with a muffled scream coming out of you, but Idia kept your mouth busy as it is. He was on cloud-nine, enjoying your soft lips against his chapped ones so much so that he just instinctively started grinding his hips against yours. You were starting to panic, but that’s fine, that’s a normal reaction. Both in real life and in-game.

By the time that he finished selfishly sucking up your lips, ultimately creating a little bruise on the side, he pulled away with a string of saliva connecting both your tongues together. Idia giggled to himself, the feeling of your lips and tongue was still lingering on his that he can’t help but be hungry for more. However, looking back at you, he blinked as tears suddenly began to stream down your cheeks. Your chest heaving up and down as small hiccups comes out of your every sob.

It made him panic slightly at first, but then remembered a scenario like this once in the game...Though, it wasn’t a scenario as drastic as this one, that he’ll admit. “A-Ah, you shouldn’t cry...” He tried comforting, letting go of your neck and wiping your tears away with a nervous smile. “Y-You’re not supposed to cry after a c-confession event, it’s not in your file...”

You flinched at his touch. “S-Stop, please...L-Let me go...” You whimpered, lifting your arms up to try and shield yourself away from him. “I-I won’t tell anyone, I-I swear-!”

Idia’s hand twitched, quickly covering your mouth as a nervous rection so that he wouldn’t hear the words that he doesn’t want to hear anymore. He felt scared to touch you now, seeing how defensive you got, his little angel’s crying and it’s all because of him. Your words certainly impacted him, but he shook his head instead, he has to keep himself from looking down.

“...You shouldn’t say that either, that’s not in your script.” He said with a bit of stricter tone onto it, attempting to show you how capable he can really be. He grabbed your wrist and forced your hands open, revealing your terrified expression. “Don’t worry...It’s just a little twist on the story, I’m sure. I just have to restart the system, right...?”

“I-I’ll fix you up soon enough, H-Honey~” You watched him with eyes slowly widening in realization and terror as he started to untie his tie, to remove the birthday outfit that he clearly dislikes. You were frozen, you can’t move, not like you could do much with someone as big as Idia straddling above your stomach but you were left immobile with fear. His use of love words sounds extremely clumsy and Idia himself cringes at the sound of it coming from his own mouth but he’s enthusiastic. That doesn’t make it any less terrifying for you at all.

The game’s not finish yet. It’s just as he expected, there was a little glitch that needs a little fixing. It was the cause of a scenario as unreasonable as this one to appear. But it’s fine. He can fix it all up, he can fix you all up and when he’s done with that, he’ll definitely conquer your route for real this time.

After all, there’s no game that he can’t finish, that would be a shame to his Otaku title! It doesn’t matter if it’s his birthday, he’s going to work all night to fix this very unpleasant glitch in you. What a pain~ Idia wonders what kind of price he’ll get from you after this.

...Not that he’s going to complain anytime soon lol

Idia has the personality of an ugly bastard. Just saying *cough*

#twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere #idia shroud #yandere idia shroud #Birthday Crumbs

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sam-t-a · 4 years ago

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Okay.

*Deep breath*

I think I’m finally calm enough to put into words exactly why I hated the finale and why I wasn’t completely surprised that I hated it.

(Heads-up: this is really long and pretty negative. If you disagree, I would of course appreciate your point of view and love to hear it, but just thought I’d let you know in case this is the kind of post you would like to avoid.)

To me, it felt like every character on the show got betrayed in some way or another, but the main ones are Han Seo (devastatingly), Chayoung (obviously) and Han Seok (bear with me).

Cha Young:

She started out as a solid FL who annoyed some people for sure, but who had so much promise as someone unconventional and bold. The way her mother’s death affected her and caused a clear shift in her personality was a super interesting plot point that really never got explored. We have no idea how she came to sacrifice her morality in joining Wusang, just that she wanted to spite her father, which is a very superficial exploration. She gets cute idiosyncrasies in lieu of an actual character and an actual character arc.

We also, halfway through the show, seem to forget that her father's death was the initial trigger. Cha young does not suggest bold ideas or intricate plans, she doesn’t fill the gaps Vincenzo is incapable of filling (because that would require that Vincenzo have flaws, and that’s not something the writers can abide), and she’s literally victimized in episode 19 and bedridden in episode 20, and that is IT.

Someone who started out supposedly as Vincenzo’s equal just became another piece in his chess set, no matter how important a piece she may be.

So her role as a badass avenger is trashed. That leaves her role as a love interest. Now, as Vincenzo’s love interest, she was supposed to get kidnapped in like episode 5 or 6 at the most if the villain has any brains whatsoever (Han Seok may or may not, more on that later). We need a reason for that not to happen too early. Cue villain is somehow in love with her for all of 15 minutes or so throughout a 20-episode series because a love triangle is inconceivable with the show’s current structure and for its purposes.

So, she spends 15 or so episodes making the first move on Vincenzo, every time, putting herself out there, creating cute moments, getting nothing in return, and then he leaves. No confession, nothing much, he wasn’t even going to say goodbye or give her the choice of coming with him.

I’m sure more chayenzo-oriented fans have already expressed all the necessary outrage over this, so I’ll move on to the part that I’ve personally been way more emotionally invested in from the get go: the Jang brothers.

Han Seo:

I was among the minority that hated the “Vinny hyung” angle from the get-go and I’ve ranted about it in another post, so I won’t get into it here in-depth, but basically it was because I felt like Vincenzo hadn’t earned it, so to have the last words Han Seo hears be “You deserve to be my brother” or whatever the fuck he was on about PISSED ME OFF. It’s VINCENZO who doesn’t deserve to be Han Seo’s brother and hasn’t done a single thing to earn it. He was a good ally. The situation he allowed Han Seo to be a part of was beneficial to him, but Han Seo’s attachment to him was neither healthy nor heartwarming, and it certainly wasn’t returned on the level he offered it.

Vincenzo’s disregard of his death didn’t strike me as odd because I never saw enough indications that this was a two-way street and Han Seo’s safety and well-being came second so often that I didn’t get the impression Vincenzo was doing much to keep him alive. This is what I meant when I said the show was glorifying a torture survivor’s trauma responses. Han Seo himself, as a torture survivor, meant nothing to them. He was just there to create one more contrived comparison between Vincenzo and Han Seok. Instead of recovering from the trauma, it’s simply employed to someone else’s favor. He doesn’t go to prison for Han Seok, he takes a bullet for Vincenzo, and we’re supposed to see that as so much better.

All of that might (JUST MIGHT) not have ruined the show for me if he’d died better. 1) It was narratively pointless and totally avoidable, 2) they could’ve framed it as heroic, but instead Han Seok’s hand patting his head is pushing it down, so he can’t even get shot with his chin up and his back straight, Taec’s already taller, so the angle’s fucked and the whole cinematography screamed “kicking an injured puppy” and most certainly NOT “survivor finally stands up to his abuser”. The final nail in the proverbial and literal coffin is that he is mourned by no one. They’re FLIRTING not 3 MINUTES LATER, it felt so tone deaf and left such a bad taste. As I said, I didn’t expect significant mourning from Vincenzo (gotta say, I didn’t expect no mourning, that was a shocker), and Cha young and the tenants had no real interactions with him and no reason to mourn him, which left only one person who could.

Which brings me to Han Seok.

Han Seok started out as a solid villain, clear goals, clear skills that help him achieve his goals and basically make him a villain worth defeating, and a very complex relationship with both his own psychopathy and his brother.

Let me get it out of the way: I do not believe Han Seok is capable of killing Han Seo because he had every reason and every opportunity to do so in previous episodes and couldn’t do it (I say couldn’t because a certain degree of reluctance is in itself inability). Han Seo’s danger far outweighed his material value the minute he shot Han Seok and then completely lost any value once he came out to the world as the chairman and it became clear that the prosecution would be going after him if anything happened, and not his brother. But time and again, he’s proven he’s all bark and no bite when it comes to Han Seo (killing-wise, specifically).

The scene where he asks him to beat Vincenzo to death could be interpreted as him wanting to give Vincenzo the “painful death” he would have given him, but honestly, I think he was way past that point. He just wanted him dead in the “You crazy? we have to kill him before he kills us” sense. To that end, killing off a key ally of Vincenzo’s, who betrayed you and almost got you killed a bunch of times, should take priority, but Han Seok’s priority is reclaiming Han Seo by forcing him back onto his side. Now, much like his “love for Cha young”, Han Seok’s keenness on not killing his brother was essential to the writers so that Han Seo can justifiably make it this far and still be useful to Vincenzo (he can’t help if Han Seok completely excludes him from all events, plans and management processes, so Han Seok needs to want to keep him on his side enough not to do that even when it’s more prudent).

All of this isn’t to say it’s unbelievable that he would kill Han Seo, but it’s DEFINITELY unbelievable that he would stay the same man after killing him. Someone here (I’m sorry, I don’t rememebr who) once said that Han Seo had become, over time, far more of a foil to his brother than Vincenzo was. To me, this means that Post-Han Seo Han Seok would be out of balance (tilted screen), unhinged in a way he never was before. The Han Seok we see shrugs and “oh, well”-s and moves on in a flash, not really any different from the villain he was four minutes and a whole brother earlier.

This is very consistent with the way the show has been de-humanizing him from the start. I’m not saying this to defend Han Seok in any way, he’s a serial killer, an abuser and a total maniac. But you can be all those things and still a human being. In fact, you can ONLY be those things if you’re a human being. The show used its villain vs villain idea to justify a lot, but in the end, Vincenzo had to be a protagonist. He had to follow up every “I’m a villain” with a contrived “but at least I’m not (insert something worse)”.

On the level of humans:

1) Vincenzo is supposedly different because he doesn’t hurt children or women (unless the women deserve it, and shooting a parent in front of their kid doesn’t count as hurting.)

But we never see Han Seok hurting women or children either. In fact, if we proceed with the “chayoung is the myung hee of the good guys” comparison, he hasn’t hurt any women nearly as badly as Vincenzo did.

2) Babel vs Mafia

Babel’s corruption is compared a lot to the mafia, with Vincenzo commenting repeatedly that the people are WORSE than the mafia...which is bullshit. Babel is a set of companies that provide goods and services, but use illegal means to maximize their profit, so they hurt/kill people in the process because they want more money and care about money more than ethics. The Mafia is an inherently criminal organization that functions PURELY on the basis of its criminality. Every single dime Vincenzo spends is blood money. None of it is clean. And while we’re on the topic, I find the whole “taking Miri under his wing” thing pretty unreasonable too because he tried to have her killed you guys, I cannot believe we’re just glossing over that. He had everyone who worked on that vault killed, just random fucking construction workers. And he’s not sorry. And the show tells you he shouldn’t be.

3) Repentance

Han Seok says outright he won’t atone, and while Vincenzo says no such thing out loud he just...doesn’t repent, I guess. He keeps the blood money, he goes back to being a full-time mafia dude doing mafia things. He leaves the same man he arrived.

So, if on the level of harm inflicted upon humanity, Vincenzo and Han Seok are pretty much equal (and Vincenzo might actually be worse), then why should we root for Vincenzo?

Well, my friend, that’s where the dehumanization comes in!

I was initially very excited to see their portrayal of a psychopath because of the very interesting ways in which the informal moral code and official justice system surrounding a psychopath/sociopath/narcissist affect their behavior and their chances of not turning out rotten, and the show looked like it was looking at corruption in general.

But as the show went on, the villain vs villain thing proved not to be enough, Vincenzo has to be better in some way (or if you’re as obsessed with him as the writers are, then ALL ways), so it became a villain vs monster narrative. Vincenzo isn’t ethical or fair or in any way interested in having a remotely positive impact on society, but at least he’s A HUMAN BEING unlike SOMEBODY. So, the characterization goes to shit, Han Seok becomes a cartoon card-board cut out of a villain and emphasis is put on how pointless his violence is, as opposed to how purposeful Vincenzo’s is.

This is dangerous on multiple levels (and I promise this is the last point I’m making).

1) For people in general, dehumanizing abusers/murderers/etc. makes us very liable to forget that you don’t have to be “a monster” to cause harm, and it makes people complacent in their belief that they are “not bad people” since they aren’t total monsters. The Banality of Evil is a thing, and in this series, it goes completely ignored. No one is inherently incapable of good or inherently undeserving of humanity.

2) For victims of abuse in specific, it’s dangerous to portray abusers (including serial killer and non-serial killer ones) as entirely bad and unlovable, because it poses the dual risk of making victims less likely to acknowledge their abuse if it comes from someone who cares about or loves them on some level because the idea that someone cannot both love and hurt you is so stereotypical. Your abuser can genuinely want you in their lives and need you and, on some level, love you, and IT DOESN’T MATTER if that love doesn’t stop them from hurting you.

On the other hand, portraying the victims of abuse as capable of flipping an off switch and hating the abuser with no hesitation or second thoughts to the point of unapologetically and cheerfully helping someone kill them and having no mixed feelings about it sends the message that if you CAN’T do that, then are you really abused? Are sure you’re not complicit in your own abuse? Do you even want to get rid of them?

So this is basically why the way the show ended was so painfully disappointing for me. And the main reason it hit so hard was that it was initially so good and had so much promise. I really expected more.

#Vincenzo #vincenzo meta #vincenzo spoilers #not that mad anymore but still so disappointed #hong chayoung #jang han seo #jang han seok #so much it to fix #my brother says hi #he is disappointed too

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whump-town · 4 years ago

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The Lies We Tell

Aaron Hotchner has been lied to his entire life. That’s the thing about good intentions...

Warnings: abuse

The day that Haley’s family moved into the neighborhood is seared into Hotch’s memory.

He was pulled out of bed by his father. The older man slurring his words, heavily affected by whatever cheap liquor he’d been drowning himself in the entire afternoon prior. He had no chance to understand what was being said. He’d gone, regardless, in the direction of his father’s pulling to alleviate the pressure on his shoulder joint. Knowing too much of the pinned, awkward angle would spell misfortune for him.

Sure enough, his shoulder comes free with a pop and a chocked grunt of pain-- he knows better than to cry out. He suffers through the drunken rant his father’s worked himself into, careful to keep his wounded arm tight to his chest. In the privacy he’s afforded, only after his father’s taken a few blows and has resigned himself to sleeping off his slump, he can reset his shoulder. Should he do it by himself? No. There, simply, isn’t any other option.

With word of the family moving in down the street, the Brooke’s, his father sobers up to put up his best front: loving father who day-lights as a lawyer and spends his nights beating the shit out of his family. That doesn’t mean that Aaron doesn’t manage to “step out of line” just as they’re leaving-- how dare he existed in his home.

With his ears still ringing from the blow to his head, vision swimming, Aaron Hotchner stands between his mother and father on Brooke’s lawn. His father beams down at him, pride and joy in every area of his face except in his eyes. The only place it matters is the only place it isn’t. The family across from them doesn’t take note of how empty his father’s eyes are or how hard his grip is on Aaron’s bony shoulder. All they see is a family that mirrors their own:

A father, a mother, and two children.

The Brookes are a good family. It takes years for Aaron to grow out of his contempt for them. By then, his father is dying and the beatings are getting worse.

“Aaron--”

He falls hard for Haley Brookes and for some reason she gives the world’s worse pirate #3 a chance. She starts to wonder how a guy like Aaron falls through the cracks. He does plenty of clubs and he’s as sweet as can be. His personality is a little underdeveloped, as are his social skills, and he doesn’t always understand current social things, but he’s funny, and he’s handsome.

And he’s got an awful home life.

“Oh God,” she reaches for him and quickly realizes that was a mistake. “Sorry,” she whispers, taking a step back. She hadn’t expected the broken sob to leave his mouth when she reached for him. Sure, she’d noticed that sometimes if she reaches for his hand too fast he flinches away. She just hadn’t connected his bruises for… for this.

He’s shaking in their doorway, soaking wet from the rain pouring down outside. It’s too cold to let him stand out there for too long.

She wracks her brain for what to do and with shaky inhale she forces herself to calm down. Aaron’s always fed off of the energy others give, it’s one of the first things you notice the longer you’re around him. His empathy is high. “Aaron,” she calls softly, extending her hand out of the doorway to him. He still has to step to reach her but that leaves their proximity in his control.

It takes him a moment but he steps closer and allows his fingers to brush against hers.

He knows Haley is safe. Haley will help him. He’s struggling. The line between pain and comfort is distorted. He’s scared and it immobilizes him. Rationally he knows-- he knows Haley will help him but he’s afraid his father will see. What if he hurts her too?

“Son?”

Mr. Brookes. He’ll protect them from his father.

“Son, what the hell--”

Haley steps between them, seeing the way Aaron’s eyes light up at the sight of her father. He’s not in his rational mind. This isn’t his fault. “Daddy,” she warns softly. Mercifully, they pass between them an understanding. Her father hates the Hotchners and he distrusts Aaron and his motivations. But he understands this. He understands where the bruise swelling on Aaron’s right cheekbone came from.

“Let me help,” Haley whispers to Aaron. “Come on, you’ll be okay.” She offers her hand back out and watches as Aaron’s eyes pass between her and her father. There’s another moment, more hesitation but he finally breaks the gap. He trusts her. He’s always trusted her.

Once he steps forward, this time, he doesn’t stop until he’s got both arms wrapped around Haley. He sobs into her collar and she holds him. Pulls him close until he’s practically folded into himself to be at her height. To allow himself to sink into her arms and just be held.

Haley’s mother brings in a bag of peas, cliche but the only thing they have to reduce the swelling in his face. Mr. Brookes stays in the kitchen, watching from the doorway as his wife and daughter aid Aaron. As uneasy as the situation feels him, there’s a stir of pride in the pit of his stomach at the side of Haley being so tender.

“Shh,” Haley runs her hand through Aaron’s wet hair. He flinches from the touch of the cold press to his cheek, pushing himself closer to Haley. She expects the movement and wordlessly takes the bag from her mother. “It’s alright,” she soothes and this time he sees the bag coming. He doesn’t fight it.

“I’m right here.” She promises, “always. I’ll always be right here.”

He places his hand over her own. It takes him a moment to realize where he is-- laying in the Brookes’s living room with his head in Haley’s lap. Blinking tears out of his eyes he asks, “do you promise?”

Haley nods and presses a kiss to his forehead, “I promise, Aaron. I’m right here.”

That was the first lie she ever told him.

___________

He makes it through training. Paperwork comes and goes. He can wrap his head around the cases that hurt the most but... he still stumbles. He’s not figured out how to hide these things from people trained to detect exactly what he’s doing. Jason and Dave are unforgiving. They push and push at his broken pieces. There’s a moment, suspended, where he can recognize that he has exactly two options: fall apart or tell.

And the time to make that decision is quickly leaving.

The silence is building and while he understands that there is nothing wrong with the silence normally, here it is baited. Each moment he allows Dave’s question to go unanswered is another ticking time bomb that allows Dave to come to his own conclusion, however right they may be.

Hotch doesn’t typically appreciate people getting into his head. He doesn’t appreciate anyone getting into his head. There’s a strange give and take with Dave, though. He’s come to understand a certain level of giving-- personal information as little as a review of his day or, from what Dave wants, an in-depth analysis of his childhood. These things equate to trust and… and, well, love.

“Well?”

But he can’t say the words. They’re stuck in the back of his throat-- worse than choking. Exactly like choking. He doesn’t want the words there. He wants them aired out. He wants to tell Dave that his father hit him so badly once that he was hospitalized for three days in the ICU. That the hitting wasn’t enough. As he got too weak to hit, the verbal abuse was just effective.

But there’s no Heimlich maneuver for emotions.

Just growth.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Hotch doesn’t dare look up from the paperwork in his lap.

The question had been if he was willing to tell Dave what it was that had bothered him so much about the family of their almost victim. Almost, being subjective. The boy had still been through the trauma of being kidnapped, it was just some cruel mercy he wasn’t killed.

And for what? Hotch knew exactly what they were sending that boy back home to.

It’s the same thing he used to go home to.

Dave hums, it’s a specific sound he makes in the back of his throat and Hotch knows exactly what it means. He looks up and Dave just raises an eyebrow and shrugs it away. “I was just wondering,” he mumbles. “I also thought you should know that Jason called child protective services and I have a friend working on getting those kids out of that house.”

So he had seen the bruises.

“Oh,” escapes his mouth before he can bite it down. He nods his head and looks away, afraid of what he might see if looks at Dave for too long. “The father was unhinged,” he profiles. “Those kids won’t survive much longer with him.”

Dave nods, he’d come to the same conclusion. “Can’t imagine what it would be like to be raised by a man like that,” Dave says with a sympathetic shake of his head. “No one deserves that.”

Hotch refrains from nodding or even acknowledging that statement because he knows it’s meant for him. At him. Saying anything is admitting that Dave’s right.

Clearing his throat, Dave settles his attention back on the road. They’ve got a long drive ahead of them. Plenty of opportunities to have this discussion another time. Aaron’s just starting to hope that’s exactly what’s going to happen when Dave glances over at him.

"When was the last time you slept, " Dave plays his worried glance off by looking in the rear view mirror. Checking behind them. But he doesn't need to be looking at Hotch to know if he's lying or not. The kid looks like shit. He hasn't slept properly in days.

Hotch looks out the window, leaning his temple against the cool glass. "Don't know, " he mumbles.

Rossi hums.

"Why?"

Rossi glances at him, for a long hard minute it's a battle of wills. With a raised eyebrow, Dave shrugs. "Just checking in on you, am I not allowed to do that?"

Hotch doesn't reply. He doesn't even look up.

“Kid?”

Dammit. He wants to keep to himself. He wants to just crawl into a hole and act like nothing’s wrong. His childhood was great. His father was a hero. His mother… but he can’t even breathe. Each inhale gets caught in his throat and he can feel panic setting it. He needs to get out of this car. “P-Pull over,” he gasps, fingers going to his noose-- tie. “Pull over!”

He throws his door open, rushing out and toppling over onto his knees, gagging into the tall grass. A small voice in his head warns of the dangers of a snake, he did grow up in the south, but the way his stomach keeps cramping pushes that thought away. There are more dangerous things than a snake-- he used to live with one.

“Easy,” Dave mumbles from behind him and Hotch realizes he’s now leaning into Dave. Allowing the older man to hold him. “Easy, kid, just breathe.” Through each shuddering breath he pulls in, Hotch can feel Dave rubbing his hand up and down his back. His head is pounding, his ears pulsing. “Tell me next time you’re feeling sick, okay?”

Hotch leans back over, gagging miserably but unable to bring up anything with nothing left in his stomach.

“Look at me,” Dave asks, handing him a handkerchief to wipe his face off with. “I’m not going anywhere, kid. You can trust me. I’ll always be right here.”

Two months later he retires. Hotch doesn’t even get two weeks’ notice.

___________

He keeps counting. Jason Gideon keeps counting and each time he comes up one short. The radio in his ear buzzes, body counts over and over listed for the personnel looking through the carnage. There are plenty of missing officers, a single swat agent, and-and Jason’s one missing agent. Possible missing agent.

Six agents in… If six agents went in then there should still be-- Aaron.

Swaying where he stands, Aaron’s looking at the ruined building before him. His dark brown hair is pushed in disarray atop his head. No amount of gel keeping his crazy hair down. Jason’s always found it an endearing, if not silly, thing for someone so serious to have. But right now he can’t appreciate the cowlicks.

“Aaron,” Jason calls, knowing how the younger man startles when he’s not expecting being touched. “Can you hear me?” The closer he gets the more blood he sees. It might not be Aaron’s. That’s a very real possibility but Jason doubts that the crimson stain on his chest is entirely someone else’s.

Neither of their luck is that good.

And Jason knows he’s broken his promise to Dave.

“Watch out for the kid, huh? He…--”

“Get himself into trouble? Yeah, I know. I’ll watch his back.”

Who was watching his back today? Not Jason. He let six agents die. He was stupid. It was a stupid mistake and now everyone else is paying for it.

“Gideon?” Aaron turns to him, confusion pulling his thick brows down. “I can’t--” he looks around them, to the smoke and the building. “I can’t find Morgan. He… I just--” He winces in pain, his left hand touching his abdomen and he pulls it away bloody. He looks up to Gideon, tears in his eyes, “I can’t find Morgan.”

Jason nods his understanding, keeping his slow approach. “That’s okay,” he reassures him. “Don’t you remember? I sent Morgan back to Quantico.” He’s close enough now to touch Aaron and he offers a squeeze to his shoulder. “He’s okay. He’s safe.”

Aaron sucks in a breath, it sounds like a sob but he nods his understanding. His knees start to give beneath him, no reason to keep fighting if Morgan’s okay.

Jason catches him around the waist just as his knees cave beneath his weight. “It’s okay,” he breathes, shushing Aaron’s incoherent mumble. “You’re okay.” He places his hand over the wound, it’s easy to identify. It’s the only warm place on Hotch’s entire body. The strangled cry that leaves his pale lips rips through Jason.

His breathing immediately becomes more labored, his eyes slivers. “Hurts…” his face is awfully pale. His skin is clammy.

“Shh,” Jason looks motions for the medics running towards them to run faster. “I know, I know.” He tries to step back and give the medics room but the moment he moves Aaron grabs his hand. “Alright,” he settles back down, making sure to be out of the way but holding Aaron’s hand back. “I’m not going anywhere, I’m right here.”

The minute he passes out, Jason pulls away. He just can’t do it. He needs to get away.

Hotch spends weeks in the hospital.

Morgan’s there… but that’s because no one else can be. Their unit is dead. They have to start from the beginning. It’s just Derek, Hotch, and Gideon. And Gideon’s off… God knows where.

The day Hotch is released from the hospital, Jason visits. He stands in the doorway of the room, smiling as Hotch and Derek argue while Haley stands to the side, obviously displeased. He’s always enjoyed Morgan and Hotch’s brotherly friendship. No one was faster at putting the other in their place like the other but let either hear someone else bad mouth them and they’d go down swinging.

Derek wins the argument and Hotch lets him help him into the wheelchair. When Derek looks up, pushing the feet of the wheelchair so that Hotch can rest his feet on them, he follows Hotch’s eyes to the doorway. “What are you doing here?” he spits.

It’s unkind but Jason’s expecting it just as much as Hotch’s soft reprimand in the form of a Morgan’s name grunted.

Morgan looks back at Hotch, about to start another argument but they share a glance and before either says anything Haley steps up. “Come on,” she motions for Morgan to follow her. “Just give them a minute.”

Morgan gives Jason the look. It means many things but today it’s a warning. If Jason hurts Hotch, Morgan’s going to do worse to him. Boss or not.

“How are you?” Jason asks, settling himself on the edge of Hotch’s vacated bed.

Hotch looks down at his hands, nervously picking at his nails. He shakes his head, “I’ll be back at the office in two weeks but they’re not letting me back into the field until at least the end of the month.” He looks up at Jason, “ and I have to pass all the field requirements.”

Jason nods, “that’s good.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. “But that’s not what I asked.”

Hotch raises an eyebrow, not exactly playing stupid but not playing along either. “Mmm,” he looks back down at his hands, brows furrowed now. “Haley’s pregnant, she--” he looks up at the doorway as if expecting her there. “She wants me to transfer. Go someplace safer.”

Jason takes this in for a moment, looking to the ground. He shrugs, “it’s understandable. You’re going to be a father, Aaron. Of course, she wants you alive.” He looks down at the floor, in shame or contempt, or just vulnerability. “You’ll be safer anyhow, now,” he adds. “If you decide to stay you’re going to be taking the Unit Cheif position.”

Hotch’s head snaps up, “they-” He looks away from Jason, processing the information. After a moment, he looks back up. “They took your job?”

Jason shakes his head, “no.” He nods his head towards Hotch, “they gave my position to a worthy candidate, whose name I put in the ring myself.” He smiles proudly, “and I am going to watch him build a new team as his senior agent.”

Hotch looks up at Jason and shakes his head but he looks away, unsure of what he’s supposed to say. He knows he can do the job. That’s always what he wanted-- hell, it’s what Dave and Jason both wanted. He just wasn’t expecting it so soon. He’s not sure he’s ready for it so soon.

“You’ll be great,” Jason reassures him. He gets off the bed and crouches down beside the wheelchair. Leaving the two men eye-level. “There’s no one that could do this job better.”

Hotch feels pretty adamant about this.

“Look at me,” Jason requests. “Nothing is going to happen. You’re a natural leader.”

Hotch nods.

“You’re going to be fine. Everything’s going to be fine.”

Two years later, as Hotch stands before Strauss knowing that the last year has been an unraveling-- a never-ending list of things that have gone wrong and reasons to fire him-- he wishes Jason were here. He shouldn’t have to deal with all of this alone. And yet he does.

___________

The world was on fire. Flames licking at the side of his arm and the way his legs refused to properly hold his weight. His knees hitting the gravel and the sting of skin tearing. But he’d sat in something wet. Crimson.

Morgan was there. He was kneeling beside Hotch, his hand on his shoulder.

“Agent Hotchner?” He flinches away from the penlight in his eyes. Someone says something and a palm settles across his forehead, this time he can’t move away as the light comes back. “Can you hear me, Agent Hotchner?”

Morgan stands up from his chair. He pushes himself between the doctor and Hotch. “You’re hurting him,” he accuses hotly. The doctor can’t refute that statement, Hotch is still groaning from the pain spiking through his head. He’s raised his hands to ward off another attack from the light, writhing as he moves his sore body to get away from where he knows it came from.

The doctor sighs. Of course, he understands the proximity of agents. This isn’t his first time dealing with government agents. Things are just becoming tricky. Agent Hotchner’s condition is critical and Agent Morgan understands that a little too well. He just doesn’t understand that his friend’s not going to catch his death with a doctor flashing a penlight into his eyes but he might if his concussion worsens or turns into a brain bleed.

“Agent,” the doctor says, growing impatient as Agent Hotchner grows more restless. “I understand your concern but your friend needs my help.” He knows he’s won the moment Morgan turns to look at Hotch. “Let me get him something for the pain and we can discuss this some more, okay?”

Morgan looks over to Hotch.

He’s crying, most likely not even aware of the tears streaming down his face. His hands are pressed over his ears and he’s turned over so that his back is to them. He’s managed to draw his knees to his chest. He’s entirely defensive, his pain is that bad.

“Okay,” the doctor repeats and this time Morgan nods. “Okay.” He steps right up to Hotch’s bedside, gently shaking the agent’s arm. “Agent Hotchner, can you hear me?” He doesn’t shine the penlight in his eyes, he just tries to get some sort of answer out of the other man.

Hotch manages a grumbled response, it’s too soft for Morgan to catch but the nurse facing Hotch looks up and repeats it. “He’s saying he’s okay.”

“He--” Morgan steps forward about to make sure they understand that’s very much not true but the doctor raises his hand and Morgan stops in his tracks.

“I know, “ the doctor confirms. He leans back over Hotch, “Agent, I’m going to have our very helpful nurse Sarah give you some pain meds, okay?” He pulls at the back of the gown Hotch’s bloodied clothes had been replaced by. He frowns at the road burn he finds but doesn’t comment. “You’ll be feeling a lot better in just a moment.”

The doctor steps to the side and motions for Morgan to follow.

Hotch cracks an eye open, fighting the currents of pain trying to drag him down to watch as the nurse pushing something painfully hot into his arm. It’s clear and his slurred speech doesn’t stop her. She pulls the syringe free and he just watches, that intense warmth working its way up his arm and into his chest. It hurts and it itches but his eyelids start to drop. Impossibly heavy.

Derek appears out of… well, nowhere. Hotch’s eyes move to the left, following the direction from which he appeared but he’s too tired to move his head and really figure out what’s happening.

“Hey man,” Morgan greets.

There’s something about the face that Morgan makes as he sits down in the visitor’s chair that sparks a sudden memory. “Kate,” Hotch rasps.

The doctor had just told Morgan that any stress is going to be too much. That Hotch’s heart and body just can’t take it.

Morgan looks up as the nurse tries to step between them, allowing her through. She places a mask over Hotch’s face, replacing the canal he’d worn just a moment ago. Worse, Morgan recalls, the doctor said he was getting worse. So when he sits down he puts on his best show.

“Joyner,” Morgan says. “You mean Kate Joyner.”

Hotch manages a small nod.

Morgan has to think carefully about his lie. He’ll have to recall these details later, to make sure the others understand his white lie. More importantly, Hotch has to believe him without a shred of doubt. “She’s downstairs,” Morgan says, which true. He’s just hoping Hotch assumes the E.R. and not the morgue. “You don’t need to worry about her, though,” Morgan says.

Hotch nods, “she’s… she’s okay?”

Morgan pulls in a steady breath, “she’s okay.” He smiles and offers Hotch a reassuring nod. “Get some sleep, man, you could use it.” He reaches over and squeezes Hotch’s hand, making sure he knows he’s not going anywhere.

Hotch can’t fight the drugs any longer. “The others,” he whispers. Morgan can’t hear him. “The others, are they okay?”

His breathing has become steadily worse and Morgan knows that if he doesn’t shut Hotch up soon they’re going to kick him out. Which may seem like a good thing but they don’t know Hotch. He’ll kill himself trying to get out of bed to make sure no one else is hurt.

“Everyone’s okay.”

And Hotch doesn’t need to know any more than that. They’ll catch the terrorist and he can worry about not dying on them. Because Morgan’s not sure he can handle anything but Hotch walking away from this.

He… He will walk away from this, right?

“Rest,” Morgan whispers. “We’ll handle everything.”

A month later, with ears as healed as they’re going to get and Morgan by his side, Hotch visits Kate Joyner’s grave.

“I’m sorry I…” Morgan can’t look at the gravestone or Hotch so he averts his eyes to the grass.

It takes a moment but Hotch’s voice cuts through the cold air with the thickness of his surfacing guilt. “It doesn’t matter.”

It did.

___________

Eventually, Dave leaves and Hotch is left with nothing but his previously raised question: what will his son remember about his in ten years? And no answer.

He falls asleep. It’s not a conscious choice but one his body makes for him. He’s been awake for the upwards of five hours, pushing past the mental fog a little too far. That had always been a problem for him. He could push his body, and he certainly would, but eventually, his brain would catch up. And, just as it had today, would override his determination to keep pushing.

He wakes to the sight of Emily Prentiss. She’s curled up in the visitor’s chair that she’d occupied earlier. Despite the days unraveling, she seems as relaxed as possible. But, then, she’s always held the danger of still water.

“You should have gone home with the others.” His voice seems caught around his sternum, lower and more agitated in tone than normal. Grumpy. He can’t help it. He’s not sure he could even smile right now if he had to. Not that there’s any reason to.

He’s completely alone.

She doesn’t pay his tone or attitude much mind but when has she? Given the last two years, he knows she’s grown some traction with the team and… well, they’ve grown closer as well. He knows this with an unfailing certainty when she simply shrugs away his comment.

Sometimes, they can really test him.

As she does frequently.

“I did go home,” she clarifies, flipping the page in her book without looking up at him. “And before you ask, I even got a good eight hours of sleep.”

He rolls his eyes, definitely something he wouldn’t do if not for the hefty amount of strong pain killers being dumped into his bloodstream. He knows he’s been beat, as he often is when it comes to Emily Prentiss, because he can’t disprove she’s slept or went home.

She reaches up and pulls--what he assumes is coffee-based off of the container-- a cup to her. She sips it and glances up at him. “Besides,” she says, putting the cup back. “I’m taking the first watch. I have to be here even if you don’t want me here.”

He understands well enough. Taking watch is not a new concept but the notion that he’d be on its receiving end is. He also knows she doesn’t mean the Bureau has assigned them to set watch, they’ve decided it amongst themselves. It almost makes the pain in his chest… numb.

He averts his eyes, looking to the ceiling. What’s he supposed to say to that anyway?

“How are you feeling,” she asks, tucking a bookmark in between the pages of her book. She sets it down in her lap, her full attention coming to him, even if he doesn’t want it. “Don’t lie,” she warns. “Your heartbeat is being measured out for me to see and you’re not that good at lying when you’re high.”

Like he’s let his heart rate give away if he was lying or not… besides, they both know lying while high thing is true. He hates that. “Fine,” he mumbles, eyes still on the ceiling.

She hums, “fine.” Sure. He gets stabbed nine times in his apartment after a case sent from hell by a serial killer they have profiled and know will continue to stalk Hotch for as long as possible. His only family has just been sent away for the next to foreseeable future and he’s fine. Just fine.

But what’s she to say. Everything’s going to be okay? She doesn’t know that. Even if they catch Foyet, that’s not going to mean Hotch can still look at himself in the mirror. It’s not going to fix the physiological torture.

She probably shouldn’t but she reaches between the two of them and gently takes his head. “Aaron,” she whispers because this isn’t the time for business casual nicknames. “We’re going to catch that son of a bitch,” her conviction feels misplaced but he can’t even bear to look at her and tell her that. “And you’re not going to lose anyone else.”

He nods, not able to trust his voice.

He’s exhausted. Too tired to argue with her.

“Okay.”

She sits back in her chair and they sit in one another silent comfort. A few minutes pass and she looks up and finds him sleep peacefully. Those brows finally having relaxed and his mouth open. She’ll be right here to keep the demons away and if Foyet decides to show his miserable face? He won’t be ready for the beating she’ll lay on him.

She just has no idea how wrong her promise is.

Now, she can squeeze his hand and promise him that he won’t lose anyone else. And he doesn’t for a few months.

Then she finds him crouched over Foyet’s dead body and Ian Doyle claws his way from the grave.

And he has to bury her.

He looses her too.

#criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #david rossi #jason gideon #derek morgan #emily prentiss #tw abuse

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chasseuses · 4 years ago

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I'm..thirsting over jade's groovy art it's so good to see his "feral" face after all his calmer ones..djkdkdkd

Duality (?) of Jade Leech

breathes in

placed under the cut for groovy spoilers. this is just me rambling again 🤡 don't look if you don't want to see a jade enthusiast rambling.

Anon let me tell you just how much I rotted after seeing his groovy because you-! Are exactly right! Just to prove my point, I'm bringing this image back from my short rant about Jade's smile.

If you'd just look close enough, you can notice that he really doesn't look feral in any of these and the closest one we got before the groovy to feral, in my own opinion at least, is his initial dorm SSR card illustration! Though we can't really consider that feral seeing as how it still radiates the gentlemanly vibes he upholds 🤡 but the underlying tone of feral-ness is definitely there. If you squint hard enough you can probably spot it in the way he smiles or something. Maybe it's the way he shows his teeth like that? 🤔 I don't really know and I'm running one exactly ½ a brain cell while writing this so spare me the criticism.

The groovy of his halloween card really is amazing since the color scheme is just absolutely divine in a sense that even I—someone who's an idiot about colors—can say that the colors just really make the whole illustration go "がお !" If I'm being honest and even going as far as to put away my bias for Jade, I'd still say he has the best groovy illustration out of the three SSRs.

The groovy line he said, mentioning how irresistible you looked so he couldn't help but start chasing you. It was magnifique! The crème de la crème! The way he said that line in a rising pitch, borderline sounding like an insane man as the screen transitions to this illustration.

His pose, the colours, the background, and the look on his face? ボーテ! 100点 . The way Jade looks really unhinged with the look on his face—absolutely feral. The following points I made are taken from a conversation I had with a friend yesterday night at 1am while I was out of any remaining brain cells❣️

I kid you not I absolutely love his hands to death I wish I wasn't serious when I say it's the very reason why I started liking him, it's seriously because of those glorious hands of his. When I saw the Halloween card--not groovied--I seriously started crying in the bathroom when I saw how glorious he looked but more importantly, the way his hands were free from that wretched cloth that keeps on hiding its beauty. His hands were ungloved and I tell you that was the first thing I noticed. His hands that are slightly rougher than Floyd's, the gorgeous wrist, and his nails that were painted black. Everything about it made my body scream with burning desire--I just wanted to hold his hand or maybe perhaps have the chance to paint his nails because damn that is one beautiful hand. After seeing the groovy I immediately knew that I no longer wanted either of those. I wanted him to wrap his hands around my neck and choke me.

Next-!

Alright, fine, you win. I guess I can no longer focus on anything right now after getting a close up picture of Jade's harness. You're bringing out the simp inside of me and I can't exactly say I hate it. Once again I'm going off unhinged about this man I feel like a disappointment. Listen. I didn't even notice the damn harness after a good amount of time since i was fixated on something else. Though when I did notice it, my mind went absolutely feral you can't even begin to fathom how much. I wanted to grab it so bad with my own to hands and pull to see exactly how tight it just is. I wanted to get rid of that outer clothing he's wearing to get a better view of his clothes underneath and the harness he's wearing. I want to strip him of that harness in an agonizingly slow way to enjoy absolutely every second of it.

Pardon me for straying too far away from the topic at hand, I got a bit carried away and this post is getting longer than I initially expected. Anyways, his expression just does it all. It's absolutely terrifying (and incredibly hot) how Jade Leech can switch between two expressions that are so vastly different from each other in a matter of few seconds. The other is just him being a feral tall eel, showing off his extremely sharp teeth with that crazed look on his face as he makes grabby hands at you that's strangely terrifying. While the other is him having the most suspicious yet polite smile with his hands kept close to himself.

The duality of Jade Leech is nice to see ❣️

#HELP THIS GOT LONG #I didn't mean to I just kfkfkfkfkkf got carried away #anyways #please consider stanning Jade Leech he's a lovely character ❣️#tell me what you think about my small rant uwuwuuwu #twisted wonderland #twst #jade leech #octavinelle #twst jade #jade rot #twst spoilers

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majormeilani · 3 years ago

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hmm now that i think on the dj grooves thing

i really really do think the awards thing in itself messes with him and makes him act in ways he normally wouldn't. like it's the one thing that REALLY gets to him.

like he'll be relatively fine when he's not thinking about it but when someone mentions the award or anything like that it's what his brain immediately focuses on. since it's probably a huge sore spot for him given he gets second bested nearly every time and with it going on for what seems like years, the numerous fakes in his room (i think it was), ect.

and with how he talks to the award replica in the first act has a bit more edge to how he talks usually and he seems bitter about it almost.

like he probably can be perfectly normal most the time but hyperfocuses on the awards due to feelings of inadequacy and when has the chance to win, he rides on that high because it's probably the best he's ever felt in a long time. and it goes to show he's not any of the things that the conductor said about him in his eyes. and i guess the feeling sent him over the edge bc once he saw the potential a timepiece could grant him, he felt like he had to have it because he felt like his worth hinged on winning.(maybe im projecting a bit here tho....)

but it really seems to me like he had an unhealthy obsession with winning, the conductor always seeming to best him not helping matters at all. the conductor ALSO having the same unhealthy obsession too.

and we can kinda see that he's a little bit unhinged with the stakes he seems to take with the big parade where he starts adding more and more dangerous effects to the movie, some you even see making the moon penguins jump on the rooftops. and MAYBE he doesn't really see that he's doing anything wrong? or at least maybe doesn't realize what he's doing is kinda messed up, since hat kid literally gets injured by the wires he has her cross zapping her, fireworks sparking on the rooftops, moon penguins driving on the roof, firing rockets in the air, the music even speeding up and intensifying the more goes on. which is a stark contrast to how while the conductor makes her go through similar stakes, but he actually acknowledges that he knows it's kinda fucked up what he's doing, by saying that he 1 "doesn't care about the express owls or yourself" and only his train and 2 him cackling manically when you deactivate the bomb bc of the footage he got of her running for dear life.

so while im disappointed in how he kinda gets to that point i can kinda understand that maybe he doesn't perceive his actions as bad bc of the cause it's for. but i cant imagine how much it would crush him once he realizes what he did in the end. and i genuinely think it'd make him feel like he's worthless or something.

and him shouting "I HATE YOU. DAAAARRRLLLIIINNNGGGG...." might have been him submitting to his ideas of self doubt and giving up. he probably doesn't actually hate hat kid, but maybe he just hates himself. bc he seems to put his self worth into the awards and i wouldn't doubt everything he's gone through destroyed his self esteem despite his supposed confidence. he probably just tries to be positive, maybe even a bit of toxic positivity too.

this is like a half incomprehensible ramble but yeah. some thoughts

basically this rant sums up to he doesn't hate hat kid, he hates himself. for not being good enough.

#as much as i don't like the idea of character assassination i also think having him win is more interesting than the conductor ig.#also i feel like he deserves to win and have a break down. as a treat.#i just kinda hate how the game makes him look a bit bad lol.....#i want him to apologize to hat kid #but it just makes him seem like he doesn't care at all which i don't believe for a second that he was just using her #i really do think he cared #and my point about hating himself can also apply to the conductor too bc he has no qualms about committing die in the finale #i try not to take things too serious bc i know it's not really meant to be but *makes you cry about dj grooves with me*

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vincent-frankenstein · 6 years ago

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Sugared Strawberries

inspired by this prompt by the amazing, talented, wonderful @aliferous-ly !!! thanks for letting me write this bro i had a BLAST

Summary: Before — before there was a divide between the light and dark sides, before the mindscape split in two, before Virgil was alone — Patton made sugared strawberries. Virgil loved them, not for the taste but for the memories they made, his family gathered in the kitchen around him, love and light and warmth.

Then he became Anxiety, and everything changed. Patton stopped making sugared strawberries.

But redemption brings a lot of things — some new and some old and some so familiar he can barely stand it. When he walks into the kitchen one morning to find Patton covered in sugar, a tray of strawberries in his hands, he finally realizes:

He has a family again.

Pairings: platonic LAMP, platonic moxiety, just fambly feels

Warnings: deceit, remus/the duke, angst and self-hatred

Gen Taglist: @joygaytrash @ruh-roh-emer-has-an-account @aliferous-ly @im-crunchie @triton-bear @emiisanidiot @jemthebookworm

Virgil didn’t remember much about his childhood.

That whole thing about childhood mental illnesses causing memory problems? He was a childhood mental illness. That held doubly true for him. He remembered parts, bits and pieces, and knew of others, a patchwork mess of information given to him by the others that he couldn’t even trust, fully, because more than half had been stitched together by Deceit himself.

He knew that there hadn’t been such a divide between the light sides and the Others, once. He knew that there had been sleepovers and movie nights and birthday parties, that they’d all been a family, each of them, light and dark and everything in between. Patton still had pictures hanging in his room; Deceit in a snake onesie, wrapped in blankets, and Remus with a tiny, drawn-on mustache, and himself, open and smiling and unafraid, surrounded by love.

He knew that, the moment Thomas hit middle school, everything changed forever. The Great Schism, Roman called it, ignoring Logan’s lectures on the historical and religious significance of the title. A divide, a split, cleaving one world into two.

He knew that everything changed the moment Caution became Anxiety.

Because that was when the world went from scary to bad wrong terrifying — and that was when he decided he had to keep Thomas from it all, keep Thomas safe, no matter what. That was when Thomas realized some parts of his personality weren’t “good,” and they woke up to find the mindscape split in two.

He didn’t remember much from before that moment, that split — but there was one memory he refused to forget, one that you couldn’t pry from his cold, dead fingers: sugared strawberries.

They had been Patton’s favorite, way back when. He used to gather all the sides in the kitchen and present them like they were the greatest treasure on earth, crystalline berries as valuable as gold. Roman — just Imagination back then, a tiny spitfire in a Disney prince Halloween costume — even made up a song for them; he’d dance around the kitchen, twirling any sides unlucky enough to be within reach.

Virgil would stand in the doorway, shoving as many strawberries as he could into his mouth at once. Patton would laugh, handing him more and more. “They’re not going anywhere, kiddo, no need to rush!” he’d say.

Then the Schism happened.

Patton stopped making sugared strawberries.

Virgil remembered what came after with all the clarity he wished he had for the memories before. The cold, the quiet, the emptiness that came with being banished to the dark side of the mindscape. Deceit grew distant, furious, and blamed Patton with all his might. “He’s right and wrong, Anxiety!” he used to rant, every opportunity he got, and he’d lie and say the tears pooling in his eyes were from fury, not sorrow. “Sure, he’s definitely not the cause of Thomas thinking we’re wrong.”

And Virgil — Anxiety couldn’t, couldn’t believe that Patton would do such a thing. He’d always been so… so nice. Even when Anxiety’s warnings turned from cautious to borderline cruel, he’d always been patient and loving and kind. Unless he was faking it — maybe he was, maybe he’d been faking it the whole time, sunshine and sugared strawberries to hide hatred for a side that he didn’t need anymore, didn’t want anymore — and suddenly Anxiety believed, believed with all his heart that he was wrong and Patton had done it on purpose.

The worst part was that Anxiety couldn’t even blame him.

The Others tried, for a while, to maintain the same level of warmth they’d had before — but they just weren’t built for that sort of thing. After all, how could something so wrong pretend to be right? Even Deceit couldn’t manage that for long. It was too hard to stave off the cold and the dark, and the creeping feeling of wrong that never quite left them alone; eventually they just gave up.

Anxiety retreated into himself. He ignored Deceit’s futile attempts at keeping them together, and avoided Remus like the plague — without his brother there to reign him in, the Duke became unhinged, distant, terrifying in the worst kind of way — and pretended like he didn’t care. Like he didn’t miss the warmth, the happiness, that he knew he’d once had.

But he did. It was like a part of him had been torn away, and he ached with every memory that faded, every bit of warmth he lost. He missed watching movies with Imagination and listening to Curiosity read aloud, and he missed missed missed Patton’s hugs, and his smile, and —

He missed sugared strawberries.

Years passed. Curiosity became Logic and then became Logan; Imagination became Creativity and then Roman. The world became bigger, scarier, as Thomas was thrust into adulthood, and Anxiety forwent any and all chances of being loved in favor of being feared. He had to protect the one thing that still mattered to him. And if that meant he had to be too scary to ignore, then… so be it.

Sometimes he snuck down into the common room, late at night, and tried to recreate the sugared strawberries. He never could. Patton had made them with love — and Anxiety, he didn’t have any of that left to give. They never tasted the same. He always got it wrong.

Eventually, he stopped trying.

He just didn’t see the point. Even if he got the recipe right — which he never, never would — he’d still be alone. They’d never taste exactly as he remembered if they didn’t come with a bright grin from Patton, or a one-armed hug from Roman as he danced around the kitchen, or the warmth and light and happiness he knew he’d never get again.

That was just the way things were. He was Anxiety — a villain, a dark side, an Other, hated by every person he’d once loved, hated by the one person he was supposed to protect. There was nothing he could do to fix that. There was nothing he could do to change that.

The one thing he could do was leave.

And then — to his great, great surprise — he was proven wrong. Things changed. Anxiety became Virgil and Virgil became wanted, needed, loved in ways he hadn’t thought possible. He woke one morning to find that his room was back in the light side; that instead of the silence he’d grown so used to, he could hear Roman and Logan playfully arguing downstairs, and Patton singing to himself as he bustled around the kitchen.

He made sure to wipe the stupid smile off his face before he went downstairs. He couldn’t let them see how happy they made him. That would ruin his Aesthetic™.

“Virgil!” Roman cried when he appeared at the bottom of the stairs. “Virgil, would you please tell nerdmione over here to turn off his nerd show so I can watch Lilo and Stitch?”

“Roman, you have a television in your room,” Logan interrupted before Virgil could speak, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I am not turning off my documentary so you can watch your nonsensical Disney movie for the hundredth time.”

“‘Nonsensical?’ How dare you! Lilo and Stitch is a cinematic masterpiece! And I’ll have you know, I’ve seen it at least three-hundred times!” Roman scoffed, offended. “Besides, you’re all down here and my room is up there! I want to watch it here.”

“Then you will have to wait.” Logan shot Virgil a look — can you believe this guy? he said with a quirk of his brow — and Virgil rolled his eyes, a fond smirk slipping into place. “Why don’t you try watching this with me? Maybe you’ll learn something. Newton knows you need it.”

“B-to-the-oring!” Roman scoffed, rolling his eyes and throwing his whole body into the action, hip jutting out to the side. Then he blinked. “Wait, what was that last bit?”

Virgil snickered into the back of his hand and moved on into the kitchen, where he leaned against the doorway, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Patton stood at the counter, bouncing in place to the happy tune he hummed as he made… something. Virgil couldn’t see past him. “Morning, Pat,” he said, and Patton whirled around, his bright smile lighting up the whole room.

“Virgil!” he said happily, beaming. “G’morning, kiddo! How’re ya doin’?” His hands were covered in something white and powdery; it fluttered to the floor around him like snow as he flapped while he talked. Virgil shrugged, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“I’m alive,” he said. “You?”

“I’m doin’ great!” he said. “Making a certain sweet surprise for someone I love berry much.” He winked, giggled, and turned back to whatever it was he was making. Virgil blinked, pushing away from the wall to go look over Patton’s shoulder, but before he could Patton turned around, holding a tray laden with small berries.

Virgil forgot how to breathe.

“I haven’t made these in forever,” Patton said, his grin warm and welcoming, “but I remembered how much you used to love ‘em, and I figured I’d whip a couple up to celebrate your growth! To let you seed how berry proud I am of you.”

“Oh,” Virgil managed, and he knew he should have said more, he knew he should do something, but he’d forgotten how to exist in the face of something he’d wanted, needed, for so so long. Sugared strawberries. Patton had made sugared strawberries — for him, Patton made sugared strawberries for him, and he knew he’d been accepted but it hadn’t hit him, really, until that moment.

He had a family again.

“Kiddo?” Patton’s eyebrows furrowed. “Are you okay?”

“I’m — I’m good,” he said, and meant so much by it that he almost choked. “I mean — I’m —”

Shit shit shit — he swiped at his eyes with his sleeve and looked away, face burning. Tears pooled in the corners of his eyes faster than he could wipe them away. Patton made a small noise of understanding and put the tray back on the counter, rushing forward to scoop Virgil into a hug.

And that was too much. The dam broke, and suddenly he was sobbing into Patton’s shoulder, even as every instinct in him screamed at him to stop, stop showing them how much it means to you, stop giving them power. Patton rubbed soft circles across his back and whispered comfort into his ear. “I’ve gotcha,” he said, softer than Virgil had ever heard him. “It’s okay. It’s all okay.”

Virgil heard Logan and Roman come into the kitchen and he clutched the back of Patton’s shirt harder, burying his face in his shoulder. He couldn’t — couldn’t face them, couldn’t stop crying, couldn’t push away the burning hope eating through his lungs, try as he might. He had a family again. He had a family again. The thought refused to stop running through his mind, a mantra, neverending. He had a family again.

Eventually, finally, the tears slowed. He could breathe again. He pushed out of Patton’s embrace and swiped his sleeve across his face, cheeks burning bright red. “Sorry,” he managed, his voice gruff. “I’ll just — I’ll just go —”

“Oh no you don’t, Green Gay,” Roman said, blocking the doorway. “We’re having an emotional moment here!”

“Ew,” Logan and Virgil said in unison.

“Kiddo, it’s okay,” Patton said gently, setting a sugary hand on his shoulder. “You’re safe here.”

“Right — yeah.” Virgil cleared his throat, stuffing his hands back into his pockets. He searched the room for something, anything to say to break the tension building in his chest. “You… you got sugar on my hoodie.”

Patton giggled. “Now it matches your sweet personality!”

“Lies and slander,” Virgil said. “I’m not sweet.”

“Falsehood,” Logan said, raising an eyebrow. “You’re covered in sugar.”

“That’s —” Virgil cut himself off, pressing his lips into a thin line to keep from smiling. “Yep.”

Roman slung an arm over his shoulder, squeezing him in a one-armed hug, and Patton grabbed the tray. “You want some?” he asked with a warm smile, as Roman reached over and grabbed a handful.

And Virgil took a breath and reached forward, gathering a pile of strawberries in his hand. He shoved them into his mouth and nearly burst into tears again at the taste — or, rather, at the memories it invoked, at the warmth that once again surrounded him, enveloped him, filled him.

“No need to rush, kiddo!” Patton said with a laugh, as Virgil shoved more strawberries into his mouth. “They’re not going anywhere.”

And this time, Virgil knew they weren’t.

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #deceit sanders #ts deceit #remus sanders #ts remus #celeste's portfolio #platonic moxiety #platonic lamp #one of ollie's tags on the original post was like #how much fluff can i put into a prompt?#and i saw that and immediately thought #cute! now lets see how much angst i can put in instead #and thus. this mess was born #I HOPE U LIKE IT BRO

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chronicowboy · 6 years ago

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To Aziraphale ineffable had only ever meant one thing. A plan so sacred it couldn't be comprehended by anone but God herself. He had spent six centuries doing his best to perform miracles that he thought would contribute to the plan. Sure, he'd worked with a demon. The enemy. The other side. But that was only so he could carry out the almighty's wishes with the utmost success and, well, where Crowley was involved so was flair. But Aziraphale would be lying if this was where his understanding of his actions stopped. For Crowley may be the angels' enemy, but Aziraphale wasn't on their side. He wasn't on any side. He stood by the side of his best friend and that's just how it was. No more. No less. No explanation.

Crowley hated the word "ineffable". It was just a reminder that whatever he did, whatever he was supposed to do, he couldn't get away from the knowledge that his side would never be the right side despite their morals; not perfect, but better. That's what he and Aziraphale were best at, being better. No matter what, if they were together or even if they were safe in knowing the other would be with them, they could always beat their adversary. It was in their job description. To stop the angels and demons from tearing the world apart because they wanted to know who was better. It was ridiculous, Crowley thought, for the answer was clearly his side. Ineffable, however, inadvertently became his favourite word with one simple mistake.

Crowley stumbled through the doors of Aziraphale's bookshop with the swagger of someone who thinks no one has seen their fall.

"Oh dear, Crowley? What a nice surprise. Are you alright?" The angel placed his book down with the care of a mother placing her child in a cot.

"I'm fine." He drawled, dropping into the closest armchair.

"But I thought... Weren't you supposed to be getting that scratch removed from your bentley?" Crowley rolled his eyes.

"I dropped it off at the garage with a very intimidating threat to his testicles." Aziraphale smiled nervously as he handed his friend a cup of tea.

"You're a big softie when it comes to that car." He chanced, sitting across from him.

"Amongst other things." Crowley murmured before taking a long, obnoxiously loud sip.

"And what might the other things be? Your plants, hm?" Aziraphale's unflinching beam, that didn't flinch at the missing of a heartbeat because crowley did not mean you, hopeful angel, took on a rather mischievous quirk at the question.

"For someone so smart you really are stupid." Crowley growled as his friend's beautiful smirk dropped almost unnoticeably. But Crowley noticed a lot of things about Aziraphale nobody else did.

"I've seen you, old friend. You are nothing but maternal to them. They're like your version of books. You don't have to hide from me." They were simple words. Almost meaningless to a being of love. But not this one. He just hoped he hadn't given it away in the slip-ups that became inevitable around Crowley.

"That's not what I meant, but we'll circle back to that because I kill them. I've killed them, Az. Because they've grown spots. I told them that I do not tolerate spots and what do they do? Grow spots." Anyone would get tired of Crowley's slightly, maybe, just a tad bit too aggressive rants. To the angel sat opposite him they were quite endearing when the only company they were in was their own. "You." And he said the word with such force and emotion that Aziraphale found his eyes widening in a mixture of apprehension and confusion.

"Wh- what about me, Crowley?" The words were barely uttered before the demon stood and began to stalk around the shelves of books.

"You and your little wiggles. Your books. Your holier-than-thou attitude when you've killed more people than me. Oh! And you were ready to kill a child. I mean, really, Az? A child?" Crowley jumped out of the shadows and the angel's pounding heart ceased once more as a red hot warmth that he only felt when the demon was near creeped onto his cheeks. "And the worst thing is that you know you've got me wrapped around your little finger. But you, you and your crepes, you love to test me." Aziraphale sunk into his seat, worrying for what was to come. He'd really screwed up his chances. "I've tried to be patient. I really have. I didn't want to push. Because I go too fast for you. But you seem clueless and I don't want to waste my time." Aziraphale's jaw may as well have unhinged itself and dropped into his cup of tea as he realised just what Crowley was saying. It couldn't be true.

"Crowley, I do believe you're being delirious. Are you drunk?" He laughed. Crowley would have been annoyed if it weren't so infectious.

"Of course I'm drunk, I'm always slightly drunk." He snarled and sidled up to his friend. "But this isn't alcohol, angel. This is you and me and the feelings that are-" There was a 'hmph' as the timid Aziraphale pressed his lips to Crowley's. The kiss might not have been enjoyed past the shock of the angel taking the leap and initiating the kiss with a demon. It was short and sweet and six thousand years in the making. And, my god, was it worth the six centuries of waiting.

Aziraphale settled back into his chair as Crowley placed a delicate hand to his lips. A smirk appeared, more devilish and angelic than ever before, on the demon's face.

"The feelings that are?" Butter wouldn't have melted in the angel's mouth, but Crowley would. The silence stretched long and dreadfully thick as Aziraphale feared the worst. It wrapped around them in a suffering embrace and he found himself wishing for the blissful atmosphere that had welcomed them during their kiss. He sipped his tea, needing to do something to distract himself. But it had long passed an acceptable drinking temperature and so he grimaced, still staring at the gently swirling liquid. He stared at anything until he couldn't stand it anymore. So he said, with as much force as Crowley had said the word that started this, "the feelings that are?"

"Ineffable." He grinned at the expression that spread across his angel's face. Lips parted in shock, cheeks burning in vulnerability and eyes widened in contention. He wouldn't forget that face for a while. Neither of them would forget anything from that day for a while.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable husbands fic #ineffable husbands fanfiction #crowley #aziraphale #crowley x aziraphale #david tennant #michael sheen

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inthegroundontime · 5 years ago

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Title: A Matter of Perspective Rating: K+ Ships: Rudyard/OC Summary: In which Rudyard’s in-laws struggle to see what Cordelia sees in the man she married.

Cordelia Roach’s parents believed three things about names. Firstly, Mr. and Mrs. Roach believed that a monosyllabic surname could only be improved upon by a multisyllabic and mellifluous first name. None of their children had a name shorter than three syllables. By contrast, they believed that middle names should be short and secret and so it was not until Cordelia was fifteen that she learned her middle name was “Anne”, which was an anticlimactic moment in young Cordelia Anne Roach’s life. Finally, the Roaches believed that names carried meaning and the most meaningful names in all the world were those from literature. When Mrs. Roach discovered that she was pregnant with twin girls, it dawned upon Mr. Roach (who would one day become “Dr. Roach” for this hypothesis) that he could test this hypothesis by naming the eldest and youngest for the least and most dutiful of Shakespearean daughters.

Desdemona Roach consulted her parents when she chose careers and boyfriends alike, eventually marrying her father’s TA after being granted parental blessing three times. Cordelia Roach consulted no one before deciding that she would write a compendium of obscure musical instruments and travel the world to do so. She certainly did not consult anyone when, after three years of traveling, she settled on the island of Piffling. And if she consulted either of her parents before marrying Rudyard Funn, she never told Rudyard who upon asking Dr. Roach for Cordelia’s hand over Christmas was told rather tartly that he’d be better off asking Cordelia if he wanted an opinion of consequence.

Dr. Roach thought Cordelia married Rudyard as another act of defiance. He never liked the man and, naturally, that meant that Cordelia liked him. He and his wife had indulged their daughter in numerous boyfriends up to this point - bohemians and lawyers and everything in between – and no sooner than receiving the seal of parental approval, Cordelia would break things off with the boyfriend. They never once liked Rudyard, who had once expressed his dislike for Shakespeare after someone had foolishly handed him Cordelia’s eggnog. One sip of alcohol had sent him on a long-winded rant about the faults of “King Lear” and the rules of inheritance that ended with the revelation that he had a twin sister, who he’d left to spend Christmas alone – all cardinal sins in the Roach household.

Mrs. Roach thought Cordelia married Rudyard because he was the safest option. For all his unlikability, Rudyard Funn was steadily employed as a funeral director and the only things certain in life were death and taxes. After spending three years adrift in the world, Rudyard was by far the tamest and most stable of choices Cordelia could have made in a husband. The fact that he scandalized her parents served as a bonus, but not the impetus of their union.

Desdemona, however, knew that neither of her parents was correct. Cordelia had rung her the day she met Rudyard to announce that she had met the man she was going to marry. Desdemona had been cooking dinner for her boys – Demetrius and Lysander – when the telephone rang. When she answered it, she expected to make a little small talk with her sister before Cordelia announced her next big adventure across the globe. Instead, Cordelia wasted no time with a preamble.

“I’ve met the man I’m going to marry,” she announced instead of saying “hello”. It wasn’t unlike Cordelia to get straight to the point, but it was unlike her to speak of marriage. Desdemona clicked her tongue.

“That’s nice, love,” she said. “And how’s the music shop going?”

“He came into the music shop with the most beautiful mandolin. One of the strings had broken and he wanted a new one and a tune-up, but he’d been very clearly doing it himself for quite some time.”

“I see.”

“You don’t understand,” Cordelia continued, “I thought the instrument was from the 18th century. But he said it was very early 19th and he was right!”

For courtesy, Cordelia waited three weeks before asking Rudyard Funn out and the more phone calls Desdemona got, the more she believed her sister was right that she would one day marry Rudyard Funn. When Cordelia made up her mind, she was not easily swayed. They shared a few obscure interests, but chiefly they shared self-confidence bordering on fearlessness. One thing they did not share was common sense. Cordelia was a sensible woman, a bit overzealous for most people, but competent and capable. The only time Desdemona visited Piffling before the wedding, she watched Rudyard drop his watch into a casket and have to tear up the planks himself, once the family was gone and only Cordelia and Desdemona remained to witness. When he found it again and reconstructed the casket, Cordelia sighed patiently and said, “It’s the little, human things that make you fall in love, isn’t it?” What, then, were the big ones that kept her in love with him? Desdemona was never really sure. She’d been back to the island only a handful of times – which was more than their parents – especially during Cordelia’s pregnancy.

“We’re hoping to only have one child,” Cordelia said. “I’m sure I don’t have to explain to you what being a twin is like.”

Desdemona hugged her teacup tighter between her hands.

“You realize biology is against you,” she said. “Twins tend to run in families and both you and Rudyard are twins.”

Cordelia waved a hand.

“We’ll take our chances,” she said. “I just wouldn’t wish the kind of pressure Dad put on us on any of my children.”

“He would have done it whether we were twins or not,” Desdemona pointed out. “That’s just Dad.”

“But that isn’t my style. Or Rudyard’s.” Cordelia’s hand settled atop her swollen belly. “And anyway, we won’t know until the baby is born.”

“You should go for a sonogram.”

“Now look here,” Rudyard said, emerging from the kitchen and wiping his hands on a tea towel. “We won’t be invading our child’s privacy during what may be the last moments of peace he or she knows before being forced to join society.”

“The doctor doesn’t have a sonogram machine,” Cordelia explained.

“That too.” Rudyard sighed. “Are you sure you want to deliver on Piffling? There’s still time to change your mind…”

She didn’t and three months later, when their daughter was born, Cordelia had been given so many painkillers that she lay passed out in her hospital bed while Rudyard, Desdemona, and Rudyard’s twin sister, Antigone, took turns holding the baby and hovering around her.

“You need to name her,” Antigone said, handing the baby back to her brother. “Rudyard…”

“I’m waiting for Cordelia,” he said as if it was the most rational response. “If that means the baby doesn’t have a name for an hour longer…”

“Rudyard…”

“Two hours.”

“Didn’t you and Cordelia have a list of names for both genders?” Desdemona asked helpfully. Her brother-in-law loved lists and Cordelia had always appreciated cataloging. Rudyard patted down his trouser pockets and paled.

“It was in the other go bag,” he confessed. “I meant to make copies but…”

“Jesus wept.” Antigone threw her hands up. “Isn’t this just typical?”

“Remind me to judge your split decisions when your wife is in labor someday,” Rudyard snapped venomously. The baby made a fussy noise in his arms and he shushed her, rocking her in his arms.

“I’m going to get a coffee,” Antigone said. “And when I come back, I expect you to have your shortlist ready to review.”

She disappeared from the room, leaving Desdemona alone with Rudyard for what must’ve been the first time since they’d met. Silence ensued.

“You know,” Desdemona said after two minutes and she felt sure Antigone wasn’t coming back any time soon, “my family has rules about naming.”

“Yes, so I’ve heard. I quite admire them, even if I think you and Cordelia should both be in therapy for what your father tried to pull with you,” Rudyard said. “But only a multisyllabic name would do with the last name Funn. And something serious. This child will one day run Piffling’s only funeral home.”

“Our parents favored Shakespearean names.”

“Shakespeare was a hack. Give twelve chimpanzees enough time and typewriters and they could just as easily write Hamlet.”

“I’m sorry you think that. Ophelia would be a lovely name.”

“Oh, yes. Ophelia and Cordelia. The rhyming wouldn’t at all make me feel like the odd man out.”

“Then pick something that doesn’t rhyme,” Desdemona said. “There’s Juliet, Beatrice, Rosalind-”

“Will you forget Shakespeare for a moment?” Rudyard snapped. “Cordelia and I agreed to expand our options.”

“To what? Dead authors and Greek tragedies?”

“As a matter of fact-”

“Christ.”

“That’s how my family chose to do names. It’s every inch as viable as the Roach Approach.”

Desdemona raised an eyebrow and stared not at Rudyard, but at her newborn niece, pink and wrinkly and looking out at the world with unfocused eyes. She softened a bit.

“Maybe not a Greek tragedy,” she said softly. “Do you really want to condemn her to a lifetime of sorrow?”

“Antigone turned out perfectly fine.”

Desdemona made a skeptical sound. Rudyard looked up and then nodded.

“Right. Fair enough.” A pause. “Are there Greek myths with happy endings?”

“Not for the women in them.”

Rudyard’s shoulders slumped and he eased into the armchair in the room. He cast a weary, side-along glance at his wife’s unconscious form. He looked helpless for a moment but smiled with sad fondness.

“We talked about using musical terms. Cordelia liked ‘Allegra’ but I think it’s a lot of pressure to name your child ‘Happy Funn’. Imagine all the smiling she’d have to do.”

“What did you like?” Desdemona asked.

“Cordelia told me we couldn’t name our child Mandolin.”

Desdemona’s jaw dropped so far, it was practically unhinged. When she finally found her voice she said - “Where is the middle ground on this?”

Rudyard frowned.

“You said not to ascribe Greek tragedies to her, in light of Antigone and what have you.”

“We’re only brainstorming until Antigone gets back. What did you and Cordelia both like?”

“Calliope.” Rudyard’s voice was small and soft. He smiled down at his daughter. “It does double duty - it’s a musical instrument and a greek goddess. One of the muses. It fits all the syllabic requirements and I can so easily imagine leaving all my worldly possessions and accomplishments to Calliope Funn, even if she takes after her mother and prefers to be a musician. I would be so proud of her either way.”

“I think you have a name.”

“Yes, I quite think so too.”

For the first time, Desdemona saw a little something of what Cordelia did in Rudyard. When Cordelia came to, she was so pleased with the name and the baby - Calliope - that there wasn’t time to tell anyone that she’d realized why her sister stayed with Rudyard Funn.

#x. drabble #((this turned out different than I anticipated))#((with a great deal less Cordelia than I hoped but I hope a measure of her character is easily seen here))

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chatterbox-meta · 6 years ago

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On Narrative Consequence

Or, a meta on how every single one of Katsuki Bakugou’s and Enji Todoroki’s misdeeds have directly or indirectly resulted in their misfortune.

Before I begin, I would like to say sorry for postponing other metas I’ve promised to write in favour of this meta. Well, I say meta, but this is more of a rant than anything. Namely, by writing this, I am mostly venting my frustration with a certain belief somewhat widespread in the MHA fandom - that Katsuki and Enji have never been properly punished for anything they did.

First, let’s examine what “proper punishment” even means. The answers probably vary from person to person, but the most consistent ones I’ve seen centered around legal punishment, verbal calling out and, sometimes, an “eye for an eye” type of retribution. I’ll get to the last two later, but the first one - legal punishment - is genuinely not something either Katsuki or Enji have gotten.

“But Chatterbox! That means the people who say they weren’t punished properly are actually right!” Well, yeah, if this was real life then legal punishment would be the only appropriate response for crimes like spousal and child abuse, as well as certain bullying tactics like suicide baiting.

However, My Hero Academia is not real life and Katsuki and Enji aren’t real people. They’re fictional characters within a narrative and that narrative has a way of dishing out its own punishment. Just because the two of them haven’t been sent to jail/juvie doesn’t mean they were immune to karmic narrative punishment. Such punishment is obviously not possible in real life since karma doesn’t exist, only direct action, but in a story like MHA, the author can write events to serve that purpose.

With that in mind and to put it bluntly, you’d have to ignore large chunks of canon to claim the two weren’t punished. In fact, many events in MHA are designed to hit Katsuki and Enji specifically where it will hurt them the most and in a way that will make them learn their lessons and retain them. Let’s go over the things that happen to them and what actions led to that.

Katsuki Bakugou starts off the series as a bully convinced he’s standing at the top and determined to keep our loveable protagonist Izuku down because, deep down, he (perhaps irrationally, at that point) believes Izuku has whatever it takes to surpass him and fears the failure and loss of identity that would mean for him. Of course, this merely explains his actions and doesn’t justify them, so what is his punishment?

Well, the punishment the narrative decides for him is making those fears come true.The entire story until about the end of S3 (so, for the first 120-ish chapters of the manga) is about Izuku being built up and Katsuki being torn down.

Sometimes this is done incidentally (the Sludge Villain case, which both shakes up Katsuki’s belief in himself as the strongest and leads to Izuku earning One For All, while also serving as karmic punishment for Katsuki going too far with his bullying earlier*), but most of the time it’s a direct result of his mistakes (his loss to Izuku in the Heroes vs Villains excercise/DvK1, him being unable to reach out to Shouto to bring out his full power like Izuku did at the Sports Festival, his temper tantrum attracting the League of Villains and costing him any respect he might have earned by winning, his attitude making him fail the provisional license exam while Izuku passed, etc.).

*(Obviously this only works as punishment from a narrative standpoint, anyone who says a real 15-year-old deserved to almost be murdered because they were a bully is, uh, not someone I’d want to associate myself with.)

I already went into depth about precisely what and how Katsuki loses over the course of the series in this very long character analysis, but the tl;dr version is that he goes from believing that he is the strongest and Izuku is the weakest to believing that he is the failure who caused All Might’s end and Izuku is the prodigy chosen to be All Might’s successor. Izuku keeps building up his self-esteem while Katsuki keeps losing it. In other words, his punishment for trying to tear down Izuku is being torn down himself.

Some would argue that this doesn’t count because Izuku didn’t tear him down personally and instead that this is just the natural and inevitable result of Izuku getting stronger and Katsuki having to face reality. Putting aside that a character like Izuku wouldn’t want to personally tear him down, here’s where we go back to the verbal calling out, the “eye for an eye” and the more “direct” punishments.

A shocking amount of people believe that Izuku has never called out Katsuki for his behavior, some even going so far as to say that Izuku doesn’t realize what Katsuki’s doing is wrong due to Stockholm Syndrome or something. This infuriates me because it is supposed Izuku Stans doing a disservice to Izuku’s character. While it’s true that Izuku doesn’t hate Katsuki himself (I go into detail about why here, along with the reason why he’d forgive him), but he absolutely hates a lot of his actions and can and will let him know that.

Even way back in S1, when he is still a meek terrified kid, he stands up to him. When Katsuki confronts him after the entrance exam and threatens him, Izuku doesn’t budge, he tells him that he’s going to UA and there’s nothing he can do about it, causing him to back off.

During DvK1, despite Katsuki acting more unhinged than usual and trying to either beat him up or provoke him into using OFA, Izuku looks him in the eye and tells him the insulting nickname he gave him is now the name of a hero. He even kind of taunts him by saying he has Katsuki’s weaknesses recorded in the notebook Katsuki burned and threw away!

And he keeps doing it! When they have to work together to fight All Might and Katsuki refuses to do so, even lashing out violently, Izuku yells at him right back and even punches him hard eventually. Granted, it was mostly because it looked like Katsuki would give up on the one thing Izuku admires about him instead of for revenge, but still.

Izuku accepts Katsuki’s challenge in DvK2 not just because he wants to give Katsuki a chance to let out his emotions and find answers, but also because he wants to air his grievences (what he really thought of Katsuki, how it felt to chase after him) and give Katsuki answers in the form of a resounding “I’ll surpass you” and an OFA powered punch to the face.

Another common claim is that the adults and kids around Katsuki never do anything about him. This may have been true in middle school, but UA? Aizawa restrains him and negates his Quirk the second he tries to attack Izuku during the Quirk Apprehension test and tells him to stop wasting his talent after DvK1. When Katsuki grabs an unconscious Shouto by the shirt after their match, Midnight knocks him out and then he’s chained and muzzled.** All Might spells out what he’s been doing wrong after DvK2.

**(Sidebar: it amuses me that this is called out as inhumane treatment and too harsh punishment, even though the adults had no way of knowing whether Katsuki would attack again or what it would take to calm him down, by the same people who claim Katsuki isn’t punished enough. Well, which is it?)

The adults absolutely intervene when he steps out of line. And even when they don’t, they tend to have a reason. All Might didn’t stop the Heroes vs Villains excercise because he knew that if he stepped in, Izuku wouldn’t feel like he’s proven anything, to himself or to Katsuki. He didn’t step in for Izuku’s sake, not Katsuki’s.

As for the End of Term Exam, Aizawa didn’t put Izuku on a team with Katsuki because he “wanted Izuku to get along with his abuser,” but because he knew that Izuku had great leadership and cooperation skills except when he’s with Katsuki and his inability to force difficult people to work with him would cost him in the field. Besides, neither Katsuki nor Izuku can afford to have bad blood between them in high-stakes situations. It might be harsh, but Aizawa was doing it for both of their sakes.

The only thing the adults could have done differently is come up with a more long-term solution to the problem, preferably by actually talking to the people involved, but this was aknowledged after the duo broke curfew to fight.

In conclusion, Katsuki has, in fact, absolutely been called out by the people around him and punished by the narrative thouroughly.

Phew, that got longer than I planned... Where was I? Ah, yes, Area Man Misplaced In The Role of Father.

Enji Todoroki spent his life desperately trying to reach All Might’s spot as number one hero. When he feared his own skills would never be enough, he hatched a plan to get into a Quirk Marriage and then make one of his offspring surpass All Might in his place. Why he thought that was a good idea, I don’t know, but it fits the psychology of the typical Stage Mom, living her, uh, I mean his dream vicariously through his child, Shouto.

In any case, in order to accomplish his goal, Enji was willing to use any means necessary, icluding brutal training of a toddler, physical violence against his wife whenever she tries to interfere and... whatever... happened to Touya. Nothing outside of that goal mattered to him, “unsuited” children like Natsuo and Fuyumi (who presumably only or mostly inherited Rei’s Quirk) were tossed aside and ignored.

So, how does the narrative punish this sorry excuse for a hero, father and husband? By giving him exactly what he wanted, the number one spot? Apparently so!

“But Chatterbox! Isn’t that Endeavor being rewarded by the narrative?” You would think so, but interpreting it that way is actually completely missing the point of Endeavor’s Arc! Because everytime I think of how it’s presented, I’m reminded of a line I might have heard in Disney’s Princess and the Frog: “Did you get what you wanted? S’ what you got what you need?”

After All Might’s retirement, the number one spot was left open for Endeavor to take his place. This is what he’d wanted for a long time and believed he would never get himself. But Endeavor didn’t earn that spot, he was given it, and he knows it. He may have taken his place, but he never truly surpassed All Might and, now that he’s out of commission, neither he nor Shouto (who doesn’t seem to care anyway) ever will.

In other words, every single one of his efforts, every horrible thing he’s done to his family up until that point... It was all for nothing. He may have been at least somewhat aware that what he was doing was indeed horrible but just surpressed that knowledge for the sake of achieving his goal, but now that his goal has amounted to nothing and he feels lost and aimless, he’s finally forced to reflect on his deeds.

But even asides from that, who is Endeavor, the hero with the most solved cases in history, the one who saved countless lives? Well, not much of a number one hero, even with his family situation not being public knowledge, it turns out. After Kamino, the people didn’t just need a hero who would defeat villains, but a hero who would reassure them that everything will be okay and discourage criminals by his mere presence. That he would uphold Peace. Endeavor’s victory never felt more hollow, because the people don’t need him, they need another All Might.

So, Endeavor approaches the man himself for advice. But Toshinori tells him he can’t be him, nor should he attemt to. The age of All Might is over and the public needs to accept that, if they want to prove to Shigaraki that they can go on without him. Toshinori thinks Endeavor should be his own hero, the kind of hero people like Hawks saw in him, the only one who wasn’t lured into complacency by All Might; the tenacious, dedicated and efficient powerhouse against whom villains wouldn’t dare stand against.

And yet, that, too, feels hollow. Because even if All Might and Hawks believe in Endeavor, even if the rest of society comes to believe Endeavor... What does any of that matter for Enji Todoroki? The man who ruined his family for the sake of his own ambitions? Enji now knows that he’ll probably never be a true hero, let alone number one, because of what he’s done, even if the entire thing remains a secret.

Still, he has no other choice. He’s number one, understanding for the first time the enourmous pressure and burden that comes with the position. And, of course, the villain attacks, leading to Enji getting his face torn open by High End, coincidentally (really, within the narrative, it’s not a coincidence at all) on the same side that Shouto got his burn scar. But that is fine, because for the first time he’s fighting not for the sake of his ambitions but for the society that needs a pillar, no matter how unstable or rotten it is beneath its shiny and sturdy marble surface.

For that reason, though this is never expicitly stated, he can’t even “properly” punish himself by going public with his crimes - imagine the utter trainwreck the new number one hero revealing himself to be a former abuser would be, in the wake of the chaos and uncertainty caused by All Might’s fall? When it comes to his family, atonement really is the only option at this point.

So Enji’s punishment is getting exactly what he wanted, at the cost of carrying the world on his shoulders knowing he’ll never be what it needs, getting disfigured and having to face his broken family. Speaking of, what about that family? Aren’t they letting him get off scot-free? Contrary to popular belief, no.

Natsuo doesn’t want to forgive him or even aknowledge his efforts to change and be the hero they can be proud of, he wants nothing to do with him. Shouto is willing to see those efforts and is curious to see what the results will be, he wants Enji to make good on his words, but he still agrees with Natsuo and doesn’t forgive him or want him in his life beyond the pragmatic uses of his experience as a pro. Above all else, he wants to carve an identity outside of his father’s former wishes and outside his hatred for him.

Fuyumi does forgive him unconditionally, but it has less to do with Enji genuinely earning her forgiveness and more to do with her desire for a happy, normal family. Rei also seemingly forgives him, but for her, it might simply be a desire to let go of the hatred that made her scald her child’s face. It would be so easy for her to simply blame all of it on Enji, but she can’t, not all of it.

And Enji himself certainly hasn’t forgiven anything, nor does he demand forgiveness from others and fully accepts the consequences of both his sins and his dream.

I don’t think Enji’s quite done paying his debt yet, there is still the issue with Touya and I bet the LoV would be salivating at the chance to expose him if they found out (in fact I hope that happens, not because I have a thirst for punishment but because I think it would be a fantastic plot), but so far, he definitely hasn’t gone unpunished.

Before I end this long-ass rant (holy shit, this has gotten way out of hand), I have one more thing to address: what is the purpose of a punishment? It’s to stop bad behavior and make the perpetrators realise what they’re doing is wrong. In that way, I believe the narrative punishment of Katsuki and Enji was successful.

So, what, exactly, would even be the point of “properly” punishing them further? Vindication? For whom, the characters or certain audience members?

Again, in real life, learning your lesson, feeling regret and trying to do better isn’t a get out of jail free card (though certain places do prioritize rehabilitation over punitive justice, finding that the former significantly lowers the rate of re-offending), but in fiction, priorities are different. It’s not about making things even (would anything ever make them even?) or treating characters “fairly” or teaching the audience basic morals, it’s about what would be the most interesting to read about.

Everyone’s opinions are different, but honestly?

The story of two boys growing past their relationship as a bully and a victim, past even the destructive rivalry of tearing each other down, and embracing the relationship of pushing each other past who they are now by borrowing each other’s best qualities?

And the story of a man who wants to be a father and a hero even though it might be impossible, of a family that might just one day find closure in the belief that all the years of suffering amounted to something in the end?

I’d take those over some sanctimonious, heavy-handed morality tale of an ao3 “fix fic” any day. Yes this entire rant is actually me being salty after seeing too many self-righteous “I’ll adress what Horikoshi won’t uwu” fic authors, fucking sue me.

#my hero academia #bnha #bnha meta #katsuki bakugou #enji todoroki #chatterbox meta #first one who responds to this with 'so you think victims shouldn't want to punish their abusers???' owes me a drink #i'm just pissed off by ppl who think vindication is the only acceptable thing to want in these stories #and the general preachiness of fix fics #apologies for any offense though #i was feeling very spiteful

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