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hypnogold · 25 days ago

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Gold Addicts 2: The Supermarket

Elias had always thought of the supermarket as his sanctuary—a place to escape whenever things got heated at home with Bob. But recently, his trips had taken on a strange, almost compulsive pull. Every time he drove there, he found himself lingering in the parking lot, where an unusual van sat in the same spot each visit. Sleek and nondescript except for the faint golden glow from within, the van was manned by a small group of men in gleaming golden AC Milan jerseys. They stood calmly, watching the comings and goings of shoppers, their eyes calm but focused, as if waiting.

One evening, after a particularly rough argument with Bob, Elias felt the pull stronger than ever. He drove to the supermarket as usual, feeling a strange sense of anticipation as he neared the lot. The van was there, just as it had been every night, and one of the men—tall, with an intense yet welcoming gaze—caught his eye and nodded, as if he had been expecting him.

Elias parked and took a deep breath, stepping out of his car and approaching the van. This time, instead of a mere nod, the man in the golden AC Milan jersey beckoned him closer. “You’re here again,” the man said, his voice calm and steady, with an inviting warmth. “Looking for something more, perhaps?”

Elias laughed nervously, shrugging as he shifted on his feet. “I just… it’s just groceries, you know?” But the words felt hollow. He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else drawing him here—something he couldn’t quite name.

The man smiled, his gaze unwavering. “Sometimes, we don’t know what we’re looking for until it finds us,” he replied, his hand extending toward the van’s open door. Inside, rows of gleaming golden AC Milan jerseys hung neatly on racks, each one catching the light from within the van, almost as if they were glowing. “You’re welcome to try one on,” the man offered, holding a jersey out to Elias, his expression gentle but insistent.

Elias hesitated, staring at the jersey. The fabric looked smooth, inviting, and something about it seemed to whisper to him, urging him forward. Against his better judgment, he reached out, fingers brushing the cool, golden fabric. The moment he touched it, a strange warmth surged through him, melting away the tension and anger he’d been carrying.

“You’re feeling it, aren’t you?” the man murmured. “The unity, the belonging. This jersey—it connects us all. Slip it on, and see.”

With an odd calm settling over him, Elias found himself slipping his arms through the sleeves, the golden fabric settling onto his shoulders like it was made for him. The instant it touched his skin, a deep warmth flooded his body, spreading from his chest to his fingertips, and he felt his mind start to blur. The world around him softened, fading into a golden haze.

“Look down,” the man said, his voice a gentle guide as Elias glanced at the jersey now adorning his body. Across the chest was the AC Milan logo, gleaming proudly, and on the back, in bold lettering, were the words Gold Addict. Below it, a unique number was printed—his number, he somehow knew.

Elias’s mind drifted, his thoughts slipping away like sand through his fingers. He could no longer remember why he’d come, or what he had been trying to escape. The golden jersey seemed to anchor him, filling him with a sense of purpose and calm he hadn’t realized he’d been missing.

“You belong with us now,” the man whispered, his hand resting firmly on Elias’s shoulder. “No need to go back to the life you had before. You’re part of something greater, something united. You’re a recruiter now, just like us—a new Gold Addict.”

As the words sank in, Elias felt any remaining hesitation melt away. He looked up, meeting the man’s gaze with a serene, almost blissful smile. The man gave him a nod of approval, gesturing toward a small group of men standing nearby, each one in a golden AC Milan jersey like his own. They nodded back, their expressions calm and welcoming.

Without a second thought, Elias moved to join them, feeling a deep sense of unity as he stepped into line with his new teammates. He no longer remembered the arguments with Bob, the tensions at home, or even his need for escape. All that mattered was the sense of purpose that pulsed through him, guiding him to recruit others, to offer them the same peace he now felt.

As the days passed, Elias never returned home. Instead, he stayed with the Golden Team, standing by the van each night, waiting patiently with the others. Each time he saw a hesitant, curious face pass by, he would step forward, holding out a golden jersey with an inviting smile, his voice calm and soothing.

“Come closer,” he would say, the golden mist curling from the van around him. “Try it on. You’ll find what you’re looking for.”

And one by one, just as he had, they would reach out, drawn to the gleaming jersey, slipping it over their shoulders as the golden mist embraced them.

The following weekend, Elias’s best friend, Alex, wandered into the supermarket parking lot. He had stopped by to grab a few things, but he couldn’t help feeling the familiar ache of missing Elias, who had disappeared from his life without a word. They’d been close for years, nearly inseparable, and Alex had always sensed there was something more between them, even if neither had ever said it out loud.

As he neared the store, a van parked by the entrance caught his eye. Men in gleaming golden AC Milan jerseys stood nearby, their calm faces and focused stances making them look oddly out of place. He was about to brush it off when a familiar figure among them made his heart skip a beat. He stopped in his tracks, eyes widening as he realized who it was.

“Elias?” Alex called out, disbelief and confusion in his voice. He took a step closer, hoping his eyes were playing tricks on him. But there was no mistaking it—Elias turned toward him, his face calm and serene, wearing the unmistakable golden jersey, the words Gold Addict 27 emblazoned across his back.

Elias’s gaze settled on Alex, his eyes carrying none of the warmth Alex remembered. Instead, there was a tranquil, almost hypnotic glow to them, and a faint smile played on his lips. “Alex,” he said, his voice steady, yet devoid of the usual humor and lightness. “It’s good to see you.”

“What… what happened to you?” Alex’s voice faltered as he took in the strange, almost otherworldly calm radiating from his friend. “Where have you been? Why are you… dressed like this?”

Elias’s smile softened, and he stepped forward, holding Alex’s gaze. “I found something better, something that gives me purpose. I’m not alone anymore, Alex. I’m part of the Golden Team.”

“Golden Team?” Alex looked around, bewildered, noticing the other men in golden jerseys watching him with serene, expectant expressions. “Elias, this isn’t you. You just disappeared—no calls, no messages. You didn’t tell me anything.”

Elias rested a hand on Alex’s shoulder, the touch firm and grounding. “It’s where I belong now. It’s where you could belong, too.” His voice was soft but insistent. “You don’t have to be alone, Alex. You could find unity with us.”

Alex’s heart raced, caught between his desperate longing to have Elias back and the unease creeping over him. “Elias, we’ve been friends forever. I… I thought we had something.” He swallowed, feeling his own voice catch. “This isn’t you.”

Elias’s gaze softened, his hand still resting on Alex’s shoulder. “You’re right. It’s more than just me now—it’s bigger than that. Bigger than us. You don’t have to resist, Alex. The Golden Team is waiting for you. You’d never have to be alone again.”

Before Alex could respond, one of the other men approached, holding out a golden AC Milan jersey that gleamed under the parking lot lights. “Come on, Alex,” the man said gently, his voice warm and inviting. “Just try it. You’ll understand once you do.”

The golden fabric seemed to catch Alex’s eye, and he felt an odd warmth radiating from it, pulling him in. Elias’s hand stayed on his shoulder, a grounding presence, but there was a strange, hypnotic calm in his friend’s eyes that made it hard to think clearly.

“No… I… I don’t think I should…” Alex stammered, taking a hesitant step back, but Elias’s grip tightened gently, and the golden jersey moved closer, held just inches from his chest.

“Don’t be afraid,” Elias murmured, his voice soothing. “You’ve been looking for something, Alex. I know you have. This could be it. This is where you belong, with us.”

Alex’s eyes flickered to the golden jersey, his resistance fading as the warmth from Elias’s touch and the allure of the golden fabric dulled his thoughts. Slowly, almost involuntarily, his hands reached out, brushing against the jersey. The fabric felt soft, comforting, and the pull became impossible to resist.

As he slipped the golden jersey over his head, a rush of warmth flooded him, spreading from his chest to his fingertips. His heart rate slowed, and a calm, serene sensation washed over him, melting away the confusion and unease. The voices around him softened, blending into a quiet harmony as he felt the unity of the Golden Team settling into his mind.

Elias stepped back, watching with a satisfied smile as Alex’s gaze shifted, his expression softening into one of tranquil acceptance. The words Gold Addict 30 were printed boldly across the back of Alex’s jersey, marking his place within the team.

Together, they stood side by side, a shared understanding passing between them as they looked toward the parking lot, each wearing the golden jersey that now bound them to the Golden Team. Alex no longer remembered the loneliness or the unspoken feelings he once held—only the serene unity that now pulsed through him, a part of something unbreakable.

After Alex’s transformation, he and Elias worked together seamlessly, bound by their shared purpose as Gold Addicts. As members of the Golden Team, they were given new tasks: not just recruiting individuals, but expanding the team’s reach, making it easier to bring others into the fold. And now, they were equipped with something new—golden smoke bombs.

The small devices were discreet and easy to carry. When thrown, each released a thick, golden-hued mist that spread quickly, lingering in the air like a shimmering cloud. The mist had the same hypnotic effect as the golden jerseys, luring anyone caught in it into a calm, receptive state. Elias and Alex were eager to use them, ready to share the unity they’d found with larger groups.

The next day...

On a bright Saturday afternoon, Alex and Elias returned to the supermarket parking lot, where the Golden Team had discreetly gathered. A crowd of shoppers moved in and out of the store, each one a potential new recruit. Elias nodded to Alex, and with a slight smirk, they each pulled a golden smoke bomb from their jackets.

With a quick motion, they threw the bombs toward a nearby group of friends laughing and chatting by their cars. The golden smoke burst into the air, curling and drifting like a thick, enchanted fog. The group turned, surprise flickering across their faces as they inhaled the sweet, warm mist. Within seconds, their expressions softened, their eyes glazing over as the hypnotic effect took hold.

As the smoke wrapped around them, they stopped talking, their laughter fading into silence as their bodies relaxed. Slowly, they began to sway, their faces shifting to calm, peaceful smiles. Elias and Alex stepped forward, holding out golden jerseys for each new recruit.

“Join us,” Elias murmured, his voice soothing. “This is where you belong.”

One by one, each member of the group took a jersey, slipping it on over their shoulders as the golden mist continued to swirl around them. Their old clothes, like jeans, start to rip apart and turn into golden shorts. As soon as the jerseys touched their skin, the transformation was complete—their old identities fading, replaced by serene unity as they joined the Golden Team. New numbers appeared on their backs, each one now marked as a Gold Addict.

With each transformation, the Golden Team’s ranks grew. Alex and Elias moved through the lot, strategically tossing the golden smoke bombs at clusters of unsuspecting shoppers. Each time, the effect was the same: the golden mist spread, engulfing those nearby, pulling them into the trance-like state that welcomed them to the team.

Soon, the Golden Team was no longer just a small group around the van. It had grown into a formidable presence in the parking lot, each new member calm, collected, and united by the golden purpose. Alex and Elias exchanged satisfied glances as they moved among their new recruits, guiding them with gentle words and assuring them of the unity they now shared.

The golden smoke bombs made it easy to expand the team’s reach, converting entire groups at once, each new recruit joining with the same calm acceptance. Alex and Elias felt a deep satisfaction as they watched the growing crowd of Gold Addicts, all of them ready to spread the Golden Team’s influence even further.

As the day turned to dusk, the Golden Team gathered near the van, the glow of their jerseys casting a surreal light in the dimming sky. Elias and Alex stood side by side, their expressions serene, satisfied. The transformation was no longer a task; it was a purpose, a calling they shared, bound to their golden unity.

With a final glance toward the parking lot, now filled with golden-clad figures, they prepared for their next mission. The smoke bombs had proven effective, but there was still much to do, many more to welcome into the team.

The Golden Team had only just begun, and with Alex and Elias leading the charge, they were unstoppable, each new recruit another step toward the golden unity that awaited them all.

Other Parts:

Gold Addicts 1: Lincoln College

#male transformation #gold #hypnotised #soccer tf #golden army

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crowandmousewritingco · 4 months ago

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Coffee Shop Meet Cute

Pairing: Frankie (Catfish) Morales x gn!reader

Words: 2.5k

Rating: G (brief mention of addiction and divorce)

Summary: Needing to get out of your hostel, you find yourself at a quaint coffee shop run by handsome stranger.

Author: Mod Mouse

Notes: This is another entry in the Secret Springs challenge by @secretelephanttattoo. This is technically an entry for week 3 shops prompts (I'm using coffee shop for this)

This hostel was the worst idea. Especially when you were trying to finish this chapter in your book, but the guy in the bunk above you was snoring like a fog horn and you couldn’t handle the woman across from you who insisted she tell you the same story of her trip to Switzerland for the 18th time today. You had to get out of here. Quickly you searched your phone for the nearest coffee shop and all the chains popped up first. You scrolled past them, not interested in some corporate super shop.

One name in particular stuck out to you. Catfish Coffee. That sounds promising. You thought and quickly packed your backpack before the storyteller returned. With the directions on your phone, you followed the winding paths of the city.

The quaint town was one of many options in what can only be described as a vacation country. Your friend had convinced you to take a trip for yourself after your recent divorce, and you weren’t going to argue with them. Spending a week just reading and writing to your heart's content sounded like a dream.

The voice on the map took you out of your thoughts and you looked up to see the sign for Catfish Coffee. The logo was a simple design with a cute cartoon catfish holding a coffee shop wearing a hat with the logo of Standard Heating. You smirked not expecting how cute this shop would be. Excitedly you pushed open the door making a small bell ring.

You were greeted with the cool air conditioning making you shiver just a bit wishing you had brought your cardigan. Soft music sang through the shop helping add to the relaxing environment. There weren’t many customers in at the moment which gave you some relief. Finally you could find some comfort in your own company.

The single barista turned at the sound and smiled when he saw you. He was older than you were expecting, maybe in his late 40s. Curly hair poke out from his well loved hat and he wore a dark blue apron with the logo of the shop in the center which when you got closer to the counter you realized that it was the same hat the catfish was wearing.

“Welcome to Catfish Coffee. What can we get you?” He asked in a friendly tone.

“Well this is my first time here. What would you recommend?” You asked, adjusting your bag.

“Depends on what you like,” He stated as he turned to point at the menu behind him. “If you want something to beat the heat we got plenty of frozen drinks. Looking for something more casual we got plenty of lattes hot and cold, coffee and tea based. Want something more simple we got plenty of roasts from local farms that you can sample on our coffee flights.” He turned back to look at you smiling.

“That’s quite the selection you offer,” You commented looking over the menu again.

He blushed and rubbed the back on the neck. “Gotta make sure there’s something for everyone.”

“And that gives me an excuse to come back and try all of them,” You reply.

You might have misread his expression but you might have caught a hint of a blush on his stubble cheeks. “You are always welcome back.”

“I’ll take the honey latte then,” You said when you finally decided.

The barista rang up your order with a flurry of hands. “Great choice, that one’s quite popular. We get the honey locally as well.”

You hand him your card. “I didn’t realize this resort had so many local businesses.”

“It’s amazing what they were able to make here,” He added, handing your card back to you. “That’ll be out in just a minute.”

“Thank you…” You paused to look down at his name tag. “Frankie.”

“No problem. Love seeing new faces,” He added as he grabbed a cup.

“You must get a lot people coming and going,” You commented.

“That’s mostly who we get, but we have some regulars that come in,” He adds over his shoulder as he pumps the syrup into the plastic cup.

“I’m glad you have dedicated customers,” You said as you look around the cafe. “It’s a very cute place.”

“Thank you,” He replied as he poured the milk into the cup. “I’m very proud of it.” He finished making the drink and set it on the counter in front of you.

“As you should be,” You smiled and took your drink. You turned and headed toward one of the empty tables.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Frankie couldn’t help but be intrigued by the customer that just walked in. They weren’t the usual clientele he attracted. But there you were sitting at one of the booths holding what can only be described as a tome in your hand. That book must be at least 600 pages, and you were reading as if you were on a deadline. And you had been here for a few hours at least. He was surprised you weren’t interested in any other vacation type activities.

You seemed so sweet despite the small interaction he had shared with you, and he did want to get to know you. Though he didn’t want to come off as weird so he continued with his business.

A couple more customers came and went, but you persisted. He checked the time. It had been well past three hours since you entered the store. Though you were no longer reading that encyclopedia. You were typing away at a tablet now with a look of determination etched on your cute face. Wait, did he really think that you were cute? Frankie shook his head rubbing his eyes. Maybe he needed more coffee.

He made himself a simple cup of coffee and when he turned around he realized you were now the only one left in the shop. Frankie tapped his fingers against the counter and quickly set his own coffee down. He quickly made another honey latte for you, and took a deep breath before bringing it over to your table.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Writing was hard. You were on a roll, the plot and scenes were all coming together, but then you swear to any god out there it just left you. There your main character was having a triumphant monologue, and then blip! It was gone. You groaned and rubbed your eyes.

“Troubles?” You heard a voice and looked up. You smiled when you saw it was Frankie. “Sorry, I know you’ve been here awhile and thought you could use a refill.” You held up a hand to protest, but he interrupted with a smile. “On the house.”

“Thank you,” You smiled and happily received the additional drink. You took a sip and it felt yourself relax once again.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what has you all stressed out?”

“Oh just the masterpiece I’m supposed to be creating,” You answered with a bit of sarcasm in your voice and gesture to your screen.

Frankie leaned over to peek at the screen. “You have a good amount so far.”

“And that’s the problem. I was on a roll but then some writing demon decided to take away my ability to form basic sentences,” You sighed and ran your hand through your hair.

“I don’t know much about writing. Never did well in English class, but I can tell you if you force something it will break. Maybe come back to it with a fresh mind tomorrow,” Frankie offered.

You sighed. “I know you’re right, I'm just impatient. I’ve been trying to write this for months now.”

He chuckled, “I know that feeling, but you might also feel better with some food in you too.” He glanced at the clock then continued. “I close up here soon and my buddies own a bar not too far from here. I can take you there if you want.” He offered rubbing the back of his neck.

You smiled softly. “I actually would really like that.”

Frankie smiled. “Then that’s what we shall do. In the meantime, read more of that book of yours. It seems like a good one.”

You blushed. He noticed you were reading? Frankie was really quite thoughtful. “It is. It’s got me on the edge of my seat.”

“You’ll have to tell me how it goes,” He says, heading back to his counter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Frankie was right. Reading more of that book helped with your stress and even gave you an idea for your own book. Before you knew it, Frankie was closing up shop and the two of you walked out into the cool summer air. He quickly locked up the front. Instead of wearing his barista apron, he switched his wardrobe for a worn flannel.

“The bar is just down this way,” He gestured down the road where you could see a neon sign outside the restaurant.

“It looks like a cute place,” You mention as you started down the sidewalk.

“It’s quite the popular bar. They’ve really done a lot with it. Turned it from a almost condemned building to one of the more popular restaurants in town.” Frankie beamed as he talked about his buddies. It was clear he was very proud of what they had accomplished.

You smiled. “That’s amazing to hear.” You took in a deep breath and caught a scent of Frankie’s collonge. He smelled of sandalwood and other earthy tones which you had to admit was one of your favorites. When you reached the door, Frankie held the door open and you thanked him. He really is a gentleman you thought as you entered the establishment.

The Ironhead Bar was quite the place to be. All sorts of sports games were playing on the screens with plenty of what could only be described as “manly decor” lined the wall. Anything from sports memorabilia to old army collectibles covered the different sections. As if he owned the place Frankie took a seat at the bar and you sat down next to him. Usually bars weren’t your scene, but you felt oddly at home at his establishment.

A young man wearing a hat almost as worn as Frankie’s hat looked up and smiled a wide smile when he saw you two. “Catfish! Fancy seeing ya here tonight.” he saddled up to the two of you cleaning a glass with a rag.

“Benny I come here every night,” Frankie rolled his eyes, but smiled.

“Maybe I should make you start paying your tab,” Benny joked and smacked Frankie lightly on the shoulder. He then looked over at you. “You though are a new face. Frankie, who’s this handsome person?” He asked, gesturing with his thumb.

“I just so happened to stop by the coffee shop today,” You said looking over at Frankie. “I guess I overstayed my welcome, but Frankie invited me to get dinner with him.”

That seemed to make Benny smirk. “I see,” He glances between you and Frankie, his smile growing even bigger.

Frankie rolled his eyes and lightly pushed Benny’s shoulder. “Just get us a couple of Pope burgers and beers.”

“You got it boss,” Benny winked at you before heading back to the kitchen.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the interaction. “I’m guessing you’ve known each other a long time.”

“You can say that. We’re old army buddies. Once we got out we decided to stick together and open our dream places. He opened this place with his brother, and well you know the coffee shop.”

You smiled softly and leaned your head on your hand. “Ah that’s where the catfish came from,” You said more to yourself. “That's really nice actually. You must really like coffee.”

Frankie chuckled. “You can say that. You could also say it saved my life.”

“I feel like there's a story there,” You say as Benny sets your beers down. You didn’t miss it when he gave Frankie an eyebrow wiggle before talking to more customers.

“There is,” He said, taking a quick sip of his beer. “I’m actually a recovering addict.” Your eyes widened and he held up his hand. “Not beer hermoso. It was cocaine. Got addicted in the army and could never get over it. It wasn’t until Will, Benny’s brother, knocked some sense into me. We found out that coffee was a good substitute for the way I felt high, and well here I am. Five years clean.”

You smile softly. “That’s really amazing.”

Frankie blushed and took another sip. “Thank you. It was a hard journey, but it helps when you have friends as loyal as them.”

“I second that. I wouldn’t be where I am without my best friend either,” You smiling thinking about all the times your friends saved you.

“What brings you to our neck of the woods?” Frankie asked before taking another sip of his beer.

“I was planning on taking a vacation to work on my book, but um,” You chuckled a little sad. “I found my husband cheating on me so this vacation became the ‘write and not thinking about the divorce’ vacation. Sorry I didn’t mean to that deep.”

Frankie’s eyes were sympathetic. “I get it. I’m divorced too.”

Your eyes were caring in return. He sighed “Took the kid in the middle of the night and I haven’t heard from them since. But I think it’s for the better.”

“Most of the time it usually is, but it's that mountain of emotions that you have to drill through first.”

Frankie raised his glass to you. “I’ll drink to that,” He said and you brought your own glass to clink with him. You both took another sip and set your glasses down.

Benny returned with two red plastic food trays and set them down in front of you. “Two Pope burgers on the house for Frankie and the lovely fella.”

Frankie rolled his eyes and thanked him. Benny patted his shoulder again and continued making drinks. You grabbed the big burger with all the workings and carefully took a bite. You moaned at the taste. “Damn that’s a great burger.”

Frankie moaned in agreement. His face was as messy as your spots of ketchup dotting his salt and pepper beard. You chuckled and handed him a napkin. He blushed and took it from you using it to wipe up the mess.

You swallowed your bit. “Don’t worry. I bet my face doesn’t look much better.”

“I think your face looks handsome,” Frankie semi blurted and blushed.

You giggled and took a sip of your beer. “Is that so?” You tease.

Frankie cleared his throat. “So um how long are you on this writing vacation?”

“About a week. That should hopefully give me enough time to write what I want. And -now that I have a comfy place to work- I should definitely finish this book on time.”

“Well you have a table whenever you want,” Frankie blushed.

You pick up your glass. “I’m definitely taking you up on that offer.” Frankie raises his glass to you, giving it a small clink. You had a feeling that this was the start of something really nice.

-------

Pedro Characters Only Taglist

@littlemisspascal @burntheedges

#crow and mouse writings #mod mouse writing #secretsprings #secret springs #frankie morales #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier #frankie morales x gn!reader #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal fandom #pedrohub #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro brainrot #fanfiction #frankie morales fanfiction

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lu-is-not-ok · 1 year ago

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horrid thought i had: if your theory on k corp hong lu being semi-conscious during stasis is right, does that not mirror carmen during lobotomy corporation?

...

Wait. Hold on. Wait. Wait hold on.

Ok, so here's the thing: For a while now I've already had a suspicion that Hong Lu's deal is like, way more important than he lets on.

This might sound like a conspiracy Game Theory Matpat rant, but here me out.

First of all, Hong Lu has this weird tendency to break patterns in much less obvious ways than the other suspicious Sinners, to the point it's been driving me insane?

Like.

Okay.

First.

Remember those promo PVs of each Sinner? And how each of them ended on a glimpse of their trauma and All of them either directly referenced a potentially traumatic event or had the Sinner sound distraught? Except for Hong Lu, who doesn't sound in any way distressed like the others did, and then after the game logo is revealed he asks if something he said was weird.

Like, sure, it does make sense for him to say that in context of what he says during that video, but isn't it so fucking weird that the one Sinner with a section in his promo that seems slightly off is also the one who asks if anything he said during that section was weird?

Second.

You know those intro segments during the prologue, that are also on the official limbuscompany.com website? The ones that offer managerial instructions for each Sinner?

Pay close attention to those. For every Sinner, these instructions specify how to deal with that specific Sinner's eccentricities.

Don't show Gregor your disgust. Wait for Rodya's bad mood to pass. Give Sinclair positive reinforcement. Wait patiently for Yi Sang to finish thinking. Look Ishmael's way for sound advice, but don't break her trust. Understand Heathcliff is simple-minded and contact HR if he causes problems. Play along with Don's Fixer act. Don't make Ryoshu breed personal resentment towards you. Give clear and concise commands to Meursault. Give Outis short replies of agreement but keep an eye on her. Simply nod and get it over with when conversing with Faust.

...But then there's Hong Lu's. Which says nothing how to deal with his eccentricities, but rather to not let Other Sinners get physical with him over them. It's not about keeping him in line, it's about keeping other people's reactions to him in line.

I want to note this especially because several other Sinners break patterns in their introductions as well. Meursault's is one sentence. Ryoshu and Outis have a warning. Don Quixote's particulars include a [REDACTED] on the website. Faust's directly asks the manager to fuck around and find out. However, the way Hong Lu's intro instructions break the pattern is the most subtle out of all of them, to the point I genuinely did not realize that was the case until I had read all of them over multiple times.

Third.

Hong Lu's Base E.G.O animation. If you watch all of the Base E.G.O animations in a row, you'll notice that for all of them, the Sinners start already in frame... Except for Hong Lu, who visibly jumps into the frame from off-screen.

Now, you could argue that, technically, Don runs into her animation from off-screen as well, however I think there is a bit of a difference here. Don's animation is too quick to see her actually run in. We see she's not there for maybe a frame, before she pops with an animation that implies she had just run in and needs to break her momentum. This is unlike Hong Lu's, whom we Actively See descend from Off-Screen.

Now, I know what some of you may be thinking.

That I am coping. That these are coincidences. That I'm looking too deeply into things.

However. Here's a connection that I just recently realized, that has been Fucking Me Up.

Mild spoilers for Canto IV and like the first two chapters or so of Dream of the Red Chamber, if anyone cares.

You know how Limbus Company has this... fixation on stars? There's the whole thing with Dante following a star, stars granting wishes, people turning into weird beings from wishing to be stars, and there's this general connection to the sky and space because of Demian also doubling as a reference to The Little Prince.

And then something weird hit me.

See, Dream of the Red Chamber starts with a bit of a backstory to the jade that would later be reincarnated into Bao-yu. You see, it was one of the many stones used by a godess to create the sky. However, this one specific jadestone ended up being the only one not used in that creation, which then led to it feeling horrible about itself, which then led to a monk and a taoist deciding to have that stone reincarnate as a human and live through a human life, kickstarting the rest of the novel.

I'm like, heavily simplifying this, but that's the gist of how that whole thing starts.

Which. Made me think. A jadestone that was part of the ones meant to build the sky, but ended up being left unused. The sky. Stars. Hong Lu being seemingly named after the jade rather than Bao-yu directly.

Holy shit there's no way they won't reference this in some way, right? Right?

So, now imagine me, at my fucking wit's end, having the biggest crackpot theory brewing in my mind.

And you send this ask comparing K Corp Hong Lu to Carmen.

I am going insane.

#limbus company #limbus company project moon #hong lu #hong lu lcb #lcb analysis #lcb speculation #lcb canto iv #lcb spoilers #ask #mulberriesandtea #lu speaketh #no i'm not normal thanks for asking

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shingekinohyrulewrites · 9 months ago

Text

Lavender & Velvet

You work as a dancer for private events catering exclusively to Pro Heroes. One day, your boss approaches you with a mysterious assignment.

Read on AO3 here

SMUT AHEAD MDNI 18+ ONLY !!!

Being a dancer was always glamorized, and in your case, it was definitely glamorous.

You were a dancer for a company specializing in private events. If the event required some sort of special invitation, chances are you were probably going to be there dancing. However, given that you lived in a society where those with Quirks ruled, most of the events you attended were often for Pro Heroes. You danced for charity balls, birthday parties, and house parties. You had rubbed elbows with every Hero who graced newspapers, and had gotten to know many of them through this.

However, being a dancer had led to many trysts. Heroes had needs, just like other people, and since you were basically hired to be eye candy, you had slept with many Pro Heroes. Your fellow dancers had joked that you were slowly climbing up the top ten, having slept with Gang Orca (a generous man in bed and very powerful), Crust (a timid man, but polite), and having various trysts with Edgeshot (there was a reason you kept going back to him). Before All Might had retired, you had been working your way up to him, but you had never gotten the vibe from him that he was the type to fool around.

You loved your job, and you never questioned the assignments that your boss gave you. However, you were left feeling curious after your most recent encounter with him.

Your boss, Arima, approached you one day while you were stretching in the practice room. Normally he was always in a good mood, greeting you with his trademark polite smile before explaining your next assignment. When he walked in he seemed nervous, face covered in a light sheen of sweat and eyes shifting nervously around. Upon seeing you he rushed over, bowing as he greeted you.

“I hope your day's going well. Listen, I have a very important assignment for you that just came in. I can’t give you details, but I need your performance to be perfect.”

“Uh, okay, perfect in what way?”

“Just . . . I need one hundred percent from you, okay? I also need you to be as sexy as you can be.”

You raised a brow at that. “Uh huh, okay.”

Arima bowed again, squeaking out a thank you before scampering off. You stood there, trying to process the weird interaction you had just had before sighing. Well, I guess I need to come up with a sexy choreography.

Arima gave you two weeks to put your routine together. The day of the performance he came to see you again. He seemed just as nervous as the first time, bowing again before nervously tugging at the hem of his shirt.

“You will be picked up right at six. A limo will be sent.”

“A limo? Arima, who exactly am I performing for?”

He hesitated, sweat beading on his forehead.

“You will get details later. Just . . . please be ready on time.”

“You know I will be,” you frowned. “Hey, is everything okay?”

“Fine!” he yelled. “I have to go!”

You spent the rest of the day wondering what exactly it was about this performance that had Arima so nervous. You took your time getting ready, glad you had gotten basically your entire body waxed the day before so you could focus on your makeup and hair. Just as Arima had said, a limo arrived at your dance company right at six. The driver greeted you with a sharp nod, opening the door for you to slide in. A bottle of champagne was waiting for you in a chilled bucket, and you helped yourself to a glass.

The limo drove you to what appeared to be a boarded up place, but when you stepped out you realized it was a restaurant. There were no signs or logos plastered to suggest it was, and you figured it was one of those exclusive ones.

Another man met you at the door, nodding to the driver as a silent thanks before opening the door and letting you in. The atmosphere was quiet, a pianist playing jazz music softly in the background as men conversed in hushed tones. A few of them turned to look at you, eyeing you before resuming their previous conversations. You swallowed nervously, falling into step behind your guide as he led you towards the back.

"I assume your boss didn’t tell you anything?” he inquired.

You nodded before realizing he couldn’t see you.

“Y-yes, he has been very . . . silent about the whole thing.”

“Good.”

You were led into a dim hallway. He slowed down, turning his head to look back at you.

“There’s only one rule. Do not touch the young boss. You will be killed if you do.”

You felt your heart sink. The last part of your routine had you running your hands along him, ending with a “happy ending”. Arima had stopped by to check out your routine, and he had been beyond pleased. Apparently, he had been let out of the loop regarding this stipulation.

“Um, okay. Noted.”

He stopped in front of a door, stepping aside so you could pass by him.

“Good luck. You were personally requested.”

Before you could respond, he opened the door. He gestured for you to go in. Sucking in a breath, you stepped through the door. The room was empty, save for a large chair across the room. Sitting in the chair was a young man, staring intensely at you. He had short, brown hair, golden eyes gleaming above a plague mask. He was resting his cheek on his fist, elbow pressed against the arm of the chair. You couldn’t help but notice he was dressed sharp, in a tight black dress shirt tucked neatly into a matching pair of pants. He cocked his head to the side upon noticing you staring.

“Hi.”

He didn’t respond to your greeting. Clearing your throat, you reached into your bag and pulled out your phone and speaker. He didn’t say anything as you set up, connecting your phone and selecting the song. You paused it, placing the speaker down and sucking in a deep breath to get yourself into the element. You exhaled, letting the breath out of your mouth before slowly opening your eyes.

The “young boss” hadn’t moved, still frozen in place as he stared at you. You got into position, reaching into your coat pocket to push play from a remote. The opening notes played, and you let your gaze fall intensely on him.

Pull up to the city

Tell me I’m your lily

I’ll be in that dress you like

You had worn a tan trench coat buttoned up. Underneath, you wore a lavender lingerie set, complete with garters to match the title of the song. You seductively shrugged out of it, beginning your routine as you slowly body rolled.

Body in vanilla

Yeah I know it thrills ya

I know what is on your mind

As you danced, you slowly made your way over to him. You kept your eyes on him, doing a pirouette to get closer.

Take me to a place where

We can see the stars here

Nothing but the radio on

You let your hands run along your body to emphasize the last lyric.

I’ll take you anywhere you say

I’ll take you to my hideaway

Baby just give the word

I wanna give you the world

You eased into the chorus, hitting the movements smoothly and transitioning into the next. As the song went on, you felt slightly defeated at the fact that the guy hadn’t responded. He had the same bored expression, blinking slowly as he watched you move. You tried not to let him get to you, and you amped up the sexy factor as the song progressed.

However, you had a dilemma. The last bridge had a sequence where you sank to the floor and crawled to him, letting your hands run along his thighs and unbuckling his pants to give him a . . . happy ending. When you had shown Arima, he had been beyond delighted and assured you that was what had been requested. But now, after being told you couldn’t touch the client, you were unsure what to do.

The bridge began, and you sank to the floor as you had planned. However, instead of crawling towards him, you sank back onto your feet, letting your hands run down your body. You hesitated, wondering if your idea would work, before deciding to just move forward. One hand cupped your breast, squeezing it lightly as the other trailed down your middle, lingering at the waistband. During the outro, you let your finger slide into your panties, teasing your entrance as you glanced at the “young boss” with half-lidded eyes.

The song ended, and you sat frozen in your spot. The man finally moved, pushing off his elbow to sit up straight. He leaned forward, raising a single eyebrow before speaking.

“Did you intend on touching me towards the end?”

Heat rushed to your cheeks. Embarrassed, you gave a slow nod.

“Y-yes, sir.”

He hummed, the sound low in the back of his throat. He studied you for a moment before lifting a hand.

“Well? Are you going to touch me, then?”

“S-sir?”

He crossed his arms, leaning back into the chair.

“I assume my men told you not to touch me?”

You gave a slow nod.

“Well, I’ve had a change of heart. Do the routine the way you intended.”

You blinked, unsure if you had heard him right. When you didn’t move, he let out a long sigh.

“Tell me, girl, how was the routine supposed to go?”

“I was planning on ending with a happy ending.”

“Oh?”

His golden eyes flashed.

“Yes, sir. I was planning on . . . going down on you.”

“Well, I knew there was a reason I requested you.”

You remained silent, staring at him silently in the hopes he would indulge you with more details.

“I’ve heard great things about you through the grapevine. I don’t normally associate with your . . . normal clients.”

He must have noticed the slight frown that you tried to control, as he went on.

“I apologize, where are my manners? I have yet to introduce myself. I’m Overhaul, head of the Shie Hissaikai.”

Your blood ran cold. While hooking up with some Heroes, you had heard his name thrown around. Apparently, he was considered an “underground” villain, one that was prominent in name but whose activities were difficult to track. That explained why Arima had been so nervous about the whole thing.

“Well, are you going to do the routine now? I would love to receive your happy ending.”

Nodding, you resumed your previous starting position, grabbing your coat to redress. This time, Overhaul seemed more interested. As you danced closer, you noticed the prominent bulge in his pants this time. You felt a surge of confidence, hitting the choreography perfectly and keeping sensual expressions on your face. When the final bridge came, you sank to the floor, crawling slowly towards him. He kept his eyes on you, one hard hanging off the back of his chair as he spread his legs for you. Your hands came to rest on his thighs, looking up at him with a smirk as you glided them up towards his belt. You unbuckled it, slowly unbuttoning his pants afterwards and sliding the zipper down.

His boxers were left, and your mouth was watering at the sight of his thick bulge. You slid them down, his cock springing out. Licking your lips, you left your left hand on his thigh before gently grasping his cock with your right hand. You felt a hand grab the back of your head. Looking up, you saw Overhaul reaching up to remove his mask. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of his handsome face.

“Well? Go on.”

Without the mask obstructing his mouth, his voice was deeper and smoother. You took him into your mouth, your hand wrapping around what couldn’t fit. He was thick, your mouth stretching to take him in. His hand went back to your head, grabbing your hair to fist it. He guided you up his length, pushing you down. You gagged, the back of your throat taking him in.

“Such a good girl,” he purred.

You felt yourself clenching around nothing, a whine forming in your throat. The vibration of it had him hissing, his fingers tightening around your hair. You kept on, picking up the pace as you moved your mouth along his length. Suddenly, he pulled you off, forcing you to look up at him.

“This isn’t enough for me,” he panted. “Come, sit on my lap.”

You scrambled onto his lap. His hands came to grab your ass, spanking each cheek harshly. Your hands came to rest on the sides of his neck, biting your lip as you stared at him.

“Such a pretty girl. Look at you, so obedient for me.”

One hand moved your panties aside. His hand retracted, a soft rustling reaching your ears before you felt a long finger stroke your slit. You were dripping at this point, and he relished in the feeling.

“Did I make you this wet? Naughty girl.”

He used your natural lubrication to push in. You moaned, throwing your head back as he slowly moved in and out. A second finger pushed in, and you felt his thumb brushing your clit. You grinded on his lap, desperate for more friction.

“So eager. Relax, I’ll fuck you right now.”

He slapped his cock against your inner thigh. You rose up a little, letting him rub his cock against your entrance to gather some of your wetness. Both of his hands came to rest on your hips, helping guide you down as you took him. The initial stretch was painful, causing your mouth to drop open in a silent scream. You wanted to bury your face in his neck, but Overhaul stopped you.

“Come on, I know you can take my cock, baby.”

You let out a loud moan when you bottomed out, your ass pressed against his thighs. He gave you a minute to adjust before spanking you.

“Move.”

Your hands went back to the sides of his neck, biting your lip as you began to move your hips. You rose up, his cock sliding out before you sat back on it. He felt amazing stretching you out, and you managed to establish a good rhythm. His hands remained on your ass, staring up at you with slight amazement as you kept on moving your hips smoothly.

“God, you move amazing. Perks of being a dancer.”

He spanked you, causing you to moan. You moved faster, throwing your head back as you tried to chase your orgasm. You were close, so close, and you were desperate to let go around him.

“What a fucking whore. You just started riding me, and you already want to cum?”

He spanked you again.

“Did I give you permission?”

You shook your head furiously, clenching tightly around him.

“Did I?”

“N-no, sir.”

“Good girl.”

You fought hard, clenching your eyes shut as you started desperately bouncing on him. Suddenly, Overhaul wrapped his arms around you, trapping you on his lap. He began fucking up into you, small grunts tumbling out of his lips. You tried to hold it in, but your orgasm hit you hard, and you began babbling his name nonsensically. He stopped, panting lightly.

“Foolish girl. You weren’t allowed to come.”

He pushed you off, sending you tumbling to the floor. You glanced at him with confused eyes.

“Spread your legs for me.”

You did as told, watching as he stripped his clothing off. You admired his fit physique, and when he came to hover over you, you let your fingers trace the hard lines of his back.

“I’m going to fuck you hard, and you’re going to let me breed you. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” you moaned.

He didn’t give you warning before pushing back into you. You immediately wrapped your legs around him, your arms continuing to trace his muscles. He dipped his head to the crook of your neck, his breaths coming out in short pants as he thrusted harshly into you. After a few thrusts he pulled back to look at you, eyes studying your features as you relished in pleasure.

“God, you look so beautiful like this. I’m sure you’ll look more beautiful when you’re stuffed full of my cum.”

You whimpered, clenching tightly around him. He picked up the pace, grunting as his movements became erratic and he looked back at your face.

“Are you ready, baby? Ready to be bred?”

Your response was your orgasm, crying out his name as he kept on until he was spilling himself inside of you. The two of you remained united, panting softly as you both came down from your high. Overhaul pulled out, causing you to whine from how sensitive you were and the loss of being stuffed full. He sat back on his knees, admiring your naked body spread out before gently offering his hand.

“Are you alright to stand?”

You nodded, taking his hand and slowly sitting up. His eyes flickered to your core before using his finger to push the fluids that were beginning to dribble out.

“Now, now, we need to make sure that stays up there.”

He handed you your lingerie and coat before walking you to the door. Right before opening it he paused, slowly turning to look at you.

“Would you like to do this again sometime?”

#boku no hero academia #boku no hero imagines #my hero academia #my hero academia imagines #overhaul #overhaul imagines #overhaul x reader #overhaul x y/n #kai chisaki #kai chisaki imagine #kai chisaki x reader #kai chisaki x y/n #dancer au

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h-c-u · 2 years ago

Text

Painfully healing

Summary: After you got assaulted, your dad's best friend takes care of you when your parents have to leave for a weekend.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

W/C: 5.1k

Rating: +18 (there is no sex in this one, but I still feel like it needs to be categorized as such), age gap

TWs: Depression, Very Detailed Self-Harm, Blood, Cutting, Scars, Unnamed ED. Talks about: rape.

A/N: Guys. This one is dark. Seriously. If you don't feel comfortable with any of the topics mentioned in TWs, please skip it. You are responsible for the media you consume.

Masterlist | List of tags

- Oh, wow! You look awesome, Y/n! – those were the first words you heard from Aaron’s mouth when you opened the door for him. You wanted to run to him, to hide under his jacket, to break down with his strong arms around you, but none of it was showing on your face.

- Thanks! I was kind of on the fence with this one... But a lot of my friends shaved their heads recently, so I guess I'm just basic for following a trend. - you played it down, but there was something in his eyes that you couldn't decipher. You smiled gently, making sure that your cheeks rose up and made the smile lines in the corners of your eyes, so it would look more genuine.

- The dinner is ready! Come on in, before it gets cold! - your mother's head peeked out from the kitchen. - Hi Aaron, good to see you again. - she gave the man a warm smile, before going back to the kitchen.

When you were walking down the hallway, you felt a soft touch on your lower back. You were far past caring about how you looked or what you were wearing, but you couldn't help but notice the contrast in between you and Aaron. He was still in his suit, and even after a whole day of work, there wasn't even one wrinkle on his jacket and shirt, while you were in your galaxy-patterned sweatpants that hung loosely around your hips, held only by a piece of string, and a ratty old t-shirt with a logo of a band that was once your favorite. It was a step up from all the blacks and greys you were wearing for the past month. At least that's what you wanted your parents to think, because the thought of you getting better was making them happy, and you didn't want them to worry even more than they already did.

You thought you saw your father freeze for a second when he realized how close you allowed his best friend to get to you, while for the last month, you had trouble getting a carton of milk from his hand, but he didn't say anything, hoping it was a sign of progress.

- The dinner looks lovely, Peggy... - Aaron complimented your mother’s cooking skills when all of you were seated at the table. Nobody commented on the fact that you were sitting with your feet on your chair and with your chin resting on your knee, even though you knew your mother definitely would bite your head off if you did that just a few months ago. But everything was different now.

- Thank you, but don't just look at it! Let's eat! - you faked a light chuckle at your mother's words and reached for the mashed potatoes because they were the closest to you. The portion you put on your plate was small, but you spread it out to make it look bigger. You didn't plan on eating because you weren't sure if you could even keep anything down. You knew you could get away with it if you made it look like you ate something. And if by the end of the meal, the food was covering less of a plate than at the beginning - your parents would leave you be.

Everyone kept the conversation light for your sake, but if you had to be honest - you were so detached from everything, that you could have talked about anything on autopilot and not even realize what exactly you were saying.

Aaron kept his hand on the back of your chair, letting his thumb brush over your shoulder blades from time to time, and it was the only thing you were able to focus on.

After dinner, you helped your dad with the dirty dishes, while your mum and Aaron were talking in the dining room. You were lost in your own thoughts, and that meant you weren't paying enough attention to what was happening around you. So when your dad accidentally got too close and your shoulders touched, you immediately jumped away and dropped the pot you were holding in your hands.

For a moment there was nothing, but pure panic and fear painted on your face, and you did your best to contain it as quickly as possible, but your dad noticed, even though you didn't want him to, because he did nothing wrong.

- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... - you said in a calm voice, bending down to get the pot, but before you did, your dad intercepted.

- It's ok, it's all right I can finish up here. - you rarely saw your father this broken, and it hurt to know that you were a cause of his pain.

- I will get better... - you added, trying to give him some hope before you left the kitchen.

- I know, honey... I know. - out of instinct he wanted to hug you, but he stopped himself mid-gesture and let his arms fall down, giving you an apologetic look. In response, you gave him a weak smile and left the room. You knew it would be proper to go back to the dining table, but you just couldn't...

So, you went upstairs and curled into a ball right outside of anyone's view. You couldn't bring yourself to go to your room yet, so you stayed where you were. You knew that your parents’ suitcases were already in the car so they wouldn't have to get them from their bedroom, and you would be left alone, at least for a while.

- Thank you for doing this again, Aaron... - you heard your father's muffled voice.

- It's honestly no problem. I didn't have any plans and she's not ready to be alone yet, so I'm more than happy to help.

- She is getting better though... - you smiled at your mother's words, glad that your deception was working. There was a short moment of silence, and she eventually continued. - You know where everything is, I've prepared fresh towels for you in the guest bathroom. We will be back tomorrow around noon unless the funeral will run longer or we'll be needed around the house, but in that case - I'll let you know.

- I can stay till Monday morning, so it's honestly fine. Take as long as you need, Peggy... She was your sister, and you need to process that properly. - there was another moment of silence. - And don't worry, I'll take good care of Y/n, I promise. - you could hear them getting up from the table and moving to the hallway, closer to you, but still out of sight.

- I know... If anything happens, no matter how small... - you heard the shuffling of the clothes, and a pair of heels moving against the floor.

- I'll call. - Aaron assured. - Have a safe drive.

- Thank you again. - the door opened, closed, and then there was silence, but for the first time in a while it wasn't aggressively clawing at your ears. - I know you're here. Come to the kitchen. - he said in a soft, yet commanding tone, and you didn't have a choice but follow. You didn't put any weight on your heels, so your steps were not audible, and yet he still was able to tell even with his back turned to you, that you were there.

You heard your parent's car leaving the garage, just as Aaron wrapped his big hands around your hips and plopped you on the kitchen counter. He was the only person you still felt safe around, and it made you feel guilty because your parents did nothing wrong and you didn't blame them for anything. And yet you still couldn't be with them in the same room for longer periods of time.

- You're not eating again. - it wasn't a question, and you knew there was no sense in lying to him. Even when you were a teenager, he was able to notice things that eluded your parents. - You were supposed to call me if that happened. - his tone of voice was stern, while he took strawberries out of the fridge and started de-stemming them.

- It's been only two... three days... - you mumbled under your nose, trying to minimalize the issue. - And I'm drinking this time... - he didn't make any comments, just reached for a peach from a fruit bowl and started peeling it. Technically he didn't have to, but he knew you didn't like the fuzzy skin. He eventually cut everything into bite-size pieces.

- And the hair...? - he asked. You only sighed and looked down, while he was putting the board and knife in the sink. He came closer to you, so now he was standing in between your thighs, and gently ran his fingers down your arms until he stopped at your wrists, which he turned up, fully expecting to see fresh marks on at least one of your chopping board tattoos, but there were no new additions. You had them done after your scars from high school finally healed. It took some time, but now he understood why you chose to emphasize the signs of the trauma on your body instead of putting it behind you, and now he was even able to find the joke amusing. He brought both of your wrists to his mouth and placed a small kiss on each of them. - The hair. - he repeated himself and you finally looked up.

- I couldn't stand them touching my neck, my cheeks, getting in my eyes... Every time they did, I could feel one of them tightening their grip on them and yanking my head. So I shaved it. - you eventually explained, trying to avert your gaze, but his hand was right under your chin, stopping you from turning away.

- Did it help? - he simply asked. He wasn't judging, didn't make any comments, just looked at you, studying your face intensely and putting his years as a profiler to good use. You nodded, and he gently run his thumb over your lips. - Open up. - you instantly followed his instructions, fully expecting him to put his finger there for you to suck on, but instead, with his other hand he put a strawberry on your extended tongue. - You need sustenance. - he simply said, and you couldn't even be mad that he tricked you like that, so you slowly started chewing on a piece of strawberry and the taste of it viciously attacked your taste buds. After a few days of nothing but water, even the sweet and mild taste of one of your favorite fruits was intense. Under his stern gaze, you finally swallowed, and he hummed, glad to see that you weren't fighting him on this one. - Again... - you obediently opened your mouth again and he placed another piece of fruit there, this time peach, but before he had the chance to take his hand away, you moved your head forward, closing your lips around two of his fingers licking and sucking them clean without breaking eye contact. He gently smiled and pulled his hand out of your mouth with a loud pop, allowing you to chew again. And as soon as you swallowed, he was there with another piece, feeding you by hand until the small bowl was empty. It wasn't much, but it was just enough not to upset your stomach, and your brain didn't even register it as eating, because of the way the food ended up in your mouth.

You gently grabbed the front of his white shirt and pulled him closer, so you could smush your face against his chest and wrap your arms around his body, snaking your hands under his jacket.

Before the rape, you were a very physical person. Always sitting on someone's lap, hugging people left and right, holding hands with your friends, and laying your head on their thighs... And that need to touch, to be held was still there. But it was overwhelmed by fear, even when it came to family and friends; that broken trust, unfortunately, traveled to them by proximity, but Aaron was an exception...

He was the one whom you called right after, who stayed on the line even when you couldn't say a single word, who asked his co-worker to trace your phone, who got to you in record time, and who kicked the door to the room you were locked in, fully prepared to kill anyone who dared to stand in between the two of you.

He saved you...

He put his jacket over your shoulders and pulled you so close, that you couldn't focus on anything else but him. He was the one who reported the incident, he was the one who held your hand while you were answering questions to the police and who punched the campus cop who dared to suggest that you wanted it. He was the one who rode in the ambulance with you, and he almost bit the nurse’s head off when she suggested that you might want to be alone for the rape kit. You didn't... And your fingernails digging into his writs were saying such. You needed someone familiar in the room because, without him, your mind would break beyond repair. So, when the young policewoman took pictures of your naked, abused body, and the flash blinded you for a split second so you couldn't see Aaron’s warm, chocolate eyes, you instantly went to the floor, but somehow, he managed to catch you before you fell over completely.

And when he tried to pass you to your mother when she finally arrived at the hospital, you clung to him for dear life, and you didn't let go until you passed out from exhaustion hours later. Your parents didn't ask any questions, explaining your behavior to themselves with the fact that it was because Aaron was almost always in your life, and he could actually do something to protect you because of his job... That's why you felt safe with him, and not with them. It hurt them, but in the end, they were glad you had at least someone around whom you could lower your guard, and that it was someone as trustworthy as your father's best friend.

Even now, almost three months after the rape, he was still the only person who could freely touch you, hug you, run his hands over your back, and you welcomed it with such desperation, that it almost scared you. You needed touch, his touch, to ground you in reality, and you hated being so dependent on him, even though your body and mind were already his.

- It's ok... - he whispered against your temple and placed a soft kiss there. - Do you want to go to bed? - he asked and when you nodded, he lifted you from the counter and carried you upstairs to your room. He gently put you on the permanently unmade bed, but you didn't let go of him. - I want to change into something more comfortable, Darling... I'm gonna go get my bag and I will be right back. - he said, but you still didn’t move.

- Please don't go... I have your t-shirt under the pillow, that should be enough... - you said quietly in an almost broken voice, and he just sighed.

- Sure, why the hell not... - he caved in and quickly undressed, folded his clothes, placed them on your dresser, and put on the shirt you must have stolen from him some time ago because he didn’t remember giving you this specific one.

He got in the bed behind you and pulled you even closer, so you were able to soak in the touch you so desperately needed. He buried his face in your neck, smushing his nose against your skin. One of his arms snaked in between your forearm and your torso, and his big hand rested on your abdomen, covering it almost completely; his other arm found its way under your head, and when you rested it on his bicep, he bent it in the elbow, so he could run his fingers over you fresh buzzcut. He intertwined his bare legs with yours, and when you pulled them closer to your chest - he followed, not breaking contact even for a second.

It was so easy to fall asleep with him completely wrapped around your body, but you still resisted it a little, wanting to soak in his closeness.

When you woke up in the middle of the night, something felt... wrong. You knew what all too well, but with Aaron so close, doing anything about it would be too risky. You could omit some facts, and not tell him everything, but if he asked specifically - you would be a goner. What you could do, was go take a shower and try to scrub that sensation off your skin, even though experience told you that it would be pointless. But damn if you weren't willing to try...

So you slithered out of Aaron’s embrace, trying your best not to wake him up, but he still did...

- Y/n...? Everything ok...? - he asked, his mind still fogged by Morpheus's sand.

- Everything's fine... I'm just gonna take a shower... - you whispered and forced the corners of your lips to move up, but that only made him realize that not everything was fine, and that alone immediately jolted him awake.

- I'm going with you... - he simply stated, and the look on your face must have been more revealing than you thought it was because he didn't see fear... You weren't afraid that he would do something, you were embarrassed. And when you realized that he knew more, the muscles in your thighs tensed involuntarily. Anyone else would have missed it, but not him. Not when his subconsciousness was trained to analyze and profile anything and anyone around him.

He shifted his head to the side as if he wanted to say, "Oh no, you did not...", and you instantly crossed your arms on your chest, bit your lip, and looked up, trying to stop the tears that were dangerously close from entering your eyes. Your body was telling the story you wanted to keep hidden, but when Aaron got closer to you and kneeled in front of you, you couldn't keep even the crumbs of composure that you had left. You didn't protest when he pulled on the string of your sweatpants, but when he hooked his thumbs around the waistband, you were no longer able to hold back tears.

He pulled the pants down, and when he saw the state of your thighs, his jaw clenched. He didn't make any comments, but for once his face was saying more than any words ever could. He was angry, but not at you... At himself. Because he didn't see it earlier. He was so absorbed by your wrists because that's what you were familiar with, that he didn't even think about other ways. He rested his forehead on your abdomen, put his hands on your waist, and pulled you closer. You could tell that he was trying to compose himself, trying to hold back the tears, to fight this wretched feeling of helplessness...

He eventually sat on his heels and started tracing every line you've made over the last two months with gentle kisses... Some of them were already long healed, but few were fresh, still scabbed even, but none of the cuts was deep enough to cause any serious damage; you had enough experience to avoid that. And for you, it was never about hating or killing yourself... It was about regaining control over your body and how it reacted, just to feel like yourself again, but you weren't sure which was worse.

- You were supposed to call me... - he whispered against your skin, still hiding his face from you. - Day or night, doesn't matter... I would have answered, I would have... - he choked on his words and wrapped his arms around your thighs. He couldn't say that he would have come, that he could have helped you, calm you down, because logically he knew he could have been on a case on the other side of the country...

- There is nothing you could have done... - you whispered, gently running your fingers through his hair. - Because it's not about you... It's about me. - he looked up at you and you could see wetness around his eyes glistening in the faint light of the moon. - The pain... It's freeing. It puts me back in my body because I'm the one doing things to it. I'm the cause of it, I'm the one making myself bleed, I'm the one in control... - you explained and ran your fingers through his hair again. You could see him processing the new information, but it didn't help with the helplessness of not being able to help you.

- Show me. - it wasn't a request. You needed a moment to register what he just said, but after a moment of silence and a few too-quick blink, you eventually moved to your desk where you kept your special box. You wanted to say no, to plead with him, but... That feeling that initially woke you up was still there, bubbling under your skin, and it was stronger than shame.

You sat on your bed and opened the box. Because it was never about serious harm, you were always prepared and as safe as possible. You pulled out a thin disposable surgical towel and put it on your sheet. Then you disinfected your hands, and the steel hand of a scalpel and put in on the towel, while Aaron watched diligently what you were doing. He half expected you to pull out a razor from your wallet, so to say he was surprised would have been an understatement, but he didn't make any comments. You also got a fresh gauze and drenched it in disinfectant, only to run it over the skin on your right thigh. Next, you took out a fresh blade and attached it to the metal handle, and you could finally get started.

You gently pressed the sharp blade to the previously unmarked patch of skin and without hesitation, you cut yourself. You knew at what angle this specific blade had to be, how much pressure to put, and how quickly to move the scalpel for the cut to be just the right depth to heal by itself and not need stitches. And as soon as the blade pierced your skin, you exhaled loudly and a massive amount of pressure left your body like a weight lifted from your shoulders, and the relief of it made you close your eyes and tilt your head back; the feeling was almost biblical...

When you opened your eyes again, you saw Aaron's eyes drilling into you, but by now, you were used to him reading you, so you just looked down again and chose another patch of skin, far away from the first cut, because you knew that they would heal quicker if they were further apart. You made another cut and once again, the almost orgasmic relief took over your body, forcing a very quiet whine from between your lips...

You wanted to make another cut, but Aaron wrapped his fingers around your wrist and straightened his leg, so it was parallel to yours.

- Do me. - another non-request

- Aaron, no... You don't need it. And it will actually hurt you... - this time you had to plead because it would be pointless for either of you.

- Nothing could hurt me more than seeing you hurt yourself... Now, I can either do it myself and fuck it up, because I don't know what I'm doing, or you can do it for me. It's your choice. - you froze. You honestly didn't know what was worse - actually inflicting pain on the most important person in your life, or watching him potentially injuring himself...

- I'll do it. - you eventually whispered. You still needed a moment to allow your brain to catch up to your words, but you ended up moving the surgical towel so it was closer to his thigh so you could see better what you would be doing.

- The exact same places as you did on your leg. - your eyes shot back to his, but he was serious, and you started to worry. There were more safe areas, especially the one closer to the inside of the thigh, but it wasn't a request. He wanted to show you something and make sure you understood it.

- Flex your muscles... - you requested and as soon as he did, you gently run your fingers over the areas you just cut on your own leg. You determined the exact placement of his veins and an artery. You of course didn't plan on going anywhere below fascia, but you still wanted to be as cautious as possible. - Relax... - he did as you told, and you gently pinched his skin, roughly determining how thick it was in those places, and how deeply you could go without any risks. By now you knew his body well, but not on that level; this was completely new for both of you.

You detached the blade you used to cut yourself from the handle and dropped it into a small metal tin with all the other ones. And then you repeated the preparation process, disinfecting everything that needed to be disinfected and attaching a fresh blade to the scalpel. For a short moment, you were toying with the idea of asking him to shave his thigh, because the healing process could be worse for him if he didn’t, but you got the feeling that it wasn't something he would say yes to right now.

Before you put the blade to his skin, you looked him in the eyes again, hoping that he would stop you, but there was nothing but determination there. So, you looked back down, with your finger traced the path you were about to follow with the scalpel, and made a quick cut. It was long, but a bit shallower than yours, because you weren't used to cutting thicker skin.

He stayed still, not even flinching at the pain he must have felt but seeing the droplets of fresh blood gathering on the edges of the cut ripped something from your chest and crushed it right in front of you. You wanted to apologize, to beg for forgiveness, but his stern look told you it wouldn't be wise.

- Again. - he said quietly, his voice much softer than you expected it to be in a moment like this. And you did... You moved your hand closer to his inner thigh and made another swift cut, this time curving it a little, following the shape of the muscle.

You didn't even realize that you started crying; only when you saw your tear falling down dangerously close to the fresh cut, you moved your head away. You quickly wiped the rest of the tears with the back of your left hand, taking a fresh gauze in your right and drying the drop before it had the chance to contaminate the cut.

- Do you understand now...? - he asked quietly, and you nodded, trying to hold back tears. - Good. Because every time I will find a fresh one on your body, you will be recreating it on mine. And from now on I will be checking regularly. Are we clear...? - you nodded again, trying your best to calm yourself down. He hated making you cry, but he also knew you well enough to realize that it was the fastest and most efficient way to stop you from harming yourself. You needed to realize what it was like to be on the other end of it, no matter how good and cathartic it felt in the moment. He also knew that now, every time you would even think about self-harming, the image of two fresh cuts on his thigh would immediately pop up in your head.

Still with tears in your eyes and without saying a word you cleaned all four cuts you made, and you even gently wrapped them with a fresh bandage, which wasn't something you usually did, but you didn't want any risks tonight... When you were done with the wounds, you put everything away in the box, and the box back in the desk And even though the possibility of you taking it out again was next to none, the knowledge that it was there, just in case, was still comforting.

And then you were back in bed, under the covers, basking in Aaron's body heat.

- I'm sorry I forced you to do this... - he whispered, when you grabbed the material of his shirt with both hands, and he wrapped himself around you, allowing you to hide in the cocoon made from him. - I don't regret it, and I would have done it again, but I am truly sorry that I forced you to experience that feeling. - he could never lie to you... Not even about something like this.

You were quietly sobbing into his chest. Was it healthy? No. Would a therapist hearing about this situation told you to run far away from him? Definitely. But did it work...? In its own twisted way, it did.

- I love you, Aaron... - you said quietly, clenching your fists even more. He run one of his hands over your buzzcut and you leaned into the touch almost like a cat.

- I love you too... - he pulled you closer and let you cry into the material of his shirt until you fell asleep in his arms... But he didn't join you, he couldn't. The guilt and anger he felt were so overwhelming that he didn't know what to do with them. And even though you were safe in his arms right now, the knowledge that the monsters who did this to you were still alive was eating him from the inside. Sure, they were in prison, he made sure of that, but he was seriously considering abusing his power and influence to make them meet their maker. The worst thing was it wasn't the first time he thought about it... He had come up with four possible ways to kill them, and all of them left his hands squeaky clean, that's why it was so tempting.

But if he ever did the things, he thought about doing, he would no longer be a good man.

And you deserved a good man.

A/N 2: Please don’t feel obligated/pressured to reblog, because I write mostly for myself. A comment would be appreciated though :) Love, G.

#my writing #TW: Depression #TW: Self-Harm #TW: Blood #TW: Cutting #TW: Scars #TW: ED #TW: Rape #Criminal Minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction

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eltube · 8 months ago

Text

(new fic!) Evil-Adult-Anon

I wrote this fic as a gift for @kndrules’ birthday this year (Happy Birthday Jay!) and after he mentioned it offhand someone was interested in reading it—so I am posting it here for all to see!

It takes place in our adult AU, where—for reference—sector V members are about 35 years old. This fic doesn’t feature sector V, though; it stars Cree!! Who is in her forties, a Japanese history professor, and still coming to terms with her life after Father. (Father is recently in prison—basically, if you have any questions about the details of this timeline, feel free to ask about it.) It also features special guests (The) Steve and The Toilenator, though you may not recognize him at first.

Enjoy!

With every step she took into the hotel lobby, Cree gripped the shoulder strap of her canvas bag a little tighter. She had tried to dress casual, but put-together: one of her nicer cardigan sweaters, the pants she actually ironed, and her new shoes with the fancy broguing on the sides. Her locs were tied back in a small, loose bun behind her, and she figured that–at least if nobody zeroed in on the death grip of that one hand on her bag–she probably looked pretty composed from the outside.

She needed the death grip though, because the farther away she got from her partner’s familiar car, the more she felt her bravado slipping away, already making a smaller woman under this big, domed ceiling. Steve had told her way too many times that she’s “got this,” working his clueless magic that once again made her enough of a fool to believe him. Now, the stronger illusion of her–the stranger who so confidently waved at Steve as he dropped her off, as if this was all her idea–was looking down at her real self with a mixture of smug superiority and pity.

She ran her palm along the bag’s material as she walked on the lobby carpet, grounding herself (as she had been taught to call it) by feeling the bumps along the surface. She recognized and remembered the shapes of the file folders, overflowing with booklets of paper, packed inside. Cree had brought her students’ essays along with her, like she always did during exam seasons in case she had a few moments to catch up on marking them.

In this case, bringing the student papers along had been a kind of silent, last-ditch prayer of desperation. Like, maybe this whole thing would actually be cancelled, right? Everyone would go home, not even knowing she had shown up, and she could sit peacefully alone on these pearly white couches until Steve’s band finished practicing, just reading first-year history students’ takes on bushido and cracking up without a care in the world.

It wasn’t going to happen–but honestly, she just needed the fantasy to get her out the door. As the knots in her stomach were reminding her very loudly now, she really did not want to come.

Trying the grounding again, Cree focused on the surroundings of the hotel as she moved towards the conference room, reminding herself to “name three things” for each of her senses. She had resisted this strategy at first, how babyish it sounded. To her displeasure though, she had to admit that when she actually tried it eventually, the damn thing worked.

I hear…the front desk people typing. Luggage carts. A fountain.

I see…ugly wallpaper. Plants. A snack counter…huh, looks like they have ice cream. That logo is familiar.

I smell…what do hotels smell like? The scent of blandness? Parfum du nothing? ‘Clean stank’? Sure, those count as three things.

I taste…DAMMIT! FUCK! SHIT!

A jolt of surprised rage yanked Cree out of the ritual. She strode directly into something blocking her path, priming her to explode at whoever put it there–and then, just as fast, a wave of hot embarrassment followed. She realized she had knocked her foot against a sign outside the conference room. It was, actually, the exact sign she was supposed to be looking out for.

“SUPPORT GROUP HERE,”--the text on the cardboard seemed to be shouting out loud to mock her as it toppled over. Cree couldn’t help but project onto it like it was a person she hated, some shrill little kid maybe, pointing and going LOOK WHAT THIS WEIRD LADY DID for the whole hotel to hear. Scrambling to catch herself and prop the thing back up–make it be quiet–Cree looked around, praying that no one had seen her “calm” herself into a clumsy mess. Luckily, it seemed like it was a secret between her and the security cameras at most.

“So much for mindfulness,” she muttered to herself, silently cursing her therapist. That lady was definitely going to hear about the mess she caused with her advice next week. On the bright side, though, all the potential awkwardness Cree felt around walking into this conference room seemed tamer in comparison, now. She let out a long-suffering breath, reasoning that she had come this far, and put on a brave face as she crossed the threshold.

—

The room was set up just the way Cree had imagined it–she couldn’t tell if she found this funny or downright irritating, the cliche of the scene. The circle of folding chairs, the table of cheap coffee, the name tags…it all felt like the setup of a joke at her expense, and when she found herself taking a sharpie and actually writing Cree on one–eugh—that was the punchline.

A nametag, as if these people didn’t know exactly who she was. Even if she had changed her hair or her mannerisms much in the last 15 or so years, she was, she noted bitterly, the only Black woman in the room, so she would always be unmistakable.

At least no one’s staring at me. At least not until my back is turned.

The cheap label stuck to the right side of her sweater, she kept her hand on her bag as she sat slowly down in one of the chairs. It was stiff, but she took some small pride in having good posture. Others in the room, many of whom she was surprised not to recognize–shouldn’t I know everybody here?--were all milling around and making small talk, like friends. They smiled at each other, touched shoulders, laughed; they probably came here dutifully every second week while she was hiding at home.

People started to take their seats around her, and Cree tried to block the lonely resentment building in her gut from showing on her face. As the meeting started and the scattered conversations died down, she closed her eyes and conjured up her confident self from the car again, a witch conjuring ghosts of the past. She would need magic not to screw this up.

Directly across from her, one middle-aged man stayed standing with his hands folded; he, she assumed, was the group leader she talked to on the phone.

“Welcome, everybody,” he said, and his familiar voice confirmed Cree’s guess. “Now that everyone’s sitting, we can start.”

The man, tall and Latino with greying hair and broad arms, had already introduced himself to Cree last week as Paolo. He was friendly enough, and thoughtful enough with his direct invitation to attend the meeting, that she tragically couldn’t refuse it anymore without looking like a complete jerk. And as always seemed to be the case with these people, he said he knew who she was, but she never remembered meeting him–and again, she wondered if this tendency to erase people’s names and faces from her memory made her arrogant.

She tried to console herself with the fact that, at least in this case, there were reasons Paolo might have been forgettable; ice cream men were always wearing those stupid hats anyway, and they all looked the same in uniform. It’s not like she was hanging out with them back in the day—they were never even invited to those Anti-Kid Bingo Nights.

Ugh, she had almost forgotten how much she hated those.

“First of all,” Paolo continued, with the attention of the room bringing Cree back. “Thanks to everyone again who brought food. Feel free to say something about your recipe when we do the circle…if it’s not a family secret!”

There were good-hearted chuckles scattered around Cree where the older members sat, the kind she hears from the tenured professors pushing 70 at work. When she’s not scared of getting a day older, part of Cree looks forward to getting to an age where unfunny jokes make her laugh like that.

“Now, we’ll start with me like always. We don’t have too many new folks here today,”--and Cree felt his lack of eye contact with her here was deliberate–”but it’s always good to introduce ourselves just in case. So, hi everyone. My name’s Paolo–feel free to share just your first name, or your last too, whatever’s comfortable–and, well, when I’m not running this group, I’m the Ohio regional representative of Tasty Taste. It’s been really rewarding for me to help build the new face of the company, and, hey…I’m sure it’s also rewarding for us that I’m able to offer free ice cream to everyone here.”

There was a murmur of chuckles from the group again, and Cree remembered the stand she had passed on the way in, the shape and colours of the logo all clicking into place. The new face of the company. So the stand used to belong to…hell, maybe the whole hotel used to be his. Suddenly she felt a pang of nausea, like the chair she was sitting on might be coated in poisonous slime.

Paolo went on. “I’ll pass the intros around the circle now, and feel free to share anything about yourself. It can be a fact about you related to the group or not! Then we’ll go into a theme for this week’s discussion. Lou, you’re on my right–why don’t you go ahead?”

Paolo sat down, and the man next to him looked up and smiled at the group shyly. He was white and semi-elderly, with a belly but stringy, gangly limbs, and he sported a decidedly balding head of thin blonde hair. Cree didn’t recognize this guy, either, and assumed he was another ice cream man. How common was it, she wondered, for men like Paolo to still be working at Tasty Taste now?

“Hi, I’m Lou,” the new man said, and something about his voice sounded instantly familiar. “I brought some quiche today, but it is a bit of a family secret with my husband and me…” He grinned. “Um, I work as a [gastrointestinal specialist] now, but for a long time I guess people probably just knew me as a guy who walked around wearing a goofy costume…a guy who no one liked.”

With that bit of context, in his timid voice, it dawned on her. Holy shit. Her mouth fell open, shocked by how bizarrely normal he seemed across from her now. That’s the Toilenator.

Nobody noticed her gaping expression while Lou continued, now so clearly resembling a time-lapsed version of the villain, like a parody act that walked offstage. “It’s been great for me to get to know people through this group,” he smiled, “And I’m glad more people are coming every time. Sigmund doesn’t come with me since it’s not his experience, but he says he can really tell it makes a difference and he’s grateful to all of you.”

Lou sat back in his chair and the group clapped, something that Cree gathered was customary during this “introductions” phase. She awkwardly raised her hands and clapped once, feeling distinctly stupid, like she was at show-and-tell or something. How long has the Toilenator been married?

More than that—though she realized how cruel it was, while he was being vulnerable—Cree was embarrassed to think she had any common issues with the Toilenator.

As the next few people introduced themselves, their words blurred into nonsense and this parallel between them horrified her more and more. She was suddenly haunted by a mirror image of herself, wearing an oversized toilet seat around her head, getting bullied by people—who were, by all accounts, total freaks themselves—is that the kind of company she was seeking solace in?

More people spoke, mostly ice cream men, or B-list villains, or some guy who watered the lawn at the mansion. Ignoring them, she wondered if the Toilenator had any of the same messed up problems as her—maybe he even went to the same therapists about it. Maybe right after Cree left those offices, all woe-is-me, this old guy walked in after her, clearly doing so much better about it since he can be at home making quiche all day. As if all of this couldn’t be more humiliating, now the Toilenator was beating her at therapy!

“…would like to share something?”

Cree looked up as she noticed the room was staring at her, expectant. It was silent now, no one else sharing, meaning it must have been her turn to speak. She stupidly opened and closed her mouth and sat up straighter, running her hand along her canvas bag nervously again.

”I, uh.”

Paolo was looking over and smiling patiently, and the patience of it sort of made it worse.

”Sorry. I’m…I didn’t bring anything. Didn’t know it was a potluck. I um…well, you all know who I am. I’m Cree. You know me whether you met me back then or not. Everyone keeps telling me to come to one of these things, but I never felt like I…I dunno, deserved it. But now I’m here, so I guess I have to catch everyone up.”

Once the first words were out of her mouth, it became a kind of compulsion to speak, which in a way was a mercy. She caught faces with eyes burning into her, but fought the urge to try and read their thoughts.

”So, I was Father’s apprentice. For…10 years? Something like that.”

Speaking his name made it real. She might as well jump right into it.

”I guess, you know…I realized in my mid-20s, that after everything I worked for, I wanted out. It wasn’t worth it, and he never intended to give me any of the power he promised. I guess a lot of you worked for him for money, but he never even paid me. Then I realized it was his future or mine—he didn’t want me going to school, didn’t want me doing anything that took me farther away, and I guess…something in me sensed it would only get worse. I took a chance, I left, I cut contact and left for college and didn’t look back. I was scared he’d come after me but lo and behold the case against him came together just in time. And it’s only with him in prison that I feel like I can say anything without putting everyone I know in danger, so I’m not used to…saying anything. But I’m trying to start.”

The room was listening intently, with a kind of respect that she only got in a really good lecture—the kind she never expected and worried she couldn’t rise to. She kept talking anyway, facts spilling out of her that she was always worried would explode if exposed to the air.

”I had some distance from everything, and I compartmentalized everything from back then until I graduated, but…you know, I still live with all the shit I did, while I worked for him, while I was trying to prove that I could be him someday. What I did to kids, to my own kid sister…and I went to him, right? And I did it year after year, and I convinced myself they deserved it. I didn’t think it was right to call myself a victim, because of that. Sometimes I felt I should have been sentenced with him. But becoming…”

She took a shaky breath, feeling the full weight of the listening silence. “…becoming a teacher, when I’m working with my students…they’re all adults, right, but even then, I keep thinking…the power I have over them scares me. When I think about doing to them what he did, I feel sick, and it just makes me realize…damn, it was wrong when it happened to me, too. I was like that back then, just…young, and powerless, and wanting to impress someone who could move me up. No matter what it took, right? And he knew that. Even the guilt I’m feeling now, it…he made me feel it on purpose. And it worked.”

Cree had her eyes trained on the floor now, on a space between her shoes, and she was afraid to look up after saying what she knew was far too much. These people connected to her by Father’s common thread of abuse—she didn’t know if their pity or their total apathy to her pain would be more devastating. Whatever reaction there would be, it was the one she was afraid of—it was the escaping of the story, the reveal to the world, that hurt her every time.

—

Cree felt her arm quickly shoot up to her face to wipe at a hot tear escaping. She and Steve had joked on the way over about how her crying was an inevitability, that it was just about how many fugitive tears she let get away. She thought she had prepared for it then, but she never could.

”Cree,” Paolo said in the silence, his voice sounding even-toned and not so sympathetic as to taunt her. “We are all so glad that you came to a meeting. And though it may not be at all close to what you’ve experienced in its intensity, I think you’ve put words to a dynamic that many of us in this group felt in our work lives for a long time.”

Cree bit down on her cheeks and braved glancing up again, seeing that several people were nodding respectfully, including Lou, who had an indisputably kind smile on his face. She wanted to mock it, but it was too genuine for that.

The woman sitting beside Cree wordlessly handed her a tissue and a glass of water, which she sheepishly accepted. When Paolo continued he addressed the entire group, taking attention away from her, helping her come back from where she had gone.

”Many people have said in group before,” Paolo said, gesturing to the circle, “that we have feelings of guilt, like you described. That we feel we can’t be considered Father’s victims, because we weren’t children when he hurt us, or because he didn’t hit us physically, or because we only suffered abuse in the workplace and not interpersonally.” There were more nods around him.

“It comes up quite often, too, that members of the group are ourselves perpetrators—we hurt children on his payroll, and so we had no right to speak. And it’s true that many of us are guilty of things that we very well may not be forgiven for.” Paolo shrugged. “I’ve spoken to some people, former Kids Next Door operatives, who I hurt while I was an ice cream man. I want nothing more than to reconcile with them, but some of them—rightfully, I think—don’t speak to any of us. There’s a reason this group is for people who worked for Father. We all feel this tension. But it is powerful to break the cycle.”

Cree smiled, finding Paolo’s speech corny, but in a way that released some tension in her. The Toilenator—Lou, Cree reminded herself—was standing up and passing a dish around, apparently sensing an opportunity to relax everyone further. A thin elderly man looked over as he took a piece of quiche, adding his input:

“I had hoped I would see you at a meeting soon, Ms. Lincoln,” he said, and she immediately recognized his voice as the butler, Wintergreen’s. He broke into a smile at the way her eyes must have widened. “Yes, it’s been many years—and I often wondered if you were well, after you disappeared.” His face grew serious again, and he added: “I saw a lot of things back then that, if I could go back, I would not have allowed, or so I tell myself. There are people I would have protected. If I had been a better man…well. The point is to be a better man, now. Though a very old one, certainly.”

That old refrain of laughter, of middle-aged amusement at a tired joke, bubbled up and helped eat away at the nerves of the moment. Cree’s smirk was one of genuine mirth, this time. Her mind swirled with possibilities of what Wintergreen had been doing, feeling, all this time. Here was someone who served Father tea, who made the delightful children sandwiches for lunch. She had never even thought he had a conscience. But in its way, that must weigh on him, too.

Maybe she wasn’t—in every way—alone.

”I became a teacher after I left the business, too,” one ice cream man added, holding a hand under his quiche to catch the crumbs. “And I think what you said about teaching—seeing yourself in your students, and everything—well, that was a really good point. My students are adult learners, and in a new country, so sometimes when I see them lacking confidence, I remember how I felt when I messed up at work and Father exploded at me…you know, it takes me right back there. I’m not an angry guy, and I try to make class fun, but I just think…what if? What if that’s me one day? Sometimes I even have to leave the class because it messes me up. But, I don’t know if this is true for you…it makes it feel more rewarding to do it the right way. To be patient and not like some tyrant. I keep reminding myself that’s not who I am, because I get to decide.”

”I feel the same way about my patients,” Lou beamed, sitting back down now that the quiche tray was empty. “I love reassuring them, especially about things that are embarrassing, like stomach issues can be.” He shrugged. “Humiliation was a common theme in the ways all the villains targeted me, but it doesn’t have the same power anymore.”

”Damn, everyone sure moved up!” Cree thought aloud, laughing in spite of herself. “I guess the job market can’t be that bad, huh?”

”Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Paolo laughed back. “After all, this group is my big career move, and they pay me in quiche!”

The response to this quip was uproarious, so disproportionately so that Cree found herself earnestly cackling along. As the evening wound down, the relief of introducing herself gave way to a rush of endorphins, powering her forward.

She had conversations with people her teen self would have never spoken to—wouldn’t have been caught dead sitting in a circle with. That old outline of herself would have called this group a joke, a bunch of expired villains sitting in a circle like a kindergarten class, a cautionary tale about what happens when you let yourself go soft.

She would have laughed about that with her teen ninja friends and then gone home alone, tried to sleep with the pit in her gut, knowing that she’d have to meet him tomorrow, to give her report, to get her orders. In the back of her mind, Cree thought to herself how much she would have wanted to hold that lonely girl. How much she wished she could call her up and invite her here herself.

—

By the time Cree met the car in the parking lot, she had four phone numbers tucked in her pocket, scrawled on hotel stationary in shaky hands by people who swore they had gotten the hand of technology enough to stay in touch. She often told people she’d call them or text them, fully intending to throw their cards in the trash the second she left—she didn’t intend that, this time. Though she guessed that time would always tell.

Steve unlatched the door handle and grinned at her from the front seat, a fry from the fast food place nearby hanging out of his mouth. “What’sh up?” He said, lips full, and then swallowed quickly to free up his speech. “Band practice was awesome today, you’re gonna love the new album.”

Cree climbed in, slung her bag over her shoulder and onto the floor in front of her. She realized how heavy it was, what she had been carrying all day.

“I’ll judge that when I hear it,” Cree grinned back. “Did you get me a burger?”

“‘Course.” Steve shook the paper bag beside him. “Your go-to after a rough day. I’m guessing you need it, huh? Tell me about everything that sucked on the way home, I’m all ears.”

“Actually,” Cree looked out the window, watching the hotel start to roll past as the car moved. She smiled again despite herself. “I was gonna say you can have it. The eating’s pretty good at these things. And man, you won’t believe who made the food.”

#Knd #My writing #i don’t know if that’s the fic tag i decided on i will update this later #Cree lincoln #the toilenator

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blazehedgehog · 11 months ago

Text

I Love To Shoot At Trouble

During the Steam Christmas Sale I ended up buying Need for Speed: Most Wanted 2012 because it was like $6 or $7 and I'm in the mood for a new racing game to chew up. EA already gave the game away for free in like 2015, but that meant installing "The EA App". I figured having it on Steam would be more convenient.

You'd think so.

It's not! As part of the first time launch, it installs "The EA App" anyway, which also means it found and uninstalled whatever version of Origin I still had (I wasn't aware I'd ever reinstalled Origin since my HDD crash). As part of this process, it also asked me for my EA password, I misread Firefox's stored password incorrectly, and went through the trouble of resetting my EA account with a new password before linking it to Steam. To my surprise, EA's been sitting on my seven year old cloud save from the few minutes I played of this on Origin in 2017, and asks if I want to import it. Sure, I guess.

So that's ten minutes down the drain before I can even boot up the game. Okay, fine, the game finally launches. Gotta wait while it boots up The EA App each time before it boots into the game, gotta wait for the title screen logo animation, gotta wait for a 10-15 second load screen because even though this game came out in 2012 it's gotta ping some always-online "Autolog" leaderboard whatever. Once it connects, it has to do a slow cinematic pan across your car, telling you what your online rivals have done since the last time you connected, and what kind of equipment you have on your car.

All told, every time you boot up Most Wanted 2012, you're looking at a 30-45 second wait before the game actually hands over control and lets you start driving.

Pull the accelerator and instantly Most Wanted SCREAMS at me:

Fair enough. I'm using a Dualshock 4, and the Playstation 4 did not release until over a full year after this game. Click to the menu it's asking of me and see that the control binding menu is awful -- it's one of those super oldschool ones, like binding keys one by one in Doom 2. I have no idea what these buttons are supposed to be in terms of Xbox equivalents, and I realize that Steam has this thing called "Steam Input" that's supposed to be handling all of this anyway. Steam Input generally makes my Dualshock 4 look like an Xbox controller to most games.

I exit out of Most Wanted, force Steam Input to "on" (I was messing with its settings recently, so I thought maybe it was disabled), and relaunch the game again. Wait for the EA App to boot up, gotta wait through the title screen logos, gotta wait 10-15 seconds on a loading screen, gotta wait another 5-10 on the cinematic pan across my car. I have now spent a minute and a half total waiting for this game to boot while I troubleshoot this.

Pull the accelerator. Instead of it complaining about my controller, straight up nothing happens. That's weird. The Start button works, the analog stick seems to work in the pause menu, but the triggers do not. The face buttons also do nothing. Upon checking the settings, that's because Most Wanted has settled on keyboard mode, even though it's clearly accepting some controller input. After poking at it, it does not seem like there's any way to get it to see my controller.

This makes Most Wanted a special game, because a lot of games I play will happily accept that Steam Input is telling it I have an Xbox controller connected even when I absolutely do not. But this is the rare 1% that seems to be incompatible. It's time to bring in the big guns.

Mayflash makes a terrific little passthrough device called the Magic NS, and the general purpose of this device is that it lets you use any controller on any other platform. An Xbox controller on a Playstation? No sweat. A Playstation controller on the Switch? It'll handle it. If you upgrade to the Magic NS2, you even get full gyro support. Every NS device also doubles as a Bluetooth dongle, so you can stay wireless if that's your thing. I love it so much I bought two, because generally they're only about $20.

A Magic NS2 for my Switch... and Magic NS1 for my PC. Strictly for scenarios like this, where a game expects an Xbox controller and Steam Input fails its camouflage.

Plug the NS1 in, connect my Dualshock 4, and once again boot up Most Wanted and wait the 45 seconds to get through the EA app, logos, loading, and the cinematic pan across my car. More than two full minutes now looking at this junk, and that's not counting the time spent outside of the game troubleshooting this in menus or digging out dongles or whatever.

Pull the accelerator... and my car starts to drive! I can steer! It works! Of course it works. The Magic NS never lets me down. I pull up to the first race event...

Press J and K to start the event.

Those are, uh. Those are keyboard keys. I'm using a controller. The controller is fully functional. You don't need to tell me this in keyboard controls. This isn't going to be one of those games, is it? The kind that still tells you everything in the keyboard shortcuts no matter what?

I drop into the menus again and see Most Wanted is still stuck on Keyboard mode and won't let me switch to anything else, even though I'm clearly using a fully functional controller now. This can't be right. But then I remember: Steam Input is still turned on, and when I forced Steam Input to be on, Most Wanted got stuck in this keyboard mode.

Exit out of the game, tell Steam to turn off Steam Input for this specific game only, and relaunch. Wait through all that crap again. We're up to three minutes just waiting for the game to start, and probably closing in on 20 minutes since I first decided I wanted to try Most Wanted.

Pull the accelerator, it works, drive up to the first event, and...

Pull LT and RT to start the event.

FINALLY. HOLY SHIT.

On the plus side: this game controls a lot better than I remember. It's a decent middleground between Criterion's heavier-feeling Hot Pursuit (2011) and the snappier Burnout Paradise. Though I could do with a lot less full screen flashing or the fact that Autolog alerts hide the minimap for some reason.

youtube

Not pictured, but the "always online" nature can also be frustrating if you pause, unpause, and find you have to quickly re-pause again a second time. That second pause will actually incur a loading spinner because it hasn't finished syncing with the server from the first pause, apparently. This game is going on 12 years old.

Anyway. This was a nightmare.

HOT BONUS

"The EA App" now starts up with Windows and is nagging me to enter the login credentials I already entered last night. I have to go through extra steps to get it to leave me alone and not do this

THE RIDE NEVER ENDS

#need for speed #most wanted #criterion games #ea #electronic arts #origin #the ea app #steam #valve #xbox #steam input #troubleshooting #mayflash #Youtube

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system-architect · 1 year ago

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i took some of my friends/guildies on a run through 'story mode' (listening to all the dialogue) of shattered observatory recently and some of them learned new stuff despite running fractals often, which made me realize a bit there's actually a decent amount of fractals lore that people might not know or have picked up on, especially if you ran through the fractals pretty fast?? imo it's genuinely one of the most fascinating and well-written areas of the game

so, here, some of my favorite fractal/dessa/arkk lore tidbits (and why i Really Love Fractals):

1. arkk and potentially dessa are implied to be ex-inquest-- in the nightmare fractals, arkk mistakes the players for inquest debt collectors, and in his chaos fractal journal entries mentions his 'witless subordinates', so the implication feels to be that his mists research was inquest funded before he ghosted them. in thaumanova, dessa mentions two of the inquest npcs as having been krewemates of hers-- in ls1 she refers to them as being from her 'old krewe', and still describes them as friends (she also refers to them as 'good technicians', like yknow, the inquest rank). also, it may be for aesthetics, but tiles with the inquest logo are used throughout fractals (and in mistlock sanctuary)

2. simon, the cat obtainable from fractals, is implied to have been arkk's cat as per the headstone next to it (does this make arkk's cat golems make sense? maybe! they're also a cheeky reference to the other cat golems throughout fractals)

3. there was a little incident back in ls1 that revealed the fractals lobby is, itself, a fractal, and it and all the creatures in it loop continuously just like the regular fractals. shattered observatory is also vaguely foreshadowed in it, in a sad way :")

3a. similarly, by the way, the mistlock sanctuary is a fractal too-- ever talked to the npcs in there? go speak to ilia-- and the bartender

4. dessa hates the consortium, supposedly 'lost' her boyfriend (potentially arkk's father?) to them, and is not aware that the consortium are the ones who started promoting the fractals to tyria as an 'attraction'

5. dessa is, in some way, connected to the asura boss at the end of uncategorized fractal-- a small fact we only know from the dreamer collection, combined with dessa freaking out and having to leave when the fractal begins. we don't know their relation

6. dessa seems somewhat aware that she is non-existent/a mists magic construct bound to the timeloops. in a now-lost lore interview from wartower, she is described as being afraid to leave mistlock observatory in case she can't return to it. at the end of shattered observatory, she is much quicker to have the revelation than arkk is-- to the point where you could read it as her having known the whole time

7. and now, my favorite, which is more of a headcanon with a solid lore basis that i tend to go full pepe silvia about-- there's two types of fractal we see: ones that are sort of 'possible' or somewhat alien alternate realities, and then ones that are repeating loops of events that actually happened.

chaos, nightmare, and shattered observatory are all evidently loops of events that actually happened. arkk very much does smash into the fractals, you very much do stop him, dessa and arkk very much do effectively sacrifice themselves to stop the fractals from becoming destroyed, and then the loop repeats-- as they explicitly state it will

here's the thing... during the dialogue at the end of shattered, dessa states that arkk did successfully account for all variables except for the reality that they themselves aren't sentient and are just echoes bound to the fractal loop. thus that arkk's DDR would have successfully worked to extract them from the fractals if they were real, corporeal entities.

but since the shattered observatory is an echo of an event that happened, then just like all the other 'echo' fractals, then there needed to have been actual people acting upon the mists to create the event that's echoed in the first place. that is, it didn't just pop into existence of its' own accord. and while we encounter the fractal looped versions of arkk and dessa, they definitely were real people outside in tyria at some point in time

so... in the original version of the fractal... what actually happened? did a real, corporeal arkk meet a real, corporeal dessa? if so, did his DDR work? did they actually escape the mists, and then the loop in the fractal only ended up like it did because the copies couldn't follow in the originals' footsteps? or was arkk real, only to find that dessa wasn't? if the arkk and dessa we meet are only impressions or echoes of the real things, then where on tyria are the real arkk and dessa?

we don't know!! we simply don't know! we also know very little about the consortium, their connections to the inquest, or the uncategorized fractal! there is SO MUCH lore they could expand upon in future fractals and i really really hope they do ;_;

#gw2 #guild wars 2 #gw2 lore #obvs theres fractal spoilers in here #truly wish it was easier to source a lot of this stuff but half the time the wiki doesnt have it or the link is dead #so sorry to do a bit of a source: trust me on some of this #btw reasonable logical jump--#the reason revenant legends are what they are is your legends are basically Fractal Loop versions of themselves #theyre an impression of a specific moment in time of that hero #instead of the mistlock observatory stabilizing them its the revenant doing it #thx #my stuff #feel free to add your own fave fractals things btw

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teecupangel · 1 year ago

Note

So i got a AC x Venom/Marvel crossover idea that ive been toying around with recently that i wanted to share:

So the reason that Symbiotes dont work so well with bonding is mostly the whole "We need to eat brains to live" thing clashes with most superhero morals, but Assassin's kill all the time so that could be a match made in heaven?

So, we could do this 2 ways: 1) is that desmond gets a symbiote when he and Lucy break out of Abstergo. Desmond stepped in some weird white and red goo, but with Lucy running ahead he couldnt really spare a thought to it. So, when he gets shoved in the trunk he gets to bond with the symbiote. Its a misfit just like him, completely alone in a world where you cant tell anyone who you truly are for fear of being discovered/abandoned/abused. So why not be misfits together? Desmond gets major flak for being such a chocolate addict, but hes losing hus mind over here so he gets his chocolate. He doesnt tell anyone about his friend until the templars show up and he and symbiote goes on an all you can eat buffe to everyones horror.

Or 2) where Desmond's body is recovered by Abstergo and during a containment breach a symbiote gets to his body and revives it(Isu bullshit FTW!) and goes on a rampage before dissapearing. Until Erudito gets a call on the emergency line from someone claiming to be Desmond.

Thoughts & Notes:

I imagine the symbiote to kinda look like Carnage & Anti-Venom, mainly being white with red details: his fingers are blood red that fade into black the closer to the hand you get until the black bleeds to the white in the middle of the fore-arms(the legs are the same). Instead of the spider symbol on the chest and back, he has the AC logo.

In option 1, idk what name would fit the symbiote, but in nr.2 id defo say they would name themselves Revenge for what Abstergo did to them.

Desmond would at first have issues eating people, but the symbiote does need it to live and if they stick to Templars and bad guys hes happy, so eh. Just make it a quick and clean kill, its the assassin way.

Idk how the others would really react really, but Bill would defintly go "This we can use, you are the perfect Assassin now", much to Desmonds frustration. Does Bill even see him as his son anymore?

Im all out of ideas now, what do you think? ^^

The origin of the Symbiote can be:

If we’re sticking to keep this as a Marvel/Venom/Spider-Man crossover, the Symbiote keeps its Marvel origin

If we’re keeping this contained into AC world, we can morph the Symbiote into a failed Isu experiment. In this route, the Symbiote could have been a failed plan to create an armor that can withstand the Solar Flare. It gained sentient due to some sort of Solar Flare-induced mechanical failure in its containment or lab and it spent centuries being alone until Abstergo got it.

Regardless of which route we choose, the idea would be: In Abstergo’s hands, it was studied and experimented on without realizing it was sentient which meant Abstergo was hurting it without realizing it.

This way the symbiote would have a reason to hate Abstergo and the Templar Order.

Or, you know, he could just like Desmond and be like “I like you so I’ll eat them.” kind of deal.

Another way that can be a combination of Way 1 & 2, Desmond got the symbiote when he returned to Rome to rescue Bill.

During the chase and ‘fight’ scene between Desmond and Cross, Cross could have accidentally shot the symbiote’s container and Desmond stepped on it in his mad dash to take down Cross as soon as possible.

The symbiote only started talking to him once he’s back in the Grand Temple and he believes it’s a more severe version of the Bleeding Effect first.

Actually…

Regardless of which Way we go for, Desmond wouldn’t immediately believe that he has a symbiote. He would cling to Lucy’s words that he’s hallucinating thanks to the Bleeding Effect and he would think the symbiote is more or less his mind trying to keep him sane by creating a weird sorta-not-sorta-shapeless being that seemed to be a mirror image of himself: completely alone in a world where he cannot tell anyone who he truly was for fear of being discovered, abandoned and/or abused.

The first time the symbiote would make itself known to everyone would be either from a battle with Abstergo (for Way 1 &2) or to actually protect Desmond from the device’s recoil because, while it cannot take the full brunt of the Solar Flare, the device’s recoil? Yeah, could totally do that.

Other Unorganized Notes:

I’m kinda imagining the Assassin insignia to start out more like ink blots with small veins stretched outward and the more Desmond and the symbiote ‘connect’, the more the Assassin insignia becomes clearer until the ink blots disappear but it’s an Assassin insignia that has small vein-shaped lines stretching outward.

I kinda like the idea that the symbiote’s name would be connected to either having an Assassin as its host or eagles in general. On the top of my head: Revenge (like you explained), Soar (which gives us a chance to make a lame joke of someone mishearing it as “Sore”), Flight, Leap, Hidden… or, you know, we can go for “Assassin” because no one can think of a better name or even “Bleed” because sometimes the symbiote suit looks like it’s bleeding and as a reference to the wrong idea they have that this might have been some kind of genetic mutation caused by the Bleeding Effect.

Shaun and Rebecca would freak out (Lucy too if we’re setting this in a timeline where the symbiote’s connection to Desmond made him stop before he stabbed Lucy) but they’d try to understand. Shaun would definitely be more on the side of poking it to see what it does because his self-preservation flipflop a lot while Rebecca is more worried about its effect on Desmond’s overall health in general.

Bill would definitely go “we can use this” the first time he heard of it then ask if Desmond’s alright later but, by then, the damage has been done. Even if Bill is genuine in his concern, Desmond don’t fucking care anymore.

The symbiote is the easiest way to stop Desmond’s Bleeding Episodes although it also likes to talk to his Bleeds. Altaïr finds it fascinating. Ezio is wary of it. Ratonhnhaké:ton just talks to it normally although there’s a hint of cautiousness in his tone.

It would be funny if the symbiote starts Bleeding Desmond’s ancestors once they reached a certain ‘connection level’ but instead of its personality being overwritten by the Bleed, it’s like the symbiote creates another ‘head’ to house the Bleed instead. This turns out to be the best way to keep Desmond from Bleeding but they can’t control who Bleeds, him or the symbiote… not yet anyway.

#it was meant to be symbiote focused #but i accidentally added the bleeding effect #sorry about that #shaun and rebecca are trying to be supportive #but they’re worried #super worried #so if you want desmond to go rogue #this is an easy setup to do it #just make desmond feel their worry and misunderstand it as distrust for him #not the symbiote #and not believing him #when he says he’s fine and this is a good thing #ask and answer #assassin's creed #desmond miles #fic idea: assassin's creed #fic idea: venom

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yuseirra · 2 months ago

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No but really.. the guy(yeah, you know what guy I'm talking about, THAT GUY I KEEP TRYING TO MAKE SENSE OF, THE KAMIKI HIKARU GUY...this is ridiculous) has literally no will to live!! He doesn't have any attachment to his life!! That much was made really clear and it's stated that he's been despairing.

He ORIGINALLY CAN'T HURT PEOPLE. He was so passive about people taking advantage of him in the past, he could only stand wide-eyes when people were so cruel to him, the only thing he could do as those things happened back then was reach out and hug Ai for support and that was enough for him to recover and smile very happily. He has the widest smiles when he's with her, he just.. adored her that much. He really thought that having her would be enough for him to bear these irrational and horrible loads of misery he had to put up with and IT WAS.

AND THEN SHE GETS MURDERED because he trusted his friends to send a bouquet to her in his behalf. So he takes the entire blame for it, it's so messed up.

The way I see it, he would have died then. He would have followed Ai. He really would have lost every power to live then, the way Aqua became depressed after Ai's funeral(they are really similar in many aspects in terms of what they go through) But I feel like something made him live. And didn't Aqua get his first black star eyes when he started thinking of revenge?? What if something really convinced him to have the idea that he can't die there just now??? The exact same way Aqua was?? But the direction was, "I will fix everything. I will have Ai return to life. I will have Ai back."

but you can't usually have these thoughts. You CAN'T bring back the dead or feel their presence or whatever. So why did he start getting these ideas?? What caused him to believe it could be a reality?? The only consistent element I can blame on IS the black star. IT IS THE BLACK STAR. You know how this series has a logo with the の < having the star eyes in it. The star eyes are an important element in this piece. I just.. feel they have to do with him. The black and the white eyes. His company has the name EYES. He talks about eyes having these powers. There's definitely something up with this that they feel the need to bring it up regardless of how illogical it'd seem in real life. This story IS FICTION. IT HAS FANTASY IN IT. Can you see where I'm coming from and what I'm going for?

This can't be it. The guy MAY die here maybe, but what's been shown so far isn't all there is to it and even without these weird ideas about stars (come on, there's just so many throwbacks about it and they basically rub it in Fatal and Mephisto and IDOL.) There's something I can't quite put my finger on yet but there IS an underlying element here that can bring this all together. Or maybe I'm expecting too much from a loosely written piece but no, what the songs are indicating are TOO SPECIFIC. They direct to this idea.

I really do believe we need to look into the idea of gods who don't realize they are gods, and the star eyes. It's about time. I just have a feeling I've been catching about those in a pretty accurate sense. Please do look over my theories, I may be getting at something here, I IMMEDIATELY got this idea after having listened to Fatal back in July. This idea has been introduced TOO recently for it to be brushed off as irrelevant, they WANT to tackle this idea.

If there's "a fallen god" in the series, it's Kamiki. He's just too weird. He starts out really innocent and pure, it's almost like he's so unknowing in fact because he's confused about even the most basic things and he even tried to regard malice positively and it's like he's turned into some evil spirit or some sort of devil. THEN IT'S NOT JAIL HE HAS TO HEAD, HE NEEDS TO UNDERGO PURIFICATION. I KEEP SAYING THIS, SALTWATER MAY HELP HIM LOL. THE ONLY WAY THAT'D MAKE SENSE FOR AI TO WANT TO SAVE HIM IS THIS

AND HEY, AI EVEN SAID IT HERSELF IN THE NOVEL!!!! I BOUGHT IT!!! SHE SAYS SHE MIGHT AS WELL BE A GODDESS!!!! I THINK SHE IS ONE!!!

I AM TOTALLY SERIOUS ON THIS. WAIT TILL I GET THIS RIGHT. TRUST ME, THEY WILL BRING THAT IDEA UP ABOUT GODS AGAIN, THEY HAVE TO. It's just too out of place to be just addressed and then thrown out the window like it's nothing, WHY talk about this in the first place?? There are SO many things in this comic that can be explained with divine elements meddled into it, but are almost impossible to be interpreted otherwise. There is also a scene where Ruby says she could be favored by the gods. They pray. So yeah.

#oshi no ko #oshi no ko spoilers #hikaru kamiki #like.. I keep talking about this work because it's so confusing #I want to make sense out of it and I think I CAN #spoilers #well there's a two week hiatus... I think I can still draw hikaai '-')9 #let me bring out the goods. you can trust me #at this point I feel there is no one else in this world who's THOUGHT THIS HARD ABOUT THIS SHIP(THEY'RE SO WEIRD!!!!;; THAT'S WHY)it's funn #I CAN still draw them with this huge..backstab hikaru gives me. I will stomp on his foot though #I think I'm having fun(and pain..)I'm so stressed guys. help me #what is this comic????? what did i get myself into????

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britt-kageryuu · 2 months ago

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Morning Day 2

First | PREV | Next

-------------------

They woke up fairly early, but they were caught up with people taking up the bathrooms across their rooms. The each took turns washing up, then fighting over space in front of the mirror getting their makeup looking good.

Donnie was getting their costume on, they were forced to do the interviews in the morning and early noon, so they decided on a version of a Senkuu Ishigami cosplay. This would be a different level of torture, but it was his agreement to have Mikey on M&G. The they would switch with April for the interviews.

Leo was going to be in the Artist Alley helping with the table until Dontron and Miguel switched. For the day he was dressed up like his Usagi, though he couldn't bring a sword because weapon checks can be a hassle. He wasn't looking forward to being stuck in the booth later.

Mikey volunteered to grab breakfast since he wasn't in a rush to get ready. He grabbed a couple breakfast pizzas, burritos, and a little something for lunch later. Hs also double checked everything Leo would need to take to the table for the day. And warn him not to do anything stupid.

Raph would be wandering around, he heard about a couple panels/workshops that sounded interesting, and was looking forward to shopping around. Though he wasn't going to be dressed up today, he was wearing some of their merch, and a Star Warrior jacket.

After everyone who was going in right now was gathered, they left to tap in for the day, and Donnie was getting Shelldon in a little costume, and River took over for Shelldon.

~▪~▪~▪~▪~▪~▪~

🧡

Mikey finished his breakfast while setting up his model, along with messing with what would appear on screen ar the booth, mainly just made the background a paintable surface for him to mess with while talking to guests.

The first number of people to walk past the holoscreen at the booth were watching him draw his Mandarin Paints logo while asking for pictures or just asking questions.

A bit more into the morning Mikey showed off some of his dance skills with some guests, and was having fun drawing random stuff for people walking past.

Up until someone decided to question his Psychology Degree... It was not pretty, and many people had to just stop and watch the trainwreck of a smackdown Mikey delivered.

At least he didn't unleash the full Wrath of Dr. Delicate Touch on the poor fool, just Dr. Disappointed.

💙

Leo wasn't having a terrible time, but so many people kept asking were Mikey was, and it wasn't annoying so much as a bit irritating to repeatedly say 'He stayed up very late to get some restock in, and we let him sleep in.'

One upside was just chatting with CJ when no one was asking to buy something. CJ had been traveling solo more recently, and it was nice to catch up and hear some of the stories CJ had about were he went.

The most interesting thing from the morning was some high and mighty artist tried to claim Leo stole their work, and was selling it. Leo let them yell and complain, while recording them, claiming they saw specifically Leo steal their stuff, and demanded to have 'their work'be returned with compensation.

Leo loved to look on this persons face when Leo calmly and loud enough for the eavesdroppers to hear, "Hey, listen, I get that you might be jealous of the art on sale at this table, but I got some news for ya. This ain't my table. I'm not the artist for this table, nor am I an artist in general, my baby brother is though." Leo could barely keep the smugness out of his voice, "And I sure as hell don't need to steal your work. So why claim you saw ME supposedly steal Your work Hmm?"

The person had realized they were in trouble, and tried to run, but they didn't get far before Con Security got them, Leo gladly handed over a copy of the video for evidence against the troublemaker.

Some parts of social media were going wild with this for days, and that Artists reputation was probably never going to recover. Especially not after possible legal stuff was brought up when mentioned.

💜

Donnie wasn't having the worst time with doing interviews, though they were getting stopped more for getting his picture than anyone wanting to give an interview.

Even if all Donnie planned to ask was, 'what's your day job?', since that was a fairly popular thing to ask when at events, if only for the slight shock value of hearing someone in Realistic Armour say they were a software engineer or something.

Though they also wanted to add in, 'Well I'm a tech engineer, but got dragged into this ridiculousness for a sponsorship deal.' at least once, but again not many want to stop to answer questions on how they're liking the Con.

Though they did end up having a delightful discussion on how data management wasn't taken very seriously, with a person in a fluffy dragon fur suit.

The switch off time couldn't have gotten there any sooner.

❤

Raph was having a pretty great morning.

There had been a panel for one of his favorite shows, and they had the creators there, and the voice actress for Raphs favorite characters.

Then he got on a call with Star while walking around the Dealers Hall, picked up a gift or two for her, she liked this one series that was older and harder to find now.

But he wondered how he didn't see the Build Your Own Plush booth before, the line was long, but worth it.

Though some people recognized him from yesterday, and wanted to ask how strong Raph was. So there's now some pictures of him flexing while multiple people hang on his arms, and a few of him carrying one or more people.

And he thankfully still had time to get to the workshop he wanted to check out. They were going to show how to crochet some simple videogame enemies, and looked like fun.

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Masterpost

I'm gonna stagger posting a bit, because I want to be sure I like how I wrote things out, especially since I'm still having a bit of trouble figuring watch to write the guys doing on their own.

Which is part of why I split these up in to like Morning and Afternoon posts.

Also if it isn't obvious I can't really write out drama without rushing it a bit, if only because I forget about pacing things out when I want to get to the resolution.

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chronicbeans · 2 years ago

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Hello! I've recently been binged reading your human illustrator wally series and I love it-!! It's amazing, and I think it would be cool to see your perception of the others too-!! That is if your comfortable to do so! Amazing work and im excited to see more in the future

I'll do my best! OwO I'll try to make it a bit short, but no promises lol. There is a bit of extra Wally info, too, simply because some of it pertains to other characters.

Human Illustrator Wally AU Character Info:

TW: Brief Mentions of Trauma/Possible Trauma, Past Bullying, Mentions of Delusions, Anxiety, and Paranoia

🖍️ Wally, alongside Barnaby and Howdy, went to a school that mainly consisted of richer families. It was kind of a school for "gifted" kids, and by "gifted" it means "both gifted, but mainly kids if families who PAID to be here". Wally and Barnaby's families paid for them to be there, while Howdy scored high enough in public school to be offered a genuine placement there. The school was a k-12 private school.

🖍️ Wally, even as a young kid, was extremely talented at art. Barnaby... well, Barnaby never really found a talent. What he doesn't realize is that he is actually pretty good at socializing and analyzing people. It was a part of the reason why he drifted towards Wally. He could tell that Wally was pretty lonely and wanted to help. Howdy drifted towards the both of them after being transferred from his public school, because the other children tended to bully him for coming from a poor family and not being able to afford trendy clothes. Howdy has a natural talent in marketing, being great at selling you basically anything. A part of it comes from how he felt he had to make excuses on why he had "cheap" items, such as a very basic lunch or a tattered bookbag.

🐛 Howdy's family was below the poverty line. Due to this his extended family either lived with them to help provide for everyone, or lived nearby to be there to fall back on. This has caused him to have a very close relationship with his family and to be hugely family oriented. His wife passed away, leaving him with their daughter, Henny. He treats her to whatever he can afford, often putting her needs before his own. He doesn't see himself as needing a lot of money, because he always saw how the more rich kids at the private school were mostly snobbish, besides Barnaby and Wally. He believes a good heart is more valuable than anything in the world.

🐾 Barnaby has always dreamed of being a comedian, however, he just can't come up with the right jokes or stunts to make people laugh. He usually starts out alright, before spiraling from both anxiety and believing that he messed up the joke and now has to explain it in vivid detail, thus ruining what good he had. He's determined, though, for better AND for worse. For better, because he has been practicing and practicing, making his jokes slightly better than before. For worse, because he soon became on the brink of being homeless. When Wally offered him a room in his house, he was forever grateful. He was also the first out of the group to figure out that Wally has hallucinations. Although he is unsure of exactly HOW he can help, he knows a few things that he can guess WON'T help, and to avoid doing those things. So, he tries his best to make Wally more comfortable whenever things get bad.

🎀 Julie LOVES fashion, of course, as a fashion designer. She especially loves the aesthetic of Childcore fashion. So, that is the bulk of the clothes she designs. She rarely puts the logo of her company on the clothes she designs, besides the tag. She believes that doing that would not only ruin the design, but be a bit devious, especially for the children's clothing designs. She doesn't want her clothing to make people walking advertisements! She wants her clothing to make people FASHIONABLE. She met the others through a brand deal, where her, Wally and Sally were working together on a show.

🌟 Sally is both a movie and play director. It usually goes that she will make a play, then make a movie out of that play. For her, the play is the most valuable form of the story, but she is well aware that some simply have trouble enjoying plays. For many, they simply do not have the imagination to fill in the details of the background details. So, the movie will help provide them a more entertaining version of the show. She can be a bit of a diva while directing people, but can always figure out when she has become too harsh and accidentally hurt someone's feelings. In those cases, she tries her best to make it up to them. She can also be a bit overdramatic, in both a good and a bad way. She wants her life to be more entertaining, like a real life show, and finds it difficult to cope with how bland the world seems to be compared to the stories she tells. So, when she met Wally and Julie on the show they were working together on, she knew she had to become their friends. They both seemed, to her, like they walked right out of a children's show.

🕊️ Poppy is as shy and anxious as ever. Now, though, she isn't too anxious to make the baked goods she comes up with herself. She has even made by Eros cooking shows with her skills. Before she found her passion of cooking and baking, however, she actually worked as a nurse. Seeing the injuries of some of her patients was what made her grow more anxious and accident wary in the first place. Eventually, she quit her job and moved back in with her family for a bit, before turning to cooking as a coping mechanism. She soon, unknowingly, became extremely good at baking and cooking meals for her family. She decided to make it into a career, when her friends and family got her to go onto a competitive cooking show and won. Then, her career as a cooking star rose up, eventually causing her to meet the others.

✉️ Eddie and Frank are both "outside" of the group. They aren't celebrities. Eddie is still just the clumsy mailman we know and love. In this specific AU, however, he has a form of ataxia that he inherited at birth. Ataxia, in a very basic explanation for those who may not know, is a condition that causes difficulty with walking and balance, coordination, speech and swallowing, and eye movements. His case is very mild, and he is receiving any available treatments he can get his hands on, but it still causes some difficulty with walking and having to make sudden, coordinated movements.

🦋 Frank is the local librarian. In fact, he owns the library. He met Eddie after ordering some books for the library, with him realizing his packages arrived from hearing Eddie trip and drop the heavy packages to the ground outside. Frank, to be frank (pun intended), was quite upset until Eddie explained his condition. After that, they slowly became friends as Frank ordered more and more packages of books to fill the library on time for its opening day. After a few years of them talking, they ended up getting into a relationship and marrying each other. To a little surprise, it was a blue haired stranger that ended up helping them out along the way, by giving love advice to them both before they asked each other out (Cough cough WALLY cough cough BUT NEITHER OF THEM RECOGNIZED HIM cough cough).

🏠 Home is just a little voice in Wally's head. A malicious one, that is. Wally's house itself seems to act as a sort of "trigger" for this specific voice, which is why Wally has nicknamed it Home. It causes an array of problems for him, from filling his mind with anxieties to even planting the seeds for brief bouts of delusion from time to time. As of recent, the delusion aspect has not been as common. Wally has found ways to ground himself back in reality, so those episodes have grown shorter and shorter. The main problems that Home causes at this point in time are anxiety and paranoia. Wally has never shared this fact, but he believes that the reason why his own house seems to be triggering Home is because he had a bad experience in his family's home when he was very little. However, Wally isn't entirely sure that his theory is true. All he knows is that Home only really talks to him whenever he is in his house, usually when he is alone in a room.

#welcome home arg #welcome home #wally darling #poppy partridge #howdy pillar #barnaby b beagle #barnaby beagle #sally starlet #julie joyful #eddie dear #frank frankly #welcome home home

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nealcaffery · 3 months ago

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Skittle people, gay people, LGBTQ people, and etc…

All these names still mean cult.

Let me explain. LGTBQ has become a prominent figure in the last 8 or so years, mostly coming into the public eye in 2020. But something hasn’t set right with me about them, like, how come in a New York pride parade (Pride Month being in June) there was a chant emerging from the tongues of thousands of these “Skittles'', “We’re here, we’re queer, we’re coming for your children!” Then something just snapped inside of me and made me realize that LGTBQ is trying to indoctrinate kids. So that way when they grow up, they’ll gladly just pass laws that give LGTBQ more and more rights, despite them not needing it. And people claim LGTBQ is a minority that needs to be protected, when yes, they are minority, but they don’t need to be protected. Governments roll over and give them whatever they want, and force us, as the public, to accept them or the government politicians will face the “Punishment” of being canceled. Plus, several people in the LGTBQ community are groomers and pedophiles. Plus, in the official LGTBQ flag, they included the flag of MAP’s, (Minor Attracted Persons). So LGTBQ accepts pedophiles with open arms, so that way they can get away with it too.

Another example of books, is they are writing books with explicit intercourse between same gendered people, and they are being read, and given to CHILDREN. This will scare the kids, as well as expose them to porn at a young age, and desensitize them to things like this. How can governments stand idly by while children are brainwashed into accepting them? But thank God for parents and their common sense. Parents have stood outside children’s libraries and blocked drag queens from entering the building to tell their children that gender is just a “Social construct” as so often said. I personally think that phrase is thrown around so much, and forced down our throats, that people have taken it upon themselves to be an LGTBQ “Sleeper agent” as I call it, whenever they hear the phrase “There are just 2 genders” they claim that gender is just a “Social construct” when there are just men and women. And no, that one where you’re born with aspects of both does NOT count as a gender, it’s a “Glitch” as I call it. Telling children that there are allegedly, 107 “Gender identities”. How can children find out who they truly are if grown adults are telling them they aren’t a boy, or a girl, and they should choose their own gender. Millions of kids will never discover who they are because of this, I just find it insane how people just don’t care. People should not stand idly by while YOUR children are told what to dress and “Identify” as by fully grown men who think they know better than science. This is not what hundreds of people died for in wars to defend their rights, it’s crazy.

And something else insane, as of now they have made it their goal to be represented “Correctly” in the media. For example, Tony Rodriguez is one of the voice actors for the popular cartoon television show, “The Simpsons”. He voiced a gay Latino man, but as of recently, Tony could no longer voice him because Tony isn’t a part of that community. So apparently despite his amazing talent, he can no longer voice a character in a CARTOON television show because he isn’t actually gay. That’s just crazy. And now in live action films and shows, only LGBTQ actors can play LGBTQ characters. Yes, some are talented, but why does it matter so much to them?

And LGTBQ has put their logo on everything, including children’s clothes. Like for example, in Target, they put LGTBQ logos and mottos on children’s clothing. Eg. Love is love.

Millions boycotted the company, and caused it to lose billions of dollars. Same with Bud Light, they put a transgender person on their beer cans, and caused the company to lose $15.7 billion dollars because of the boycott. Why does a BEER COMPANY need to promote transgender ideals? Why does a several billion dollar corporation need to put a cult and their symbols and phrases on CHILDREN’s clothing? To indoctrinate, the more you see the ideals of the cult, then the more you’ll come to accept it. The brainwashing is a real thing, they put it on everything so you’re more likely to accept it. Like when politicians run for office, they put bunches of commercials so that way when you vote or think of politics, your mind goes to the most recent ad you saw of that politician. But that’s just a theory.

Now, speaking from a religious point as a Christian. And boom, with that 1 simple phrase I’ve now made you completely disagree with my entire argument on why LGBTQ is a cult. And others will make the argument that religion is a cult, it is and it isn’t. There is freedom of religion in the West, just not in the Middle East or some other Eastern countries. But now, as I was saying. Speaking from a Christian view, I have seen countless videos of LGTBQ members mocking Jesus. They claim that Jesus was gay or trans. When being trans was absolutely unheard of back then.

And one final piece of LGBTQ corrupting God is some churches have married several gay couples, and what happened to said churches? They burned to the ground, and what wasn’t burnt? The crosses and Bibles that were in the building.

I would like to end this documentation with a Bible verse. Matthew 22:39 - “Love your neighbor as yourself”

So please, do not hate gay people individually, hate the cult, not the people. Hate the sin, not the sinner.

FIN.

#lgtbq community #transgender #paragraph #palestine #lgtbqia+#lgbt pride #lgbtq community #lgbtq #lgbtqia #lgtbqplus #lgtbq characters #lgtbtq #trans masc #nonbinary #trans #trangender

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