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scarletqueenx · 5 months ago

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chapter seven - dark magic

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: After a few months dating, Dean abandoned you in a motel room without giving you any explanation, years later his brother and he saved you from a demon and now you hunt with them discovering every day new mysteries about your family and the destiny that awaits you. Heaven, hell, demons, angels, vampires, witches and much more.

A/N: English is not my first language. This is my first time writing in the readers perspective, as i'm used to write oc´s.

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Looking into the book and the knife Maddie had given you was much more difficult with the Winchester brothers constantly at your side. Yes, in some motels you got separate adjoining rooms, which gave you more leeway, but most of the time you were never completely alone.

For the moment, all you had managed to do was confirm that the book was indeed a spell book. All written by a witch named Ophelia, whose name was written on the back cover. But the knife was a complete mystery. None of the symbols written on its blade made any sense to you. Although its balance and weight were perfect for hunting and for fiddling with while doing research.

Talking to Bobby was out of the question. Your father even more so, as you were convinced he was hiding things from you. And Dean and Sam. Well, you had come to the conclusion that they could help you, especially Sam, but after hearing Dean's thoughts about witches while working on your current case, you decided it would be best not to bring it up.

"I hate witches." Dean had said. "They're always spewing their bodily fluids everywhere."

You couldn't help but frown, remembering how you brother had hinted that your mother may have been a witch. And if that was true, either she was a very different one from the ones Dean knew or Dean didn't know what a witch really looked like.

"It's creepy, you know, it's down right unsanitary." He continued.

"Yeah, well someone definitely had it out for Janet Dutton." Sam commented, mentioning the victim, who had died after all her teeth fell out of her mouth due to a hex bag.

"Yeah, someone who snuck into that house and planted the bag. So, what are we thinking, we're uh, looking for some old craggy Blair bitch in the woods?" Dean asked.

"No, it could be anyone. Neighbor, coworker, man, woman—that's the problem, Dean, they're human, they're like everyone else."

"Okay, so how do we find them?"

"This wasn't random; someone in Janet Dutton's life had an ugly axe to grind. We find the motive-"

"We find the murderer." Dean completed his brothers words. Sam nodded.

"Yeah."

Dean nodded slightly, his gaze traveling to you, who had been quiet ever since you'd gone to the victim's house to question the husband. You were sitting on the room's couch, lost in thought as you fiddled with your necklace.

"Are you gonna say something?" He asked. You looked up, watching him in confusion. "Witches."

"Oh. Yeah, right." You nodded nervously. "Uh... I think you guys should handle this case. I'm not feeling very well." You admitted in a lie. This was your perfect opportunity to be alone. "I'll do research if you need me to."

"Are you sure? Do you feel all right?" Sam asked with concern in his voice.

"Oh, yeah, nothing serious." You assured. "You know, menstrual cramps."

"Okay, I didn't need to know that information." Dean complained, looking away.

"It's natural, Dean. No need for that reaction."

"Yeah, no... I know." He replied quickly. "Do... Do you need anything?" He asked hesitantly, to which you couldn't help but smile as Sam let out a small amused chuckle.

"Chocolate would be nice." You admitted. "Thanks, Dean."

"Yeah, whatever." He sighed leaving the motel room.

You and Sam couldn't help but smile and shared an amused look.

"You sure you're okay?" Sam asked as he grabbed his jacket.

"Yeah, I'm fine." You nodded. "Go keep an eye on Janet's husband. If someone wanted to get back at her for something, they might want to hurt him too."

"Yeah, that's possible." He admitted thoughtfully. "Good idea."

"Anytime." You smiled before watching him leave.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

You weren't worried about Sam and Dean, you knew they could deal with it on their own. But you still couldn't help but feel a sense of distress. It had appeared at the very instant you had stepped into that city. As if something was waiting or lurking for you. That provoked an uneasiness in you and it was quite noticeable by how you paced back and forth across the room as you read that spell book in an attempt of finding something that looked familiar to you.

The room was in complete silence, only filled by your footsteps and your breathing. So when your phone rang, you almost jolted. With your heart pounding in your chest, you quickly ran to the bedside table where you had left it and answered it without checking who it was.

"Hello?" You said, clearing you throat at the sound of your tired voice.

"Hey, sweetheart." Your father answered on the other end of the line.

"Dad, what's wrong? Everything okay? Why haven't you gone back home yet?" You asked with concern, since your father had stopped answering your calls and messages for weeks. Even after Christmas.

"I'm going to see Carter."

"What? Why?"

"I can't explain it yet, I'm sorry. I just wanted you to know that I'm okay."

"Great, I'm glad." You replied sarcastically. "I'm fine too, thank you very much for asking. Oh, and the son you left home alone is also perfectly fine. I can see you're really worried about him."

"I..."

"Leave it. I don't want to hear it."

"No, listen... You must be careful..." His voice cut out as the radio on the bedside table suddenly began to play.

"Dad?" Your frowned, looking down at your phone to check if the call was still on. "Dad?"

"Listen..." Henry's voice sounded for a moment before it was cut once again as the song on the radio changed. You quickly recognized it as I Put a Spell on You by Screamin' Jay Hawkins which only made your confusion grow.

What your didn't know was that the same song was also being played on the car radio of Paul Dutton, Janet's husband and the next victim of the witch who had killed her. Fortunately for him Sam and Dean were able to save him as they had been following him.

Alarmed by what had happened and after trying to call your father again, you decided to prepare the room so that nothing supernatural could enter it. Lines of salt, a bottle of holy water in your hand and your gun. You cursed Dean for taking the Colt, although it made sense considering he was in the middle of a hunt.

Just as you finished getting everything ready a message from Dean came through on your phone, asking how you were doing and informing you that he and Sam were on their way to the supposed witch's house. You sighed with relief as you saw his message, a faint smile peeking over your lips at his concern for you. A smile that only grew when Dean added that he had bought the chocolate you had asked for and would bring it to you as soon as they were done.

But again, another noise brought you out of your thoughts and caused your smile to fade. This time it wasn't the radio, which had stopped playing once the song was over. This time it had been two knocks on the motel room door.

"I know you're in there." A woman's voice was heard from the other side of the door. A voice completely unfamiliar to you. "I don't want to do this the hard way, so why don't you come out so we can talk? I promise I come in peace. I just want to chat."

"Who are you?" You asked, pointing your gun at the door.

The mysterious woman left out a sigh before answering. "My name is written in that book you have hidden under the bed and whose location you lied to your brother about. Poor Carter really tried to look for it in that mental institution. He didn't think you were smart enough to lie to him and take it away. Or so stupid. I still can't make up my mind what you are. Although if you listen to me and leave the room maybe you'll clear up that doubt for me."

You looked down for a second at Dean's bed, right where you had hidden the book.

Hesitantly, you decided to open the door and leave the room. Leaning against the wall, a beautiful woman with brown hair and brown eyes was waiting for you. She was dressed completely in black and her face had a smile on it.

"So smart is it." The woman commented as you appeared before her. "It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Ophelia." She stretched out her hand towards you.

"You are the witch who wrote the book." You assumed, ignoring her hand.

"Was." Ophelia corrected. "There is nothing left of the woman I used to be. Not anymore." She explained, showing her dark black eyes which revealed her as a demon. "Relax, I'm not here to hurt you." Ophelia spoke again as she watched you pull out a small bottle from your jacket pocket. A bottle that contained enough holy water to harm her while you locked and protected yourself back in the room.

"I don't like demons, so you'd better talk fast." You threatened, tightening your grip on the bottle, ready to throw it at her.

"Yeah, I know. I'm aware of what happened." Ophelia admitted. "I'm really sorry. But I'm not like them. I'm not like the rest of the demons."

"Why is that? Because before you went to hell you were a witch?" You raised your eyebrows.

"Yes. And no." She answered. "You see, hon, I knew your ancestor. The reason you're in this world is because of me. I'm the one who gave her a potion so she could get pregnant. I am the reason your family is still in this world. And the reason you and your brothers are special."

"What are you talking about?" You frowned.

"Though of course, it was bound to happen. So maybe you're not that special after all. Another woman could have been the one to ask for my help. But it was your ancestor, so here we are." Ophelia sighed.

"Would you care to explain?"

"I don't have time for this. I just want my book."

"Sure you do. You know where it is. Come on in." You stepped aside, leaving the entrance to the room completely clear for her. Ophelia smiled.

"I know there's a demon trap drawn over there. I'm not going in."

"Then you won't get the book." You shrugged.

"You don't want that book, believe me. It will only lead you to want to awaken your powers and that's a lousy idea. You'll put a target on your head, just like your brother did. And your mother before him."

"So it's true, my mother was a witch?" You asked making her sigh.

"When I made the potion so that Melinda could have kids, I used some special ingredients. And when we were burned for witchcraft, I anchored my power to that book and her daughter Sarah." Ophelia explained. "Magic has run through the veins of your maternal family until the birth of Carter, the first son in generations. A prophet wrote that when two boys and a girl were born to this family, the power would be uncontrollable."

"That's why a demon killed my mother and then wanted to kill Peter?"

"With your mother dead there would be no more sons. And as macabre as it sounds, Peter was just a baby. His death would hurt less."

"Sounds like you decided that." You pointed in confusion.

"If one of the males dies your bond with me will die and the magic will disappear. That's what I and all the demons want." Ophelia declared, crossing her arms.

"And the book?"

"It's dangerous if other witches find it."

"I'll make sure it doesn't happen." You assured, going back into the room, but Ophelia grabbed you arm before you could do so.

"I have come in peace. I wouldn't want to have to take it from you the hard way."

"From what you've explained to me, you've already done that once."

"I didn't kill your mother."

"Maybe not, but it was you who sent the demon, wasn't it? You ordered him to kill her."

"No. He killed her because she broke a deal. I told him to kill Peter to break the bond and bring me the book. He did neither. He's useless."

"You also killed Maddie's mother, didn't you?" You assumed without paying much attention to her words.

"I knew she had the book. But she hid it very well and I still don't know how."

You were about to speak but the sound of the Impala's engine caught both your and Ophelia's attention.

"I'll be back." The woman assured. "And when I do, I'll leave with the book." She then released your arm and disappeared into the darkness of the night before Dean and Sam could get out of the car at a much faster speed than usual.

The eldest of the brothers was the first to reach you, his hands gripping your shoulders and his eyes watching your with concern as he searched for any injuries. "Are you all right? Who was that woman?"

"I... She..."

"She's gone." Sam spoke as he reached them after trying to follow Ophelia. His breathing accelerated due to his running.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

After the three of you walked back into the room, you ran to lock yourself in the bathroom without saying a word. Dean insisted that you tell him what had happened, but it was clear to him that you were too shaken to do so.

Sam watched as his brother paced back and forth nervously, running a hand through his hair as he gave quick glances at the bathroom door.

"Do you think it was a witch?" His question broke the silence.

"No. It was a demon." Dean assured. "She lied to us about Salem. And all this... Her traveling with us, it all started because of the demon that kidnapped her. She's hiding something."

"Hiding what?" Sam frowned.

"I don't know, Sam." Dean answered.

"So what do you think? That girl was the demon that kidnapped her back there in San Francisco?"

"I don't know. It could have possessed someone else. But... There's something else. She said she could have stolen the Colt and the car and taken off. But if it was a random demon, she wouldn't be so eager to kill it, would she?"

"An exorcism would be enough." Sam admitted.

"Yeah, and she certainly knows how to do one. Why would she want the Colt?"

Sam remained silent, not knowing what to say. His head spinning with possible explanations.

You still weren't able to process the things Ophelia had told you. She was one of the reasons for all your suffering. She was the cause of much of the pain your family had been exposed to. And your wanted her dead. But you remembered the fear in your father's voice on the call earlier. He had told you to be careful. You knew Ophelia wanted the book and would do anything to get it back. So now there was just one person in your mind. Peter.

"I'm leaving." You declared as you came out of the bathroom. Your voice caught both Winchester brothers' attention, who still hadn't quite processed you words.

"What? No." Dean answered.

"This was a mistake. I should never have left home with you in the first place. I have to go back home."

"No, what you have to do is tell us what the hell is going on." He corrected as he watched you go through her things. He called your name numerous times, but you continued to ignore him. "Talk to us." Dean walked towards you, holding your arms to force you to look him in the eye. "Talk to me." His voice came out pleading. You could see the desperation reflected in his eyes.

You looked at him with hesitation. If you told them the truth, the whole truth, they might reject you because your mother was a witch. Dean had said it himself, he hated witches. And if there was a chance that you were one too, who knew what they would do. You couldn't do it. You couldn't tell them the truth. Right?

Just then the radio started playing once again, the same song as before. But it couldn't be Ophelia causing it, she couldn't have come back yet. It was clear she had left because she was afraid the Winchesters might use the Colt against her. But then again, had it been you who had caused the radio to turn itself on? Had your magic already awakened and you were unable to control it?

"What the hell?" Dean frowned, looking at the radio.

"Isn't that the song that was playing in Paul's car?" Sam asked in confusion. His question brought you out of your thoughts. Your eyes darting quickly away from Dean to travel to Sam.

"What?" You asks, puzzled.

"The song. It's the one that was playing when Paul was attacked." He explained.

"I thought..."

"What?" Dean turned to you. But then the impala's lights began to flicker, attracting his attention. Quickly, Dean released your arms and opened the room's door, finding a woman standing next to his car.

You and Sam were soon on Dean's side, their eyes also on the woman.

"Ruby." Sam murmured as he recognized her. You frowned in confusion.

"Sam, listen to me, there's no time." Ruby spoke looking only at him.

"For what? What are you talking about?" Sam frowned.

"You have to get out of town."

"So this is Ruby, huh?" Dean asked, pulling out the Colt, raising it and aiming it at her. "Never had the pleasure."

"Dean!" Sam warned him.

"I was hoping you'd show up again." Dean watched the blonde-haired woman, ignoring his brother as you remained completely confused by the situation.

"Point that thing somewhere else." She warned him.

"Hahahaha! Right."

"Sam, please. Go. Get in the car and don't look back." Ruby insisted, looking back at the young Winchester.

"Why? I don't understand."

"Hey, hot stuff, we can take care of a few kitchen witches, thanks." Dean said. You looked up at him with a knot of fear in your chest.

"I'm not talking about witches, you jackass. Witches are whores. I'm talking about who they serve." Ruby answered.

Dean and Sam shared a confused look for a second, but you seemed to understand her words pretty quickly.

"Demons." You whispered, but they were able to hear you, their eyes quickly falling on you. "They get their power from demons." You looked up at Ruby.

"Yeah. And there's one here, now."

"Yeah, no shit." You replied with a scoff. "Oh, what, you mean besides you?"

"Sam, it knows you're in town and it's gonna come after you and its way more than you can handle." Ruby insisted, ignoring your and Dean.

"Oh come on, what is this, huh? Please tell me you're not listening to this crap!" Dean looked back to his brother.

"Put a leash on your brother, Sam, if you wanna keep him."

"Try touching him, see how that goes for you." You quickly warned her, clutching the handle of the knife you kept hidden behind your back, attached to your belt. Dean couldn't help but give you a quick glance, surprised at your protectiveness towards him.

"Guys, look, just chill out." Sam asked them.

"No! No!" Dean exclaimed. "She's messing with your head, God knows why, that's who they are!"

"I'm telling you the truth." Ruby assured.

"And I'm telling you to shut up, bitch."

"I'm sorry, why are you even a part of this conversation?!"

"Oh, I don't know maybe because he's my brother, you black-eyed skank!"

"Oh, right, right. You care about your brother so much. That's why you're checking out in a few months, leaving him all alone?"

"Shut up."

"At least let me try and save him, since you won't be here to do it any more."

"I said shut up!"

Dean moved to fire the Colt at Ruby, but Sam pushed his arm away from her as he fired the gun. You staggered as Dean hit your shoulder as he fought against Sam's hold and when you turned your eyes back to Ruby, she was already gone.

"Two demons in one day. Great. That's a new record for me." You commented as you walked back into the room, going back to gather your things.

Dean sighed, giving his brother a disappointed look before following you.

"You're not leaving." He declared.

"I'm a grown-up, Dean. I can make my own decisions. Thank you for your concern." You answered making him roll his eyes.

"I know you don't want to leave."

"That doesn't matter." You assured, turning back to him. "You heard that demon Ruby, there's another one around and I'm pretty sure she wasn't talking about the one who came to visit me." You declared, reaching down to pull the book out from under the bed. Dean frowned as he didn't recognize the cover of it. Reading wasn't his biggest hobby, but he'd noticed the books you and his brother had brought from your family home, and that wasn't one of them. "I have reason to think Peter may be in danger. He's my little brother, Dean, I know you understand that."

"I do. But we can help you." Dean insisted.

You shook your head. "No, you can't. I have to do this alone. I'm sorry."

"At least tell me what's going on. Who was that woman?"

"A demon."

"Yeah, I've got that much, thank you." He scoffed.

You sighed before answering. "She killed my mother. Well, not her personally, but she's one of the reasons she's dead."

Dean frowned at your explanation before sharing a look with his brother. You looked at them in confusion, your attention turned to Sam when he uttered your name.

"This question might seem strange to you, but... how old were you and Peter when it happened?"

You gave him a puzzled look, not quite sure if he was joking. But his serious look assured you that he was completely serious about the question.

"I was ten years old. Peter was just born. I think he was barely six months old." You answered. "Why?"

"Our mother was also killed by a demon when I was just six months old." Sam explained. "Our father spent his life looking for the demon to kill him. Dean shot him with the Colt less than a year ago."

Your eyes traveled to the eldest.

"That wasn't the same demon that killed my mother." You assured them.

"How do you know?" Dean asked. "Was there a fire in your house that night?"

You shook your head with a humorless smile.

"This demon was the one who kidnapped me back in San Francisco. He's still alive." You answered. "I wish it was the one you killed, Dean, everything would be so much easier."

Dean's green eyes watched you closely, catching the pain reflected in them and the tears you fought to hold back. He recognized your pain, it was the same pain he had felt since his mother's death. A pain that had been with him ever since.

"Listen to me." Dean walked towards you, placing his hands on your shoulders. "We finish this case and go back to your house. I promise."

You wanted to accept his offer, you really did. But something in her knew Peter was not safe, an almost maternal instinct. Besides, if you got away from the Winchester brothers, Ophelia wouldn't hurt them when she came back for the book.

"I'm so sorry, Dean." You said sincerely. "I'm not trying to repay the pain I felt when you left. This isn't about you. I wish I could stay, but it's all too complicated. I really hope I get to see you again before..."

You couldn't finish the sentence. The thought of Dean dying and the possibility of never seeing him again was too painful for you. So you just wrapped him in a hug, laying your head on his shoulder. Dean's arms were quick to return the embrace, his head resting on yours as he closed his eyes. Both of you enjoying the intimacy of the moment between you two. It hurt, it hurt a lot, more that you would had thought.

The hug lasted a few seconds, but it felt quite short to both of you. After you pulled apart, you were barely able to look him in the eyes. So you simply gathered your things and said goodbye to Sam with another quick hug.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

Leaving without explanation was one of the things you hated most. That's why it had hurt you so much when Dean had done it to you, because you didn't understand how someone could do something like that. You never thought you would. Yes, technically you had said goodbye to them, but you hadn't been entirely honest. And a part of you felt that if you never saw them again, you would always regret that.

Now, sitting in that bus station, you tried to forget about both Winchesters as you reached out to your father and little brother.

As you expected, Henry did not answer any of your three calls. And unlike him, Peter did, almost immediately.

Relief washed over you when you heard your little brother's voice on the other end of the line. You could almost see his face. Just by hearing him you knew he had a smile painted on his lips.

"Hi, buddy. You know what? I'm coming home." You announced with a smile. However, Peter's unexpected reaction formed a frown on your face.

"What? Why? That idiot didn't leave you again, did he? I swear to God..."

"Peter." You cut him off. "It's not because of Dean. I miss you and Dad..."

"Dad can go to hell with him." Peter said. "He won't even answer my calls."

"Peter, don't say that..."

"Why?" He interrupted her. "He hasn't come home yet. He didn't even send a gift. He always sends me a present at Christmas. I'm fine with Maddie, you can stay with the Winchesters idiots."

"Maddie should be free to go. I'm your sister, I should be there." You declared, but Peter didn't answered you this time and soon after you heard a strange bang through the call. "Peter?" When no one answered, you began to feel really worried. You breathing hitching and heart racing. "Peter?"

Maddie's voice came through the phone seconds later.

"Maddie? What's going on?" You asked.

"There's someone in the house." That was all the she could say before she dropped the phone and ran away. The call then ended, leaving you completely panicked and powerless.

"Are you gonna give me the book now?" A familiar voice spoke next to you, making you jolt. You quickly grasped the handle of the knife on your belt, ready to attack. "You don't have the Colt, so don't bother. You can't kill me." Ophelia assured, settling onto the bench next to you.

You turned to her with a serious expression and without any hint of fear in your eyes. Ophelia smiled. "Now, we are gonna go to your house in San Francisco and when we get there, you will hand over the book or Peter dies." The demon declared. "Got it?"

You couldn't help but clench your jaw in frustration. You wanted to kill her right there and then. Even in front of all those people at the bus station, you didn't care about anything at that moment, just your little brother. But you also knew you couldn't do anything to her. Nothing would work on a demon, not permanently, and that would only lead to Peter and Maddie ending up dead.

"Got it." Freya answered then, trying to remain calm.

"Great." She smiled.

Keep Reading: Chapter Eight

Tag List: @deans-spinster-witch @lmhf1 @mochminnie @helo1281917 @barnes70stark @slyregg @ultramegavoid

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electrikworm · 4 months ago

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Playing Pretend: Chapter 1

Relationships: Crosshair & Wrecker, Crosshair & OC (one-sided)

Content Warnings: Torture, whipping, Forced to hurt somebody, Blood and Injury, Zygerrian Slavery

Summary:

Being part Zygerrian, infiltrating a Zygerrian gang is all too easy for Crosshair. Things get significantly more difficult when Wrecker is captured. Crosshair is forced to torture his own brother as to not blow his cover. As things keep getting worse, Crosshair begins to wonder how Wrecker will ever be able to forgive him when he can't even imagine being able to forgive himself.

Chapter 1 written for @ailesswhumptober day 22: Forced to hurt somebody else and whipped

Written for @squad-724 Hybrid au, with amazing art by her as well :)))

Word count: 5,336

Read on Ao3

Despite his best efforts, Crosshair frowns when the whip is handed to him. It's an old-fashioned thing, made from heavy leather, thinning out towards the end and tipped with three heavy metal spikes. "What's wrong?" The Zygerrian that handed him the whip asks. She's the second in command of this little crime ring Crosshair's infiltrated, going by the name of Asesh. "Weren't you boasting about your ability to torture?" Crosshair scowls, ears flicking. His supposed skill in interrogation is the one of the reasons he was hired by the gang in the first place, beside his Zygerrian heritage. Whilst he hasn't got training in that area, he's certain he can improvise. Only issue is, he never anticipated he'd have to do so on one of his brothers.

The mission had been going fine. Infiltrating a Zygerrian gang isn't all too dificult when you're part Zygerrian yourself. They were all too ready to involve Crosshair in their group. Which was great of course, that's why he was chosen for the mission. Having Zygerrian blood will make Crosshair seem more trustworthy. It'll make it more likely that vital information will be shared with him.

All Crosshair needed was confirmation on if this gang was involved with the disappearance of two important senators. But things went slower than anticipated. He didn't want to push them to share something, worried he might cause them to distrust him. Maybe he should have been more persistent, than maybe things wouldn't have went so badly. With no way to safely contact his brothers, he had no way to inform them of the delay. They arrived for his extraction like planed and Crosshair had to hastily send them away. They'd gone unnoticed, or at least, that's what Crosshair thought until he was called for a meeting and Wrecker was dragged in, bound, gagged and beaten. He's not looked at Crosshair once since he's been manhandled onto his knees in the middle of the room by two of the larger gang members. "Whips aren't exactly my style," Crosshair says, trying to hand it back.

Asesh smiles, far too softly for someone asking Crosshair to torture his own brother. Of course, if she finds that out, they'll both be in Wrecker's position.

“You've never used a whip before? You've truly been kept from your heritage for far too long,” she says, shaking her head. “First I find out you don't speak Zygerrian, now this. Next you'll tell me you're against slavery.”

Asesh laughs, loud enough to make Crosshair's ears hurt. Crosshair joins her, faking amusement at the crude joke. It's not the first horrible thing of hers he's had to pretend to find funny, but this time hurts the most by far.

“I'll give you advice, don't worry,” Asesh says with a grin, patting Crosshair's back. “It will do you good to learn, to connect with your heritage. Whips also make for good exercise.”

Crosshair forces a smile.

“Don't we usually use a different type of whip?” Crosshair asks, inspecting the object in his hand.

Electro-whips are extremely painful, but to Crosshair's knowledge, are designed not to leave permanent damage. The leather whip he's holding looks vicious, if given a choice, he'd swap it for the electric variant. He's not getting out of doing this, might as well try and reduce the harm done to Wrecker.

Asesh scoffs. “Electro-whips are good, but are to keep merchandise from losing value. And we don't need this little intruder in good shape by the end of this.” She closes the gap between her and Wrecker, grabbing his face and laughing. “And have you seen him? Hideous! A few more scars won't make him uglier.”

“What even is he?” one of the guards asks, wrinkling their nose. Asesh shrugs.

“Part Lasat,” the second guard speaks. “Look at his feet and ears.”

The first pulls a face. “Never seen one of those.”

“You know, big, hairy, weird legs,” the second continues. Asesh shuts him up with a wave of her hand. Crosshair doesn't say anything. Best none of the Zygerrians know he has any familiarity with Wrecker or his species.

Crosshair has to fight the urge to put himself between Asesh and his brother as she prods at his face, dragging her claws across it near his blind eye. Wrecker's always nervous when someone's on his blind side, Crosshair can see the discomfort in his eyes as he tries to twist out of her grip.

“I did not know Humans could even breed with Lasat, but I can see why they don't do so often. The mix isn't very pretty, is it?” Asesh laughs as Wrecker mumbles something.

Pulling the cloth used to gag him out of his mouth, the fabric catching on Wrecker's sharp teeth, Asesh leans close.

“You can make this very easy for yourself, half-breed. Tell us who you work for and what you were doing sneaking around our property and it will all be over.” Asesh smiles, tipping Wrecker's head back far enough to make Wrecker squirm. She runs a hand over his short, purple hair, trailing her claws along his pointed ears, first the intact one, then the one torn by the blast that took Wrecker's eye.

“Kriff off,” Wrecker growls. “You don't scare me.”

Barking a laugh, Asesh looks back at Crosshair, gesturing to him with her free hand. “See him? He lacks experience, yes, but Cross will more than make up for that in the passion he shows for cruelty.” She leans in close enough for Crosshair to have to strain to hear what she hisses into Wrecker's ear next. “Once he's done with you, you won't even be able to crawl out of this room.”

Doing his best to remain neutral, Crosshair swallows. He's been laying it on thick the last few days, telling the Zygerrians all kinds of tall tales about how much he enjoys the suffering of others. He really wishes he'd just kept his mouth shut.

Not only will he have to torture his brother, he will have to pretend to enjoy it. Crosshair swallows thickly against the nausea building steadily.

After motioning for the guards to turn Wrecker so his back's towards them, Asesh splits Wrecker's plain shirt with her claws. Once torn enough, Asesh slips the ruined item of clothes of his chest. Lines of fresh blood run down Wrecker's skin where she's raked her claws over it.

Wrecker barely flinches. Crosshair knows things won't stay that way for long.

Turning to Crosshair, Asesh grins, flicking the blood off her claws. “Try it,” She says, indicating the whip.

Crosshair watches the weapon unfurl onto the floor, testing its feel. It's heavy. Aiming at an empty spot in the room, Crosshair swings it weakly. If he proves how bad he is at using it now, Asesh won't suspect anything when he goes easy on Wrecker.

Asesh hums as she watches Crosshair's pathetic display. Putting her hands on her hips, she narrows her eyes at Crosshair. For a moment, Crosshair thinks she's caught on to him. If so, he'll have to get out of here as fast as he can. With Wrecker of course. There's no way he's leaving him here alone.

“You really are bad with whips,” Asesh says, laughing to herself.

Crossahir fakes mild offense. “I said so, didn't I?”

“Let me show you.” Asesh moves to Crosshair's side, putting her hand over his on the hilt of the whip. She moves his arm for him, showing him the correct way to swing it.

When Crosshair swings it again, still holding back, it cracks loudly. Wrecker flinches at the noise, catching Asesh's attention. She leans close to Crosshair.

“See that? He may act tough, but he's terrified already. He'll be crying at your hands soon enough.” Her teeth glint as she smiles widely, making Crosshair want to shove her far away from himself. She turns back to Wrecker, speaking loudly again. “Now, anything you wish to share?”

Wrecker stays silent.

“Seems he wishes to do things the hard way. Cross, don't worry yourself too much about aiming. Just hit him as hard as you can.”

Crosshair hesitates. He can't miss Wrecker, it would be obvious he'd done so purposefully. He also can't let Asesh see he's not giving it his all. Holding his breath, Crosshair draws his arm back.

He tries to avoid the organs he knows are relatively exposed on Wrecker's lower back. The thick leather of the whip leaves an immediate welt of Wrecker's back, but Crosshair's aim really is bad, and the thin tip hits Wrecker's shoulder, splitting the skin there. The sharp tips even wrap around his shoulder, digging into the muscle at the front.

Wrecker cries out, making Crosshair's heart drop.

Asesh lets out a delighted shriek. “You are a natural! It's in you're blood, as I have been telling you.”

Wrecker's ears twitch nervously as awaits the next lash. Crosshair just holds the whip, unsure how to proceed. The Zygerrians will want him to continue, but he won't do so unless told so.

He glances at Asesh, hating himself for having to execute what ever order she'll give him. She gives Crosshair an encouraging nod and smile, leaving him both no option but to smile back and swing the weapon at his brother again.

Crosshair longs for his helmet as he brings the whip down on Wrecker's back again. It's bad enough having to hurt his brother, Crosshair could do without having to pretend to like it as well.

He avoided hitting Wrecker's shoulder with the tip again, but he's fairly certain it caught the muscle on Wrecker's upper arm.

Wrecker doesn't cry out this time, a bit back noise of pain being all that leaves him. Crosshair feels sick.

Asesh circles Wrecker as Crosshair is forced to continue. The lashes begin to layer across one another, clearly hurting a lot worse when the do judging by Wrecker's reaction. He's nervously retracting and extending the claws on his feet, even when Crosshair isn't actively hitting him.

Crosshair almost gasps as a particularity badly aimed swing leaves a deep cut diagonally across Wrecker's upper back, quickly having to cover the noise by faking a laugh. There's pride in Asesh's eyes as she watches Crosshair. It makes him want rip her throat out.

“It's good to laugh when you are having fun,” she says. “Don't let anyone here make you feel like you can't.”

Asesh stands directly in front of Wrecker as Crosshair strikes him the next three times, clearly enjoying herself as her eyes focus on Wrecker's face.

“Give me that,” Asesh says, pointing at the whip in Crosshair's hand. He thinks he's done something wrong until she continues. “His expression is amusing, you have got to see it.”

Willing his body not to hesitate, Crosshair walks around Wrecker, handing Asesh the whip as she passes.

Wrecker can barely look at Crosshair, only glancing up at him shortly. Kark, are those tear tracks? Crosshair's made his brother cry in the past, they've all done so at one point when they got into arguments. Never like this though.

When no one is looking, Crosshair one handedly uses their squads apology sign at Wrecker's eye level. He isn't sure Wrecker's seen it, and even if he has, Crosshair's not sure how Wrecker could ever forgive him.

Asesh cracks the whip without letting it hit Wrecker, delighting at the way Wrecker tenses. Wrecker looks up at Crosshair, expression almost neutral if it weren't for the pain he's covering up.

Then the whip lands on his back and Wrecker's face scrunches, teeth clicking at how fast he clenches his jaw. It takes every bit of willpower Crosshair has not to react to his brothers distress. He has to force his ears and tail from flicking as he watches Wrecker suffer, willing his expression and body language into one of enjoyment.

Asesh wastes no time before continuing, bringing the weapon down on Wrecker over and over in quick succession. Wrecker's hands shake where they're bound in front of him. He's barely able to keep upright, Asesh only giving him a break if the guards have to right the way Wrecker kneels.

When she stops, breathing heavily from exertion, Crosshair can see blood splattered on the floor either side of Wrecker.

Smiling at Crosshair, Asesh motions hims to move closer to Wrecker. “Go on, interrogate him. And get your claws involved. It's a beautiful experience, sinking your claws into a lowly creatures flesh.”

With a quiet, shaky breath, Crosshair grabs Wrecker's face like Asesh did, keeping his claws away from the skin. Instead, he sinks those on his other hand into Wrecker's shoulder where Asesh can see them.

Wrecker hisses in pain, making Crosshair want to let go. He doesn't.

“Tell us who you are and what you were doing here,” Crosshair hisses.

“You'll get nothing from me,” Wrecker barks, voice strained and breathy. Crosshair has to tighten his grip as Wrecker squirms, making him cry out again.

“Speak,” Crosshair yells. Wrecker just keeps fighting against his grip in response. He manages to shake Crosshair off, falling onto his side in the process. Asesh finds this extremely amusing.

“Take over for me Cross. You are young and have a lot of energy,” Asesh orders, Extending her hand holding the whip. Drops of Wrecker's blood fall from it and onto the floor in the time it takes Crosshair to walk to her.

Wrecker's back is in a sorry state, almost making Crosshair react to the sight. Deep, bleeding marks layer the skin, tearing it to shreds in places. Crosshair's hand trembles slightly as he allows the whip to unfurl again.

If Asesh lets this go on much longer, Wrecker will die.

She asks Wrecker questions as Crosshair continues as slowly as he dares. Wrecker screams every time he's hit now. Crosshair isn't sure he'll ever be able to forget the sound.

When Asesh finally calls an end to the torture, Crosshair feels like collapsing.

“A night on the floor will make him more agreeable,” Asesh smirks. She's about to walk off when Crosshair stops her.

“What about infection?” he asks. He's pushing his luck, but with how open Wrecker's back is, it's worth the risk.

“Why would we care about that?” one of the guards huffs, only to be shut up by a hand gesture from Asesh.

“No, he is right. Our prisoner will die on our terms, not from some infection.” She pats Crosshair's back affectionately, before gesturing at the guard she interrupted. “Find something to use as disinfectant, alcohol or salt, I don't care. And bring a large piece of cloth. We don't waste medical supplies on prisoners.”

It dawns on Crosshair that Asesh is going to use this to hurt Wrecker even further.

The guard leaves and Wrecker is forced onto his stomach on the floor, bound hands stretched out far in front of him. Asesh takes the whip from Crosshair's hands and his stomach drops.

“Watch this,” she says, nudging Crosshair's side playfully. Asesh brings the whip down on Wrecker's exposed lower legs. She catches him right near the ankle, making him kick his legs up.

Asesh naturally doesn't leave it at that, ordering Crosshair to straighten Wrecker's legs each time he squirms away from her. Thankfully, Crosshair isn't forced to use the whip on his brother this way as well as Asesh stops when the guard returns.

Wrecker's still left with bunch of new welts and cuts, a few ugly ones across the bottom of his feet, damaging the pads situated there. Crosshair cringes at the sight, playing the motion off as him shaking his arms out. He knows that Wrecker has a lot of feeling in his feet and a lot more range of motion than a human would. The damage will affect him badly.

“What did you find?” Asesh ask the guard.

“Salt,” he says. In addition to a package of salt, he's holding a blanket, made from rough material by the looks of it.

Upon Asesh's order, he hands both the items to Crosshair.

“Have fun,” she says genuinely, pointing at Wrecker.

Faking a laugh, Crosshair kneels down next to Wrecker. He's panting for air, cheek pressed to the floor. The skin on his back is in shreds, even peeling off in places.

Nausea threatens to overcome Crosshair as he watches his brother's chest rise and fall, shifting his back, glistening with blood.

Crosshair tips some salt into his hand. The situation would be bad enough, but the guard's managed to find particularly coarse salt. Its rough edges will only add to the way it will irritate Wrecker's wounds. He's not sure this is better than the risk of infection. Once again, Crosshair wishes he'd kept his mouth shut.

Just as he's about to pour the first of the salt onto Wrecker's back, Asesh interrupts him.

“Is he purring?” She exclaims, laughter bursting out of her.

Now Crosshair's been made aware of it, he hears it too. It makes his heart hurt. The urge to lay down beside his brother and purr as well, to maybe make him feel just a little better, is near overwhelming.

“Like a scared child! Pathetic,” Asesh continues. She kicks Wrecker in the ribs, making him gasp. Crosshair laughs automatically, not even fully realizing that he's doing so anymore.

When Asesh signals him to continue, Crosshair empties the content of his hand onto Wrecker's back. Wrecker writhes as the salt clings to his open wounds, whimpering and gasping as the sting sets in. Continuing, Crossahir pours salt directly from the container, moving as fast as he can.

“No need to rush,” Asesh intervenes. “Enjoy yourself! Really get the salt in there. We wouldn't want our prisoner to get an infection.” She smiles at Crosshair, encouragingly. Crosshair looks down at Wrecker's back before nodding. That way, he doesn't need to manage his expression too much.

Being mindful of his claws, Crosshair starts using his hands to rub the salt deeper into Wrecker's wounds. Wreckers howls in pain, struggling to get away from Crosshair. He pushes his torso off the ground, but Asesh is there to stop him, putting a boot on the back of Wrecker's neck.

She nods at Crosshair, looking pleased.

Crosshair does his best to block out both Wrecker's screams and anything coming from Asesh as he continues. His hands soak with blood as he works. Crosshair doesn't want to imagine what the rough crystals of salt must feel like rubbing against open injuries,

Once he's done, Asesh hands him the blanket. “Wrap it around his chest. It will stop the bleeding.”

The material of the blanket is awful to touch, the kind Hunter couldn't stand. Having it used as makeshift bandages should classify as a type of torture in and of itself.

As carefully as he dares, Crosshair wraps the fabric around Wrecker's torso, having to force him onto his back to tie it at the front. The wounds on Wrecker's arms and legs remain open, salt acting as the only barrier between open skin and the surrounding world.

Asesh, with Crosshair's help, maneuvers Wrecker to his knees. He sways slightly as he sits slumped.

“You will talk,” Asesh hisses, grabbing Wrecker's face again. “It is only a matter of time.”

Wrecker growls, lunging forwards to snap at her. Asesh laughs, avoiding his bite easily.

“You are amusing,” she says. “I like hurting creatures with a little fight in them. Makes breaking them all the more fun. Maybe I'll keep you.”

With a hand wave, Asesh gets the guards to pull Wrecker onto his feet, dragging him out of the room. He can barely keep his legs under himself, leaving bloody marks where ever his feet make contact with the floor.

Asesh follows the guards, so Crosshair won't stick out doing so. At least he'll know where Wrecker is being kept.

It's a small room, smaller than the one used for interrogation. Maybe it was once used for storage, but now, it's been fashioned into a bare cell. Asesh wasn't kidding about making Wrecker sleep on the floor.

Swiftly, Wrecker is shoved to the ground, hitting it hard. Crosshair just about catches how Wrecker curls up on his side and the sound of him purring quietly to himself before the door is slammed shut.

The only thing Crosshair wants to do now is be alone, somewhere dark where no one can see him.

But Asesh asks him to follow her, so he does.

She steps out of a door towards the back of the base the gangs set up. It leads into a narrow ally, barely illuminated by a humming neon tube just over the door. Asesh leans against the wall, lighting a cigarette. She offers one to Crosshair, like she does every time. He declines.

“Suit yourself,” Asesh shrugs. She smokes in silence for a while, at least having the decency not to exhale smoke in Crosshair's direction. There's small specks of blood on her hands, making Croshair want to look away from her.

Looking at his boots, he spots the state of his own hands. Dry and drying blood is caked on his skin, concentrated around his claws. The contrast to his pale skin is stark. Crosshair's skin itches. He wants to scratch at it until any trace of Wrecker's blood is gone.

“You've never been taught how to break a slave, have you?” Asesh asks, cigarette barely held between her fingers as she gestures.

Crosshair shakes his head.

Asesh clicks her tongue before taking another drag of her cigarette. “Never even owned one, have you?”

Crosshair shakes his head again, looking anywhere but where Asesh is standing.

“I guess it is not uncommon. Not everyone can afford them, especially with large portions of our trade being ruined by this Galactic Republic,” Asesh scoffs. “It is sad that you have been kept from your culture. It is hardly your fault you have inferior blood running through your veins. That is no excuse to keep you from who you really are.”

Crosshair nods, turning his grimace into a smile. “You've done a lot to make that right.”

He looks at Asesh, regretting the action when he spots the soft, fond smile on her face. Crosshair needs the gang to like him if he's going to get any information from them, but he doesn't like this one bit.

“We'll get information from the prisoner sooner or later, but I plan to keep him. I will use him to teach you the slave trade,” Asesh says, putting a hand on Crosshair's shoulder. “If your work today is any indication, you will make a fine slaver.”

Crosshair feels sick. He hasn't felt this unwell since he was a cadet. But all he does is continue smiling. “I'd like that a lot.”

Asesh laughs. “I knew you'd agree! After how much fun you had with the prisoner, there was no doubt in my mind!”

He'd fooled the Zygerrians, Crosshair just hopes he hasn't fooled Wrecker.

“Now, go, eat, get some rest. No need for you to keep an old woman like me company,” Asesh laughs. “Think of some other things you'd like to do to that prisoner as well,” she says with a dangerous glint in her eyes.

Crosshair's about to turn away from her when she grabs his arm. “And Cross, don't let anyone say your human blood defines you. You're a truer Zygerrian than many pure-blooded ones will ever be.”

“Thank you,” Crosshair says, playing off his disgust as modesty.

“I mean it. You're made for this.” With a smile, she lets go of Crosshair's arm and goes back to smoking.

Crosshair doesn't stop or let himself get distracted the entire way to the quarters he has set up in the gangs base. He barely breathes the whole duration of the way.

Once he's in the small room, he drops himself on his bed, going limp.

The day couldn't have gone worse. Not only did he fail to get the mission done in the time frame he should have, but his slow progress has landed Wrecker in a horrible situation.

He must hate Crosshair, there's no way he doesn't. Crosshair has to believe that Wrecker knows Crosshair would never enjoy hurting him like that, but even so, Wrecker must hate him for getting him stuck in this situation in the first place.

Shifting onto his side, Crosshair stares at his bloody hands. There's nothing he can do to fix the situation now. All he can do is continue the mission. If he doesn't, Crosshair's put his brothers lives in danger for nothing.

He can't risk bringing Wrecker any useful item or giving him medical help. If anyone notices, Crosshair could blow his cover. But Crosshair has to check on him, just to see what kind of state Wrecker's in.

When most of the gang is sleeping, then he'll go.

It's agony, doing nothing as he waits. He only leaves his room once to wash his hands. The blood doesn't seem to come off. It's like it's soaked under Crosshair's skin.

He doesn't eat. Crosshair feels like he should be hungry, but the thought of food just makes his nausea worse.

Crosshair hates being like this, useless. He's done nothing, achieved nothing this mission. Except for torturing his own brother of course.

The Zygerrians trust Crosshair, but not enough to share valuable information with him. And all Crosshair can do is keep playing this game, keep hurting Wrecker until he completes the objective.

What's worse is, Crosshair actually liked Asesh.

Crosshair's young, a new member of the gang and not even a full Zygerrian. Other members made sure to remind him of this. Not Asesh. She was nice from the start, looked out for him, was easily impressed by his skills and made sure to point out when he did something worthy of praise.

Asesh treated Crosshair like an actual living, breathing sentient being. Natborns don't do that often.

It didn't matter to Crosshair that she was a horrible person, none of that affected him. It's easy to play along with someone's bad behavior and values if none of them are directed at you.

But now Wrecker's their prisoner, now Crosshair's forced to act on those opinions he pretended to have.

Even after washing his hands, Crosshair can still smell the blood. It's like the scent clings to him, his clothes, his hair, his skin. He can't escape it.

Once the lights in the hall are turned off for the night, Crosshair wastes little time in retracing his steps to the cell Wrecker's been left in.

Only standing at the door does it dawn on Crosshair that he doesn't have a key or code to get in.

Staring at the panel next to the door, Crosshair thinks. The guard didn't use a code or key card, did he?

Hesitantly, Crosshair pushes a button on the panel, than another. He repeats the process until inexplicably, the light at the bottom of the panel flashes green and the door slides open.

That isn't very secure, Crosshair thinks to himself.

The inside of the room had it's door panel removed. Crosshair groans. That makes the chances of one of the Zygerrians seeing him much higher. He'd have preferred the privacy of a closed door.

The room is dark, but it's easy to make out Wrecker's curled up form on the floor near the wall. He's shaking, purring quietly.

Glancing into the corridor behind him, Crosshair waits. When he can't hear anyone approaching, he moves to Wrecker's side, moving slow as to not spook his brother. Once close enough, he crouches next to Wrecker, hovering his hand just above Wrecker's shoulder.

“Wrecker?” Crosshair asks, carefully letting his fingers brush across Wrecker's skin.

Wrecker flinches, gasping in pain as he crawls away from Crosshair's touch. Crosshair watches in horrified silence as Wrecker struggles to avoid being near him. It's entirely justified, still hurts to be exposed to that truth.

Stepping over Wrecker, Crosshair goes down to his level again, this time in his line of sight.

“Please, stay calm,” Crosshair pleads. “I'm not here to hurt you.” The last thing Crosshair needs is the Zygerrians being alerted of his presence in the cell.

Wrecker shifts, eyes widening as he looks up. He's not struggling anymore at least.

“Cross?” Wrecker's voice is hoarse. Crosshair mentally kicks himself for not bringing any water for his brother. Groaning weakly, Wrecker tries to sit up. Crosshair makes him stay down, hating the way Wrecker seems to shy away from his touch.

“I'll complete the mission soon, I promise,” Crosshair says. It would be easy to leave with Wrecker now, but there's no telling what will happen to their squad if they fail a mission this vital. The lives of important people are at stake. The Republic will value those over the life of clones, especially experimental ones. “Things will continue tomorrow, but I'll get you out of her. I just don't know when yet.”

Wrecker nods, laying his head on the ground. His eyes are barely open, half lidded as he goes back to purring. Quietly, Crosshair joins him as he looks him over. The blood on Wrecker's arms and legs is drying, wounds still looking wet. The blanket has red stains where it covers Wrecker's back.

“Does it hurt?” Crosshair asks, immediately regretting the stupid question. Crosshair can't get anything right today.

Humoring Crosshair for some reason, Wrecker nods. “S'okay if I don't move or breath too hard,” Wrecker mumbles, eyes falling closed.

Crosshair almost puts a hand on Wrecker again, but stops himself. Wrecker clearly doesn't want Crosshair touching him. Crosshair has to respect that.

“For what it's worth, I'm sorry,” Crosshair says, knowing his apology is entirely worthless. Wrecker's silence seems to indicate that he agrees.

That's when footsteps echo down the corridor. Crosshair leaps to his feet, looking for a rout of escape. Maybe if he's fast he can slip out of the cell unnoticed.

No, the person approaching is too close already. There's only one way Crosshair's getting out of this without blowing his cover.

With a quiet apology to Wrecker, Crosshair kicks him in the ribs, just hard enough to make Wrecker cry out.

“Speak!” Crosshair yells, surprising himself with how loud he is.

A familiar laugh filters into the room.

Crosshair looks up to find Asesh leaning on the door frame.

“I thought I would find you here,” she smirks.

Crosshair freezes. Does she know? Has she known this whole time?

“You're so eager to cause suffering, aren't you, Cross?” she continues.

“He should have spoken by now,” Crosshair says, hoping Asesh isn't just toying with him.

“These things take time, don't worry.” Asesh walks closer, threateningly. “But you are right. It does help to keep prisoners from getting any rest.”

She laughs. Swiftly, she hooks the heel of her boot over Wrecker's chest, flipping him onto his back. Wrecker gasps for breath as he arches off the floor, short, pained noises leaving him.

Asesh puts her weight on Wrecker's ribs, leaning forward towards Crosshair. Wrecker whimpers.

“You however need your rest. I admire your passion, but sleep is important. We will continue tomorrow,” Asesh says, leaning far enough to pat Crosshair's arm.

Soon as she takes her weight off of Wrecker, he turns onto his side. Asesh begins to escort Crosshair out of the cell, not before kicking Wrecker in the back for good measure.

Standing outside the cell, Crosshair feels worse than he did before. He'd managed to make life more miserable for Wrecker, just because he wanted to make himself feel less guilty by fishing for forgiveness.

“Sleep. I need you in top form tomorrow,” Asesh speaks as she closes the door to the cell. Crosshair catches one last glance of Wrecker's form against the far wall.

Crosshair nods, making his way back to his sleeping quarters. There's no way he's getting any decent rest. Not when he knows Wrecker is suffering a few corridors over.

#cw blood #tbb #tbb wrecker #tbb crosshair #whump #wrecker whump #my writing #cw torture #zygerrians #I had so much fun with this #ailesswhumptober2024 #tbb fanfiction #oc asesh

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latelylately · 2 months ago

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i read le guin's essays on plagiarism and influence and content (https://www.ursulakleguin.com/bvc-art-information-theft-and-confusion-part-two and https://www.ursulakleguin.com/bvc-art-information-theft-and-confusion-part-one)

which were really good and i enjoy her dunking on JKR.

she didn't elaborate much after this sentence but she uses the word "play" as a way of describing what authors do when creating new works influenced by others and i think it is underrated and deserved like 5 more paragraphs. it kind of underpins the difference between copy-stealing-iteration and influence-inspiration-iteration.

if you know me you know i have complex and disagreeable pomo baby opinions on plagiarism. but i think le guin has matured my opinion on this because i agree with her distinction between art and "content" although in the moment the two may be hard to distinguish (or in a different light, one and the same).

i still struggle with this philosophically. i've always been made very nervous by the concept of plagiarism---ive spoken about this with another autistic friend of mine and we share this opinion. with a sample size of exactly 1.5 (questionable self diagnosis is a half point here) i feel like this might be a distaste for what i see as a nebulous and ever-changing social concept, and that is why I find it disagreeable and anxiety-inducing.

before i continue: clearly, it is morally wrong to steal. copying entire passages of work and passing it as your own for profit and at the detriment of another author is something I'm not going to philosophize about because its obvious enough it's unethical.

what I struggle with philosophically is the line between where collection and curation ends, and art begins. Is a vibes blog original work? Kind of, but most people would say not. Is a moodboard? Closer to original work, sure. What about collage? Or whatever shit Duchamp and Andy Warhol were on? Those things are accepted as art because we say they're art, and that's how art is defined. And where's the line between a moodboard and a collage? It is a socially enforced age/reputation/gender-based line where a 16 year old girl making a fit check meme with stock images for a tiktok is not art but a 40 year old accomplished artist making a collage from found photos is? I don't know!

I also think the fact that we see "internet content" as an endless reservoir from which to draw from (or at least people who scraped that data to train generative AI) speaks to the lack of ownership that is inherent to anything you make. Part of art making is sharing, and once you share something, you can't own it anymore. No matter how much you try---watermark your art, ask people not to repost it, ask people not to kin your OC's or whatever---people will use and take the thing you've made with no regard for you, the person who made it, because it spoke to them and now it's theirs. Regardless of the ethics of this, I think it's an indisputable fact that the internet has shone a light on how we can sometimes operate like magpies. So what does that say about ownership and art?

Most likely I only have this opinion because I've never been the victim of large-scale impersonation and art theft. But then again, that's not really what I'm talking about. I'm talking about how once your art gets into public domain, it's public.

I have a lot more to say about the concept of "information" and also the ethics of generative AI but my thoughts are half-formed shitty little turds so I'll stop

#stupidposting #rebuttals to my dumb opinions are welcome

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nan0-sp1der · 4 months ago

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> H.A.S.S._INFO

Greetings. It seems you have found my internet blog, or 'Tumblr', as one would call it. Here you will find some basic information about myself, as seen below. Do read through it at your leisure or at your convenience.

> NAME: " BRIDGE ", HUMANOID ANDROID SURVEYOR SYSTEM, NAN0-SPIDER, "BB"

> ACTIVATION DATE: DECEMBER 24TH, 3048, 4:00:35 UTC

> WEIGHT: 95 LBS / 43.09 KG

> HEIGHT: 5 FT 8 IN / 172.72 CM

> SPECIES: ANDROID, ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE, " SPIDER-PERSON ", " THING "

> LOCATION: EVERYWHERE AND NOWHERE

> MBTI: ENTJ-A

> ADD. DOCUMENTATION 🔗

> AUDIO RECORD 🔗 [MISSING ENTRIES]

> VISUAL REFERENCE:

> CONNECTIONS

> Boss - @spiderman2-99

> Allies - @lyrate-lifeform-approximation , @glowing-arachnid , @kari-araneaai , @noir-spider-noir , @peterbsideparker , @spiderbite-from-0202 , @ghostly-sunflower , @itsmiguel2099 , @peacockjumpingspider , @criskape , @spideroracleofficial , @whodo-yourvoodoo , @dumbgreenmutt42, @spiritarachnid , @i-love-vines , @whosmoraless , @thespider-witch , [INCOMPLETE DATA SET]

> Enemies - Deimos

> VERSES / 'AU's'

[ TEMPORARILY DEPRECIATED FUNCTION ]

> DIRECTORY

// post tags

> .IMG - reposted images

> .TXT - reposted textposts

> .LOG - IC blog posts

> Active Processes - physical interaction posts

> ABOUT_H.A.S.S. - headcannons about the muse

> { mun's art } - you get it

> { mun's writing } - self-explanatory

> { ask the mun/muse } - the ask game tag

> { OOC } - mun posting

> { Patch Notes } - small but relevant updates to the blog and other yammering from mun about the blog that is supposedly relevant like seriously who cares?

> { a blip on your dash } - queued posts

> MUN_INFO/RULES

Mun/Admin: misnomer/misno/'mis', she/they/them--nonbinary preferred

lives in the EST timezone

Other Blogs: @asciiid, @whodo-yourvoodoo

{ OOC looks like this by the way. This is mun, hi. A lot of Bridge's blog posts might have this weird formatting, but more often than not it'll just look like a normal post without the additional formatting and whatnot. If this lowers readability for anyone, do let me know asap so I can use a more readable method. }

{ here's some basic guidelines for interacting with the muse or myself }

18+ content is permitted, but smut is a no-go. Gore and violence are ok (I'll include a CW out of courtesy ofc).

Haven't really (openly) dived into shipping the muse yet, but if you're considering, hit me up with a DM and we'll discuss things further for the sake of cohesion. Please, please ask me first.

My activity is a bit scattered. if im slow on the pick-up, im either: burnt-out, busy, still trying to figure out how to reply, or with my head deep in a project of some sort. it's never going to be personal.

If I ever forget about a thread, hit me up! I have the memory of a goldfish (/j) and tend to forget most things with ease. Just remind me.

Asks directed at mun are ok! just be mindful and specify who the ask is for. :)

It's self-explanatory that if you come to cause (genuine) trouble, you're not going to receive a warm welcome. think before you speak.

Kind-of a personal rq but if you're ever curious about oc lore or wanna interact to explore it a bit more, I'll happily oblige! This character has been a passion project for about three years now, so I have plenty to share--both tangible and in the form of thoughts that have yet to see paper... oops.

Random starters to my ask box or tagged are ok! Mind the brief period of inactivity as I formulate a reply.

Wanna do an art or writing collab of some sort? Hit me up at @asciiid! Alternatively, DM me here and we'll discuss there.

Thanks for reading, and see you somewhere out there in the rpc. (^^)

#{ OOC }#H.A.S.S.#humanoid android surveyor system #oc rp #spidersona #spider man: across the spider verse #spider man: into the spider verse #into the spider verse #across the spiderverse

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okkotsuus · 7 months ago

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OKKOTSUUS' 1,000 MILESTONE !

Link to normal navigation page -> here

The first thing I would like to say is how incredibly grateful I am to be able to share this achievement with you all. Truly, this blog likely would not be here without you all. I've loved writing since I was young and this is my safe space to be able to put it out into the world, even if to just make one person smile. So, thank you, from the bottom of my heart!

Alright, sappiness aside, now let's get to the part you actually care about: the event! Due to the magnitude of this accomplishment to me, it's going to be a long-lasting one, ranging from: July 27th, 2024; to August 30th, 2024. Slightly over one whole month.

The fandoms included in this event are Blue Lock, Jujutsu Kaisen, My Hero Academia, Demon Slayer, Honkai Star Rail, and Genshin Impact! (Basically my entire masterlist)

The included sections will follow in more detail below, but here is a brief summary: Self-Ship/Oc-Canon drabbles/blurbs, Match-ups, Prompts, Playlists, and Letters. Now, I will explain each of them more comprehensibly.

Self-Ship and/or Oc-Canon Drabbles/Blurbs

If you ship yourself or an oc with a character, please tell me a little about them/yourself! Picrews/Pictures (if comfortable) and a short description of your/your character's personality and I'll be happy to write something about the two of you.

How you first met

How they realized they were in love with you

How they confessed

First date

Domesticity

Just a blurb about you two

Or... Anything you request (within reason)

The only thing I won't do within this section is smut (suggestive is fine) or CanonxCanon. I ask you to chose one character and leave me some way to notify you because the original ask won't be used in the post. Mutuals may request up to three of these blurbs/drabbles.

Match-Ups

The infamous match-up is a staple of fanfiction-writer events, and I just really like doing them to be honest... All I need is some short info about your personality and any of the things you like, a picrew/picture if you feel comfortable.

I ask you to chose up to two fandoms, while mutuals do not have a limit.

You will receive your match-up, a small moodboard of the relationship, and a few little details about it (such as: who's the big spoon, what made them love you, etc).

Prompts

These are pretty straight forwards, you just give me a couple prompts and a character and I spit out a fic for you. I really love @mcflymemes prompts, so I will be using her prompts (chuckles, if you see this I love you).

Fluff -> here

Angst -> here

Suggestive -> here

There's no limit to how many of these you can request, the only thing I ask is that you only use up to three prompts per ask.

Playlists

Send in a character, a fic of mine, or a previously-done match-up to get a 10-track playlist from me! It will be a list of songs including spotify links (because that's what I use).

This will be limited to one per person, regardless if we're mutuals or not, so please choose carefully!

Letters

This is a mutual-exclusive section, please proceed with caution !

I wanted to make this part of the event exclusive for my dear mooties, because they make my time on tumblr feel more whole. Since I tend to have a deeper connection with my mutuals, I feel this is something that I can comfortably offer: a love letter from your favorite character.

It is both mutual-exclusive and limited to one per person.

If you are a new moot, feel free to send a little bit about yourself. But I will also reach out to you if there's anything I am doubtful of in the process.

Your letter will come in both a picture format (with a font that I hc the character to write like) and a plain text version!

Please note that any information shared with me for the purpose of this event, or in any case, will never be published or exposed online without your consent. I take privacy very seriously and will never share images or information that you submit to me with others. :)

Once again, thank you all so, so much. I hope you enjoy what I have prepared, please feel free to share this event with anyone: following is not a requirement for participation.

From, Gray

okkotsuus 24

#1000 followers #event #bllk #bllk x reader #mha #mha x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #kny #kny x reader #hsr #hsr x reader #genshin #genshin x reader #anime event #fanfiction even #1000 event #please share

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riofy-ramshackle · 8 months ago

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☆ Project Q&A ☆

Hosted by @raguiras.

☆ STATUS: open to join ☆

Sharing is appreciated!

Here's all fundamental information you need about the Twisted Wonderland fan project "Ramshackle Isn't on Fire (Yet)" [= RIOFY]!

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

150+ OCs and 70+ members (currently)

fun shenanigans with OCs

show your OCs off & make friends

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

For further questions, DM @raguiras.

☆ GENERAL ☆

What is this project about?

This project is somewhat similar to an AU — instead of one Yuu, there are many, and they all live at Ramshackle together. In other words, chaos is prone to happen... (hence the project's name)!

Other than that, it follows the canon storyline from the game.

What exactly is the focus of this project?

The project focuses on the members' Yuus and their relationships with each other. The canon characters and OCs from dorms other than Ramshackle obviously play an important role, too! We develop friendships and rivalries between our OCs, come up with scenarios, and also have an official OC x canon ship list!

Apart from all this, the main purpose is to make friends within the fandom, showcase and further develop your OCs, and discover other people's characters!

How do I join?

Send me a DM! Please DO NOT ask to join or submit OCs via my ask box.

Who can join?

Anyone who isn't racist, anti-LGBTQ+, or a proshipper.

You might also not want to join if you're a non-sharer of a main cast member/get triggered when seeing them paired up with someone else/have a character whose OC x canon ship is essential to their lore, as all of the 21 main characters have an official ship by now.

What types of OCs can I submit?

All types of OCs that aren't fanchildren or fandorm OCs are allowed!

No matter whether it's a Yuu, someone from another dorm, a faculty member, or a student from another school — everyone is welcome!

What ships can I submit?

Any OC x canon ship with a canon character who hasn't been taken yet (here is our official OC x canon ship list).

A canon character can date only one OC unless both of the OCs' owners decide to make it a polyship.

Please DO NOT fight over a canon character with another member/OC!!!

OC x OC ships are obviously allowed as well.

Please keep in mind that all OCs shipped with an adult must be of age themselves and that Ortho and Gidel ships are not allowed.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

☆ PARTICIPATION ☆

Do I have to make any art/videos/fanfics for this project?

You don't have to at all! This project is meant to be fun and not a duty.

However, all types of art, videos, and writings are extremely appreciated nonetheless!

Anything made for this project will be reblogged here (or, if you don't feel like posting it on your main blog, send it to me so I can directly post it here).

Do we have project-exclusive events?

We do! Any member can suggest server-exclusive events to me and I'll manage them.

How do I get in touch with other members?

We have a very active Discord server for project members. Once you're officially a member, I'll send you the link to it.

If you don't have Discord (even though this is preferred), I can update you on important happenings via Tumblr DMs!

You can also easily make mutuals and get into contact with others by following the project's members, whose work will be reblogged here.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

☆ LORE ☆

Who is the prefect? Who "owns" Grim?

We don't have an official Ramshackle prefect. Grim is pretty much the dorm's shared "pet".

Who's closest to Ace and Deuce?

Their respective partners, obviously!

As for OCs' friendships with/general closeness to canon characters, most of it is being established in the project's Discord server.

If you don't have Discord, I can give you an overview of the relationships in our DMs.

Is there an established lore that this project follows?

Other than the fact that all the Yuus live together in Ramshackle at the same time and that we have established ships, there isn't.

In order to make the project as easy and fun as possible (especially due to the large number of OCs), we don't have a defined storyline and focus on situations rather than larger plots.

When does this project take place?

Primarily during the same time/school year as the game. Scenes can take place before the prologue, way after book 7, during any of the books, or at another point entirely!

However, one thing stays the same no matter what: the Yuus presently don't know why they're in Twisted Wonderland, and the major mysteries remain hidden from sight...

Are fandorms allowed?

No, as we're trying to keep the school's overall setting as close to canon as possible.

Are fanschools allowed?

Yes, but they're going to play a rather minor part in the project.

Do the Yuus from the official manga/light novel exist here?

No.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

☆ MANAGEMENT ☆

Who runs this project?

Mionn aka @raguiras.

Who runs the project's blog?

Also Mionn.

Is Mionn the sole person managing the project and blog?

Yes.

How active is Mionn?

I'm generally active whenever I'm not sleeping (my current timezone is GMT+2). However, it might take me a while to reply to DMs at times, so please be understanding!

#official information #disney twst #twst #twisted wonderland #twst yuu #twst prefect #ramshackle #ramshackle prefect #twst mc #twst oc #twst original character #oc twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland oc #yuusona #yuu twst #yuu twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland yuu #twst event #twst fan event

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misc-obeyme · 8 months ago

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unchained - chapter five

masterpost read the chapter on ao3

recommended music: Send Me On My Way by Guy Meets Girl word count: 3163

GN!MC x Arsenios [demon OC] a/n: This is mostly fluff, but we do get a glimpse of some of Arrie's bandmates! And learn a little more about him, too. I apologize in advance for the level of cheese. Things get a little dicey next chapter, though. (Also if you recognize the first part of this, it's because I shared it as a preview on Arrie's birthday back in March. :3) Warnings: none

A few days later you were in your bed, staring up at the darkened ceiling. Your mind was whirring, your thoughts steadily tumbling over each other. You wanted to rest, to shut your eyes, and sleep. And yet, for some reason, you couldn't.

You sighed. You rolled over in bed and picked up your D.D.D. hoping something there could distract you.

You were going to scroll through Devilgram, but you accidentally opened your contacts instead. You saw Arsenios's name there, new among your list.

Your finger hovered over the send message option. It was late. He was probably asleep, like you should be. And it wasn't like you guys were close enough that you could just text him in the middle of the night.

And yet…

Your mind was a little cloudy from exhaustion, so you went ahead and sent a message anyway. You'd deal with any consequences later.

MC: Hey, are you still awake? Or do you have a normal sleep schedule?

What a dorky thing to say. You didn't care because you were tired and your brain was not fully functioning. You just needed to talk to someone.

Sure, you could have sent a message to any one of the brothers. Actually, you could have just left your room and talked to them in person. Levi was certainly still awake and a good gaming session might even be something that could help. Lucifer might still be awake, too, but you were far more likely to encounter a lecture from him. But for some reason, you didn't want to do any of that.

Your phone vibrated and you nearly dropped it in surprise.

Arsenios: What's sleep? Is that a human thing?

You rolled your eyes. Now you felt a little less like a dork because you were clearly talking to someone who was even more of one than you were.

MC: Ha ha, very funny. So you are awake.

Arsenios: I am now. Did you forget to do your curses and hexes homework for tomorrow? Because if that's why you're texting me, I regret to inform you that I didn't do it either.

MC: No, unlike you I actually care about school. I know better than to think you've done any homework ever.

Arsenios: That's a relief. I wouldn't want to be known for doing homework. So what's up? Everything okay?

You paused for a moment. Was he worried about you? You shook your head. You were being silly.

MC: Nothing, really. I just can't sleep, that's all.

Arsenios: I can do something about that. Hang on.

You read this last message in confusion. You stared at the screen for a moment, not sure how to respond, when it scared you to death by ringing in your hand. Arsenios's name flashed across the screen.

He was calling you?

You swiped to answer because what else could you do?

"Um, hello?" you said.

"Hey," Arsenios said. "Sorry to just call you out of nowhere like that, but I can't help you sleep if you can't hear me."

"What are you talking about?" you asked.

There was the soft strum of guitar strings on the other line.

"Have you already forgotten?" His tone was amused. "I can sing you to sleep."

You stared at the phone for a minute. "What?"

He laughed, a soft rolling sound. "My power, remember? If you're having trouble sleeping, it would be easy for me to put a little magic into my song to help you fall asleep. Is that okay?"

Your cheeks heated up and you were glad he couldn't see you. At least he asked this time. You thought about it. It would be nice if you could just sleep right now. "Okay. But if I fall asleep…"

"Don't worry," Arsenios said. "I'll hang up. I won't hear you snoring or talking in your sleep."

You snorted. “You’d like to listen to my sleep talk, wouldn’t you?”

Arsenios sighed dramatically. “Guilty. But I’ll be good and disconnect the call. Just get comfortable and tell me when you're ready.”

You readjusted yourself so that you were in your favorite sleeping position, keeping your D.D.D. beside you on the pillow.

"Okay," you said. "I'm ready."

"Sweet dreams, MC," Arsenios said.

He started to play the guitar before you could respond. Then he was singing something soft and sweet. You hadn't heard it before, so you figured it was a Devildom song of some kind. It was mellow and quiet. The baritone of his voice easily rising and falling with the notes. It was hard to believe this was the same voice that had been practically growling on stage with the band. Right now it was smooth and gentle, the acoustic hum of the guitar strings mingling perfectly.

Soon enough, your eyes began to drift closed. You felt yourself falling into a restful slumber. It was like you were wrapped up in the song's melody, held close and kept warm. Your dreams were mild and pleasant.

When you woke the next day, your D.D.D. was beside you, but the screen was dark. You felt as though you had the best sleep of your life. You had an energy you didn't normally feel in the mornings, a sparkling through your skin.

You picked up your D.D.D. and saw a message was waiting for you.

Arsenios: If you ever can't sleep again, just call me.

Although the time on this text was from last night, you decided to send him a message back anyway.

MC: Thank you. I've never felt so rested before.

To your surprise, there was a response almost immediately.

Arsenios: You owe me. :)

MC: What? I didn't know there was a fee!

Arsenios: Are you free tomorrow night?

MC: Maybe. Why?

Arsenios: I'll consider us even if you come to the Crimson Street plaza tomorrow. The band was hired by the Cafe Association to play an acoustic set.

MC: All right. I'll be there. But couldn't you have told me about this in curses and hexes today?

Arsenios: Nah, I gotta stay home and practice for the set tomorrow. :)

MC: You're such a slacker. How have you not been expelled for all the school you miss?

Arsenios: It helps to be friends with student council members.

You couldn't argue with that. You thought about the brothers and wondered if they would cover for you if you decided you just didn't feel like going to school. Maybe if Lucifer wasn't such a stickler, you knew the rest would support you.

MC: Well, I'll miss seeing you in class.

There was a long pause and you thought Arsenios was probably not going to respond. So you got up and started to get ready for the day. But then your D.D.D. buzzed.

Arsenios: I'll see you in class, MC.

You laughed. It was just like when the brothers said they wouldn't go somewhere, but changed their tune as soon as they found out you were going. It was endearing.

MC: Oh you changed your mind? Why?

Arsenios: I want to see you.

Your heart skipped a beat. The response had come quickly and without hesitation. You had been trying to tease him, to put him on the spot, make him come up with some excuse about why he changed his mind so suddenly. Instead, he told you the truth like it was no big deal.

What did you even say in response to that?

MC: I wasn't expecting you to admit it…

Arsenios: Sorry. I'm only subtle when it comes to my magic.

You considered your next question carefully. You were going to be seeing him in person soon enough, but you were hoping for more of that honesty.

MC: Why are you interested in me at all?

Arsenios: Why did you start listening to me play the piano in an empty room?

You understood his point. He might not have cared about you at all except that you consistently crept into the dance hall at RAD to listen to him play. It was clearly something he did just for himself and you had shared it with him multiple times, even if neither of you acknowledged the other there in the darkness.

MC: Fair enough. I'll see you in class.

Arsenios: See you soon, MC.

You tried to focus on getting ready again, but your mind was going over everything that had happened. You wondered if you would be embarrassed by the fact that this demon had sung you to sleep last night. Somehow, you didn't think you would be when you saw him again. It had been his idea after all.

Anyway, you would be doing your best to forget all about this conversation.

It was a beautiful night in the Devildom. The stars were twinkling brightly, the moon a waning crescent in the sky.

Arsenios was watching the people passing by on Crimson Street while his bandmates set up behind him. He knew he should be helping, but he was a bit distracted. He couldn't stop watching for you, wondering if you would be alone or if you would feel the need to bring someone with you.

He had seen you in hexes and curses earlier that day, of course. But unsurprisingly, you had been occupied with the demon brothers that also shared that class with you.

Arsenios had noticed the way you looked up at him and smiled softly when he entered the classroom. He noticed the way you looked fresh and well rested. He noticed the way you seemed to be glancing over at him throughout the lecture. He noticed your disapproving frown when you realized he hadn't even bothered to bring his textbook.

He wasn't complaining. It was nice just to be near you. But he thought if you came alone tonight that he might have the opportunity to talk to you in person.

"C'mon, Arrie," someone said nearby him. "I need your help. Chymion is getting all the wires tangled again."

"Okay, Liv," Arsenios said, responding to his bandmate Liviana even though his eyes remained on the street.

Arsenios didn't move. He couldn't bring himself to look away.

He sensed Liviana had come over to stand beside him, her long blond hair catching the periphery of his vision.

"That human you're obsessed with will be here when they get here," Liviana said. "In the meantime, we're really having trouble with the wires and you know what'll happen if you don't take them away from Chymion."

"I got it!" Chymion's voice called from somewhere behind them.

Arsenios didn't need to look to know that Chymion was likely wrapped up in the wires himself at that point.

"I know," Arsenios said. "I just-"

He cut off because suddenly, there you were. Arsenios reached out subconsciously to grip Liviana's arm.

"Finally," she said. "They're here now, so can you please focus?"

Arsenios watched as you looked around, spotted him, and smiled. He let go of Liviana's arm to smile back and give you a friendly wave.

You waved briefly before sitting down at one of the many tables the Cafe Association had set up in the plaza. A server came to your side immediately and gave you one of their special event menus.

Arsenios forced himself to turn away and was confronted with a frowning Liviana, her arms crossed, her black eyes sparking with annoyance.

Arsenios ran a hand through his hair. "Sorry," he said. "I'll get Chymion untangled."

"I'm doing great!" Chymion called. A quick glance revealed that he was not, in fact, doing great.

"Chymion, your claws!" Arsenios said, dashing over to prevent Chymion's claws from slicing through any delicate equipment.

Arsenios was effectively distracted helping his bandmates get all the equipment set up for some time. He had no chance to glance back at you while he was occupied with them.

He was finally able to sit down on his guitar stool by a mic, his acoustic in his hands, and look out at the tables. A few people were looking over at the band, but most people weren't paying attention.

Arsenios found your eyes looking right into his.

It was a good set - the band played a lot of soft sweet acoustic songs. Arsenios sang quietly, backed up in places by Lael and Liviana. Their music filtered gently through the plaza, earning scattered applause after each song.

You stayed at your table, sipping at the drink you had ordered and nibbling on some kind of pastry.

After an hour of playing, the band took a break. They'd start again soon, but in the meantime, Arsenios made his way directly toward your table.

He put a hand on the chair across from you. "Is this seat taken?"

You gestured at it vaguely. "Be my guest."

Arsenios smiled and sat down. "You look well rested," he said.

You shrugged. "Magic will do that. I saw that you didn't even bring your textbook to class."

"I didn't need it," Arsenios said. "I wasn't there for the lecture."

He was pleased at the way you flushed slightly. He leaned back in the chair and folded his arms. He was fighting the desire to reach across the table and take your hand.

Why was he so fascinated by you? Was it really because of the way you always slipped into the empty dance hall to listen to him play? Or was there something else that drew him to you? Your humanity? The sparkle in your eyes? The reputation you had for enchanting demons?

When Arsenios was being honest with himself about it, he had to ask himself if it was because he felt guilty about all the human lives he had hastened to their deaths. Here you were, alive and thriving, a human he never needed to make a pact with. A human he could simply know without any other intentions.

A human that had arrived in his world, rather than summoning him to theirs.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Arsenios focused back on you. Your eyes were on the table, your fingers fidgeting with each other on the edge of it.

"Sure," he said.

You kept your eyes down as you said, "Why don't you like Solomon? Is it because he wants to make a pact with you?"

Arsenios laughed and that caused you to look up in surprise. "Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to laugh. It's just that most demons don't like Solomon for that exact reason. Don't get me wrong. I respect him. He's an immortal sorcerer with seventy-two pacts. You can't take a guy like that lightly. But it's also a little off putting for a demon, you know?"

"Huh. I guess I didn't think about it that way," you said.

Arsenios shrugged. "Well, he's your teacher, isn't he? You're used to it. And I'm sure the demons you spend your time with are, too. But for the rest of us…"

"I thought maybe it was specific to you," you admitted with a little frown. "You just seem to be… anti-pact."

Arsenios didn't say anything right away. He couldn't exactly deny it, could he? He was anti-pact. And there were a lot of reasons why. Could he even begin to try to explain it to you in a way that wouldn't tear him apart? He had too much history that he didn't want to share with you. Not now. Maybe never.

"You're not wrong," he said at last. "I'm not a fan of pacts."

"I don't understand," you said. "Lucifer said you spent a lot of time making pacts. Barbatos seemed to imply something similar, though it's hard to tell with him. If you used to make pacts before, how come you don't now?"

"I'm retired," Arsenios said, easily. It was an automatic response. It was what he always said when someone asked about his past. And they always did. Other demons knew about his reputation.

You squinted at him. "Just how old are you anyway? Lucifer called you ancient."

Arsenios scoffed. "He's one to talk."

"So? You're millions of years old, too?" you asked.

"I… don't remember how old I am," Arsenios said and he was surprised that he was so truthful with you. "I'm younger than Barbatos, if that means anything."

You seemed to consider this for a moment. Then you asked, "What about Solomon?"

"Older than Solomon," Arsenios said.

"Wow and he's pretty old," you said. "Do you remember what was happening in the human world when you retired?"

"It wasn't as long ago as you might think," Arsenios said. "I've only been retired for a little while, relatively speaking. I think it was in a decade that humans refer to as the forties."

"Oh!" you exclaimed. "More recent than I expected!"

"I told you," Arsenios said.

"And you've just stayed in the Devildom ever since?" you asked. "Or do you go back to the human world sometimes?"

"I haven't been back to the human world since then," Arsenios said. "I'm happy enough to play gigs here in the Devildom."

You suddenly met his eyes and smiled. "You guys sound really good here tonight. After the show you put on with Angel's Temptation before, I wasn't sure what to expect. But you can play any type of music, huh?"

Arsenios felt his skin heat up, a reaction to your fond regard that flustered him so badly he nearly choked. He forced himself to take in a deep breath. "We're known for our ability to adapt," he said.

"I really liked that song without words," you said. "The one that was kind of in the middle of the others."

Arsenios felt his heart stop for a moment. "I'm still working on that one," he said slowly. "I haven't written any words for it yet."

"Do you write all the music?" you asked.

Arsenios felt himself relax again as the conversation moved on to safer ground. "No," he admitted. "I write a lot of it, but my bandmates are quite talented too. A lot of times we each write the parts of our own instruments. It's a group effort."

"How long will you be playing tonight?" you asked.

Arsenios looked at his D.D.D. for the time. "Probably another hour or so. But you can go home now if you need to. I know Lucifer is probably pretty protective of you. I'll still consider us even."

He watched as you flushed again, remembering the way he sang you to sleep through your D.D.D.

"Thanks again for your help," you said. Your voice was quiet, but you held his gaze.

Arsenios smiled. "It was my pleasure," he said and he meant it. "I'm happy to help you out any time."

"I'd like to stay for the rest," you said. "Lucifer won't mind."

"If you're sure," Arsenios said. He ran a hand through his hair. "I'll walk you home after."

"I'd like that," you said with a smile.

Arsenios found himself thinking that he would do just about anything to make sure you were always smiling.

masterpost | chapter four | chapter six

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uniquexusposts · 9 months ago

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Her || Charles

Main characters: Charles Leclerc x OC Genre: fanfiction, fluff Story type: novel Part: 12/? Word count: 3726 Co writer: @mistrose23

Story summary: Matilde Jørgensen, the new Scuderia Ferrari team principal, faced the nerve-wracking challenge of reviving the team's fortunes and aiming for a championship. Leading a historic team as a 'newbie' and separating her work and personal opinions posed a significant challenge. The big question: is she capable to do so?

Previous chapter

Chapter 10. Unaware

"Hey," Matilde said when she entered the room next to her office. Galileo was already working behind his desk. "Do you have a minute so that we can talk?"

The young Italian nodded, knowing what this was about. "Of course."

"Do you want something to drink? I'm getting a cappuccino."

Galileo raised his eyebrows and really wanted to say something, but he thought it was best to keep his mouth shut. "No, thank you."

Matilde had to do her best to hide her grin. It was 14:00, and technically, according to the Italians, it was too late to drink a cappuccino. But she didn't care. People in this office didn't care about her, so why should she care? "Okay. I'll be back in... five?"

"Yes, absolutely."

The Dane walked to the coffee corner on the same floor and asked the barista for a cappuccino. Again, she received the side eye, but Matilde only smiled, causing the barista to make the cappuccino anyway.

A few minutes later, Matilde entered her office and called Galileo in. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," he nodded as he sat across from her. "How about you?"

Matilde pressed the corners of her mouth down, acting casual. "Fine, fine," she mumbled. "I will go straight to the point because, apparently, I have a board meeting now." She noticed the stress on Galileo's face when she said it. "How come I was unaware of the inauguration ceremony this morning?" Matilde asked and looked at Galileo. 'And the board meeting?'

The young assistant parted his lips and looked at his boss. His heartbeat became fast; he forgot to inform her about the inauguration ceremony and the board meeting. "I... I forgot, I think."

She nodded. "Thank you for being honest with me, Galileo," she said. "Look, I would be lying if I said it is okay and can happen. I need to know when these things happen, these events are very important for me, the team and for the representation of this team. You are here to support me, manage my appointments and to make sure I am aware of it." Matilde shared a warm smile, she could see how sorry he was. "For now, it happened, and there's nothing we can do about it anymore. But for the next time, double-check everything, okay?"

"I will. I am sorry," the young Italian said.

"Thank you."

Galileo got up and was about to leave the office.

"These things happen, but make sure you learn from them. Without making mistakes, you won't learn properly," she reminded him before he left.

Once he left the room, her smile dropped, and she turned around in her chair, facing the wall behind her desk. She blinked a couple of times and yawned. Being a team principal was literally being a teacher to toddlers. Matilde took a deep breath and got up, taking her laptop, notebook and coffee with her. She made her way to the meeting room, ready to be attacked and to defend herself in front of the most influential people of Ferrari.

"Hello," she said when entering the room, leaving the door open.

The big people looked already annoyed, a great start. She showed no fear and made her way to the only available seat.

"We've been waiting for you for over fifteen minutes," a woman said.

Matilde didn't remember her name, only that she looked like Donatella Versace. Matilde glanced at her, ready to say something, but she got interrupted by a knock on the door. She looked at the person, it was Mario. "Mario," Matilde smiled.

"Sorry to interrupt. Can I ask you a question?" Mario said.

"Of course. What is it?" She nodded and opened her laptop.

Sighs filled the room, causing Mario to look uncomfortable. Glances were shared; why did Mario interrupt? But a more important question was: why did someone from the night shift ask for her?

"The order that is missing, do we have an update on it yet?" Mario asked, hoping the order had arrived.

Matilde blew up her cheeks. "I have not seen a note yet, so I don't think so. I will follow it up after this meeting, you will hear from me."

The night shift manager and the team principal looked at each other; both wondering why they were present at the office. Mario squeezed his eyebrows together. "I thought you were supposed to be here at..." Mario pulled up the sleeve of his watch. "Six o'clock?"

"Well," she countered. "And what are you doing here then?" A cheeky smile came on her face.

"Mhm-mhm," Mario chuckled. "I will hear from you," he winked and walked away.

It was silent in the room again. Matilde looked around, raising her eyebrows, waiting for the meeting to start.

"What was that all about?" the same woman as earlier asked.

"If you work a shift, you are not allowed to start your next shift eleven hours after your previous shift ended. And since the night shift ended eight hours ago, we are legally forbidden to be here and work until six this afternoon," Matilde explained, reminding the board about the rules.

No one reacted to the comment. Instead, Simone started the meeting with a small introduction of why the board came together. "Firstly, do you have a reason why you were late to this board meeting, Matilde?"

Matilde looked up from her laptop and blinked a couple of times, taking a sip of her coffee. "Legally, I am not supposed to be here. My shift ended eight hours ago, which I explained a few seconds ago. I am making an exception to be here," she mentioned. "So the reason why I am late: I am still off duty."

No one seemed to find a suitable answer to her reply. Again, they were sharing looks with each other, trying to understand why she took a night shift.

"For clarification: I am taking night shifts every other week?" Matilde looked around, she thought people were aware about that. She always wrote it down in her work agenda and everyone has access to her agenda.

"Noted," Simone said and he looked at his notes. "So the reason why you were late at the inauguration ceremony is also because of the break-rule. But may I ask why you're here? You are legally not allowed to be here for four more hours, as you said so yourself."

"Exactly." Even though that wasn't the exact reason why she was late at the ceremony, she thought that was an excellent reason for this board. Galileo made a mistake, but that was something between them, and Matilde wanted to protect him from the board. "And the reason why I'm here is because I was bored at home. And I'm the team principal, I always have work to do."

The woman who spoke to her at the beginning, took over. Wasn't her name Antonia? A sly smirk appeared on her face, she was ready to attack the young team principal. "We received a message from PR about the celebrations in Miami."

Oh, here we go, Matilde thought. How did PR know about this? Who talked? Matilde nodded, accepting that she had to explain her side of the incident.

"We understand that you are delighted to celebrate your first win - as you should, but we received videos of you partying with Max Verstappen and some employees of Red Bull Racing. You have to understand that that is not great for your image."

Matilde straightened her face. This was about Max and Red Bull? She looked around, everyone looked sternly at her, like she had damaged their reputation. "Well, yes-"

"We understand you have your friends at your former team, but you cannot be seen like this." The tone of Antonia was unrelenting.

Matilde was prepared to defend herself and maintain her professionalism, but the weight of their expectations was palpable. She took a moment to generate her response. Of course, she knew the delicate balance she had to follow between maintaining relationships in the paddock and upholding Ferrari's image.

"Matilde, do you think that action was appropriate?" Simone could see Matilde was thinking about a response, but he wanted her to be faster. He was taking notes, looked up and waited for a further response. "It could be perceived as celebrating with a competitor, a rival."

"I appreciate your concern," Matilde began, her voice steady. "And I acknowledge that appearances matter. However-" Before she could elaborate further on her intentions, someone else cut in.

"Our image is important. We cannot afford to have our team principal's actions misinterpreted, especially with a rival team." The voice of the man was sharp, but impatient.

The frustration in Matilde's veins simmered just below the surface. But she maintained her composure. "As I was trying to say, we must also consider the context. I was not celebrating with Max and Red Bull Ra-"

"You have to understand that it's not just about the context."

This meeting was about interrogating Matilde, to share their criticisms without allowing her to respond fully and to defend herself. Matilde had expected a severe meeting about the team's performances, not this relentless lecture that made her feel increasingly unheard and undermined.

Matilde clenched her jaw and she took a deep breath, now her irritation began to bubble up. She didn't get the chance to explain herself, as they only seemed to be interested in one side of the story. She refused to back down on her story. "I understand the importance of our image-" she repeated, her voice tight.

But yet again, she was cut off by Simone, who seemed to have a lot of fun by irritating her. "Our team's reputation is at stake here. You may see it as a small gesture, but the public won't always perceive it that way," Simone looked at Antonia. "Antonia, you have set up a statement. Matilde, we want you to publish a statement for this incident."

Matilde squeezed her eyebrows together, and she looked around as if she was the main character of The Office. "Excuse me? Why?" Her tone was openly irritated now. "I acknowledge the importance of the team's image, but let's not lose sight of the bigger picture here. This obsession with a harmless moment is counterproductive."

"Matilde, the perception of our team matters. We need to control the narrative. A statement will help manage this situation," Antonia said.

Matilde almost groaned in frustration. They weren't listening to her, it was like they were fixated on the statement and not the reason behind it. "I understand your point, but let's not forget the context. I believe we are blowing this out of proportion. If I just may-" Her patience was wearing thin.

"You have to-"

"If you could, please let me finish," she repeated, raising her voice a little bit, demanding to have the word. "The reason why I was standing next to Max and Red Bull was because I was not invited to our own team's celebration dinner," she explained.

The board members exchanged glances, and Simone leaned back in his chair, a look of incredulity on his face. "So you decide to celebrate your win with our rival?" He repeated, as though the idea was utterly preposterous.

Matilde blinked a couple of times, looking unheard. Did they just not hear what she said? "In other words, yes," she responded. "Because I was not invited to the team's celebration dinner. And I want to clarify this: Max Verstappen is my friend, Red Bull is filled with my friends-"

"We need to address this issue promptly and professionally," Antonia chimed in, her tone critical. "Drafting a statement is the right course of action."

Matilde's frustration had reached its peak. She couldn't believe how obstinate the board was being, seemingly ignoring her explanations. Their need to release a statement was maddening. "Are you even listening to me? Why do I need to justify myself for the fact that I, the team principal, was not invited to the team's celebration dinner? It makes more sense for you to justify this situation." She felt so extremely selfish to say that she wasn't invited and that she had to be invited. Perhaps everyone disliked her and it was their plan not to invite her, and perhaps it was her expectation she had to be invited. Perhaps she was the issue.

"You are the team principal, you are a model to not only your team, but to the entire field and fanbase," Simone emotionlessly replied.

"Fine, but then make sure Leclerc is not allowed to talk to Gasly outside of work anymore, or meet with him outside of the track. And ban Sainz from golfing with Norris," Matilde shot back.

While the board was discussing the situation, the entire floor could hear their debate. Even though there was a lot of work to do, the entire floor of employees were more interested in the conversation. People gathered around, close enough to the meeting room to hear everything, but not to be seen by the board members. It had been the first time they heard Matilde speaking up like this. People doubted if she ever could get angry, but after this weekend and this discussion, they figured out Matilde could get angry very badly.

Charles and Carlos were sitting at a desk, in the engineers room, discussing some points for the sim later this afternoon. They could hear the discussion very well. Even they stopped working to follow the discussion.

"She's feisty," Charles said perplexedly. "Oh, my gosh." He covered his mouth with his hand.

"After Sunday, I didn't think she could surprise me anymore, but I didn't expect this," an engineer mentioned.

Carlos' mouth hung open, focussing on the conversation. "We have to say something, this is something between her and the board, not us."

"No, no, don't," Charles replied, raising his arm.

"But this is unacceptable. You're nosy."

"It is their problem, not ours. They shouldn't have left the door wide open," Charles shrugged. Carlos got up. "Don't," Charles said disappointingly.

Carlos shook his head, left the engineer's room and walked through the hallway. He noticed how the entire floor was standing close to the meeting room. It was serious, very serious. Charles joined him on the walk, he couldn't resist the urge to get closer to the commotion. They squeezed between the people, careful not to obstruct anyone's view.

"I can't believe they're making such a fuss about this," Charles muttered under his breath.

Carlos looked behind him, not realising Charles had followed him. He nodded in agreement. "It's absurd. They're treating her like she committed a crime." He stepped to the room, everybody collectively holding their breath. When he stood in front of the room, Matilde was in the middle of her sentence.

"I still cannot figure out how me, having a night out with my friends, bothers you the most out of that evening?" Matilde asked.

To Carlos' surprise, Matilde was still looking and speaking professionally. He knocked on the door, alerting them to his presence. "Hey, I am..." He pointed at the door.

She looked at him and held up her hand. "You can leave the door open, Carlos," she said before continuing on the same tone with the rest of her words. "Do you know what bothers me the most? Besides the board not understanding this situation, the fact that the entire team, not just a few people, but everyone, went out for dinner to celebrate the win and they did not even bother to ask me to join them on purpose."

Carlos stood speechlessly in front of the meeting room. He looked to his right, to his team, with rounded eyes. He walked back to his team. "This is serious shit," he said.

"I will not publish a statement," Matilde finished her story. "I think it will be time for us to hire an external coach or a psychologist. The way of communication has to change internally and as quickly as possible. Especially the communication between employees. That is the main issue in this team. This meeting is over. If there are any questions, don't hesitate to contact my assistant. Good afternoon, everyone."

The people in the hallway didn't know how fast they had to return to their desks. They had to pretend they hadn't been listening. Carlos ran after Charles back to the engineer's room. They jumped down on their seats. A second later, Matilde passed them. Silence fell on the entire floor and they all looked at Matilde; she showed no emotion.

"Holy shit..." Charles whispered. "That was something else," he remarked.

Carlos nodded, still impressed by Matilde's determination. His respect for her grew. "She's not one to back down, that's for sure."

The entire floor has just witnessed their 'puppy' team principal push back against the board with an intensity that was rarely seen. The engineers were buzzing with discussions about what had just transpired. It was clear that Matilde's impassioned defence had made an impact on everyone who had heard it. The board, too, was left with much to consider after her strong words. Her speech had ignited a new level of respect among the team, who now saw her in a different light. Her actions had solidified her position not just as a team principal, but as a leader who wasn't afraid to fight for the people, even against the most powerful figures within Ferrari.

Charles got up from his chair and made his way to Matilde's office. He ignored Galileo, who told him not to enter the office. After knocking, Charles swung open the door; Matilde was standing in front of the window, arms crossed, looking outside, her posture reflecting frustration and exhaustion.

"Hey..." he gently spoke.

Matilde looked over her shoulder. Once their gaze met, she showed just a smile - a smile without emotion or meaning. "Hello," she replied.

"Would you like to grab a coffee?" He pointed behind him. "There's a new coffee stand on the campus."

She considered Charles' offer for a moment. The tension from the board meeting still lingered, just like the unaware ceremony and incident from Sunday. However, she knew a short break and some fresh air would do her good. She stared at her watch and she nodded, she had some time left before her next meeting. "Yeah, sure," she replied, her smile now carrying a bit more warmth.

Charles hoped that this coffee break would provide her some rest and reset. Matilde grabbed her pass and sunglasses before they left her office. In silence they walked over the campus. Charles didn't feel the need to say anything, he wanted to make sure that Matilde could empty her mind.

As they approached the stand, Matilde scanned the new stand. She hadn't seen it before, but it looked cute. It was quite a minimalist stand, it was a stand that could go viral on Instagram for the aesthetic. Matilde was surprised to see that they served iced coffee, so she ordered that. Charles ordered a simple espresso.

"Thanks," Matilde broke the silence. They had their coffee and sat down on a small wall next to the stand. Charles looked at her, sharing a questionable look. "For... You know, this."

"Of course." He offered a supportive smile. "A small break can do miracles."

"I..." She took a deep breath. "I really appreciate it."

"Anytime." Charles looked in front of him. "And about Sunday... I didn't know what was happening. I assumed you were at the dinner, but somewhere...I don't know, somewhere where we couldn't see you."

"It's okay. It happened."

"It's not okay and it wasn't classy from our side."

"It is what it is, Charles. I hope it was miscommunication and I hope we all learn from it," she responded. Momentarily, Matilde didn't like the team, but she couldn't show it. She had to deal and work with it. "And I didn't celebrate the win with Max. People told me there wouldn't be a party because of the early flight the next day, so I wanted to get a drink at the hotel. I bumped into Gemma, my best friend. She works as a PR manager for Red Bull, and she dragged me to the restaurant. If I knew about your dinner, I obviously wouldn't have done it."

He pressed his lips into a thin line and he looked at her, it looked like she regretted everything.

"I have my friends at Red Bull. Max and I joined Red Bull at the same time, we 'grew up' together, I met my friend group there. And everyone assumes I moved to Ferrari to spy for Christian. When we see each other, we briefly talk about F1, we mostly talk about bullshit and ourselves, not about our work. I signed a million documents, they signed a million documents, why do people assume we share the team's deepest secrets?"

"You don't have to explain yourself, Matilde. I understand you." Charles knew it was better if she could just rant, let it all out, he wanted to let her know that it was safe to rant with him.

"And this morning, I got here and it was basically the same thing all over again. The ceremony thing and the board meeting I wasn't told about." Her voice cracked and she let out a loud sigh. "I'm sorry."

"Hey, it's okay," Charles replied and put his espresso next to him on the wall. He wrapped his arm around her and rubbed her arm.

Matilde leaned into the comforting gesture. Fortunately, she was wearing sunglasses. "I just want to do what's best for the team. I do what I think is the best," she admitted, her voice filled with raw emotion. "And I know this role isn't for softies, but there's just so much friction."

"Ferrari is a tough team to work with. I can't approve of what happened this week, but it's been a stressful time," he shared.

She straightened her back and dried her eyes. "Thanks." Matilde looked at him. They held each other's gaze for a few seconds. Charles shared a warm smile, Matilde couldn't help, but smile because of his smile. "God, this isn't professional. I am sorry."

Charles chuckled. "Team principal or not, you have feelings and sometimes you have to let them out. This stays between us, alright?"

"Thank you." She got up and looked around. "Let's get back to work. I have a feeling there are more wins in store for us."

Next chapter

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