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myfeetkeepdancing · 3 years ago

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gif credit: @fassbender

NSFW 18+ NSFW 18+ NSFW 18+

Nathan Drake x Male Reader

Watching someone sleep is an odd experience. When it's a loved one, it's often relaxing, enticing, or a mix of both. An enemy is something different. That element of surprise and growing anticipation of their reaction. That look on their face. A plan finally bearing its fruit. With Nathan, it's a bit of both. Love and hate. An unusual blend. Yet since that last encounter was an exhilarating one. A sort of cat and mouse game. But with different stakes. And strange traditions to grow.

Nathan wasn't easy to find. False names, untraceable transactions, phone calls, and IP addresses. You name it. It took a great deal of your resources and time. But revenge is a dish best served unsuspected.

Nathan sure had spent his money well. The luxurious villa beside the sea was spacious and comfortable. Large windows open up to an ocean-wide view—sunrise over a clear blue sea. The curtains sway with the slightest breeze coming from the windows. While you slowly opened the wooden blinds, rays of sunshine poured into the bedroom. You can already feel the warmth glowing in the room. From a chair far on the opposite side of the room you watch.

Observe the beams of sunlight shining upon the contours of Nathan's body. You can hear him breathing. And yourself. The ruffle of palm trees. The crashing of waves on the beach. For a brief moment, you feel at ease. Calmed by the sounds. But the slightest motion of Nathan keeps you sharp. This was one of the more pleasant ways to wake up, you remind yourself as you recount all the other options.

It takes a good moment for Nathan to awake from his slumber. His brown hair sat curly and ruffled. Classic case of bed hair. You hear him mumble something. And your heart begins racing. Whatever happens next is crucial. Nathan lay on his back. Snoring a little, licking his lips. As he slowly began to wake up. The sun shone directly in his eyes. He seemed at ease and at peace. His chest rose and fell as he breathed slowly. Planting both arms beside him, Nathan pulled himself up, revealing that muscled naked torso. Eyes staring at the blinds. "Morning Nathan." You announce yourself. And his eyes shoot wide open in your direction.

"Wh-...?!" Nathan rocked forward. But a rope on his right hand tightened and yanked him back as viciously as he tried to jump you. "(Y/N)?!" Looking back and forth between the rope and you. "How the hell did you find me?" Nathan desperately searched for the end of the rope which he found tied to the bed. "What's going on? W-What… are you doing here?" Each pull he gave on the rope tightened the knot further and pulled his arm up towards the backboard.

"Good morning to you too, Nathan." And get up from the chair. You take a slow walk to the bed. Stretch out the inevitable. Let Nathan give a false idea of hope. That he has options. "You're not easy to find." Eyeing the views for a moment. "Nice place, though. Shoulda… send a card." Giving him a wink.

"Haha… Yeah. I… eh, I will." He rolled from one side of the bed to the other. Trying to reach anything. "So… eh, to what do I owe this visit?"

"I was thinking how I would call that on my way here. Seeing that we… owe our lives to each other-..." You stand in the middle of the room. Watching Nathan effortlessly fail and try everything. "...-I wanted to introduce a tradition… something which you started."

"Oh no…" He chuckles nervously. "Is that why I'm bound by rope?"

"Certainly." Rubbing your hands together eagerly. "I learned a few tricks since our last encounter."

Nathan's right hand now sat flush against the headboard of the bed. Knot completely locked up. "For a second I thought you were here for a share of my treasure." He said, tilting his head to the side. "I heard you… blew quite the sum."

"I'm still baffled that you could press that button. Knowing I was in there." Crossing your arms, thinking back about that last encounter. Shaking your head in disbelief. "And people keep thinking I blew up my 'brand new' house for insurance money."

"I knew you'd survive." Nathan shrugged and smiled thinly.

"That may be the kindest thing you have ever said to me."

"I'm full of surprises." He winks back. "How about you? What'd you have planned for me?" Scanning the room carefully and thoroughly. "Is there a bomb…?"

"Nah… I'll leave something for next time." The steel watch on your wrist, one size too large on the bracelet gets Nathan's attention quite quickly. "Wouldn't wanna risk blowing it all in one encounter. I like a good… build-up."

"C'mon (Y/N)!" Nathan darted up but was reminded by the knot as he was pulled back again. "Nnngh-Not the watch! Please!"

"Good taste." Flaunting the steel sports watch in the light. It looked expensive and sure was. With a bit of play on the bracelet, you discard it to the table aside. A sigh of relief was heard from Nathan. That wouldn't be the first this morning you chuckle to yourself.

"I'll warn you." He held up a finger to you as you approached the bed. "Even with one arm bound, I can still take you."

"I believe you. I have bruises that prove that much." You say and take seat at the far end of the bed. "You know, you really get to know someone once you've been in their bedroom." With a finger, you slowly peel back the sheets. Taking a peek underneath. You've already seen it. But the theatrical aspect of it all was worth it so much. "Somehow, I imagined you to sleep naked, Nathan."

"I think you're confused between imagining and fantasizing." He sniffled, leaning a bit towards you. This smirk on his face. "Let me guess, you took your chance and nicked one of my undies, didn't you?" Whispering in his hushed voice. Smirk ever-growing.

"I don't know until what time morning wood is a valid excuse…" The slow reveal of what was underneath the sheets was ruined by Nathan. Rolling onto his hip. Trying to occupy himself with the ever-tightening knot. Giving you the rear view. The black shorts masked a beautifully full-shaped pair of buttocks. His back still showed vague hints of bruises. "But I think that ship has sailed. Damn…"

"Shut up… At least gimme a hint." He said with a hint of challenge in his voice and a playful glint in his eyes. Meanwhile, he was trying to pry loose the knot on his wrist, to no avail. Its purpose is to restrain and keep hold. "How does it work? What's the game here?"

"Spare your energy." And pull a blade from your backpocket. "The only way out of that knot is with a knife. Trust me on that." A sense of calm returned to Nathan as he let that sink in.

"How's the head?" He asked after a moment of silence. "Still having trouble sleeping?"

You nod and face away. Nathan's clothes lay draped over the chair. His gun nearby. You emptied it beforehand. As far as you're aware, there weren't any bullets around. Nor knives. Except for the one you were holding. "Your bomb was one of the reasons."

"I'm sorry. I saw the reports." He said quietly. "Want me to put a kiss to it… if you… untie me that is."

"Something that shuts you up wouldn't hurt for the next part… or any really." And move to the other side of his bed. The one free arm still fighting to free the other. Nathan watches you with distrust. Eyes widening as the second knot came into view. "Pretty please…" And command rather than ask. "Your hand."

"What are y-…" Nathan chuckled and let his head hang in defeat as he didn't finish his sentence. Accepting whatever came next as he offered his hand. With quick work you slip the not over and tighten it. Pulling Nathan up against the headboard. Both arms restrained. "Fuckin' hell…" A red blush shot over his cheeks. "W-What… What are you going to do…?"

"I believe you're familiar with these kinds of situations." Patting him playfully on the cheek. "Don't worry." Giving a small kiss to his lips. "It's going to be fun."

"You're such a fucking tease." He scoffs playfully as you pull back just in time for him to kiss you back. "If I'd known…"

"Oh, I know..." Slowly feeling up those thick muscly thighs of his. "Surprise is… part of the fun… we're about to have."

"I could strangle you with those." He offers, not resisting your teasing temptations along his thighs. "If you're into that."

"And I once again believe you." Patting his thighs. "For now, put it on your list. Who knows when… and… if we might run into each other…" Slowly letting your hands glide along his thighs and up to his pelvis. The black shorts didn't lie. A forceful strain was working against it. A cock bulged in all its glory into the fabric.

"You bet we will..." He breathed heavily. "You bet…." Chest rising and falling as he watched eagerly with anticipation.

"I… already… look… forward… to… it." With each word you pressed a kiss to his thigh, gently working inwards. Finishing the last kiss on his stomach. Inches above his underwear while keeping intimate eye contact.

With a sudden move, he throws his legs around your neck. It's rather violent as his feet skid against the back of your head. The motion pulls you in further. Locking you inside his powerful muscles and his pelvis. You anticipated it, and let it happen. "No shoes... on the bed." Nathan smiles as he struggles to maintain the hold on you. The blood he needed so desperately in the muscles was clearly pumped somewhere else. His strength faltered with each fleeting second. If you'd let him, he could flip you over. Seat himself on top of you. And work from there on out.

But his body didn't cooperate. The pressure his muscles exerted on you began to slip. His situation was lost the moment he realized you still have your hands free. He eyes your movement, as one hand cradles his hips. The other reaches behind your back. "Careful now…" And slowly reveal a knife. "This'll set you free."

"Don't you-…" Nathan stuttered and sucked in this nervous breath. Loosening the strain in his muscles. Giving you more freedom of movement. But still close. Very close. "Hold on!" He exclaimed as he breathed heavily, watching you glide the knife's edge along the ridges of his abs. Trying to control his breathing as the point slid from hill to valley across his six-pack. "F-F-Fuck." With little to no pressure on it, you only leave Nathan shuddering and hairs rising on his body. "Y-You know what you're doing…? Right?"

Nathan tried to stay still, control himself as much as possible, as you let the blade bite into the fabric of his underwear. "Do you…?"

The band of his underwear is tight. The blade sharp. The point lethal. Cautiously you let it dance across the fabric. Small strands already began to tear and rip with the slightest pressure. His legs merely dangle across your back. Nathan had surrendered his position to you. Watching you. "C-Carefull… with the… j-jewels." He stammered as he watched the blade slide along his length. The tense and dense strained fabric being the only protection. Small holes begin to tear and from on places where you had stroked the blade along.

"Stay still." With a further warning, you slip the point under the sleeve on his right leg. Nathan froze as the cold steel picked his skin. Wedged between his skin and the black underwear, you begin to work upwards. With each inch you move upwards the bigger Nathan's eyes grow. Holding his breath. A mix of fear and anticipation washed over his face as the blade moved up. Separating the fabric on the sharpest edge. Revealing more skin. More of his cock.

What remains is the band at the top, holding it all together. With the slightest pressure on the inside, the tight band gives way. With a snap it and a sigh of relief it pops into view. Long and girthy. Tall and proud. Nathan's cock.

"You're already breathless." And grin to yourself at your success. Gently putting the knife aside on the mattress. Nathan's eyes dart back and forth. There's not a chance he's able to use it. And he knows it. "Safety first." Mouthing the words as you went down.

Slow and tantalizingly, you let your tongue connect to the underside. Nathan's attention is all yours as you feel the rippling veins glide along your tongue. All the way to the top. His cockhead glistened in anticipation. The look on Nathan's face. His eyes begging you. "-...and I haven't even started."

Tilting your head sideways, you begin kissing the underside again. Slowly letting your lips catch the ridges and wet the deeper crevices. It twitches at your careful touches. Hardening even further. Skin tight and hard under your lips. He's yours, you have to remind yourself. Working up and down several times makes Nathan weak. His legs, as muscled and rugged as they are, you lower them to the mattress. "At… least take something off." Nathan pleaded. "Let me have that."

You love the tone Nathan pleaded. That submissive tone as he hung tied to the bed. Cock rock hard. Pleading for you. Rather than taking in the image of his muscled figure, bound and begging. You let your lips and tongue explore. Feel it. Caress it. Worship almost. That heaving chest rose and fell as you began your journey on the highs and lows of his sixpack. Nustling your nose along the lines as well as your lips. Your tongue tasting it. The discolored skin, the bruises, the groan and moans as you felt it all. With his firm round pecs, those nipples. Hard and ready. This high up already, you feel your body pressed into his. Cock to cock. Trailing the lines of his chest and pecs up to his collarbone. Nathan won't stop you. Won't fight you. Working your way along his neck and up, meeting you with his lips. Fierce and wanting. "It's already warm enough for you… isn't it?"

"You… really upped the game." He grinned, watching you move back to where you began—surprised by the feel of a pillow being propped under his ass.

"Walking the line between life and death changes you..." Reinforcing your words with a lick along the length of his cock. "It's really something..."

"I feel honored to have changed you."

"I feel the same." And with that warning, you bend downwards to his asscheeks—hands cupping the underside of his thighs, spreading them wide open. His beautiful round ass converges into this small puckered hole. It's neat. Small. And looks tight. Your eyes glance up and over for a brief moment, past his cock and along his muscles. Connecting your eyes as you move in. Your nose meets the skin under his balls, lips touching his hole. It's super tense. Nathan's shocks in place as you kiss his hole. His asscheeks fighting back. And the muscles in his legs tensing. But your tongue smooths the resistance out.

It's a simple stroke with pressure on the tip that you work into the hole. Tight is an understatement. His hole doesn't give way. The tip barely goes in. Resistance to strong. You give it your full attention and begin lapping the entire entrance with your tongue. Feeling Nathan shudder under your touch. Heavier and heavier. So much his body gives in to the feeling, legs go dumb, and his asscheeks relax. So does his hole. An incredible moan vibrates through the room as you slather your tongue into his hole. Sucking and wetting it again. Fighting against the resistance. You maul away, eating and suckling away at his hole.

"J-J..-Just fucking go for it." Nathan cursing your name repeatedly. The tough man slowly began to sink into submission. It's only a matter of time. More curses spilled from his lips as he fought against his restraints and conflicted feelings.

Slow and sensual laps of your tongue along and around his hole calmed him down eventually. Just watching and waiting. Wanting. You test the resistance again—this time with your middle finger. Nails short and hands clean. You gently push. Just softly. "Fuck Yeah…" Nathan whimpered immediately as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. His hole tensed on the visitor violating the entrance. Nathan found great pleasure as he lay there moaning. Muscled chest heaving.

But it's just the tip. Your nail was still visible. And you try to push again. Into the resistance. At least deep enough for your nail to disappear. But it won't. Nathan shuddered and moaned from the increasing pressure. Quivering asscheeks and a twitching cock told you more than enough. You pull back and circle his hole with your finger. Tracing along with your tongue. "Again… d-do that… ag-...a-again."

A firm and steady push against his hole let your finger sink in further. It tightened and gripped your finger. Unable to move. You help him ease into it by sending trembles through your finger. That doesn't take long. It loses its tension and accepts you. But you don't stop. Pushing in further. You find enough depth to start penetration. Back and forth, you move your finger. The motion is tense and rugged at first but becomes easier and faster. To mention deeper. All the way up to your knuckle. It's slick and wet. And Nathan loses himself in the motion. Urging you to go faster. Deeper. More. All of it. Everything.

A gaping hole the size of your finger contracts on itself slowly as you pull out. It's mesmerizing to gaze upon. You wait for a few moments, before testing the resistance again. It's become softer. It slides in easier. You don't comment. You just listen to his pleas and curses. In fairness, more pleas turned to begs. The words are half slurred and muttered. But the message is clear. You feel and fill his hole up again. This time your tongue. It's surprisingly wide and accepting from just one finger. You're able to penetrate deep and get in there good.

Nathan's toes curled in on themselves, groaning, losing himself to the sensation. Especially after you push in your thumb. The size does it. The girth rubbing him just the right way. "I'm… cumming." Nathan uttered. "Fuck…"

But no cum came, his cock trembled, and a line of clear substance drooled down his cockhead. His entire body clenched on your motions. That thumb just rubbing him the right way. You can't move it further. But you knew you were close to it—your goal. "Don't break my fingers, Nate."

"I… I don't-…" He muttered through labored breaths. "But… I didn't cum." Gasping for air as he felt your thumb leave.

"Know your body, Nathan." Teasing his hole with your wet fingers, drawing circles around it. "I'm here to show you." Your turn your hand upside down, and with your index and middle finger, you push in. Resistance was futile. They're slick and wet within moments. It only takes Nathan a breath of fresh air to accommodate your fingers. Pushing in further. Curving your finger upwards, you feel him up on the inside. It's somewhere there. You know it.

"Fuck me." Nathan cried out in a curse. "Please…" Turning it into a plea. He lost himself so much, that he rolled his hips into the motion. Wanting it to feel deeper. Fucking himself onto your fingers. Until a sudden burst of cum shot from his slit. Nathan froze and watched himself burst large dollops of cum onto his stomach. This time was a real climax.

You think you got it. You think you found it. It may have brushed your index finger briefly. And it may have cannoned Nathan immediately far over the edge. Again your fingers are locked in that convulsing hole. Tight and warm. Helping him pulse and climax like never before. More exploration was necessary.

"That's… fucking amazing." Nathan sputtered as he came to his senses again. Sucking in the air that he so badly needed. The veins of his cock were swollen and looked ready to burst again. Standing half-mast, but still clearly aroused. You massaged his hole gently with your fingers, letting him come down from this explosive high.

"I think I found it..." And push in. Drilling both your fingers into his violated hole. Wide, gaping, and accepting. Nathan looked at you bewildered. His whole body accepts the next round. Wanting to. As you fingers find purchase within. It's slick and slides easily back and forth. Nathan watches in amazement, and you can see and feel him harden again. The muscles around your fingers tighten and his cock begins to rise again. It's not fully up and running again.

"F-Found… what?" He seems surprised and overwhelmed by his own feelings coming back again. As he stifled a groan from ecstasy. You angle for the right spot. That little spot. A first incidental push pushes sends Nathan shaking again. Just a second later, a substance leaks from his cock. With the muscles contorting on your fingers, it's hard to reach it again. You push again, this time rubbing it. With gentle and well-placed strokes, Nathan locks up again. "I'm cumming… again…" He breathed out with a moan. A milky white substance seeps from his cockhead. In streaks in runs down, seemingly never to end. Pooling on his stomach. As his cock softened. The strings of substance still stuck. His hips were one big mess. Not to mention all the sweat. His body glistened all over. It's gorgeous to look at.

"That's it…." You watch him breathe and gather himself again. His hole was stretched and accepting, yet it pushed your fingers out on its own. "Breathe in… and out." Waiting for him to get down from his high again. You could see the robes had burned into his wrists. The excitement and pleasure were taking their toll on him. His eyes were big. And breathing heavier than before. You could almost see his heart hammering against his chest.

Nathan was consumed by lust and pleasure. Another round was more than welcome, you sensed. You could feel it as you pushed one finger in again. A smile of contentment crept on his face. Groaning through his clenched jaw. Hair stained with sweat, sticking to his forehead. His cock lay soft in the pool of white milky substance. The cum he shot the first round lay still in the crevices of his sixpack. "God… Y-Yes…" He murmured as you moved one finger in and out. Stirring his body into the motion. Rolling his hips with it. "Another finger… p-please…"

You didn't need to do anything. He gasped for air as he rolled his hips onto your finger. Adding the other made him even more happier. Licking his lips, it's almost as if he forgot he was bound. His cock was done for. It hardened a little and grew in length. Rubbing the stain further along his body. But it didn't reach full mast again. You curl your finger into the spot again. And gently rub. "Y-You're making me cum again."

Finding it immediately. The little spot feels firmer than the rest. Stroking it gently again. Making Nathan shudder and shake. He launches himself upwards, but held in place by the ropes, watching his cock twitch. His eyes grow twice the size. Lost in a gaze of pure ecstasy. No cum. Just fluids. His cock pulsed on the spot. Staining little. But not to Nathan. For him, it felt like another orgasm. The air stocked in his throat for a few seconds. Watching his seeming to be orgasm. But then collapses backwards into the mattress. Sucking in the air again.

"I saw… fucking stars…" He stammered. "Dancing… in front of… my eyes." His body looked like a wreck. Short of air. Bodily fluids and life. "Holy shit…"

"You came four times in three minutes." Rubbing your fingers around his hole as Nathan lay there wasted and spet. Staring at the ceiling. "How about the fifth and final?"

"F-u... I don't think I-I.. can take that." He protested, hanging in the restrains. Pulling in the air as fast as he could. Chest rising and falling, the sweat glistening in the sunlight.

"These were only my fingers, Nathan." You lean in and over him, kissing him on the lips. "Can you imagine… Nathan-..." Trialing your finger along his spend body as you left the lingering kiss. His eyes follow you as you return back to your position. "...-what a …cock must feel like?" And massage his entrance again. Your fingers slide in with ease. His eyes flutter for a moment as you massage his insides. Closing his eyes for a moment, you can see him imagining. Relish the thought. And turn to an aggressive drill. Adding your second finger along. "Pounding you… deep inside you…"

"Yes… p-please…" He hampered through his labored breathing, his butt rising from the pillow as you feel another release coming. Nathan shakes, freezes, muscles locked into place. And his prostate was stimulated beyond belief. Again. "I'm… cummin…" And Nathan shakes again. Cock twitches and spurts a bit of fluid onto his stomach. Where it's coming from, you don't know. But it's another streak of fluid added to the mess. Nathan collapses to the mattress with one final moan. His hole pushes out your fingers in the motion. You feel the cramps and pain seeping in. It's numb, and your fingers twitch a little. Their slicked with fluids and stunk a little.

"I don't think you'll be able to walk for the next few hours." You poke his calves and thighs, but find no response whatsoever. Nathan is conscious but somewhere on a different plane of existence. With one of his shirts lying around, you rub your hand clean of wetness. With the knife, you cut the ropes around his wrist. His arms fall spend beside him. "Consider yourself a changed man, Nathan." You whisper in his ear. "That itch down there… it's never going to be the same ever again."

Nathan groaned and protested as the life slowly came back to him. Stars faded away from his vision. And color returned. Mouth sore and dry, a throat like sandpaper. His body tired and worn. Every joint on his body ached. Rubbing his wrists and shoulders, he slowly came to be himself again. "(Y/N)..." Nathan said, his head still spinning. "I w-will find you-…" He sputtered as he fought to get himself on his feet again. At least sit up. His vision somewhat blurry. A shimmer of steel caught his eye, and he saw your smile and the watch disappear on your wrist. "You f-fucker…" But his strength was gone. His legs had given in. His balance was gone. The moment Nathan got himself up to the edge of the mattress, he straight up tumbled forward onto the floor. Smacking face-first into the wooden floor. "I will find… you (Y/N)." He limped onto his back. Watching your contours disappear into the sunlight. "And scratch… e-everything off my list."

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ssahotchhner · 4 years ago

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Hiii! Can there be a Hotch x BAUFem!reader where they are already dating and she gets kidnapped in a case and like Reid’s epsidoe the team see her getting tortured and Hotch goes insnaely mad and the team get her but she been stabbed or shot up to you. And she passes out in hotchs arms to Hotch screaming for her to stay awake. Wakes up in hospital and all fluffy between them agter. I love your content and I get if you don’t want to do this x

hello!!! i feel like this is kinda similar to something i’ve done already so i tried to make them as different as possible. i hope you guys still enjoy!!!

warnings: just your usual torture, kidnapping, and murders

questions, comments, concerns

I’M NOT AFRAID

“Sorry to ruin date night.” Penelope teases as you and Hotch walk into the conference room. You’re wearing a dress that is far too short to be work appropriate, attempting to hide it under your long coat and scowling at Penelope.

Morgan whistles and you roll your eyes, but Aaron only smirks as he settles into the seat next to you, resting a hand on your thigh under the table. It was nice to finally be able to be like this at work. You and Aaron had and would always continue to be professional at work, but since the team had found out, you didn’t have to hide the subtle touches or loaded glances.

“Good evening crime fighters, I’m so sorry to ruin your night, but we have some criminals afoot.” Images of women’s bodies illuminate the screen behind her. Immediately you notice small burns that decorate each of their bodies, consistent with the use of a taser. “You will be heading to North Bend, Washington where the bodies were found abandoned in alleyways behind dumpsters. In all cases, the bodies were discovered by homeless men.”

“What was the cause of death?” You ask.

Penelope sighs, “It looks like the person who did this tortured them for hours, submerged in salt water for long periods of time and tased at close range over and over, until,” She clicks the remote and pictures of the victims’ heads come across the screen.

“He tased them in the head?” Morgan asks.

“That would be correct, chocolate thunder. The ME reports that the girls all suffered incredible brain damage until their brains just… shut down.”

“The discarding of the bodies suggests he doesn’t have any remorse and he’s clearly sadistic since he tortures them for so long.” Prentiss says.

“Garcia, was there evidence of sexual assault?” Aaron asks.

“ME says since they were submerged in water for so long it’s impossible to tell.”

“Forensic countermeasure?” Reid muses.

“It’s possible.” Aaron says.

“Oh, and there’s one last thing.” A picture of another girl fills the screen, “Another girl was taken a few hours ago, her name is Tiffany Cole. Judging by how long he’s held the other girls--”

“We have less than 48 hours to find her.” Aaron finishes, “Let’s get going then, wheels up in thirty.”

You follow Aaron to his office, closing the door behind you, sighing as you lean against it, “We’re never gonna have a night to ourselves, are we?”

He brushes his thumb along your cheek, “I’m sorry, I’ll make it up to you when we get back.”

You smile and lean into his touch, “Shame this dress has to go to waste.”

“Can I at least take it off you?” He murmurs.

You raise your eyebrows, “Sure, my love, but don’t forget to close the shades.” You nod your head to the windows of his office.

You pull out your go bag while he closes the shades, pulling out some comfier, more professional clothing. He comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist and you lean back into him. Gently kissing your shoulders, he pulls down the zipper in the back revealing your bare back.

He groans into your skin, “I can’t believe we have a case.”

You hum and turn in his arms, placing your hands on his chest as the dress falls off you, “Well we better work quickly then so you can make it up to me.” You smirk and lightly push off from his chest, turning away from him to put on your work clothes.

Faster than you thought possible, Aaron immediately shifts back into unit chief, barely looking at you as he swipes through the case file on his tablet. Once dressed, you peer over his shoulder, “What’s bothering you?”

He shakes his head and stands, grabbing his go bag and handing you yours, “I don’t know yet.” He says and walks past you, leaving you to follow.

***

“There doesn’t seem to be any evidence of gagging or even tape over the mouth to keep the girls quiet,” Reid observes from the jet, “No trace glue on the mouth or fabric found inside. ME even reports that some of their vocal chords seemed strained, most likely from hours of screaming.”

“Which means he must have some remote place to keep them where nobody can hear them.” Rossi adds.

Aaron is quiet the entire time besides assigning the team tasks for when you land, “Aaron, what’s the matter?” You say softly, gently squeezing his leg.

He slowly shakes his head, “Something about this case… I feel like I’ve seen it before, but I can’t… I can’t remember.”

You frown, “We could ask Garcia--?”

“No.” He interjects immediately and then looks at you apologetically for cutting you off, “No, not yet. I don’t want anyone wasting their time when I’m not even sure myself.”

You nod, “Okay.”

The rest of the day went by as usual, Aaron asked you and JJ to go talk to the families. By the time you got back to the police station, the sun was beginning to set and the team had hit dead end after dead end. Frustrated, Hotch ended up dismissing the team for the night to come back with fresh eyes tomorrow.

In the hotel room the two of you shared, you kneeled on the bed behind Aaron who was still looking over case files and placed your hands on his shoulders, gently kneading them with your fingers, “Come to bed.” You said softly and kissed him just below his ear.

He shakes his head, “There’s a girl out there who might already be dead because of my incompetence.”

You frown and sit back on your legs, “That’s weird, I didn’t know you were working this case by yourself.”

He sighs, “I know I’ve seen this before.”

“Even if you had, it’s probably a copycat, it’s not the same guy.”

“But we don’t know that.” He says, exasperated, “I can’t even remember if we caught him, I can’t remember anything.”

“Okay, that’s it, we’re calling Garcia first thing in the morning.”

“Y/N--”

“We don’t have any other leads, it’s not a waste of time. Now come to bed, please. You’re no use to anyone when you’re tired, you just get more grumpy than usual.”

He finally offers you a small smile, “Are you saying that I’m normally grumpy?”

You smile in victory as you lay back into the pillows and Aaron crawls over you, “Your baseline grumpiness at work is pretty high, yes.” You mimic his frown and deepen your voice, “You always look like this, no matter who you’re speaking to or the scenario.”

He laughs and flattens his body against yours, head resting on your chest and you run your fingers through his hair, “We’ll find him, Aaron. I promise.”

He doesn’t respond, but you both quickly fall asleep like that, unaware of what horrors the next day would bring.

***

“Good morning sunshine, what can I do for you this early?” Penelope answers your phone call with a yawn.

“Hey, Garcia, sorry to call so early. Would it be possible to pull up a list of all the cases Hotch worked before he was unit chief and see if any of them are similar to this case? Maybe the victimology or the MO?”

“Might take a while, our favorite unit chief has been fighting crime for a very long time, but I’ll get back to you if I find anything.”

“Thanks Penelope.”

“Ciao bella!”

“Garcia’s looking.” You said as you hung up the phone, Aaron just finishing tying his tie. You stood and reached out to straighten it. “Try not to think about it, you work best when you’re calm and detached.”

He frowns, “Detached?”

You smile and go up on your tip toes to give him a kiss, “Yes, when you check your ego at the door.”

He cradles your face in his hands and gives you another kiss, “Okay, no more kisses until the end of the day, you’re too distracting.” And he turns away from you, walking out the door before he can even see the way you’re pouting. “Come on, let’s go. We’re running out of time.”

You nod and head after him.

***

“Garcia, you’re on speaker.” You say, pushing your phone into the middle of the conference table. The rest of the team had been brainstorming the last couple hours, but had gotten nothing. No evidence of anyone buying a taser recently, at least not locally. There was little that connected the victims, just that they were all young white women.

“You guys, I… I really hate when this happens, but it seems that the unsub is trying to contact me.”

“What do you mean?” Hotch asks.

“I mean,” You can hear her typing quickly on her keyboard and suddenly there’s another video feed on the screen, “He obviously wants to show us something.”

“Can you trace this?” Reid asks.

“No,” She sighs, “His IP address keeps changing automatically every thirty seconds.”

“Agent Hotchner,” A distorted voice comes from behind the camera. In front of it there’s a tank of water and a girl frantically trying to swim with her hands and legs tied. “Have you figured it out yet?” The voice continues as he walks in front of the camera, never allowing the camera to see his face. You look closer at the girl, Tiffany, and see she has the consistent taser burns all over her body. “I’m tired of waiting.” He walks over to the girl, pulling her up out of the water as she screams before putting the taser next to her temple and pulling the trigger. She spasms for close to a minute before he drops her back in the water, her now lifeless body floating to the top. “I thought you were smarter than this.” The voice says before the feed cuts out.

Everyone is silent for a moment, “The hell was that about?” Prentiss finally interjects, looking to Hotch.

“Garcia, do you have that list for me I asked for this morning?” You say, swallowing away the bile that rises in your throat from witnessing Tiffany’s murder.

“Yes.” Garcia’s normally bubbly voice is quiet and subdued, “Yes, I do. The closest thing I could find was a series of murders back in the 90s. A bunch of women were tortured for hours in a salt water tank before their throats were finally slit and they were dumped behind various dumpsters in town. ME reports showed significant brain damage from repeated lack of oxygen. A Mister Garret Hughes was arrested for the murder, tried, and put to death… Oh boy, three weeks ago, right before our first victim popped up.”

You look at Aaron, “Does that sound familiar now?”

He nods slowly, “It was one of my first cases as lead profiler.”

“Well it sounds like Hughes’ death was the trigger.” Morgan says, “Hotch, maybe he blames you for Hughes’ death.”

“Judging from the body type on camera, it has to be a male, maybe a friend? Brother?” JJ muses.

“Or a son…” Aaron says, “Garcia, did Hughes have any children?”

“Uhhh, yes sir, he has a son named Cameron Hughes who was about seven at the time of the murders and is now twenty five.”

“What do we know about him?” You ask.

“Well, after his father was arrested, Cameron was put into foster care, his mom had left his dad years ago and seemed to drop off the map which sounds a lot to me like she was afraid of Garret.”

“Rightfully so.” JJ murmurs.

“Yeah. After that, Cameron bounced from home to home, reports of abuse from nearly every one until he turned 18. He got a job as a prison guard not long after and he’s been there ever since. And that explains how he was able to get a taser.”

“Any run-ins with the law?” You ask.

“Yeah, several when he was a kid, but after he turned eighteen and got his prison job he was squeaky clean.”

“What were the arrests for, Garcia?”

“Well, we have some petty theft, some fires set and… Oh, no.”

“What is it?”

“His last arrest when he was sixteen was for torturing and killing a neighbor’s dog… via drowning.”

“Do we have an address, Garcia?”

“Already sent to your phones.”

Everyone starts grabbing things and running to the SUVs. “This can’t be where they’re holding them,” Spencer says as you all pile in and Aaron starts the car, “It’s too residential and it doesn’t match the geographical profile.”

“Well, let’s hope that we can bring him in or we find something in his house that tells us where he is holding them.” You say.

***

When you arrived, Aaron directed you, Morgan and JJ to the back. Aaron and Reid took the front while Emily and Rossi went around the side.

You were behind both Morgan and JJ, your guns raised when you spotted a shed behind the house. “You guys go in, I’ll check the shed out back.” You say. They both nod their heads and then head inside. You hear the distant sound of your team calling “Clear!” As you head to the shed, and you admit it, you let your guard down.

When you open the shed door, it’s dark and with your flashlight on, you turn to the right first, leaving your back exposed for Cameron to hit you over the head with a hammer. There’s no time to scream or fight back. A big guy, he picks you up and tosses you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and heads out a back door, into the woods where his truck is waiting for him to load you into.

***

At first, no one notices that you’re missing. To be truthful, JJ and Morgan had forgotten about the shed out back. But then Aaron looks up and around the house. There’s JJ and Morgan, carefully sorting through mail on the kitchen table. ��Morgan, where’s Y/L/N?”

There’s a moment of silence when it dawns on all of them what may have happened and suddenly everyone’s guns are drawn and Morgan is sprinting to the shed, JJ and Aaron on his heels. When they walk into the shed, they see your badge and gun on the ground along with little dots of blood. And then the start of an engine. Aaron wastes no time running out the back door and starts shooting at the truck, but he’s already too far down the wooded path.

He has you. He has you and Aaron is stuck here, useless, because there are no other leads. “Why was she out here by herself?” Hotch’s voice is deadly calm.

“I… she was behind us and then she said she was going to clear the shed and we just thought…” JJ trails off, “We thought she could handle it.”

It’s not their fault, he tries to remind himself. But the rage is boiling just beneath his skin. “Hotch, we’ll find her.” Reid says when he storms past, back into the house, “Something here will give him away.”

“There wasn’t a license plate on that truck.” Morgan says as they all follow Hotch back inside.

“What’s going on?” Rossi frowns as the rest of the team comes back in the house, “Was he out there?”

“He has Y/N.” Is all Hotch says before he starts ripping the house apart, trying to find some clue of where he would take you. He slams doors and curses to himself throughout and the rest of the team helps him look without a word.

“JJ?” Reid murmurs when he notices she’s crying as she looks through the house.

“I shouldn’t have let her go out there alone.” She says, her voice thick with tears, “It’s like when I left you alone all over again.”

“You know as well as I do she made that choice to go by herself. She wouldn’t want you blaming yourself.” JJ just shakes her head, “If we want to find her we need you to focus now. This unsub is arrogant, he won’t be expecting us to find him.”

They continue searching, seeing if Garcia can find any evidence of abandoned buildings nearby, but nothing. Until Cameron reached out to Garcia himself, again.

Garcia’s panicked voice fills Cameron’s home, “Guys, he’s here again and I can see Y/N.”

Emily quickly opens a laptop and the stream fills the screen. Aaron fills with temporary relief at seeing you sitting on the floor in front of the camera. “No blindfold or gag, just like the other victims, only her wrists and ankles are tied.” Emily observes.

“If he didn’t blindfold her at all, she might be able to tell us where she is.” Reid says, and everyone knows he’s thinking of the coded message he gave this same team years ago when he was taken.

You sit there and stare at the camera silently. You don’t appear to be injured or hurt in any way, besides the blood that drips from your temple. You most likely have a concussion from the blunt trauma. “You know, Agent Hotchner,” Cameron no longer bothers to disguise his voice, “I debated for a while who to take from this team to hurt you the most. I researched you for years while my father rotted in jail. It’s a shame Foyet got to pretty miss Haley before I had the chance. I thought about taking Jack, but I draw the line at children. Feels wrong somehow, even to a psychopath like me.”

He starts touching you and the chair beneath Hotch’s fingers creaks as he clenches his fists. You don’t show him any fear, no tears, you don’t even flinch away from his touch. “So I focused on the team, tried to see who you had the strongest relationship with. Who would hurt the most? Dr. Spencer Reid, boy genius who you treat like a son? Agent Morgan, the little brother you wished Sean had turned out to be? What about Agent Prentiss? She was so damn pretty and smart I thought you had to have been sleeping with her. But then,” He pulls your hair so hard, your head snaps back and you grunt. The closest thing to a reaction you’d given him so far, “I saw that you shared a hotel room with this one more than once when working cases together. I’ll give you props Hotchner,” He chuckles and lets out a whistle, “I didn’t even consider her because I thought she was so far out of your league. Nice work.” He produces a taser and pulls the trigger while pressing it to your ribcage and you convulse until he pulls his hand away.

“Oh, boy. This one’s going to be fun, aren’t you?”

“I have a name.” You grind out.

Cameron responds by ripping off your shirt and producing scissors to cut off your pants, “Yes, Y/N. I know your name. Time for a swim, I think.”

What Cameron doesn’t see as he undresses you is the way you close your eyes and take several deep breaths to calm yourself. Panicking leads to faster drownings. He picks you up and tosses you in his makeshift tank. Your body becomes perfectly still, everyone on the team looking at their screens in horror until you break the surface, taking in another breath.

“Garcia, do you have anything?” Aaron does his best to keep the impatience out of his voice, but you scream for the first time when Cameron holds the taser to your side for more than a few seconds and it shatters him.

“Sir, I’m trying everything, I can’t hack him. I’m so sorry.” She sniffles.

“Reid, give me something.” Hotch practically begs, but Reid looks back at him hopelessly and you’re screaming again.

“Oh, God.” JJ says, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Hotch kicks over his chair as you finally break and begin crying and then you’re under water again.

“We’re missing something, we have to be.” Rossi says.

Cameron pulls you up out of the water by your hair, “Are you listening, Agent Hotchner?” He screams as you cough the water out of your lungs, “Beg him to help you, baby, go on.”

You take some shuddering breaths and then you look at the camera, “Aaron,” You say breathlessly and Hotch feels like all the air has gotten sucked out of his lungs, “It’s beautiful here and I’m not afraid.” Cameron shoves you back under and tases you while you struggle.

“What the hell does that mean?” Morgan demands, looking at Hotch who’s staring at the laptop in awe.

“Garcia, how far is Mount Si from here?”

“Not far at all sir, maybe a couple of miles if that.”

“Are there any remote cabins or caves there that wouldn’t have come up on your initial search of Cameron?”

“Um, it’s possible that there is land there that is owned by a relative that wouldn’t have come up in his background, let me check and…” She sighs, “Yeah, there’s a small cabin right off of a hiking trail that looks like it used to belong to Cameron’s mother. She never sold it so it’s sat there empty since she left town.”

“Let’s go.” Hotch says, practically running out the door before anyone can follow, “Garcia, keep the audio of the stream on while we drive.”

“You got it, go get her, please.”

“How did you know?” Prentiss asks when they’re in the car.

“Y/N is afraid of heights. We went hiking once, early on, and I convinced her to climb a mountain with me. When she got to the top I asked her how she was feeling and she looked at me with this big smile on her face and said ‘It’s beautiful up here.’ And then she looked over the edge and I held her from behind and I asked her if she was scared and she said ‘No, I’m not afraid.’” Your screams ring out in the car and Hotch presses his foot down harder on the gas. They were almost there, you just needed to hold on a little longer.

“We’re gonna get her, Hotch.” Rossi says reassuringly from the back as your sobs ring through the car.

“Garcia, how does she look?” Hotch asks. He was just down the road now.

“As you would expect, sir.” She says quietly, “If you’re asking if I think he’s going to kill her anytime soon, no I don’t. He is having far too much fun with her. Please get that creepy man in cuffs.”

Aaron throws the car in park and everyone jumps out, pulling out their guns as they run in. “FBI, Cameron, drop the weapon.”

You’re dripping wet and shaking and out of the tank, barely able to stand. But you smile at Aaron as Cameron holds a knife to your abdomen. You thought when you had given him that hint that you’d be leading him to your body, you never expected to see him alive again. But here he was, your Aaron, prepared to rip the world apart to get you back alive.

“Thanks for the suggestion, Agent Hotchner, but it’d be so much more fun to see the look on your face when I do this--” Aaron fires the shot and it lands in Cameron’s forehead, killing him instantly, but not before he thrust the knife into your stomach.

“We need a medic, federal agent down.” He says quickly into his watch before running to your side.

Your eyes dart back and forth as he kneels next to you and warm blood starts pooling on your stomach. “Aaron?” You manage.

“It’s okay, I’m here, I’m here, it’s gonna be okay.”

“You remembered.” You say softly, your eyes losing focus, “You found me.”

“Of course I remembered,” Hotch says, tears filling his eyes, “You gotta stay with me, Y/N. Stay awake, okay?”

“I’m so… tired.”

“I know, I know, but you have to keep your eyes open. Please.” He shouts over his shoulder, “Where’s my medic?!”

“I’m glad I… got to see you again, Aaron.”

“Don’t talk like that.” He’s crying now as you’re bleeding out in his arms. He can vaguely hear Morgan yell again for a medic.

Hotch’s memories get all scrambled up after that. He remembers you passing out in his arms, thinking you were gone as the medics forcefully remove you from him. The way the team tried to take him with them as you rode to the hospital, but he insisted on going with you.

He remembers that it was touch and go for a while in the ambulance. That they had to have Derek pull him away from you when they wheeled you into trauma. His arms were covered in blood and he shoved Morgan off him.

“Hotch, relax.”

He eventually sat down in a waiting room seat, legs bouncing, “She was talking to me like she was about to die.”

“She’s not gonna be out of there anytime soon, why don’t you go wash the blood off your arms.” JJ says.

“Yeah.” He says and stands, “Yeah, right.”

When he’s gone down the hall the rest of the team look at each other, “I haven’t seen him like this since Haley.” Emily says.

“She’s gonna be okay, right?” Spencer’s voice is soft.

JJ puts an arm around him as Morgan’s phone rings, “Please tell me she’s okay.” Comes Penelope’s panicked voice on speaker.

“She’s in emergency surgery right now, we don’t know much.”

“And how’s Hotch?”

Morgan sighs, “She practically bled out in his arms, Garcia. He’s not good.”

She sighs, “I hate being across the country, call me when you hear something.”

Hotch walks back over, still looking dazed, but at least not covered in blood. They waited like that in silence for hours until the doctor came back over and Hotch stands immediately.

“We were able to stop the internal bleeding and stabilize her,” The doctor starts, “She’s in the recovery room now and should be waking up soon. She’ll have to stay in the hospital for at least a week to be monitored.”

The relief hits everyone in the room tenfold. Hotch feels like his legs might give out and there’s a collective sigh of relief from the rest of the team.

“Could we airlift her to DC?” Aaron asks. He doesn’t want you here by yourself.

“I’d like to at least monitor her overnight, but yes, that can be arranged.”

“Can we see her?” Spencer said from behind Aaron.

“Of course, follow me.”

Your eyes are still closed when they all file in, the doctor quietly exiting as they all crowd around your bed. Aaron is crying when your eyes begin to flutter open, a lazy smile forming on your face, “What happened?” You say slowly, your voice raspy.

“You just got out of surgery, you’re gonna be okay.” Aaron says.

“We were so worried about you.” Spencer’s voice cracks as he steps forward and gives you a hug.

“Oof.” You grimace a bit at the sudden weight, but manage to hug him back. “I’m fine, promise.”

The team all give you hugs and put Garcia on speaker so she can hear you alive and well before leaving Aaron alone with you. “Why are you crying, my love?” You ask, reaching out a hand to him.

He takes a deep, shuddering breath, “I thought you died in my arms.”

You shake your head, “But I didn’t.”

“I can still hear your screams from when he was torturing you. I didn’t do enough to protect you.”

You flinch a bit at the mention of the torture, but recover quickly, “Aaron, our jobs come with a certain amount of risk. You know that. You can’t always protect me.”

“I know, I know, I just…” He wipes his tears with the heel of his hand, “He took you because of me.”

You shake your head, “He just got lucky that I went off by myself. He would’ve taken anyone who walked in by themselves. He wasn’t as diligent or organized as Foyet. I’m sure he did stalk us, but he had no solid plan to target me specifically.” He looks down at his hands sniffling, “Aaron, even if he did take me because of our relationship, I don’t care.”

“How can you say that?”

“Our relationship is also what saved me, don’t you realize that?”

“You would’ve found another way to tip us off--”

“The whole time I was there, I just kept thinking about you. I’m not like Reid or Prentiss, I can’t think like that under pressure. I was only able to think of that because I was thinking of you, of us the whole time.” He still can’t look at you and you can see tears still falling to the floor.

“Aaron, look at me.” You say gently and he complies. You beckon him over to the bed until he sits on the edge and you can touch his face, “I love you.” It’s the first time either of you have said it. You were so nervous to before, but nearly dying without telling him had scared you badly.

He manages a smile, “I love you too.”

You smile back at him and reach up to cup the back of his neck, pulling his face down to meet yours. His kiss is gentle, as if he’s afraid of breaking you and then he rests his head just beneath your chin.

“They said you have to stay in the hospital for at least a few days.” You immediately groan and begin to protest, but he shushes you, “I’m going to arrange for you to be airlifted to DC tomorrow morning and I’ll stay with you until then. The rest of the team is flying home tonight.” You’re pouting at having to stay in the hospital and he cant help but laugh at you a bit, “Hey, it won’t be so bad. I’ll bring you all your favorite books and takeout and I’ll bring Jack, too when I can.”

“Will you bring me coffee in the morning before you go to work? Hospital coffee is terrible.”

He smiles, “Yes and I’ll even bring you a chocolate croissant from that bakery you love.”

You finally crack a smile, “You spoil me, Hotchner.”

He kisses your forehead, “I’ll probably spend the rest of my life making this up to you.”

You smirk, “Hey, at least now we can both say a serial killer almost stabbed us to death. We even have matching scars.”

Despite himself, Aaron laughs, “You’re ridiculous.”

You giggle, “Yes, ridiculously in love with you, Aaron Hotchner.”

#mine #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #hotch x reader #hotch imagine #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner angst #anonymous

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squishmallow36 · 2 years ago

Text

Keeper of the Lost Prepositions - Sixty

Word count: 2.8k

Tw: canon-typical violence, misgendering as it pertains to Keefe

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed!): @stellar-lune @gaslight-gaetkeep-gayboss @kamikothe1and0lny @nyxpixels @florida-fruity-frog @poppinspop @crystallinewalker @uni-seahorse-572 @solreefs @never-mourn-the-good @rusted-phone-calls @when-wax-wings-melt @cotyledon-tomentosa @good-old-fashioned-lover-boy7 @dexter-dizzknees @abubble125 @blossomsxgalorex @callum-hunt-is-bisexual

On Ao3 or below the cut!

Tuesday comes after many hours of work, mostly consisting of Fitz’s Alchemy homework, because he kept distracting me. It’s not his fault, though. Can’t blame him for genetics. And I slept for a lot of the remaining hours. Getting up early surprisingly makes you tired early.

But then going to bed two hours before usual doesn’t make getting up in the morning any easier.

When I do finally drag myself out of bed, I check my Imparter to make sure nothing has happened while I was away from it.

To my surprise, the virus I sent to Gisela finally came back with an IP address. I would be more excited that it actually worked if I were more awake.

I forward everything to Marella, trusting that she’ll share it with Linh, Maruca, and Stina before she torches the place.

I’m not going to risk waiting until the end of the day because then I would be the one getting torched, before the Neverseen are.

After that, I call functions getReadyForSchool() and goToSchool(), dragging the triplets along with me.

Because it’s Tuesday, the first class is PE. The best of days, it’s tolerable, the worst of days, it’s a horrible, horrible punishment.

Today’s going to be levitation, which typically falls closer to the latter end of the scale.

I’m tempted to fake a twisted ankle on one of the innumerable times I fall to escape to Elwin. I’m sure he’d understand.

But I keep watching Fitz out of the corner of my eye, mostly to make sure he doesn’t tweak his knee.

We’re released from our torture and escape to lunch. I know we talked about something there, but I’m more focused on the fact that Linh and Marella aren’t here.

I know exactly where they are and I just hope they haven’t gotten themselves into too much trouble. But going to rescue them without them calling through their panic switches could endanger them further.

So I sit here, worrying uselessly.

I only have so long before the bell rings, signalling the end of lunch and the beginning of Technopathy.

Lady Iskra tries to talk to me for the first fifteen minutes, per usual. In return, I give her as few details about what I’ve been doing recently, also per usual.

During the first maybe half of class, Lady Iskra has me test a new function for the next update of Imparters, before letting me go work on whatever project I want.

It’s very similar to the arrangement I had with Tinker, now that I think about it.

No, brain, Lady Iskra can’t possibly be Tinker. They’re in Black Swan custody, for starters.

I get a livestream set up with Sophie so that if Gisela does happen to hail me, he can see it as it’s happening. No information delay that way.

Hopefully Tiergan doesn’t mind too much if her Imparter goes off in the middle of Fitzphie cognate training time. Hm. I have much less jealousy over that than I would have a few months ago.

Although I wouldn’t admit that I was jealous. And I still thought I was straight at that point. That could’ve been an interesting train of thought back then.

Once I think the code is working, I ask Sophie to run a trial just to make sure it all works. Because pretty much nothing will work on the first try, but it compiles and the audio is so far understandable. There’s no way to know how long before the whole system collapses. Better to not stress it until we need it.

Technology can be like that sometimes.

When the room shakes with a low vibration, I should have known that my program working was a bad sign.

You are literally next to Galvin’s classroom. The kid next door must’ve blown up yet another one of their lessons. I should offer to help. Maybe when I don’t have to worry about the Neverseen on a daily basis.

I go back to my work, cleaning up the comments on my new screen recording program so maybe it’ll hold itself together a little more if the compiler doesn’t have to read them through all the loops.

That’s not how that works but I’m still hopeful.

My Imparter buzzes on the table, and I’m kind of expecting it to be from Fitz, but no. It wouldn’t be that simple.

It would be from Gisela, telling me to get myself out of class, whatever excuse I had to make.

I tell Lady Iskra, “I have to go to the bathroom,” to which she lets me go without arguing.

While I’m walking, I shoot Sophie a text explaining that we’re going to have to enact my plan sooner than expected. As in the next five minutes or less.

I lock myself into the bathroom, hoping that no one bothers me in here before messaging Gisela, Okay. I’ve got like five minutes. Make this quick.

I connect the livestream so Sophie can hear everything going on, and Gisela hails me somewhere in the land of ten to fifteen seconds later.

“Dexter,” she greets, video not connecting over the Imparter.

“Gisela,” I reply, turning the camera towards the ceiling. She has no need to see me.

“Get your new gadgety thing you finished yesterday and come meet me in the cafeteria. I’ll explain more when you get here.”

She clicks off. “Why on Earth did you have to hail me then?” I grumble, angry that I set up the whole screen recording program.

“Sophie, Fitz, hopefully you can hear me but I’m going to keep you on for the moment. You’ll get dragged into this mess soon enough, you might as well stay updated.”

I get to the Cafeteria, after grabbing the ability amplifier from my locker, and Gisela isn’t there. I don’t let myself hope that she fell over like the beginning of an episode of House in the last three minutes.

But no, she just hung back to make a dramatic entrance. The entire Neverseen used to be headed by Fintan. It’s expected that dramatic entrances are part of their training.

I wonder if I’ll stick around long enough for that.

“Thank you for meeting me, Dexter. Would you be so gracious as to give me the gadget?”

“Not if you keep calling me Dexter,” I mutter, giving it to her.

“What?”

“Nothing! Nothing.”

She studies me for a moment before deciding that it isn’t worth it. “You’ve been most helpful. Now, could you do one more thing for me? Could you call Sophie and Fitz over here? I’m sure you can figure out a reason.”

I pull out my Imparter, shutting off the livestream, so it doesn’t echo when I hail Sophie.

“Hey, Sophie. Sorry to bother you, but can you and Fitz meet me in the Cafeteria? Tell Tiergan hi for me.”

“Yeah,” she replies. “Just give me one second to get down there.”

In fact, he takes thirty-six seconds to get here, and when she notices Gisela, he does his best to look surprised.

Fitz is less successful than she is.

“Sophie, Fitz, it’s so nice to see you here. How have you been?” Gisela says, sickeningly sweet.

I can hear Fitz’s knuckles pop in response from across the room.

“I’ve been well, thanks for asking. Now, I don’t want to waste any more of your time than I must. Do either of you know where Keefe is? That goes for your bodyguards as well.”

Fitz snorts, and Sophie barely bites back an insult. I can tell when he wants to go off on someone. Usually it’s Alvar, though.

“Fine. I gave you a chance. I guess we’ll have to do this the hard way.”

I keep myself from smiling with some difficulty because I am getting some serious Mother Gothel vibes from Gisela right now.

Distracted for a moment, I don’t see the cloaked Neverseen member enter the room.

Gisela asks, “Are you absolutely certain you don’t know where my son is?”

“Yeah, um, about that,” Fitz begins, and Gisela’s face lifts with tentative hope. “Your kid, Keefe, is nonbinary and uses all neopronouns. I know you won’t actually acknowledge that fact, but it’d be wrong to not correct you. Also, while we’re at it, zae’s pansexual.”

Ooh, that’s a fun neo set.

“And how, exactly, did you come to know this information?”

“Maybe ce told me, did you think of that?” Fitz snaps.

Knowing he isn’t going to give up any information easily, Gisela makes a hand gesture to the very mysterious cloaked figure, who throws Fitz against the wall with a strong wind.

A sound escapes my throat, and I very narrowly avoid running to him.

“Did that happen to jog your memory?”

Gisela waits for a second before her presumably-guster-maybe-Trix cloaked friend starts cutting off Fitz’s air supply.

Star Wars force choking, anyone?

This is not the time, Dex.

Fitz’s hands fly up to his throat on instanct, and he gasps for breath that doesn’t come.

With each wheeze, I feel my will crumble.

I can’t let anything happen to him. Not while I can do something to prevent it.

“Stop it, stop it!” I yell. Fitz is starting to turn blue, and I can’t take it anymore.

Gisela turns to me. “Well, this is most unexpected.”

“I know where Keefe is. Do you want me to drag zir here myself?”

“Depends. Why did it take you so long to volunteer this information?”

“You didn’t ask,” I shrug. I know it’s a low effort explanation, but I don’t have anything better.

Gisela considers for a second before allowing, “Thank you, Dexter. You’ve been extraordinarily helpful.”

I turn to Fitz and Sophie, mouthing, “Sorry,” before running over to the Leapmaster and leaping to Everglen.

I race up the stairs and down the halls I’ve been down so many times before.

Opening the door, I’m half expecting Keefe to have taken over Fitz’s room, but ze’s hiding in his absolutely massive closet.

“Sorry, Keefe.” I say, noting how much I must have scared vem, throwing open hir door like that.

I kneel down in front of aer. “I need your help. Do you remember Fitz telling you about a vocal cord paralyzer? He probably didn’t use those words, knowing him. But did he ever mention some sort of alchemical solution at some point?”

Keefe hesitates.

“Please, Keefe. I need to know where he stashed it.”

Keefe shakes jaer head, scribbling out a note. Already been used.

I deflate. “Keefe, I need you to keep your mouth shut for me, okay?”

Ae pulls out a roll of duct tape and tapes syr mouth shut.

“I’d explain more, but it’s a very long story that we don’t have time for retelling, and I need you to come with me.”

Keefe gives me a note with a single word: Gisela?

I nod solemnly.

Keefe stands, tapping cer foot to get rid of the nervous energy pent up inside zem. Sae pulls me up, hand shaking ever so slightly.

I wrap nym in a hug, trying to communicate how sorry I am about everything that's happening and my part to help it progress without apologising a hundred thousand times.

Pulling away, I say, “You don’t have to do this. I could say that you’ve run off again.”

Keefe shakes ver head, trying to open lim mouth against the duct tape to explain. I know it’s basically going to boil down to nir tendency for self-sacrifice, more than likely for Sophie’s sake. I’ve heard that speech enough times by now.

Stars, I hate this. And I’m largely to blame. I should have just stayed irrelevant.

Keefe, being the empath that ey are, senses that train of thought and does faer best to give me a look that communicates that I should stop it in its tracks.

There’s time for self-pity later.

I take vim by the elbow and lead xir to the leapmaster, wrapping my consciousness around nem to make sure ce doesn’t take this as an attempt to escape.

We walk back down to the cafeteria, and Keefe starts acting like kyr’s being brought along involuntarily. I already gave zem a chance to escape and nix has never changed hir mind as long as I’ve known caer, so I know it’s not genuine.

“Ke’s here,” I say once I’m actually in the room, still holding on to Keefe.

Gisela turns to me. “I thank you. Now, if you’d bring him here.” She holds out a hand, the amplifier in the other.

“Not if you’re going to keep misgendering em.”

She fixes a glare on me. “Need I remind you that you aren’t the one with bargaining chips here?”

I turn to maybe-Trix before Gisela has the chance to make them suffocate anyone in the room. “Trix, that’s your name, right?”

They nod.

“Agree or disagree? Respecting people’s names and pronouns is a basic right.”

I can’t see their face but when Gisela gestures to them, a light breeze makes goosebumps rise along my arms. I look around, terrified of who’s going to be suffocated next, but it doesn’t come.

Slowly, I allow myself to believe that at least one Neverseen member isn’t a total dirtbag. Still mostly, though, but not totally.

Gisela glances around, wondering why nothing’s happening. It’d be entertaining if she wasn’t such a manipulative witch.

“Fine, then, Dexter. Have it your way.” Gisela makes a face before holding out her hand once again. I have a feeling she’s going to avoid pronouns at all costs, but that’s better than nothing.

“She keeps calling you Dexter. What’s up with that?” Fitz’s accented voice asks. Stars, it’s so nice to hear him not choking on his own hyoid bone.

It’s kind of pathetic that that has to be the standard of expectations.

Not one to miss such a perfect opportunity, I reply, “Well, at least it’s better than Deck.”

“That was one time!” Fitz snaps. “Plus, we have that whole agreement thing that you’d break up with me if I did it again.”

I hold back a smile with difficulty.

Meanwhile, Gisela looks ready to recite the entire dictionary of swear words. Fitz does too, to a lesser extent.

But he’s capable of pulling himself together today and steps forward, voice low. “And I swear to each and every star in the sky that if you hurt my boyfriend, I will not hesitate to hurt you.”

He’s so sweet, isn’t he?

“Same goes for him. Although he’s probably the scarier one,” I reply.

“That’s simply because they haven’t spent enough time with you to know that you’re scary when you want to be.”

Gisela sighs. “Yes, yes, this is all very interesting. Are we going to stand around all day and listen to you two drool over each other?”

“I won’t object to that,” I say, and Fitz smiles.

“The correct answer is no,” Gisela snaps. “And you’re going to make good soldiers for my army.”

“I read somewhere that the Spartan army was made up of gay couples,” Sophie says.

“Also Achilles and Patroclus,” Fitz adds.

“All of Ancient Greece. Very gay.” I generalize.

“How do you people keep driving the conversation back to that?” Gisela grumbles. “You know what? I have my so--Keefe and he has the ability to make you all shut up.”

Fitz remarks, “You were doing so well…and then you went and messed up the pronouns.”

In response, Gisela tears the tape off of Keefe’s mouth before nodding to Trix.

They throw Sophie against the wall the same way they threw Fitz against the wall earlier, holding back from total suffocation.

Gisela takes a breath, looking at Keefe.

Fitz takes this opportunity to transmit to me, Hey, Dex, you might want to put in your earbuds if you have them on you. Keep you from hearing Keefe.

I should’ve had that idea, I think, only a little envious, stuffing my earbuds into my ears and hiding the cord the best I can in my school tunic.

I can still hear Keefe’s tapping foot, though slightly muffled, so I go and turn on white noise. It’ll be my best bet to make sure I don’t end up hearing zem accidentally.

Gisela puts earplugs into her ears, gesturing to Trix to do the same.

She says something that I can’t make out, and Keefe gives her a look.

Gisela launches into a very long speech, talking with her hands until Keefe can’t take it anymore and barely dares to whisper, as far as I can read from cir lips, “Control.”

#hey look it's a plot #are you proud of me #you should be #kotlc #detz #dex dizznee #fitz vacker #kotlc fanfic

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lighdramons · 3 years ago

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Hi I'm back. I promised awhile ago I’d tell the story of the fucked up digi.mon cult, so I figured that’s a great start for getting back onto this hellsite.

If the read more works, everything will be below the cut and it is a mess. Just a few things before the cut though:

General TW as I will be bringing up some of the bad experiences I had as well as talking about mental illness.

I will not be using names of sites, usernames, etc. I will not answer on specific users either. I’m sure these sites are still operating somewhere privately and back in the day, some of these people were big in the Digi.mon community outside of the sites as well.

If any of the people involved see this, no ill wishes towards you guys, just my take on things.

I quit these sites back in early 2015. I do not know what happened after I quit. I am only still in contact with a few individuals who either quit around the same time as me or long before.

As a general courtesy, some of these sites still exist. Please do not go harass them. A lot of the public sites are just teens trying to figure out themselves.

If you have questions or comments after reading this whole thing, I’m happy to answer any either publicly or privately. And yes, you can reblog this post.

We need to jump back to 2007 to begin with. I was a middle schooler getting back into Digi.mon because I walked into Gamestop and Digi.mon was sitting in the new releases. And I had access to the internet. I did binge S1-5 with subs and watching reruns of the dub on Toon Disney. I spent some time on the big fansite. Great site, just bad experience at the time because I was a teen and probably lied about my age. I didn’t feel like that was the community for me. I do check it every day now for news, just never made a new account cause I don’t even remember what I used back in the day.

By end of 2008/beginning of 2009 I began looking for other sites, stumbled across the digiclipse stuff on the bad encyclopedia site, looked into it, thought it was neat, moved on. Stuck with the big site for now because the only other sites I found were RP sites and not my thing at the time. Got hit hard with depression at the start of 10th grade (late 2010) and found my way back onto the digiclipse stuff. Didn’t really believe most of it, but thought the idea of creating AI Digi.mon was neat. Joined the smaller of the two sites because it felt friendlier and most users seemed my age.

For people who do not know, digiclipse is the act of going outside and holding the toys up hoping to get teleported. Most people by the time I joined thought the people who did this were crazy. Some people liked to do it for the lolz though.

Anyways, most of what happened on the sites was just talking and hanging out in chat rooms about life and other things. It was pretty chill. I can’t speak for everyone on the sites, but for me it was an escapism kind of thing. I was depressed and hated life so pretending that a magical adventure was a possibility gave me some hope. But honestly, got a group of people who were cool to talk with for the most part. There was one older female in her mid 20s that would come in the chat drunk and sexually harass the other female users and tell all the male they should die and are worthless. Nothing was ever done about her. And honestly it was weird having her there when most of the other people on the site were under 18. That was initially my only bad experience on the sites.

At some point during 2011, there were three individuals who claimed to see and speak with their digi.mon partners. And that they could read your aura and tell you exactly your digi.mon partner. And everyone believed this shit, mostly because two of them were prominent members and how could they lie. The process was simple, you would DM them either a creative piece you’ve done (art, writing, etc) or send a photo of yourself and they’d come back in a few days and tell you who your partner was. There was only ever one individual this method of tracking did not work on and that is yours truly. Oh and at the time it hit hard because I had started falling down the rabbit hole. This is the beginning of the cult-ish stuff.

Then the Ouija board happened. I have no issues with what happened during the fucking around with said Ouija board, I have issues with everything that spiraled out of control after. They fucked around with it confirming people’s partners that the others had “found”. And eventually they asked about mine. And then it was basically said, “oh we can’t tell you the results”. I was eventually added to this secret site of “The Chosen”. And basically told, “oh your partner is the offspring/creation of THE BIG BAD” and there were all sorts of debates on what to do about it. I literally thought I was getting punked at first and these people are clearly taking this whole thing too far. No, these people all believed this. Oh and the best part, most of the people involved in this “chosen” group were in their mid 20s. Me being a depressed as fuck 16yo that just wanted something exciting in life ended up eating all this up. I felt special and chosen. I look back on it now and I’m like what a fucking idiot.

We were all taught from the three who could do the stuff I explained earlier how we can also learn to bond and communicate and see our partner. I had absolutely no progress. Eventually this stuff led to everyone in this “chosen” group getting a “special guardian spirit”. Again, I made no progress on this. And to the point where they made me feel special again, I was the only person who had the wrong “guardian spirit” and they eventually found my “real one”, more on this later.

These discussions moved from a forum site to a private skype chat room, and then further smaller private chat rooms. The movement to skype is where I started having some bad experiences. I gave a few of my “close” friends on the site my phone number, soon everyone had my number. And this happened to multiple people over the years. My own stupidity at the time.

This stuff continued as I finished high school. At the time, I still managed to maintain my social life with school friends, keep up my grades, etc. Got into college with a good scholarship in my dream field. And then I started to go downhill once I got to school. The longer this stuff went on, the more you were expected to be involved. Including being on skype calls all night. It slowly began consuming my life. I ended up not only with depression, but ending up with an ED that was tied to anxiety so I’d go days without eating. I was seeing things and hearing voices, which was highly encouraged because it meant things were working. I literally could not tell the difference of when I was asleep or awake. I honestly do not remember the majority of my freshman year of college. I had no real friends and was just barely scraping by grade-wise. And well, the academic year almost ended with me hanging from a pipe in my dorm.

I ended up running the site I started on as an admin after the original admin team left. And it was expected you do not mention any of the “secret” stuff on the main site. Over the years I know it became clear to the users not included that there were secrets in the background. And those who knew stuff would actively fuck with these users. And if I haven’t made it clear yet, there was a hierarchy to this whole secret group. And it was the original three who were mentioned at the beginning that were on top. And what they said was gospel. Whatever they claimed is what happened and whatever rules they had were the rules. But of course certain people could break the rules and get away with it.

This next part happened at some point during my freshman year and will be relevant again later on. This is the biggest TW section so skip if you have to. I had a user dox me. He had my home address and threatened to post it. He had sent it privately to a few other users as well that alerted me of this. His reasoning? I would not date him or say I loved him. He told me that he would come to my house, murder me, r*pe my dead body, because he is the only one who gets to have me. Another user got involved and called the cops. I do not know if anything ever came of this because I never spoke to anyone about it. I at the time had admin privileges on one of the sites so I banned him and blocked his IP and I blocked him on anything I could. And I continued doing this over the years. I was told I was a bad person for doing this because I did not understand him. This lead to a lot of the things in the above paragraph getting worse.

As this all continued, there were battles and casualties and everyone ended up with like 20 partners. And if you haven’t noticed I’ve stopped using the term digi.mon entirely in the past few paragraphs. That’s because oh they weren’t digi.mon. They were spirits/dimensional beings that took on a form we were comfortable with and we formed a bond with. And I kept going along with all of this because I was in too deep at this point. And obviously yes, this all made sense. So at some point during this time, my “spirit” went to sleep and a new one “awakened”. And I of course still went along with all this. The BIG BAD kept mutating into stronger forms and blah blah blah.

During my fall semester sophomore year, I joined theatre at my college and did tech. Honestly, one of the reasons I was able to begin breaking away from this. I started to get an actual friend group and have less time for these sites. But there was always a pull of “you have to be here”. You were expected to be on skype calls and/or active in chat.

Well, that all changed at the start of 2015. They wanted a deletion of all the other sites and they would have one site united under one belief system. I was not a huge fan of this and made this known, but also offered to help in the coding as that was a skill I had that no one else really had. It got out around that I was a cunt and a power hungry bitch and blah blah blah. If it was just that, I would probably not have left. No no no, I was accused of lying about the shit that that user said and did to me. Because he is such a nice guy that could never do that type of stuff. And unless I provided the receipts I was clearly an attention seeking liar that wanted to ruin his life. That was the straw. I fucking blacked out in a rage and attempted to delete some of the different websites, I blasted some of these people on their real facebooks, and then I deleted all of my accounts and blocked everyone and blocked their numbers.

After that, I started talking with other people that quit. I started enjoying my college life. And I tried to act like none of that stuff had happened. I distanced myself from those individuals that were active in the Digi.mon community. I stopped hearing the voices and seeing things. I started going to therapy. My road hasn’t been perfect, but I’ve come a long way since I got out of this stuff. Honestly going to meet up with one old member after covid is all clear cause we’ve known each other for over a decade now and its about time we finally meet in person.

So yeah, that’s my story. I know I jumped around a bit and thoughts might not be too clear, but I wanted to share the fucked up things that happen in the background of the digi.mon community. Did I have good times? Hell yeah. The Olive Garden incident still to this day is iconic. We played d&d oneshots sometimes. We had memes. We all watched xros and hunters together live. And I still have some good friends out of this. The most fascinating thing out of all of this is everyone from the community that I still am either in contact with or see them via social media had admitted over the years to suffer from some kind of mental illness and has come out as part of the LGBTQA+ community. My own conclusion is a lot of us got sucked in due to depression/escapism and just a feeling of not belonging. And being around people of similar age with similar interests just made things more bearable at times. It also made a lot of us very vulnerable to the manipulation that took place, whether it was intentional or just one big group delusion created by multiple mentally ill people. I call it a cult, but I'm sure people will disagree with me. Whatever you want to call it, it wasn't good for my mental health in the long run.

If this shit is still going on, I hope people aren’t letting it consume their lives. And I just wish the best for everyone even if some of the shit hurt me.

As I said up top, if you want me to elaborate on anything or have questions, I’m good with talking about stuff. If you know me IRL and are reading this and are like "RACHEL WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK" I owe you a drink and explanation. And of course it Is okay to reblog. This is one hell of a comeback post on this site, am I right?

#ray's rants #im back on this hellsite and im here to share bullshit

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cutegirlmayra · 4 years ago

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When your tired after a 16hr shift yesterday so you rant about Sonic and explain why aggressive writing vs. neutral writing helps with sharing ideas

Me and my online Sonic friend talking about Belle. (I’m skipping some dialogue throughout the chat, this was lazily put together lol)

WARNING: It’s long, and it’s a rant. So please note that I’m blatantly aware of how wrong my aggressive, sleep-deprived rant was and that I’m stating “DON’T PRESENT YOUR IDEAS LIKE THIS!” because this is not a healthy nor effective way of sharing ideas.

ALSO, ALL THE MENTIONS OF WHAT I BELIEVE MY FRIEND IS FEELING OR THINKING DURING MY RANT ARE ENTIRELY MY OPINON. If she tells me to delete something or change it I will without hesitation but I find it funny, as I look back, to insert what I think might be going on in her mind XD She might have been oblivious to me but I’ll get her thoughts and change anything if necessary.

It’s also how most trolls and antis and even some ‘not experienced writers’ write their ideas out, and it can be easily avoided by using Neutral Writing Methods. So this is a ‘don’t do this, but try this’ post. Enjoy my badly written, sleepy aggressive rant~<3 (Also, my friend gave me permission to share this lol)

Me: She could be for entertaining little kids. But we already have too many OCs, and they're not 'dying off' any time soon so...I smell a mini-series backup plan...and I don't like what that means for Sonic. And it is cute, sorry, my brain is off the hook right now, I'll keep things to myself cause you may not like what I'm predicting and I'm getting sad thinking about it ;-; so, want to be wrong.

(Friend mentioned “Tinker Bell” spin on name.)

That's precious, but can I get a link to the reference sheet plz? Reference sheets can tell a lot about a chara's functionality if you compare it to the 'needs' of the casts. it can help predict their role. I think she's meant to help but also entertain the kids, maybe planted with a secret. Her goal could be to come back to Mr. Tinker but Eggman abuses that and tricks her into a new robot. I got a weird theory about her but I'll just say that she's probably gonna go a bit dark. But be cute and make the audience go, "Aww, poor thing! She's a cinnamon roll" at first, wonder if they'll equip her with 'happy backstory, tragic ending' kinda thing to switch the usual 'tragic backstory happy ending' but I feel this is a tragic character meant to pull emotion out.

(Friend understands my concerns but mentions there hasn’t been a ‘Bad’ Oc for the comic)

No one sets out to create a 'bad character' especially professional writers like these guys. But what makes a character 'bad' is if you ruin or oversaturate their purposes. If she's a main character that over-shines others with too much story then the audience feels 'betrayed' because they want that screen time for the main casts to express themselves and shine through. That's just an example. When working with IPs like Sonic casts, you HAVE to remember the fanbase is expecting things Do you like my OCs? be honest lol Not from my prompts. There's a specific way to handle a OC that helps the main cast shine and reveals their characters more. AU Ocs help Canon Characters in many ways.

(Friend admits they have not seen my OCs in some of my fanfictions, they’ve only really read my prompts.)

Oh, well, some of my fanfictions have OCs, not Lavinya, she's just a mascot. My Sonic OC that retried XD Sorry, I'm misspelling a lot but I hope you don't mind, my spellcheck sucks and I've given up on it lol Oh, so you don't know Harmony, Ol'Wizzy, and Data?Or the Metal Series? Well, there are specific Ocs that my readers like and they express/compliment the canon characters to where even though they're a main character, they don't intervene with the Main Cast's goals. They actually help. Then everything I'm gonna say won't have much merit so I'll just focus on waiting to see if my predictions for Sonic IDW will come true, but I really hope they don't do what it looks like they strategically might be pulling... I hate SEGA marketing-

(The beginning of my aggressive rant, please note that I’m not thinking about my image and am writing tired and lazy. This is an example of how NOT to express your opinions in negative ways. It doesn’t influence good at all.)

Their ploys are outdated and frankly, do not work for their IPs market. They target the wrong age group, they have no idea how to organize themselves, and they don't have a leading 'elder' so to speak (just a professional among them) to make good calls. So you have young adults (not super professionals, this might be their first real company job) trying to target internet culture and failing their IPs. They're doing outdated Nintendo tactics that only worked for NINTENDO! Also some other companies that have DIED so why are you copying their marketing strats!? stop! lol

Friend: Did you study marketing because this entire convo kinda flew over my head in terms of understanding (This should have indicated to me that my words were coming off too factual and had too many ‘jargons’ going on. I was losing my ‘reader’ through my rant, but my tired brain would not cease!)

Sonic's trying to morph into something he's not and they're following outdated college course books and it's not gonna help... they're leading Sonic further down and the creators in japan have no power cause all the power is in the stock holders who are stupid money-hungry americans who have lost faith in American SEGA leading SEGA of Japan to move on to other things

Friend: mostly just got you don’t like the marketing (Huge red flag! This means my friend is starting to tune my info out, it’s because I’m presenting my ideas in a slightly aggressive writing style. There are trigger words here that lead an reader to start doubting you. This is why, in most of my answer posts, I make sure to write Neutral writing methods, but I’ll mention that more after my rant lol XP)

It's just bad. Lol I have a Frankenstein degree, (Now I’m justifying myself, which was caused by my aggressive approach. If I simply stated this in a more ‘neutral writing method’ then I wouldn’t have to worry about creditability claims because I’m not trying to sell my idea as the high authority on it.) which means I have knowledge on many different fields. I never took a fully -dedicated- 'marketing class' I took a lot of different communication classes that went to my overall major. One was directly about how you present, sell, and look at marketing tactics. So I have my fingers in many different fields, my major was "Creative Writing for Fiction and Film with an Emphasis in Video Production and a Cluster in Theatre Arts." So I can be on camera, off camera, post and pre production, creative table and actual filming. Does that make sense? (I’m not fully awake to realize what I’m writing, but it’s clear at this point I’m starting to wake up and realize I’m ranting and tossing my ideals of how to present ideas out the window, but let’s watch my follies and learn from them, shall we?) I have theories on what SEGA is going to do, and I have my worries because it's all outdated. It worked for older companies but those companies also targeted a varying audience, which SEGA refuses to see themselves as for a 'teenage audience' which is exactly why they boomed in the 90s. Their target audience is now 20s.

Friend: There are Kids who also like Sonic, even if they don’t play the games though. (Due to my aggressive tactics from not thinking clearly about, not just the what, but the HOW I’m writing, it has turned my friend into a ‘contrasting neutrality’ which is amazing by the way that she did this! She noticed my writing was turning aggressively ranting, and being my friend, didn’t want to be rude about what she was noticing. -I’m guessing lol- so instead, she took the commentary approach, which is to state the good as well. This is a terrible position to put your reader into, and you should make sure to always have good examples and good praise mixed in to contrast any opposing or aggressive statements you ever make. -though you should avoid aggressive writing at all times- Sadly, this does put the reader, in this case my friend, in a very vulnerable position. It leaves them open for attack... but thankfully, she’s a wonderful friend and had trust that I wouldn’t hurt her on her counter-follow-up.)

So instead of using their 40 to 50 year old charts, start with looking at early millennial trends and desires. They tried for 'angst' to 'adultify' Sonic but it busted because we are STICKLERS for animation. Because their story was so scrapped together and had no actual character depth, motivation, or even emotional growth to develop for future game lore, they went for the 'easy made game' (Easy baked oven quote lol that’s just mean XD) We loved the trailer, it was well made, but they threw their animators elsewhere and made the programmers (WHO BLANATLY ADMIT THEY DONT KNOW HOW TO DO STORY/GRAPHICS) and made them do things they aren't trained in. Those micro-head movements and mouths took them A LONG TIME to figure out.

(My friend is now agreeing with me several times through my rant. This is a tactic that is used as ‘avoidance’ but also for ‘appeasement’. She’s probably tuned out by now, but respects what I’m saying but is also incredulous at it as well. It’s fair, I’ve cornered her into my sleepy-time rant, and being the lovable woman that she is, she is simply waiting for me to realize my follies lolol I wish she would have told me but I think she knew I was beyond ‘logical reasoning’ at this point and was just letting me get it all out lolol What a good friend TDT)

Animation can't be learned that fast AND expect them to program a game AT THE SAME TIME. Sonic Forces was a 'split up SEGA' trying to get those who survived and said, "Yeah, I'll stay in this job." to do things that THEY AREN'T EVEN TRAINED IN. you put a game programmer on animation and some other stuff they didn't know what to do with and expect it be a top-notch seller.

Friend: (in more attempts to join in and be a ‘participant’ of the conversation I’m clearly dominating -MY ABSOLUTE BAD- she tried to engage normal conversation flow into the discussion again. At this point, she probably did notice I wasn’t my usual self, and just decided to play along and enjoy the ride lolol I’m just guessing this tho, but it’s a good chance to reflect on what ‘wrongs’ I was doing and what ‘rights’ she was doing during this situation ;)b) My big issue with SEGA is that they rush everything. A lot of things would’ve been better if they had the proper time.

That was resolved actually.

Friend: Oh? It was? (Although this looks like an encouragement, it’s actually just another avoidance tactic to help me ‘get the venting out’ but it’s clear she’s not fully onboard anymore. When you write to discuss, you have to leave room for other’s opinions to shine through as well. Healthy conversation doesn’t mean forcing the other person to comply to you. A lot of this is educated guess based on past research, she knows this, and it’s clear she’s got her own research. Please remember to never shoot someone down when they try to engage you in your conversations. But again, this is the ‘don’t do this’ and me upset at my tired self for not waking up fast enough to contemplate how I was coming across in my wordings. Let’s continue to investigate and dissect the train wreck, shall we?)

That was an issue a few years ago but SEGA is taking their time, it's just that they can't organize themselves and hire the right professionals. They have old tactics, they have rookies that aren't 'Fresh Blood with professionalism' like they need. They don't need an old fart who knows his stuff, they need a new guy who is dedicated and passionate about their company who will remain there, learn them in and out, and knows his stuff SPECIFICALLY for the things SEGA needs. You have to grow that. You have to hire a very talented and young spunky and fresh professional, have him work with you for 10-15 years, and start training others. But SEGA is already recognized as a 'established' company.

(Friend is still agreeing with me, but is aware of my way of presenting it isn’t “As nice as I usually present it” so she starts mentioning the symptoms of Japanese Work Culture. A wonderful, insightful point to mention! But let’s see how I butcher this as well...)

It's not Japan though! (Again, shutting her down. Tsk tsk, sleepy me. Wake up, you lazy bum.) They won't let Japan interfere! They're all really rude to japan actually. The guys in charge, anyway. We all respect the officials, but SEGA of America people just want results. They are just funders, they don't actually work the company.

Friend: So you blame them for everything? (She’s trying to help me see that my writing is coming off as ‘hate’ which is because of my aggressive writing follies I’m doing so bluntly. Let’s please all admire my friend’s patience as she lets me rant and kindly waits for me to realize how bad I’m handling my 16 hr shift from yesterday lolol)

Look, business is really unfair, and I get that, but if I have to rant (I’m starting to wake up more, oh goodie.) I'd say they really need to humble themselves and ask Japan to please take ownership again. They kicked out people due to a money crisis but they need a game that will be 'safe to secure money but get enough excited momentum to help us push on and continue.' which isn't Japan's strategy usually. Japan likes risks, they also like money too. They trust America too much (especially in the beginning) because America is a HUGE consumer. For the world in fact. But I think they sacrificed too much for the company (common in Japan) and trusted America too much in making decisions. The officials are too nice to say that America screwed them over because America wanted full control. Well guess what? They have too much control now and their product is sinking..

Friend: You’ve got a lot of fire about this topic. (After I completely disregarded reading her follows-ups and continued to rant, my unconditionally kind friend finally threw in the towel, realizing I was no where near my usually ‘present’ self and was probably just flopped back in her chair smiling at my idiocy of not understanding her kind and subtly hints.) Go ahead and rant it out. (BOOM! Obvious right!? I should have corrected myself but at this point, I was writing like wild fire with droopy, waking up eyes and didn’t even read it during my long paragraphs...)

Sonic won't ever fade away due to it's fans, but the company is struggling to figure itself out for YEARS now. I just worry what they plan to do next. But I have a theory that they are really putting the next game in Japan's hands, a lot of activity is happening in SEGA of Japan, and they're spending WAY MORE TIME on the next installment of Modern Sonic (or Classic, still unsure which one it is yet.) I really think they need a remake game to give them profit, then use that profit for their next big installment. But so far, I think they are working on a game BUT corona might have effected production so I'm sure they are working but I'm concerned if Corona helped manage 'time and quality' or is helping to ruin it...That I can't investigate yet :( I just wish for the best (I’M FINALLY WAKING UP FULLY AS I STOP AND REALIZE-) Sorry for my rant! My theory talk showed through and I don't usually like doing that so forgive me. I'm tired and that's why T-T

Friend: It’s cool we all need to rant sometimes. (My friend’s going to make it to Heaven TwT she’s so kind.)

(Then I profusely apologized a billion times cause I realize how badly this all went down. lol)

(But the terror hasn’t ended... she mentioned some youtube videos mentioning other opinions as well. -which I’m usually cautious of cause some of them can be fanon.-)

OHhhh did he mention the arcade crash??? the literal WORST event in SEGA history??? That's literally where they sank the titanic, SEGA has never recovered from selling off their stocks. (I’M BACK AT IT AGAIN. -facepalm-) Shareholders are everything now and it's the biggest loss ever. Also, the problem is that kids don't play the games, (Rereading my follies and wanting to answer but still only just waking up...) but SEGA can't figure out why they like the characters and can't seem to take the FREAKIN' TIME to learn their lore. (Overwhelming the conversation again.) My easy steps: Re-establish Sonic lore CANONLY AND CORRECTLY, Re-gather the Japanese Officials original plans and notes, guides and study art, Re-make some popular games with the most details on Animation, Fluidity of motion graphics, and with modern Technology incorporated into the game. Once that is accomplished, they will have enough money to then- Create a continuity. Only with a flowing story and relevant past lore can they start moving forward. Animation will target their audience, Story and character re-established arcs will bring nostalgia and new blood to the field of their games, and then Japan's influences will keep it authentic for the continuities so we don't have fandom mixing with canon NEARLY AS BADLY as before anymore. Ugh, it does matter their sales, but I literally bought a book on the history of SEGA, and read a really compelling history article about more then just the Console Wars... I know SEGA has survived literally the edge of extinction on multiple fronts, but someone needs to take charge of their Sonic branch, and it's... it's just too outdated. kk, sorry for the rant.

Friend: (After being multiple times ignored, even after my brief moment of clarity, is still an angel. Frustrated, maybe, but an angel.) And your steps sound really good. Also mostly just listen to his vids if you ever do. It’s ok we all need to rant. (THE WORLD DOESN’T DESERVE THIS GURL T-T)

I'm tired so my 'angry' is showing and it's not professional XD do you mind if I post my rant? lol Actually, no. (Realize how awfully I delivered my ideas, this is where I begin to see my errors and where the clarity comes into play. -we all have our off days lol- )

Friend: Go for it

I want to but it's too aggressive. I'm too lazy to rewrite it out so I'll just save that for another day XD You got a rare treat

Friend: (This is actually interesting and fascinating to her. But she realized then that I finally did see my error.) Concerned you’ll get aggressive responses back?

Honest opinion is sometimes too blunt and I need to be careful about that

Friend: I mean it’s always good to try and get most of the anger out so you seem more professional (Saint. Literally. A saint. She’s puts up with too much of my crap XD)

That, and also the war of 'But this is Cutegirlmayra? She's so sweet and constantly puts her answers in supportive, positive lights so that if SEGA were to see it, they would feel empowered to try it instead of threatened and throw it off as hate or something unprofessional.' I have an image too. I can't post something super aggressive or I'll lose trust. You're right.

Friend: I’m glad you put a lot of thought into everything you post

I apologize for it tho T-T I didn't mean to dominate with such opinions...lol I worry who I influence, you know?

Friend: Most people don’t and trust me they get into trouble cause of it. And yeah.

I don't want to create trolls or heated arguments. I want to teach people they can safely express an idea without using such awful communication. Exactly, it's professional fanism. lol Positive writing is what companies and their employees actually read. (I’m almost fully awake now lol, realizing my blunder and starting to explain why I was in the wrong. Good on me, pat on the back, admitting I was coming off as aggressive is the first step to changing and getting better lolol Also, I’m including her more, and I’m saying “You’re right.” and she’s going “And yeah.” which is a indicator that the conversation is slowly returning to an enjoyable and healthy one. ;w; happy endings lol) That's why I skip the aggressive stuff, even if it's passive, I write in a neutral setting so everyone feels safe to read, even someone who works at SEGA.

Friend: (Mentions some nintendo youtuber rant and also news as well, then says-) It was honestly very professional sounding and not rude. (MY HEART, YOU KNEW THAT WAS AN AGGRESSIVE RANT lololol So nice to me TDT)

Lol you had to have seen how slightly aggressive it was tho. (I’M CALLING YOUR BLUFF, BESTIE lol) You literally asked, "You blame America for it?" which is not always true but semi-true. They were way too prideful (Aggressive word) and haughty (Still aggressive terminology) about their success in other Japanese products that they wanted to completely change Sonic to their own wishes, pushing out Japan's creative "licenses" (I use this word loosely, and this gives a slightly aggressive feel but is also more dumbed down so it's more 'passionate' than just aggressive)

Friend: Yeah I saw it was slightly aggressive (Either is starting to realize it or at last admitting it now that I am fully aware of how I was coming across. I also used indicators to show what words were aggressive to help illustrate my point. This is showing I’m much more awake now :)b)

Gotta use those neutral tactics or no one will feel comfortable just reading your idea and instead, will constantly look for a place to intercept with aggression back, whether they agree or not, they're looking for ways to self-insert their aggression if you are also aggressive. I can't write something that doesn't somewhat support and uplift SEGA of America. Why? Because like I said, they literally have survived EVERYTHING and have stuck around. Without them, there wouldn't be an American branch and the money issue would have ended SEGA. Some might say, "But they've done so much harm than good! Why is the money thing such a thing to be praised for?" But it's huge, it's so big, it kinda does offset the wrongs. (Now I’m doing the healthy thing, doubling back and mentioning the good to try and recover. The damage may be done, but she did recommend some videos for me and was polite, so I’m just trying to smooth things over and leave on a ‘wrapped up’ conclusion. But... I should have just left it there in all honesty xD Some things you can’t double-back and correct lol) America is a great business-influenced mindset. None of us would be fans of Sonic without them.

(Friend continues to agree but realizes I may slip into ranting again. She just asks if I can watch the videos.)

America does have it's advantages in some fields and areas, but their biggest most redeeming quality is that they saved SEGA which gave us our biggest love and obsession: Sonic. Now, my usage in that writing was still off neutral, but combined with the slightly aggressive statements, made a GREAT contrast. It's still slightly praising

Friend: And they stopped Japan from giving him a human girlfriend right away.

Me: Exactly.

Friend: I will always thank them for that. (She’s still a sweetheart, working herself into the conversation so it stays healthy. lol Such amazing follow-ups too!)

So although I don't like what's happening, I'm also grateful... to a degree lol We need SEGA of America, which is why I think Japan just ignores them now lolol they know they owe them a lot.

(Friend mentions videos and as I go to save them to my ‘watch later’ sees that one of them is about Nintendo.)

Yeeeahhh I've noticed that Nintendo is starting to trail into 'cash grab' tactics and that's sickening (MORE AGGRESSIVE WORDING??? HAVE YOU NOT LEARNED YOUR LESSON CHILD?! It takes time to fully wake up lolol) cause before, I literally thought, "Nintendo can do no wrong" their marketing was ON POINT! but the stuff they said about Peach and now... I think new, unprofessional blood (like SEGA) has entered Nintendo and the older guys are either 'training' or 'retired to other ventures'. Nintendo is having it's own 'we used to not be prideful but now we're getting a little too pompous (Another aggressive wording... This can easily trigger people to comment with further aggression either against you or for you, but no aggression is the ideal. Which is continuing to show my lack of remaining conscious lol) about ourselves' and they're starting to act like Disney before their big crash. Disney also had 'limited time offers' with their VHS movies. Now, Nintendo is doing that. They'll make money, but at what cost? When you lose your costumer's trust...

Friend: And yeah the 35th Mario thing immediately reminded me of the Disney vault

Me: Yep. I'm worried for Nintendo. Don't get me wrong! Disney is really good with money grabs, but they... they also act high and mighty (More aggressive statements, wake up, darn it!!!) and their fanbase literally calls them 'an empire' so the fan-trust is gone. That makes you 'lame/outdated' and fans begin to look for 'what's cool?' instead.

(Friend is now re-realizing I’m ‘in and out’ so is trying to use a effective avoidance tactic by asking about different things to help my ranting fully stop.)

Sorry, I'm tired, I get on these rants and I don't mean too. (Trying to shake myself awake again.) I'm sorry.

So we returned to a healthy conversation, but I hope this interesting insight has revealed how to and what not to do about Aggressive Writing. Always stick to Neutral writing if you can, putting in a compelling counter-argument. In this aggressive writing demo, you saw that I tried to cover up my follies by saying counter-praise, but praise writing can be just as bad as aggressive writing. Passive writing can sometimes be annoying (aggressive word choice) too if you come off as disinterested or uncaring, which can still result in negative comments coming at you, or someone overly praising in their writings.

This has been all I’m showing you cause it’s kinda embarrassing ^^; but I hope it helps you in what ‘not to do’ while writing your ideas out :)b

Learn from my sleepy-time mistakes! lol

#cutegirlmayra #aggressive writing #what not to do #sonic #nintendo #marketing #sega #commentary #rant writing #an example to help teach #sonic the hedgehog #sonic idw #sonic comic #sonic rant

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psycho-slytherin · 5 years ago

Text

Strangers ch. 42

Yoongi confronts your attacker, and you awaken from one nightmare into another.

Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Actress!Reader

Word count: 1.9k

Genre: fluff, angst, idfk

|mlist|

<–– Prev Next ––>

“What? Who the fuck are you? Get out of my house before I call the police!” The redhead reaches for the door in an attempt to close it, but Yoongi’s hold is too strong. He’s been waiting for this moment for two weeks– and he won’t let the opportunity slip away.

“You don’t know me, Seoyeon? And here I thought you were a fan.” With his free hand, Yoongi reaches up and pulls down his mask. Seoyeon’s sneer falls in an instant, replaced with the look of utter shock and adoration that Yoongi knows so well.

“Yoon-Suga? Wait, oh- oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my-” Seoyeon’s eyes roll up into her head and she keels over backwards, hitting the floor with a heavy thump.

Well, that was quick. Y/n fainted too, Yoongi remembers, when she first saw him. Looking at the fallen girl, part of Yoongi wants to feel sympathy for her. After all, she’s a fan.

But then he remembers Y/n shaking as she told Yoongi what the woman in front of him had done to her. He remembers every time he saw his friend flinch at a light breeze, the tremor in her voice when she explained that scar on her leg, and his own fear at finding Y/n’s bloody coat in the river.

All because of her. And so Yoongi lets himself into the house, quietly closing the door behind him as he waits for her to wake up.

It had taken D two weeks to find Kang Seoyeon’s name and address from nothing more than the photo Yoongi had gotten off of Lisa’s laptop. Only now, as he stares at the woman’s motionless frame, Yoongi wonders if she really could have been capable of hurting Y/n like that. She’s pretty, petite, and vaguely reminds Yoongi of a pixie.

Another minute passes before Seoyeon begins to shift groggily. “Wha…”

“I’m not helping you up,” Yoongi says shortly.

Seoyeon’s head snaps up, her piercing eyes capturing Yoongi’s own. “Suga. Suga! It really wasn’t a dream?” She scrambles to her feet, reaching forward, and Yoongi suddenly feels as though he’s about to be eaten alive.

“I knew it,” Seoyeon whispers reverently. “Cap said you’d come to me. We’re meant to be.”

Y/n’s right– she’s psycho.

Yoongi feels darkness pooling in his heart, and loathing bubbling to the surface. “I don’t care what you think is meant to be. But there’s someone I do care about– and you deserve to rot in prison for what you did to her.”

“I- what… oh!” Seoyeon lowers her arms, an eerie smile growing on her face, much too wide to seem genuine. “You mean Y/n?”

Yoongi growls– a low, animalistic rumble– as he takes a step closer. “You tried to kill her.”

“But- ah,” Seoyeon seems to wince at the cold fury in his voice. Good. “I did it to protect you! Y/n thinks you belong to her, but you don’t!” Faster than Yoongi can react, Seoyeon’s hands shoot out and grab Yoongi’s shoulders with a grip forceful enough to hurt, the smile never leaving her face. “You belong to me, to us, Suga! To ARMYs!”

Shit. She’s stronger than he expected. But perhaps…

“Don’t. Touch. Me.” Yoongi says, lacing a note of authority into his tone. Unbelievably, Seoyeon’s grip loosens, and Yoongi uses the opportunity to push her hands away from him.

I don’t belong to anyone,” Yoongi continues forcefully, watching Seoyeon seem to shrink before him. “And nothing gives you the right to hurt her!”

Seoyeon pauses, and the house is dead silent for an eternal minute. “Nothing?” She begins snickering– quietly at first, but soon enough she doubles over with laughter. “You really don’t know what’s going to happen to your pretty little girlfriend, do you?”

It’s as though Yoongi’s blood has turned to ice. “What?”

“Ooh, you don’t know! Well, Cap said not to say…” Seoyeon pretends to think.

Yoongi grinds his teeth together in frustration; he knows he’s being baited, but if Y/n’s in danger… “Tell me.”

Seoyeon’s eyes are blown out as she stares at Yoongi, licking her lips. “I’d consider it a favor. I’d be willing to do you a lot of favors, you know. I’m… very good at favors.”

Yoongi’s stomach lurches. He doesn’t want to know what Seoyeon would do to him. “Don’t give me more reasons to call the cops. I could have you arrested.”

Seoyeon laughs again. “For what?”

“Attempted murder isn’t enough?” Yoongi fires back. “You nearly killed Y/n, you bi-”

“There’s no evidence. No one saw anything– I’m untouchable.” Seoyeon advances menacingly. “But you know who isn’t? Y/n.”

Yoongi opens his mouth to– he’s not sure; Question? Yell? Threaten?– when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He winces, unwilling to tear his eyes from the predator before him. Still, it could be Y/n– and Yoongi’s been worrying over her condition. He places himself between Seoyeon and the door before answering his phone, eyes never leaving hers.

“Yes?”

“Yo, Gloss, that girl you got me tracking down with the shitty dye job?”

Oh, it’s just his old friend. “D, I’m busy, let me call you later.”

“Nah, man, you gotta hear this. You’re gonna like it.”

Seoyeon stands motionless before him. Yoongi’s time before his driver bursts in is almost up and he hasn’t gotten a confession. “Fine. What is it?”

“Remember that photo of you and your girl that went viral a while back?”

How could he forget? The infamous picture from that night got him and Y/n into the whole publicity mess and changed their relationship forever.

“I was tracking Seoyeon’s IP address and digging through her socials… dude, the original photo came from one of her accounts.”

Yoongi’s blood turns to ice as D continues: “A bunch of these ARMY girls have backup accounts, and this one’s hers. You’ve got a stalker, my man.”

Could it be true? Had Kang Seoyeon followed Yoongi to the hospital and found Y/n? Were her injuries and trauma his fault?

Yoongi swallows, feeling the wave of anxiety almost drown him before he pushes it away. Not now.

“Thanks for letting me know,” he manages.

“No worries. Yo, what’s wrong? Are you-” Beep. Yoongi hangs up and shoves the phone into his pocket. “Now, where were we? Oh, right. You were going to tell me everything you know about Y/n and anyone that could hurt her.”

Seoyeon laughs, a pitched, wild noise. “Excuse me? Who said I’d tell you anything?”

Yoongi barely has to lean forward until he’s so close that Seoyeon needs to tilt her head up to look at him. “I did.”

Yoongi can hear her breath catch, practically seeing the wheels turning in her head. If she’s truly as obsessive as he thinks she is…

After a pause, Seoyeon grins. “Fine. Cap’s gonna hate me, but fine. I’ll tell you everything, and just in case you think I’m bullshitting, I’ll show you I mean business… for a price.”

Yoongi blinks. Is she bluffing? Could Y/n really be in danger? Am I in danger too?

“So? What’ll it be?”

Y/n. It’s for Y/n. But is it worth it?

~~~

“Help! Help me!” A garbled, genderless voice yells.

“I’m trying!” You cry, running through the empty streets. The voice echoes around every corner. “Tell me where you are! I don’t know how to help you!”Suddenly you trip, falling hard. The pavement has turned into your bed, your legs tangled in the sheets.

“No one needs help from a traitor,” the same voice says from inside your head. “A liar.”

You struggle to rise, but your mattress seems to envelop you, pulling you in, and instead of soft sheets and down you’re surrounded by ice, unable to find purchase.

“I’m not a liar!” You scream, scrabbling for grip as the ice rises past your shoulders. Goosebumps erupt on your flesh and you begin shivering violently, the only movement the ice will allow. “T-t-tell me ho-w to f-find you!”

“Find me?” The ice finishes swallowing you whole, the gaping chasm closing above your head. You know you shouldn’t be able to breathe but your chest still rises and falls with the desperate action. “All you have to do… is look in a mirror.” The ice beneath your feet disappears and you’re dropped into the yawning darkness. You blink and the area is suddenly flooded with light. You’re in a jail cell, empty except for a large mirror. You feel something dry and sweet in your mouth, and when you glance at the mirror…

Lisa stares back at you, a pastry between her teeth. You spit it out, reaching forward. Lisa mirrors you, her hand outstretched.

“Where are you?” You murmur, watching as your words escape Lisa’s mouth. Suddenly her lips in the mirror curl into a smirk.

“I’m right in front of you. I always have been.”

“No!” Your eyes fly open, your heart thundering. You clutch at your chest, feeling as though the hand is holding your very being from falling to pieces. Fumbling for your phone, you wince at the bright screen before noticing the time. 4:00– well, it’s longer than you’ve managed to sleep all week. You groan at yet another nightmare, falling back onto your pillow with a sense of defeat. You hate this fear within you, but what can you do? Lisa’s gone and the redhead may have gotten to her. The detective told you not to worry, but how can you not worry? And now your mom is cutting you off, and you might have to drop out, and Lisa is gone, and it seems like the only constant left in your life is Yoongi.

Yoongi. You chuckle hollowly, falling back onto your pillow. He’s the least consistent person you know, but at least he’s always been there for you.

Ignoring your stomach’s rumbling protests, you close your eyes and turn over, praying sleep takes you again.

And take you it does– sweet, dreamless sleep captures you and when you blearily awake again it’s with sunlight streaming through your windows. It must be late in the morning already. Your phone buzzes obnoxiously with what sound like dozens of notifications.

Maybe I should just delete Twitter, you muse defeatedly as you flip over your phone, scrolling mindlessly through your mentions. Right away, you notice something strange:

@bangtan_thotyeondan: yo I hated on @yourname at first but tbh that was a brutal move by #SUGA :(

@armyteez23: I told @queerqueen this would happen! @yourname deserves better umu

@captainkookie21: I told you @BTS_twt @yourname

@dduddudude: Y’all feeling bad for @yourname when the bitch had it coming all along

@bangtan-news: (1/3)BREAKING! #SUGA announces the relationship with @yourname is OVER! A thread:

@bangtan-news: (2/3)In an exclusive interview, #SUGA discussed the break from @yourname and his new girlfriend, @seoyeonnie-loves-bts!

@bangtan-news: (3/3) @yourname has not released a statement on the situation. Stay tuned!

Your jaw drops. The relationship is over? New girlfriend? What... what happened? You click on the linked profile and check @seoyeonnie-loves-bts’s most recent post– it’s just a photo with a heart caption.

You suddenly feel sick. The- it- it’s…

“You.” You whisper, all blood draining from your face. “You. And…”

The photo is of a beautiful redheaded girl. Her. She’s beaming, fingers interlaced with those of a very familiar man.

You stare into Yoongi’s eyes in the photo, trying desperately to see something that isn’t there. You struggle for a second to form words, barely able to breathe. “You.”

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localkatshelter · 4 years ago

Text

Okame’s Underbelly: Anticipation |1st|

(Shinso x OC)

Katsumi's POV (localvillageidiot#0870) and Shinso's POV (hecker#8339)

Summary:

Two people with a common passion meet unexpectedly during one of Shinso's lowest moments. He'd like to forget it ever happened but Katsumi has her own reasons for not letting it go. Through push and pull, they struggle to understand one another, regardless they can't keep away from each other.

Preview:

| How long have I been staring at myself in the fucking mirror? My eyes look so dead...but don’t they always. I realized the extra lifelessness wasn’t due to my overall apathy or shitty eyeliner; it was due to them being red and puffy. That’s no good. I hurriedly searched through the cabinet for my eye drops. They were usually used for another purpose, but today, they’ll be used to disguise the fact that I had been crying. |

(Katsumi's POV)

My head fell forward for the millionth time as I struggled to stay awake for the last five minutes of my summer remedial science lab. Why does science have to be so boring? This fucking professor always lectures for the full three hours too. How could someone possibly have this much to say about chlorophyll? All I could do was watch the clock tick by until, finally, the class was dismissed. I gathered my things as quickly as possible and headed towards my dorm building. Throwing my things onto the kitchen table, I immediately started to strip and headed towards the bathroom. The silver lining in having to come to campus in the summer for my remedial class? Getting to move in early and having the whole suite to myself. I showered quickly and put on my typical Friday night attire: some broken-in mom jeans that I embroidered and had a friend paint on paired with a comfortable faded band t-shirt I had stolen from a partner I had long forgotten the name of, tucked and held in place with some old belt I fished out of a Good Will bin a few years ago. I hummed as I put on some clear lipgloss and touched up my hair. Perfect. I made sure to set out some dinner for my fat cat who was hiding somewhere in my bedroom, likely in my sheets. For a supposed emotional support animal, I never saw much of her unless she was in the mood to cuddle, which was usually at night.

“Harley, I’m going out. I’ll be back.” I called out.

She meowed from the bed in response. I grabbed my things from the table and tossed them into my bedroom before popping my headphones in and heading out the door. I was on my way to the only place that made my summer Fridays bearable: The Squeaky Wheelhouse.

After a short while, I walked up to a dark and disheveled, yet oddly charming, building. This was my hidden gem, the highlight of my college career, a place where artists gathered to share their work and critique the world around them without fear. Friday nights were open mic nights for spoken word poetry, which I didn’t think I would like until I heard Okame perform. Their words about the plights of the world of heroism and comic book celebrities brought to life really resonated with me. Most of their pieces were critiques on how heroes navigate their jobs and how they are treated by the government, the people, and each other. I admired the way they captured the duality of appreciating heroes for what they are while also not feeling a need to bow to them as if they were gods. It felt so real to me, especially because around the same time I first heard their work, I had started my photojournalism blog on a similar topic. It was really just a love project at first. I would take pictures of heroes in the heat of battle and use them to show how human they really are. Honestly, I'm not even sure if it was me or my quirk that had the idea first. My hyperempathology quirk sometimes had a mind of its own. It was always dragging me into situations that I had no business being in. I always ended up manipulating someone's emotions to make them feel better, which had positive and negative results. On the one hand, I was glad that I could make someone feel better. On the other hand, it made me feel like shit because not only did I manipulate someone’s emotions without permission; I also absorbed the negative emotions I had alleviated. In a strange sense, the blog was my own way of alleviating myself of what I had alleviated. I had never expected it to take off either, but there I was, a month later, still taking pictures of heroes in their most desperate and vulnerable state in an effort to humanize them. I kept at it because, well, they are people after all. They aren’t gods, they have emotions, but the way the media and the government build a hero’s image doesn’t allow for much expression. It’s unfair to them; it's as if they aren't allowed to be people anymore. I had always thought I was alone in that, but apparently, I’m not. My blog has a pretty decent following now, which I am super proud of. Although I’m pretty sure that a lot of people in the hero community despise or at least dislike me for basically being renegade paparazzi.

Oh well. No one knows it’s me who runs the blog. The closest anyone has ever gotten was when someone traced my IP address back to the college campus, but Kyoto University has upwards of 22,000 students enrolled. There’s no way someone would be able to find me out as long as I don’t use my personal electronics to post. Okame had also become a popular performer at the Wheelhouse and had a sort of residency time slot on Friday nights. It was weird, but I was proud of them too. I felt like we were similar, almost connected by our mutual views and creative outlets. On top of that, they used a pseudonym and a ghost performer just like I used a pen name and hid my IP address for my work. All of the aligning characteristics made me think we would get along if we ever met, but that’ll probably never happen.

I walked into the building, waving to the Friday night staff that I had gotten to know over the summer. I took a seat on a comfortable looking armchair near the back corner of the main room that had a decent view of the small performance stage. I opened up a book that I brought with me to read until the performances started. I ordered a large mint tea and settled in, anticipating Okame’s latest insight.

(Shinso's POV)

I had bitten my lips raw at this point. There’s no way it’s actually over. We’ve broken up so many times before, and we’ve always managed to hash it out. But this time felt different. She wasn’t returning my texts with curt responses. She wasn’t posting about me subliminally on her social media to piss me off. She didn’t show up at my house with the gifts I had given her and dramatically throw them at me. No angry voicemails. No tears. No nothing. The strangest part was that her last text wished me well, even though I ended it this time around. All of it almost felt like a real goodbye. But still, there’s no way.

I had to talk to her tonight to make sure. Throughout our whole relationship, despite our arguing, we never missed a Friday at The Squeaky Wheelhouse. That was our way to ease the stress from the strife of the week prior. No matter how mad we were, we would still begrudgingly sit together and enjoy the show. By the end of the night, we would always manage to soften towards each other once again. Even if my piece of the week was bitterly aimed at her, she still respected me enough to put my voice out there and perform it for me. That’s what I loved about her. She knew attention made me squeamish and vulnerability was definitely not my favorite pastime. I shared the document that contained today's piece with her. It was an apology. She could barely squeeze those out of me normally, so she had to know I was deadly serious this time around. I tried not to envision her reaction or dwell on whether or not she would even accept my apology because it made me so anxious that I wanted to jump out of my skin.

How long have I been staring at myself in the fucking mirror? My eyes look so dead...but don’t they always. I realized the extra lifelessness wasn’t due to my overall apathy or shitty eyeliner; it was due to them being red and puffy. That’s no good. I hurriedly searched through the cabinet for my eyedrops. They were usually used for another purpose, but today, they’ll be used to disguise the fact that I had been crying. Save those tears for later, Shinso. She’s seen me cry even less than she’s heard me apologize. Numbness was the best blanket I’ve ever had. But tonight, I’ll avoid covering myself up. I need to show her that I care because I’m known to fucking suck at it. After I applied the drops, I roughly ran my fingers through my torturously messy violet mane, exhaling heavily. I tried to dress up a little this Friday. I know it’s trivial, but I want to be my best for her tonight. My outfit was made up of my typical dark colors, but I dressed it up with a black jean jacket, chelsea boots, and a few bulky rings that she gifted me but were too cumbersome to actually wear. What makes them even more annoying is that I’ve been fiddling with them all evening to distract myself, and let me tell you, it’s not working. I have another hour until I have to leave; I need a better distraction.

I plopped myself down on my bed with my laptop and clicked on my “The Underbelly'' bookmark. I always loved the irony of this blog served as an escape but also as a merciless glimpse into reality for me. My leg bounced as the page loaded—no new posts. Shit...well, it has only been a couple of days. I thoroughly looked forward to the new content because the author and I are eerily like-minded as far as hero ideology. Sometimes I felt as if I wrote a few of the entries myself. They’re the only person that I felt connected to on a philosophical level, and finally having that was comforting, to say the least. It was a bit taboo to criticize heroes so harshly because it was easy to be labeled as ungrateful. I’ve personally always felt like a great way to show appreciation is to continuously try to improve a system that everyone relies on. I guess people just don’t like to make sense. Hero work is honestly one of the few things I actually cared about, and to see people be so dismissive really pissed me off. Then again, people don’t really know I feel this way. I try not to let people get into my head too much. That’s why I created my Okame persona. I wanted to get my views out there without making it about myself at all. I felt it didn’t really hold true to the purpose of my message, with the whole not making hero’s these god-like figureheads simply for doing what’s right. That and...I hate when people look at me for more than a few seconds. My searing glare usually fixed that right quick. Quickly getting over the minor disappointment, I closed my laptop. Well, I didn’t have another alternative distraction, so I decided to say fuck it and head to the kitchen for some liquid courage.

I downed about two shots of rum. I was taking the bus there anyway, so it’s not like it mattered. I checked my watch, 30 more minutes. I wracked my brain for something to alleviate the unbearable anticipation as I blankly stared at the bottle of rum. Oh! I could pick up her favorite soju. It’s super strong, so we usually reserve it for a day where we don’t plan to do shit else but enjoy each other's company. But I feel like if we’re gonna hash all the bullshit out, we might need to be generously buzzed. Liquor store it is. I adjusted my collar before I headed out the door.

I decided on four bottles of the grapefruit soju because she really likes tart flavors. She always made fun of me for liking the sweeter sojus, but I’ll let her think she has the better taste tonight. The drinks were hidden away in a plastic bag tucked under my feet. I tried to settle in my seat towards the back as I checked my watch again for the fifteenth time. It was now 5 minutes after the starting time. Guess both the show and my girlfriend(?) are running late. My hands automatically began scratching at the already chipped polish on my nails. She’s been uncharacteristically calm during this fight; I wonder if she’ll stay that way once she sees me.

#hitoshi shinso #my hero academia #mha #mha fanfiction #bnha #boku no hero academia #fanfic #shinso #shinso x oc #Okame's Underbelly

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inventors-fair · 5 years ago

Text

How Legends Are Made

In general, I’m always happy with the diversity of entries. I’m surprised there weren’t as many uncommon Dominaria or Kamigawa inspired legend themes. It feels like a lot of people came from the same place, and honestly, that makes sense. There aren’t that many cards that create legendary tokens, after all. But the design space is open, and you guys delved!

Let’s get to commentary, shall we?

@3smuth — Brother of Flesh

What I’m not understanding is why there just isn’t another card called “Brother of Blood” that this can be paired with, and why it’s a legendary token instead. In my opinion, the concept would have felt better as two cards. Practically, though, this is a bomb legend that puts eight power on board and is a tribal build-around, and frankly, I like it a lot. I just wish it had a better feel.

@ace-hobo — Rite of Sadra

I agonized a little over this card. It feels appropriately Zendikar-y, so if that was your intention you succeeded. I am not a personal fan of the X/X tokens, but that’s not a real reason, I’m just prejudiced. Honestly, there’s nothing technically wrong with this card. It doesn’t tickle my fancy, but it doesn’t lose points for any reason either. It’s a pretty fun limited card, something fun to open up, good in ramp decks even in the late game. Name could use some pizzazz.

@allaroundawesme — Jiang Yanggu, Journeyman

I applaud you for creating an interesting planeswalker that’s actually moderately well-balanced. I would have made the second ability a -1 or -2, honestly, but that’s about all I can say for that. It feels like Yanggu, so you succeeded there. In terms of technical things, Mowu is just “a legendary green Hound [dog now, actually!] token with “This creature’s power and toughness are” etc.” You don’t need to add */*. Also for that last ability, you need to specify whether or not it’s two mana of any one color or two mana in any combination of colors.

@ceta-maelstrom — Ela, Primal Hunter

Another green planeswalker that’s pretty much well-balanced? Dang, y’all on fire this week. However, as much as I understand the bardic reincarnation, it feels weird to have both the ETB and the -4 be the same thing. It feels like you’re pulling the same bear out of the aether, and it negates the legendary sensation that having the specific token is supposed to create. Save this card, change the first ability to “up to one target,” and don’t make the bear legendary.

@dabudder — Lavinia, Stoic Defender

I like how you had a new take on a now-familiar legend. Reading up on her was interesting. That said, I don’t feel that this card is worthy of a mythic status. It’s narrow and a little weird, and pretty expensive for a 1/1 with no creature protection. The creation of The Guildpact feels... Off. I simply feel that it should be its own event rather than something Lavinia does on her own. I know it’s vague, but the segregation of guilds on Ravnica means that five-color-ness has to have an impact that this card simply doesn’t. Small note: “monocolored” should be one word.

@dancepatternalpha — Sword of Destiny

So, uh, what’s up with that first trigger? Do you create a Human AND put on a counter? Or like, were you going to erase one of those? Not sure what’s going on. It feels fine that the sword isn’t legendary. I think I prefer it. The word “creatures” in Arthur’s ability should be capitalized. Also, current wording is to put the name of the token before the other stuff a la Tolsimir. Mechanically, it’s fine. Good use of colored equipment. Still not sure what’s up with that trigger, if you missed a word or whatnot.

@deeran-moo — Rose, Rebellion Leader

In general, it’s best to stay away from non-MTG IP unless the contest specifically calls for it. That’s a general note. As for the card, it would work fine...if I wasn’t a massive fan of Steven Universe with massive story qualms. It’s an interesting choice to have her be mono-red with a white activation. But for one, why does Steven have flying? He floats! Why isn’t he a Gem, too? Additionally, I’m rather upset by the implication that Steven exists as a prison for Rose, which you set up mechanically by having recursion. If Steven goes, Steven goes, and there is no Rose. She’s gone, as the line says. So that’s a snafu. But anyway, for mechanical purposes, she doesn’t need a color indicator, “Strike” doesn’t need to be capitalized, and there doesn’t need to be a period after “haste.”

@demimonde-semigoddess — Memory of Wisdom

This is an interesting take. I wonder who’s saying the line of the flavor text. Perhaps a priest, a follower? I remember that kickass art of Kefnet dead and bleeding on the floor. Mechanically, this card’s appropriately mythic, a fine control staple, pretty fun, solid. The word “spirit” should be capitalized, and “7″ should be written out as “seven.” Aside from that... Not bad? Name feels like it could use buffing up.

@dim3trodon — Veren, the Haunted

I like a unique counter as much as the next guy. Pretty flavorful. But why on earth does this card say “For the rest of the game” on it? Is that meant to set a rule? An emblem? How does it trigger? I grok it but it doesn’t work in the rules at all. This would have worked so much better as an enchantment with “When ~ enters the battlefield, create a [insert kind of token] with a haunting counter on it.” That said, I appreciate how more things become haunted. I don’t like how if you don’t have any targets it goes to an opponent’s creature because it forces you to target.

@fractured-infinity — Amulet of Selenia

So, it creates an Angel token, and this card’s sole purpose is to ensure that nobody else can play it? This is a lot of words to create a token. The flavor is fine, but it plays just horribly. It’s a lot of text to do practically nothing but hate itself. The justification isn’t strong enough to create a vision of the vindictive nature that your flavor text and the story strive for. It’s not a bad flavor, but the execution leaves a lot to be desired.

@gollumni — Vance’s Influence

Everything I said about your last card still applies here, pretty much. It’s a build-around-me, it’s poop in limited unless you’re the luckiest player in the world, it’s an interesting tutor, etc. Not a lot to say here, considering.

@hypexion — Phyrean Crucible

Did I miss something? I searched, but I couldn’t find the word “Phyrean” anywhere in Magic’s history. Anyway, the wither is an...interesting choice. Can’t say it feels particularly like Mirrodin/NP, but whatever, it plays well for a rare. But you have to have three creatures whose exact power is seven? To make a 5/5? Why? The numbers here feel arbitrary and unnecessarily complicated. “Seven or greater” could have worked, perhaps. Honestly, I’d rather have those three creatures and an artifact that gives wither rather than a token who’s not guaranteed to be as objectively strong.

@i-am-the-one-who-wololoes — Azor, the Arbiter of Law // Azor, the Last Guardian

Oh boy. This is...a lot of text. I’ll give points for flavor. But this is just too much. The first ability doesn’t need reminder text, see Domri and Riot, and should be “up to one target.” The second ability costs far too much to just play Sphinx’s Decree. Why not just copy the text from that card instead of the wording you used here? Also, why does he have a color indicator on the front? And as for the flip side... I don’t have anything creative to say. It’s not a reference to The Immortal Sun, it’s a copy, and I have nothing positive to add about that. In reference to this whole card, I would rather have seen your creative input regarding a new token, something unique.

@ignorantturtlegaming — Adelyne, Wolf Speaker

Love the flavor and concept here. Mechanically, it could use some work. For one, the first ability only gives flash to wolves on the battlefield, and, well... If they’re already on the battlefield, flash is useless. You’d want to say “You may cast Wolf spells as though they had flash.” Secondly, and someone can correct me if I’m wrong, I’m not sure if the second ability ‘works’ as a replacement effect? I think by the time she becomes the target, it’s too late to give her hexproof, and I’m not sure why this isn’t a trigger. It would certainly be more grokable. “comes into play” should be replaced with “enters the battlefield” on Cheyenne. Still, great great druidic flavor.

@illharg-the-rave-boar — To Rule Them All // Lord Sauron

Call me a stickler and a jerk (it’s the only identity I have left), but I’m not a big fan of non-MTG IP for contests that don’t call for it. Oh, but I’ll stop being a stick in the mud. I’m a huge fan of the transformation and your use of a sorcery spell to signify a grand event. The activation should be “Put ~ onto the battlefield from your graveyard transformed” as seen on Startled Awake. Almost corrected to “return” but I learned my lesson there. I love how Sauron can be defeated without the ring. Really, this card’s full of good stuff. I’m just a butt about the game.

@mistershinyobject — Nest of the Gremlin King

What a jolly happy name. There are only a couple things that make this card not perfect for me. For one, every instance of creature types should be capitalized — Pest and Gremlin. For two, shift+enter puts the quote attribution on the proper line, and you can use the Mainframe editor to bump the text up and down as need be. For three, I’m not positive why a nest is making creatures attack? Little off in the flavor. For four, I’d rather have a Kaladeshian name than Gizmo. All these are petty things that don’t discount the fact that this card’s fun, annoying, red, annoying, and great. And annoying. I love that little snoot-nosed bastard.

@nine-effing-hells — Occult Research // Secrets Best Left Buried

I think the macabre is neato. Everything about this card is creepy, flavorful, evokes the aura you clearly intended, and builds up an implied world. Let’s talk about Revelation. I like it and don’t like your implementation. How to fix it: Make it a keyword action that adds insight counters to permanents, and have three insight counters always do something. Like: “Carbuncled Chemister || 1R || Creature - Human Wizard || Revelation — Whenever you cast an instant or sorcery spell, put an insight counter on Carbuncled Chemister. Then, if it has three or more insight counters on it, it deals 2 damage to any target.” Keep this mechanic around. I like it.

@reaperfromtheabyss — Disciple of Madness

Spelling madness backwards. Har de har. In all seriousness, I feel that this card missed the mark. It requires a big sacrifice for a big reward, and I like that. But all the in-jokes fall flat for me. And if you have no cards in hand already, well. “trample and haste” should be separated by a comma. And consider this: what if it said “Each player’s maximum hand size is zero” instead? I know it’s a little weird, and Jin-Gitaxis is a different precedent, but man, it reads better. Gotta have something to do. I like how this card’s a fun build-around for Goblins.

@shakeszx — Haakan, Eternity’s Conduit

Was the name an intentional callback to Haakon, Stromgald Scourge? If so, that’s confusing as butts. As for the card... You are technically correct. A legendary token is being made. It doesn’t mesh with the spirit of the contest at all — oh, “Spirit” should be capitalized — but you are technically correct. I think the exile should target and be part of the activation cost. Aside from that, it’s a fun build-around-me commander. Not broken, pretty neat. Still hung up on the name.

@shootingstarhunter — Echo of the True

Er... So, is this card “Echo of the True” or “Spirit of the True?” You have both here. Gotta proofread, my inventor. Anyway, I would look at Rekindling Phoenix for a better notion on how to make that token work. If you give the token a trigger to return a card named [thing] of the True from exile to the battlefield, then that meshes better as a trigger. Points for Spirit God. Maybe I’m exhausted, but I find it interesting. So there you have it.

@walker-of-the-yellow-path — Mad Baker

And Urza laughed, and laughed, and laughed again. In all seriousness, one mana for a Food artifact token is busted beyond belief. This card is silly, and I like the idea, but that cheap artifact production is too powerful. “Token,” “Legendary,” “Colorless” and “Trample” all need to be lowercase as well. Flavor text on POINT, though. Love it.

Which one of these will influence next week’s contest accidentally? Stick around and find out! Thank you for all your entries.

#mtg #magic the gathering #custom magic card #contest #entries #commentary #legendary token #inventor's fair

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observantgal · 4 years ago

Text

Spies Tied by Love

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes (Stucky)

Rating: Teen And Up Audience

Author’s Note: This is part of bigger story. Hope you like it! Let me know if you did. Do come back for other chapters!

Chapter-1

Chapter-2

Barnes began accommodating himself to his new space. The energy this room gave off was exhilarating for him. He always had fantasized about such control rooms, and now there he was, flesh and blood, in one of the highest tech-supported facilities. He felt electric and nervous at the same time. The first thing that came to his mind to calm his nerves down was coffee. He considered having a cup and start looking for clues.

The cafeteria was on the topmost floor. An enormous glass dome of a skylight illuminated the area with natural light and the huge hall housed several round tables with stacks of chairs in the corners. The vending and dispensing machines were installed next to the kitchen so Barnes went there directly. He stood against a table, checking his phone, while the machine brewed his coffee. A bunch of interns giggled at a table not far away and it was evident from their whispers, they were gossiping. He tried to eavesdrop when all of a sudden, a shrill voice shrieked, “Oh my God!” and slowly reduced to a murmur, “I told you, didn’t I? You guys didn’t believe me”

“Well, we didn’t think it was this serious, Charlie!” went the other.

“Whatever dude, the stats are out, and just like I guessed, the more number of cases solved successfully, for the current year, again by to the unbeatable Mr. Rogers and the invincible Ms. Carter! You will not believe this when I tell you, but I have been rooting for them from the day I started working here!”

“They truly are a power couple!”

“OMG…Yes they are! Have you seen their chemistry when they are working together?! I hope they invite us to their wedding…”

“OMG Yes! Who do you think is going to propose first?”

Barnes chose not to listen anymore, so the voices muffled on their own as he shifted his focus on the dispenser. His coffee was ready and off he went.

Later in the afternoon Carter, Romanoff and Rogers were gathered in the ‘Control Room’ to catch up with the case. They also thought it would be polite to familiarize themselves with the new guy. Romanoff being the more genial of the three started first. She said, “So, Barnes, what have you been up to?”

“I am glad you asked Ma’am!” Barnes squealed. Realizing how high his voice sounded, he toned it down and continued, “I have been running trials and tests, and assessing the security systems and the lock codes. As suspected, the breach could’ve been by someone from inside the facility. But, eliminating the off chance of remote access into the systems using permitted codes, or unauthorized access into the database, would be nothing but foolishness.”

“Like Hacking?” asked Rogers.

“Exactly Hacking” nodded Barnes. “I need a little more time to ensure which one it was that lead to the breach. But apart from that, Mr. Coulson has asked me to hand over these earpieces to you.”

“This is your Ma’am”, he said as he advanced towards Romanoff.

“You can call me Natasha,” she said, accepting her device.

“Duly noted Ma’am. Um… I… I mean Natasha. Click this button and go for Barnes. They are embedded with radio beacons. I can get your exact locations in real-time in any kind of a distress situation. Real-time maps accessed from the GPS Satellites are mapped to my system and I will be able to assist you to safety and provide all the info you might need. From tracking underground locations to finding a simple Form you might need to submit somewhere; I will be at your service.” He couldn’t believe how fast he was speaking. It was hard to contemplate whether the voluble info dump he whipped up, was because of excitement or merely the extra caffeine from earlier, acting up. He hoped with all his heart that no one noticed.

“That’s impressive Barnes!” said Carter, trying on her device.

“Thank you, Ma’am,” he said catching his breath.

“Keep up the good work! Also, I go by Carter”

“Thank you, Ma’am… Sorry Carter”

He looked at Rogers for a similar clearance, and Rogers didn’t miss his cue. “You can call me Steve,” he said. Rogers’ affectionate smile bore a profound sense of calm and amiability, a glimmer enough for Barnes to feel welcomed and a part of their team. His breathing returned to normal and the racing thoughts gently eased off. He nodded meekly and replied, “Okay, got it.”

The three of them tried their sets on to understand how it functioned and after a few trial checks, the ladies shook hands with Barnes and took off. Once they were alone, Rogers seized the opportunity to ask Barnes for a favor, the one he felt too embarrassed to ask in front of the others. Without wasting an instant, he spoke, “So… Barnes, since you mentioned about the database and stuff, you think you would be able to find me an easier way to handle my paperwork? I sure am very good at it, but those Records people...” his eyes narrowed in rage and lips pursed as if holding back from saying something, he continued, “they always seem to come up with these new rules. At this point I feel like they are making stuff up just to, I don’t know mess with me or something? You think you could help me out a little?”

Barnes was astounded as his eyes widened, but he managed to shift his gaze quickly before it gave him away. He scratched the back of his head and replied, “Umm… sure Steve. I… I can... I can do that. Yeah”

“Oh, thank you so much, man! Of course, I don’t want this to interrupt your work in any way, you know…” Steve shrugged while fidgeting with his device.

“Oh, don’t… don’t worry about it, Steve. It’s not a problem at all!”

“Cool man! Thank you. See you around then?”

“Yup. See ya”

Rogers pretended to examine his earpiece sheepishly, while Barnes walked to the back of his desk and pretended to work. After a few seconds, they looked up at the same time and accidentally met each other’s eyes. The gaze continued a little longer than usual, and to turn away now was too late, but so was maintaining it. Before it could get any more awkward, they smiled vaguely and nodded in acknowledgment.

Rogers ambled backward towards the door with the device in hand, roughly estimating the lowest number of strides that would bolt him out of there. So absorbed was his mind in counting down the steps, it made him overlook the fact that he was in a room with restricted space, and swaying his long hands while walking was not the best thing to do. He bumped into a cabinet knocking something off of it and tripped trying to catch it before it hit the ground. But it was too late and the damage was done. He went red as a beetroot because this had never happened to him before. And to be all fingers and thumb, though for the first time, was not an impression he was planning to make in front of Barnes. He fetched it without looking up and plopped it on a table nearby. Barnes couldn’t make out what it was but tried extremely hard not to crack up. He didn’t move his eyes off the computer screen for one second and pretended to not have witnessed any of that. After Rogers left and the doors closed, he laughed quietly until he got it all out of his system. When he was done, he let out a huge sigh and got back to work.

****

Read on AO3

The next day Coulson called for everyone to meet in his cabin, for Barnes had found out something, that he wished to share. Natasha looked badass, as usual, but also was very awake for someone who hadn’t slept for more than eight hours, in three days. Carter looked elegant, as they waited for Barnes to start. But Steve looked strained and was wearing the same clothes from last day, an indication that he spent the previous night working at the facility. Sam wasn’t able to join them as he was busy with another assignment but promised to catch up after a few days.

Coulson gestured Barnes to start and he began, “Like I mentioned yesterday, we can’t entirely rule out the possibility of remote access or hacking. If it was physically accessed at the facility, it would have been recorded in the system’s log. Also, there was no unauthorized or suspicious personnel entry recorded on the surveillance cameras.” He played a few sped-up clips from the surveillance cameras on the big screen behind Coulson’s desk. He continued, “Even if they did try to delete the log, the systems are configured in such a way, that at the least, a subtle trail will be found. I didn’t find any such trail, so we can rule out the physical access at the facility.”

Coulson didn’t want to rule it out entirely, but let him continue anyway.

“Along the same line goes remote access. The log would have recorded the access even if it was made from somewhere else because passwords were used. Which again, is not the case. So, to conclude, yes, we were hacked. But thankfully, our countermeasures were strong enough to report the breach quickly, therefore alerting everyone. The good news is, none of our data has been compromised. And with their IP address, we will be able to locate the place from where the attempt was made. But they have used VPN, for obvious reasons, and I will let you all know once I have cracked it. That’s it for now.”

Coulson seemed pretty impressed and asked, “How long do you need to for that?”

“I don’t know Sir. But I will do it as soon as possible.”

They spent around another twenty minutes over possible scenarios and other things and later dispersed. Outside the cabin, Barnes walked up to Steve hoping to strike up a conversation. He started, “Hey Steve, so about the paperwork that you were asking me yesterday, how about today in the evening?”

“Hey! Yes, that would be great Barnes! Are you sure it won’t be a trouble for you?” Steve asked clasping his hands together.

“No, no, of course not”

“Okay then, I will finish my work until then and we can meet downstairs at the Archives. How about 6?”

“Yes. Sounds good.”

“Alright… see you then!”

That afternoon flew by so fast, that Barnes didn’t realize he had spent it entirely on reading through anything and everything related to documentation until he had made it to the last of it. From rules about deadlines for submitting a report, intimating a delay in submission, to penalties for non- adherence of the same, he had gone through all of them, with the main objective of finding harmless escape clauses or ambiguities.

It was half-past five when he made it to the Archive Room. He tried breaking the ice with the staff there and handled it pretty well. As opposed to the picture painted by Rogers, he realized that these people were very pleasant and just doing their jobs. They explained to him how the filing system worked and the various steps involved in archiving, among other things. Rogers arrived at quarter past six and was greeted by a throng of interns. He was popular among them but it would be a surprise if he wasn’t. Tall, handsome, charming, smart, witty, funny, and dangerously single. He waded his way through a flood of giggles, greetings, and caresses to finally reach Barnes, who stood near a shelf, farther from the entrance, with some files in hand, and watched the drama ensue.

“Good Evening!” he said adjusting his shirt and tie. “I’m extremely sorry for being late. I had to take a quick shower and then I got stuck in the traffic…”

“Oh no! It’s totally fine” interrupted Barnes. “I was just going through these folders and stuff too. You don’t have to apologize.”

Rogers pulled two chairs for them to sit down, not far from the huge shelves, and they began talking about paperwork. Barnes explained to him in simple steps, the things expected out of him and where he’d been going wrong. The rules were recently updated and Rogers hadn’t gotten much time to catch up with the amendments and that was why he was having a problem with the records. Barnes also let him in on some loopholes he had discovered, and some common documents which were sufficient and time-saving. They were so engrossed in their discussion, buried in a pile of files, that none of them realized it was 9 pm until a staff member walked up to them and enquired if they needed any assistance.

“No, thank you. We are done for now” answered Rogers. They placed all the files back on the shelves, thanked the lady that offered them help, and left.

They decided to have dinner in a restaurant nearby. Rogers suggested a cozy place he knew and Barnes agreed. It was a family-owned restaurant, around ten minutes away from the facility. The restaurant was small, intimate, and cozy but the food was fabulous. The owner and her wife were the cooks and their children managed the guests and tables. They ordered soup, roasted vegetables, stuffed chicken breasts with a side of mashed potatoes. The meal arrived faster than Barnes expected and they started their meal.

“Thank you so much by the way,” said Rogers

“It’s totally fine Steve. I’m just glad I could help. Also don’t ever mention it”

“You’re a very kind man”

“Well, so are you”

“Yeah right,” he smirked.

“No, really Steve. I was so nervous about working in a new place and with new people… and I haven’t had a good night’s sleep ever since, without feeling anxious about the next day! I feel more comfortable now, thanks to you. I’ll probably sleep well tonight”

“What? Come on Barnes. It is quite normal to feel nervous at a new place but it isn’t worth losing sleep over it. And by the way, you are a part of our team now so don’t worry about it. I am happy that you feel okay now, but don’t ever lose sleep over little things. Also, if you need a bedtime story, just call me. I am good at making things up” he winked.

Barnes started giggling and shaking his head, then continued to eat.

“No seriously, sleep is very important Barnes. It’s like restarting your system, and clearing cache” he paused to look at Barnes, and once he had his full attention continued, “If you didn’t notice, I used computer terms for you to understand.”

“Oh yeah, I see that” Barnes nodded his head heavily, “but this coming from a guy who has a messed-up sleep schedule, works all night, and survives mostly on fast food, is quite inspiring. If you didn’t notice, I was being sarcastic”

“Wow! A comeback huh? I didn’t see that one coming. Impressive!”

“Well, what else did you think of me?” he said feeling smug.

“A genius, surely. You were a direct recommendation from Mr. Carper and that is evidence in itself that you are a genius. Wait a minute, how do you know that I work most nights, and what my eating habits are?” asked Rogers with a concerned look.

“Oh, that was sheerly my luck. I set the bait and you rose to it” he tried sounding as convincing as possible.

“Ah! I see it now” replied Rogers and grabbed the roasted vegetables. With a silly look, he pointed at Barnes and said, “But, you know what? You’re such a nerd.”

“Really?”

“Yup, you are a nerd. Accept it. When you open your mouth, all I hear is big technical words!”

“Um, I don’t need to accept it, Steve, because… I freaking OWN it. I am ‘The Nerd’. So, you eat up, Butterfingers.”

Steve let out an audibly huge gasp and retorted, “How dare you! And for the record, that was the first time something like that has ever happened. I swear to you. I have handled some really sensitive missions and never have I ever dropped something. I have no idea how that happened. Wait, what if it was some kind of a practical joke you were trying to pull?”

“Now I wish I had come with something, because I know you would’ve fallen for it” Barnes sniggered reaching over for the chicken and Rogers pushed it forward coyly. With an alluring look he continued, “But on a serious note though, you need to take care of yourself. Change your eating habits Steve, and stick to a sleeping schedule. I know work is important and everything, but you need to think about your future self too.”

“Hmm… I know where that is coming from and you are right. I need to make some massive changes.”

“Yup, it might be a little difficult in the beginning, but trust me you’ll get used to it. I did” and he shrugged.

Rogers nodded in agreement. They continued eating while having more friendly banters and talked about random things. After finishing the dinner, Rogers introduced Barnes to the owner and her family. They were a friendly bunch and told him how sweet and humble Rogers was, and how he had helped them financially a while ago. It was eleven o’clock when they finally took leave.

Barnes turned to Steve and with a dear gaze said, “Thank you for the dinner”

“You’re very welcome” he smiled with a slight bow. “See you at work.”

“Yeah, see you. Goodnight Steve”

“Goodnight”

They waved each other bye and headed back home.

***** end of Chapter 2 *****

Read on AO3

#stucky #Stucky AU #stucky fic #my fic #my writing #spy #secret agent #steve rogers x bucky barnes #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #My posts

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violet-author · 5 years ago

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Your Wallet And Your Heart, She Has Both ((18+))

This fic is the product of over a weeks worth of work, as compared to my usual stuff that only takes a few hours or so, I think it may be my longest fic yet. Inspired by the Author of the Spinel Fic titled “Yearning” ((Read it here! )) And to anyone questioning what Spinel actually IS in this fic, I don’t even know myself. Spookier that way. Warnings: Death, Yandere, Stalking, Discussion Of Domestic Abuse, Light Horror, Cake

“Nevah had a reason ‘til tonight, to chase a fella down, then I looked at you leaving the hotel, so I followed. Cause I just had to know… who was that othah chick you were with? They seemed pretty miffed when ya left yer room, you dropped ya key on the way too so… I had another reason to follow you… and the third… I guess I just like ya face. Cute like a doll It… spoke to me, if that makes any sense…”, she stops to take a sip of her drink, “I’m surprised you didn’t notice me, what with the pink hair an’ all, so uh… I’m Spinel.”

Another sip of her drink, and a gentle chuckle as she looked down into her glass, “Don’t worry about tellin me yer name. I already know it.”, she held ip your wallet, and slid it back to you, “again honey, don’t worry. All your money is safe and sound where you left it. I’m not a thief, well, maybe I am… but… I don’t like stealin from pretty people like you, and ah… I got reasons to follow ya… I won’t be too far if ya evah need me for anythin, and I mean that, anything.”, she finished her drink and stood up, she pushed you down into your chair when you tried to follow, she put down some cash to pay for the drinks too. “No pal, I follow you, you don’t get to follow me ok? And ah… check you wallet. Left a present.”, and so… she left the bar. You check your wallet, her phone number was written on a piece of paper neatly tucked inside… along with 300 extra dollars. You feel as if she’s special to you already. A new best friend… You head back to your hotel room and pack your things, you’re breaking up with the beast of a person you were with… true love’s on its way, and so are you. Getting into your car… Lightning strikes behind you, the outline of her in your back seat… you check… no one there, you turn on the radio… just static… you drive off anyways. You want to call her as soon as you get home. “I just couldn’t leave em alone now could I? But… One look at em while I sat on the balcony next to their window the first night they were here… and I just finished offin my now late boyfriend too, kinda glad I wear these gloves all the time too… who am I talkin to? Oh yeah, me. So anyways… I just had to meet em… not like they had a choice… I covered my tracks pretty well and kept the ‘do not disturb’ sign up on the door with a sock on the knob… staff musta thought we was bein reeeeal quiet with the lovemakin… Hmm… what did he even do for me to waste one o’ my favorite butterflies in the back o’ his heart… oh yeaaaah… caught him smoochin some other broad in the same bar I found my new lovie dovie… hehe place o’ fate I tell ya, who? Me!”, she laughed at her little half joke…“Anyways… so now they’re in their house and I’m just sittin here in the backseat of their car, planning my next move… who knows, maybe ah… maybe I’ll marry this one… or are they gonna be number 12… I hope not… that face of theirs… oof… nevah seen a prettier picture, would look even bettah with plenty of my lipstick marks all over their cheeks…. damn I wish I could gotten out with em buuuut…. people freak out when someone they just met is suddenly on their car… looks like I got a long night… bettah get some sleep too… gotta be well rested for our dare tomorrow… not that they have a choice, it’s their neck on the line aftah all… but they don’t know that yet… they will. I’ll make sure of it.” Later on in the day, Spinel knocks on your door “Ok so uh, well I got outta your car and I locked it like a good girl, cause I know I am one, I knocked on your door hopin for a chance to see ya again and it’s real cold out here, so let me in ok?”, said Spinel after you opened your front door. Shocking it were to see her, to know she was hiding in your car the whole time… you figure she’d break into your home if you denied her now, so you let her in. She walked past you with a tired looking smile, and you took in the sight of her, pink hair in a pair long pony tails, long sleeve black shirt, form fitting with a black tank top adorned with a pink skull having a heart shaped crack on the forehead, a dark pink skirt looking stylishly tattered, and stockings stripped with pink and black, with a pair of thrice belted heavy looking knee height heeled boots, by all accounts… she should be noticed anywhere. You noticed her footsteps don’t make a sound… and you ask why.“Uuuh, I dunno either I just… step lightly? Kind of a wiiiierd question to ask babe, why don'tcha let me handle the questions ok? Number one, who was that bitch you were with? Number two, do ya live alone?”, You sigh and respond, she is your ex-girlfriend, you broke up with her a few hours ago. And you reluctantly say yes, you do live alone. “Hmmm great! Guess you’re all mine then!” You ask what she means “What do ya think it means pal? Means I’m your girlfriend! Ain’t ya happy for that? I mean… look at me? The cute skirt, the thick legs, my adorable face, plenty of hair for ya to pull, you’d be stupid to reject me, and you look pretty smart to me hun, so say yes. Say I’m yours”, her expression hardened, “Say it. 'Spinel, you’re mine’, I want to hear it straight from those pretty lips.You hold yourself silent for a few seconds… and relent, you guess you need to be with someone… you can’t imagine being alone again… you say what she asked you to say, suddenly you feel a prick on your finger, it starts to bleed pretty badly, she holds your hand up and licks the blood away with a teasing giggle in her throat. "There, all better, now you’re stuck with me, I don’t leave you and you don’t leave me, got it hun?” You feel clawed hands crawling on your back… you don’t remember what happened next. You wake up next to Spinel. Trying to understand what just happened… you fail miserably. “M, m, mmm… last night was fun buuuut… I didn’t get to go as far as I wanted, they passed out before I could actually do anything, guess lettin em feel that clawin fear mighta been too much for em to handle. Still, maybe I oughta hold off on doin anythin freaky. They don’t seem like the lewd type anyways… heh, but the look on their face, if I wasnt already in love with em I woulda fallen for em right then and there, oh gosh their eyes were practically burning in terror! And the way their mouth hung open like they were aboutta scream, ooh that was bliss… hm, oh? Looks like they forgot somethin. They were sure scramblin outta bed when they woke up… hmmm., now that I think about it… oh. Oh no. No no no no… nobody rushes that fast at 5 in the mornin…”You were at work, a boring office job, but your coworkers kept to themselves, so you had no issues most of the time. But today, they put in a little pink palm tree in your cubicle, you nearly fell over on sight of it, thinking it was Spinel. You held your heart, feeling the thumping flesh within pounding a beat you could almost dance to, with a nervous chuckle you cover it with the seat cover on your chair and get straight to work. You pushed away every thought of her that you could, focusing solely on your work, typing code and responses, sending reports, the kind of mind numbing work your brain can just check out from. As you dozed off by little degrees your fingers quickened… until it was four hours later, and you realized you finished everything early, gleefully you hop from your chair, with plans to go down to your favorite café for a treat, do you head into the bathroom, change clothes, and head to your car. And you freeze. The night before the last the lightning struck and you saw her shadow in your car… and then she appeared at your house the next day. You remember that very well. So you make a point of checking every inch of your car as thoroughly as you can, the back seat, the front, the trunk, under the car as the wheels on yours put it a foot and a half off the ground… and curiously you check in both small compartments in the front of the car, you haven’t the slightest idea why, you just had to be sure she wasn’t hiding anywhere. With the check complete, you carefully got inside your car and drove off to taste some sweetness. You park, get out, check your car once more, then lock everything that could be locked on it before heading inside. The dimly lit room spoke of serenity as piano played to some slow classical tune from speakers overhead, the sound of rain played softly along with low thunder rolling away to add to the calming aura of this revered area, revered by you at least, here you felt the safest you could be outside your own home, but with her… you felt this was you last bastion of comfort. And you were already reconsidering staying with her. But those thoughts had no place here, you looked over the menu, burying your gaze in it completely and said to yourself you’d have a pumpkin cake and hot chocolate. Your heart beat swift on feeling a familiar voice rattle through your skull. “And how are ya gonna pay for that babe?”, Spinel said in an agitated tone while waving your wallet in one hand while she supported her head on the table with the other. She stared you down, her expression? Wrath. Directed all on you. You froze under her glare, speechless. “5 in the morning. Who rushes out of the house at five in the morning? Were you late for work? Or… did you just wanna get away from me? Didn’t even give me a kiss to say goodbye, didn’t check if I was awake, didn’t even offer breakfast. What kind of a lover are you huh? Hmph… doesn’t matter now. You’re gonna make it up to me, ok?”, she slammed the wallet on the table, “I’ll have what you’re having, and after this you’re takin me to see a movie, got it? Maybe more time in a dark room with me’ll teach ya to appreciate me more, little reminder honey, I came to you, and you said yes, so start acting like you want me.” The dim cafe grew silent with your focus narrowing on her, and all you heard was your heart beating steady as the booming tick of the clock sounded off every second to the unerring passage of time. And she stared. She stared and waited for an answer. the lightless void casted by failing shine seemed to grow ever deeper, surrounding you both and trapping you with her in an infinite darkness, such was her chokingly gripped presence around you, her small stature exuded energies unheard, and you swore you could see the inky tendrils of the depths emanating from her, a being incomprehensible to mortal ken. Her truest nature forever concealed as this negative glare only gave the hollow shell of what she really is, shaded by the limits of your mind. You stared into those eyes, a lover scorned she felt she were, and your silence only confirmed and fed the flowing madness slithering from her…Each ticking clang of the clock sounded closer to your demise, here and now. Speech had found you once more to snatch you from the jaws of Cerberus. You apologize. You tell her an excuse along with it, or rather, attempt to before she cuts you off. “Oh you’re sorry now? Well how sorry are ya honey? Sorry enough to get me all the deserts I want? Sorry enough to take me out dancing? Sorry enough to… propose to me?” That last question ended with a grin as wide as her mystery, and as the darkness surrounding you both. You’re left speechless, blushing through the shock and scrambling in your mind for an answer when she takes the reigns of the conversation once more. “Ok that last one maaaay have been a bit too far, I mean… we’ve only been datin a few days now, and to be honest, while I ain’t lettin another girl even touch you, I’m not too sure I wanna spend the rest of your life on me! And I do mean that. Mean what? darlin ain’t ya listening? The rest of your life, not my life. I get the feelin I’ll still be around when you’re gone… but uuuh… I’ll enjoy every moment you’re alive. Oop! Changed my mind, Your life’s mine, the rest of you too, and ain’t nothin you can do about that ok? Nope, not gonna wait for an answer. Way I see it… we’re already a married couple, I mean… you did sign me in blood and all. But let’s drop this discussion and pick it up never, the waitress is comin ovah to take our ordahs!"And in a single moment as if on the flick of a switch, even the dim light of the cafe blinded you with the darkness disappearing behind the curtain of reality, though what reality even is you scarcely have a grasp on with the realizations of otherworldly powers that exist in front of you in the form of Spinel. You check the backlit clock on the wall, time had stayed still as the darkness enveloped you, and you laid back in your chair while trying to make sense of what just happened, what felt like hours was no time at all, but interrupted you were again by the waitress, asking what you wanted to order. Spinel only had a smile on her face while you placed the order, she held up the menu you had and pointed to a large vanilla cake topped with fudge and strawberries, did what she said in the darkness even happen? Either way, you order that cake for her, in addition to getting for her and yourself a hot chocolate and a pumpkin cake. You’re looking at the waitress as she write down the orders, and as she walks off as well, and a pulse is felt, a ringing in your ears deep as ocean, and a foul taste in your mouth as you look back at her, a closed smile on her lips, but her eyes wider than ever. "Does she look good to ya honey? Does she tickle your fancy?” You immediately reply in a nervous tone that she doesn’t. that he girl in front of you is prettier than she’ll ever be. “Good answer babe, she’s a fuckin mess compared to me, right? O’ course I’m right!” The confections both drink and dessert were served to the both of you, a second person coming to drop of the cake, it was big enough for three, but she parried your spoon away from it, claiming the whole thing hers. So the spectacle began, Her sipping the cocoa in her tall cup alongside heavy bites of this behemoth straight from a baker’s dream. It took her a mere half hour to consume the whole of it, and like a good lover you lean over with a napkin and wipe the frosting from her lips, a shy smile as your expression, your simple actions sparking a tender moment through the confusion and creeping terror in the back of your mind, and that moment was watching her cheeks flush a gorgeously vibrant shade of pink, and in that instant, everything seemed to click. She was just as nervous around you as you were around her, without the upper hand the air of danger just faded away to the dullest rhythm in the background, until her hand snapped to grip your wrist. “Oh now I know I made the right choice… my last love ain’t never did something like this, would you believe I caught the bastard cheating on me with some tart, some junky trollop? You wouldn’t do that to me right? No… I know you wouldn’t, you’re sweet. You just want a hug, a kiss, and a kind little word whispered into your ear, yeah? You just want someone who wants you, someone that won’t make you feel like you’re just another problem to deal with. Someone like me, who won’t let you go. Who’ll never let you go. Someone like me that’ll keep loving you 'til…“, She inched in closer, "You’re…”, and her lips brushed by your ear… “Dead." Stunned by that she shoved you back down into your seat. "What’s wrong babe? Don’t like that? Oh… you do? Well aren’t you starved for affectio- oh… So that’s why you were with the girl with the bad attitude… You know I… I watched you when you checked into the hotel, a whole week of seeing her yell at you… sayin stuff like no one would love you like her, that you were lucky she even looked at you.” She sniffled, sounding on the cusp of a rising weeping sorrow, “But it’s ok now honey. It’ll be ok, cause you have me!”, she sighed, a sort of content flow to her breath, while she relaxed in her chair, “And I have you. Were you scared of me before? I’m not sorry for that. That’s just how I am, but I won’t hurt you. Not enough to kill ya anyways. Not enough to make you hate me. I don’t think my heart could take another crack. Darling… If you left me now. I think I’d just break. We kinda just met and already I don’t think I can live without you. You can feel it too right? Our souls tyin themselves to each other? Actually ah… they’re already pretty tied up. Signed me in blood remember?” You certainly do remember, that night your finger bled and the claws creeped upon you, you remember that much and nothing more, how you felt then feels so far away now, her love is different, it’s a confusing amalgam of tenderness and terror, when once you only felt a terror from the last one you were with, but even the fear strikes you oddly, like a sickening wine who’s taste leaves you only wanting another drink of it, a long and slow swig of the emotions she has you pour from your very core, reveling in the swirling dizzy tones of this deep song she played for you with every motion she made toward, away, and around you, with every word spoken, she enthralls you. The same feeling you had when you wanted to call her, a soul bewitched by a strange woman… and whatever trance she had you in just now from her confession, lifted when you snapped back to lucidity at home. Herself snuggled up on your lap, a horror movie playing while she smiled, your hand in hers, clutching each other warmly… a moment that your realization of the sudden shift in scenery did not ruin… she was in love, and so were you, and while love itself seems blind, love itself would blind you, and you would let it cloud your vision as long as you loved her, and as long as she loved you. This one tender moment, It’ll remain one of your greatest treasures, and as the movie ended, she sat up and stood, offering her hand to you, eyes sleepy and showing a soft joy plain as day, she led you upstairs, she led you to bed, shoes kicked off the both of you, she eased you into bed atop her, and held you close, tight, and the covers seemed to jump over you both to guard from the chill mysteriously entering the room, you closed your eyes while the pair of you turned onto your sides, and a kiss marked the occasion, brief it were on the lips, but the love? Eternal. And so it were that you slept in her arms and her in yours. Ready to give her the rest of your life. Ready to give her your very soul. and in all honesty, she already owns it.

#Spinel #Selfshipping #self shipping #yandere #light horror #steven universe

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fivescuddles-blog · 6 years ago

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northsider (pt. four) | sweet pea

a/n: here's the next part! there's only gonna be one more part after this, so if y'all want that please leave feedback and tell me!

requested: "Northsider pt.4?" - @mariadiaaaaaa

characters: sweet pea x fem!reader, fangs fogarty, pop tate

word count: 1,808

summary: sweet pea confesses to the sweet northside girl, but things don't go particularly well...

warnings: swearing

part one, part two, part three, part five

You woke with your alarm blaring, causing you to simply groan and roll over in bed. You barely remembered getting home last night, let alone going to sleep. You reached over to your bedside table, picking up your phone and turning off the alarm that was assaulting your ears. You placed it back on the table and laid down, thinking over what had happened last night.

This brought a smile to your face.

You closed your eyes as you slumped against your pillow, picturing vividly Pea's adorable smile and his tall frame. His eyes that sparkled and reminded you of cosy hot choclate when he spoke to you, as well as the smooth, deep tone of his voice. The way he was so protective over you and his friends, and the way he refused to let anyone even think of hurting you.

You had to tell him.

You couldn't do it anymore. You couldn't stay quiet about the way you felt for him any longer. It hurt too much, and you believed that he deserved to know. He may not be happy about it, but you weren't happy keeping it from him. It may ruin your friendship, and if so, you'd be devastated. But jt was just much too painful to continue lying to him like this.

It hurt.

You had to do something. Today was a Saturday, kind of inconvenient considering if it was a school day you'd actually be able to see him. You checked the time quickly, seeing that it was only 9:00 am. He'd definitely be awake by now.

Debating on whether or not to call him, you heard your mother downstairs bustling around making breakfast. You called down to her that you'd probably be going out today, for "brunch" as you out it to her, and clicked on Pea's contact.

You waited for a moment, hearing it ring on the otherside. Just when you were about to give up there was a click on the otherside before Sweet Pea's deep voice filled your ears.

"Hey, Y/N/N, 'sup?" He answered hoarsely, clearly only just woken up. You felt bad now.

"Shit, did I wake you?" You asked, worried that he'd be annoyed.

A laugh rumbled through your ears as Sweet Pea chucked, shaking his head although he knew you couldn't see him. "Yes, but it doesn't matter, Y/N. Don't worry about it." He paused. "But, did you want something?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

You blushed at the question, now realising you'd have to go through with it. "I was just asking if you'd like to hang out later?" You wondered, playing with the sleeve of tour pyjama shirt. "We coudl, uh, go to Pop's for bru-"

There was an answer immediately. "Yes." Sweet Pea coughed for a second to cover up the eagerness in his voice. "I mean yeah, yeah that sounds good," he continued, a grin forming on his face as he clambered out of bed and began to look through his wardrobe, holding his phone between his ear and his shoulder. "So, what? 10:30?" He asked, pulling out a red flannel and a grey tank top from inside his wardrobe, laying them onto his bed.

A smile appeared on your face, excited to see him again. "Mhm, sounds perfect," you replied. "So, I'll see you then," you finished, waiting for him to say goodbye before ending the call.

Sweet Pea quickly began to get ready. He was gonna do it. He had to. This was the perfect chance to do what he'd been meaning to do last night but hadn't got the guts to. He quickly pulled on the flannel and tank top, as well as a pair of black ripped jeans. You know, the usual. While he hunted for his Serpent jacket, he rehearsed what he'd say in his head. Let's just say, it wasn't going very well.

He didn't know how to phrase it. Like, how would you confess your undying love for your best friend, hm? He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, partly due to stress but also partly to do with the fact that his bedhead was getting ridiculous.

He decided to call Fangs. Out of all his friends, he'd the one that would probably know what the best thing to do is in this situation.

He picked up straightaway. "Yo, bro, what's up?" He asked Sweet Pea, slight worry evident in his voice.

Sweet Pea sighed and regurgitated his problem apback to Fangs. There was a silence before Fangs spoke. "Damn," was all he said.

Sweet Pea stared at his phone incredulously. "Seriously dude? That's all you have to say?"

Fangs rolled his eyes at his moody friend. "Give a guy a second to think, damn," Fangs defended before sitting down on his sofa and thinking.

There was a pause.

"Dude, I think you should just get straight to the point, okay? Just say jt and get the hell out of there. If she likes you back, she'll say, okay? If not, she's not the type to hate you forever so I'm sure you'll be fine in that case, got it?"

Sweets thought about this for a second, stroking his chin while deep in thought. Eventually, he began nodding to himself and whispering "yeah... yeah, that could work,"

Fangs smirked, hearing his friend so caught up over this girl. Fangs had never seen Sweet Pea sct like this over someone, let alone a Northsider. Nobody had expected it, and nobody saw it coming. But Fangs was glad that his friend had found someone that he cared deeply about. It was refreshing to see when usually Pea was mean and intimidating to other people around him.

You made him into a nice and much more gentle person, and Fangs thanked you for that.

Fangs eventually hung ip, having given all the advice he could to Sweets, and was kind of getting tired of the love-sick boy ranting to him. Sweets had barely noticed that he'd hung up, much too prepccupied with talking about the beautiful glint jn your eye you got when you talked about something that you're passionate about.

Once he finally realized he had been hung up on, he checked the time.

10:20. Fuck.

He quickly pulled on his Serpent jacket and ran outside, patting down his pockets for his keys, phone, and wallet. Everything was there and in place. He threw one leg over his motorbike before starting it and zooming along the road, worried about being late for the mos important time he'd spend with you.

Meanwhile, you were already at Pop's deciding to arrive a little earlier than you usually would. Mostly to calm your nerves with a milkshake but also to just have more time to think and prsctice what you were going to say in your head. You bit your lip as you though about the boy simply staring at you with a blank look before just walking off, out of Pop's; out of your life.

It was terrifying.

Right now, you'd give anything in the world, to not be in love with this certain Serpent boy. But that was impossible. Who wasn't in love with him?

As Pop cam over to gather your empty milkshake glasses, you heard the roar of a motorbike pull up outside, setting the butterflies in your stomach into a flurry, hitting the walls lf your stomach and fluttering their tiny eings harshly. You peered out of the clear window, clesrly noticing Sweet Pea demounting his motorbike gracefully, hopping off and beginning to make his way jnside.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath and closed your eyes. When you heard the bells ring, you opened your eyes and smiled towars the door, Sweet Pea noticing you immediately as he walked in, making a beeline straught for you,

Your heart fluttered as he shot you that beautiful grin, sliding into the booth with you. "Hey, sorry am I late?" He asked, leaning on his hand with his elbow on the booth table. You shook your head, smiling.

"No, no, lf course not," you replied, more than aware of the obvious blush that was currently on your cheeks. "I'm sure you're um, wondering why I asked you here, right?"

He laughed lightly. "Was it not just to hang out because you had such a great time last time?" He asked jokingly, teasing slightly.

You rolled your eyes at him. "Oh yes, of course," you said sarcastically. "No, I just really need to tell you something, Sweets," you say, fidgeitng with your hands on the table. "Right... I-"

"What would you two kids want?" Pop asked, turning up out of nowhere just as you were just about to begin talking

Your eyes darted from Pea to Pop before smiling sweetly at Pop. "We'll have two choclate milkshakes and a tub of fries to share please," you said kindly, Pop nodding and walking off. While your back was turned, he sneakily waved at Pea and mouthed "good luck," which definitely made him feel a lot more confident.

Once your food came, Sweet Pea tok a deep breath. "Well, there's actually something I meed to tell you as well," Sweet Pea admitted, bringing the milkshake to his lips as he sat there, gazing into your eyes intensely. "Listen, Y/N/N... I, uh..." he trailed off, not exactly knowing how to word something lunch ss this. "Fuck... I'm really bas at things like this, ss you know," he chuckles to yimself, before shutting himself up. "Well, Y/N/N, first of all, I just want you to know how much I care about you, okay? In this-" He gestured round the room. "-this town, you are the one that I'd do anything for. Not Toni. Not Jughead. Not even Fangs. You," he whispered, a blush settling itself on his cheeks.

You said nothing. You were simply frozen in your spot. Never in your dreams did you think this moment would come.

But it wasn't to be celebrated.

Sweets could sense that he'd done something wrong, or st least he felt like it. The atmosphere was tense and awkward. "Shit..." he whispered to himself. "Shit!" He repeated, louder this time, cursing himself for being such an idiot. "I'm so stupid... I knew you wouldn't feel the same way, shit..." he buried his head in his hands before abruptly standing up while you stared at him, dumbfounded.

He took one last look at you, telling you a "sorry," before swiftly getting out of there, the bell on the door ringing as he walked outside.

You only realised what had actually just happened about ten minutes later. You were finally able to break your own trance, yet there was only one thought going through your mind currenlty.

He likes you.

Northsider tag list: @the-fifth-marauders-paws @oabf45 @peterhollandd @whatevergea @evansleftboobgrablaugh @yourwonderbelle @theatregeek217 @i-like-it-like-that-262 @soda610 @skeletalwolfcat @yourfanficbiish @chipster-21 21 @chennyetomlinson @ficbucket @wickedscorpio22 @bisexual-with-adhd (wouldn't let me tag some oops)

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darkmindsthinktwistedthoughts · 6 years ago

Text

Devil’s Temptation pt17

Warning: Mod Styling warlords, Strong Language

Masterlist

---

Chapter 17 – Masterful Lessons

Tower after tower of blinking lights and electric clicking sounds. It was just a massive dense digital rainforest of mainframe computing. Sasuke actually enjoyed this aspect of his job more than the weapons. He never liked fighting, he did, however, see the need to raise arms when protecting someone he loved. Kenshin had taken him in after seeing potential in him, although he was never told exactly what that potential was.

His family wasn’t part of the crime world both his parents and grandparents had been in education. At some point during university, he was forced to drop out due to lack of funds and that was when the trouble started. Looking back, it was a hard introduction to the underworld.

---

Loan sharks. The bottom feeders. His parents had agreed to be guarantors on a loan for a friend who later turned up dead. Dead or not a loan is a loan and the debt collectors wanted the money. Sasuke was home when they broke in and went for his mother and sister. He jumped in before he could think and protected them. His father came home later to find a battered and bloody Sasuke being tended too by his mother. Desperate for help Sasuke informed them he’d find a job that would help and he would take on the debt. He didn’t want them targeted again.

Sasuke walked through the white marble entrance into the Uesugi buildings, clutching his CV in his hand. Kenshin was passing by the reception on his way back from a meeting when he collapsed. He was white as snow and getting colder with each passing second. It was his quick thinking that prevented him from slipping off the mortal coil completely before an ambulance could arrive. Sasuke often wondered if there was such a thing as fate. Something that tied others together through the threads of time. After receiving medical treatment in hospital Kenshin sought him out and offered him a job.

“Mr Uesugi. I am no fighter, Sir. At best I have a very basic level of understanding of self-defence.”

“But you have formidable analytical skills and your grades in other areas such as calculus, economics and electronics could prove to be useful to me. Are you aware of what I do?” Kenshin addressed the young Sasuke.

“I’ve heard rumours.”

“Then I shall add an ability to listen and show discretion and caution to your list of merits.” Kenshin approached the young man from behind his desk, locking Sasuke in his sights. The only emotion the man exuded was determination. “I am not asking you to fight just stand by my side and learn, follow orders and as for the rest… I’ll train you myself.”

He felt a small sense of dread rising within him at accepting such an offer but he also knew he needed a job. He needed to help protect his family. Swimming in the same lake as Kenshin Uesugi would not just kill all his birds with one stone it should set him up with a way to take down the scum at the bottom of the barrel and help protect others from the same fate.

“Then I am in your care.” Sasuke bowed.

---

Yukimura entered the room behind Sasuke a large tool bag in hand, putting it down on the ground with a thump that brought Sasuke back to the present. Mitsunari trotted in after carrying the laptop and several hand-held circuit readers, nearly dropping them as he stumbled.

“Oops… Oh! Thank you.”

“No Problem.” Sasuke caught the tech in his hands before they had time to tumble to the ground.

“Why are we doing this and not just you know…” Yukimura asked as he made tapping fingers on invisible keyboard gestures “Digi stuff?”

“Digi stuff?” Mitsunari inclined his head.

“You’ll have to excuse Yukimura Mitsunari. Technical terminology is time-consuming jargon to him.” Sasuke explained as he removed some blueprints from the tool bag and the other men gathered next to him to look at the map of circuitry.

“Is that meant to be a dig at me?”

“Of course not. I admire your honesty and straightforwardness it saves time.” Sasuke was nothing if not completely honest as well. It was one of the things that Yukimura liked about him. That and the guy seemed completely useless when it came to lying.

“So, we are looking for what? A wiretap or something?” Yukimura looked from the coloured lines on the blueprint to the towers in the room. Talk about a needle in a haystack.

“Not quite. From observations on the code streams I’ve seen, there was nothing to suggest that the IP had been jacked by an outside location.” Sasuke calmly explained details as simply as he could.

“Someone did something on the inside?” Mitsunari ran his fingers over the information laid out before him, his purple eyes dilating as he scanned the new information.

“Yes, I believe someone has placed a separate server in here and linked that to the internal mainframe network.” Sasuke began calculating sections of the mainframe mentally. “In that case, they wouldn’t need to hack just access their own server in order to access the files they wanted.”

“Wait. If it isn’t hacked what the hell set off the alarms then? I mean if it was all linked up and they didn’t have to hack, it shouldn’t have set off the alert. Right?” Yukimura was even more confused. You wanted action he could do that you wanted strategic planning and plotting that was always Shingen’s domain.

“I think it comes down to timing. A few days ago, the monthly maintenance occurred. After that, all main server passwords were changed automatically by predetermined algorithms. If the additional server was added before this and the ones doing that didn’t know…”

“All it would take is for them to attempt access with an old password claiming to be part of the system for it to flag up a problem.” Mitsunari cut of Sasuke seamlessly. It was like looking at two people sharing a brain and saying the same thing. Yukimura had to work hard to suppress the urge to hum the theme from the twilight zone.

“Ok… well let’s find this thing.”

---

A battered, oxidized business sign welcomed the car's arrival with its pealing lead paint. Shin could say one thing about this city, it provided convenient secluded locations for work.

Shin opened the driver’s door and grimaced as his clean black shoes touched the dirty and neglected ground in the abandoned factories forecourt. Great… just great. Clicking the fob on the key he popped the trunk and was happy to see the human cargo was still out for the count. Shin bent down slipping one of Mitsuhide’s arms over his shoulder and then after shifting the weight a little grabbed a leg and draped the prone form of Mitsuhide over his shoulders. You are heavier than you look Mr Akechi.

It took around an hour to set things up. The facilities weren’t exactly as clinical as he would have liked but they would work. Industrial looms sat in inches of dust, old textile fragments hung from the air like long forgotten flags on a battlefield. Discarded bobbins and other bric-a-brac scattered on the ground like a storm had passed through. He located a room towards the back of the building that was stable and clear enough for him to work safely. After making sure Mitsuhide was “comfortable” and secure he set up his tools on a clean sheet near his soon to be very helpful guest.

Time ticked by slowly and he watched as the crucified figure before him started to stir back into life. They were testing things with little movements that could have easily been missed if you weren’t paying attention. The rattle of the metal behind them was the last sound he needed to hear that told him they were truly conscious.

“I see you’re awake.”

---

The drug haze was lifting from his mind a little as he allowed his eyes to adjust to the bad lighting around him. He didn’t think he would be alone so the sound of a voice talking to him from the gloom was not shocking. It would have been stranger had he actually just been left alone to dangle. Looks like the fun has started. Let’s see who has the stronger hand.

“Ah, I see I have finally got you where I need you.” Mitsuhide’s voice was a little strained. It was to be expected he hadn’t used it since being drugged and he was tied up at present.

“Isn’t that what I was meant to say next?” Shin asks chuckling a little at the ridiculousness of the claim. He had been a little further away in the room sitting on a foldable chair, drinking tea from his thermos patiently waiting for Mitsuhide to regain consciousness.

“Not if you knew what I do.” A wicked smile that almost seemed to glow in the darkness spread over Mitsuhide’s face. Fake it till you make it.

It was unnerving. Shin knew this game, it was a mental game of chicken. But what if it wasn’t a game? People normally beg for life or to make whatever it was you were going to do to them quick. That was standard response in this situation and he had been prepared to listen to that. Have I truly missed something? He seems far too sure of himself to just be playing games.

“Talk is cheap and in a short while you won’t be talking much longer.” Shin spoke levelly as he moved a little closer.

“Now who’s saying who’s lines? Ha-ha and to think I thought you were a Pro. I overestimated you. You’re nothing but a rank amateur at this.” Mitsuhide persisted with his taunting. Shin’s eyes were glancing around discreetly as he tried not to show what he was doing. He was curious, he was interested… he was starting to second guess himself. Good. I can work with that.

“Amateur! You dare call your captor that, in your position? Clearly, we both overestimated each other. I always thought you were smart.” Shin lost his perfect composure. In all his years in dispatch, working in the shadows cleaning the path for his employer he had never been so disrespected. Really Mr Takada something as small, as your captive taunting you, is enough to make you crack?

“Let me explain for the benefit of the class.” Mitsuhide grinned devilishly and dipped his face down. The light caused deep shadows to fall over his features, his yellow eyes glowed as he watched the other man. It all looked… unnatural. “You try this in my city, in my playground with no clue of what you are doing…”

“Why you little…”

“Ah ah ah. I’m talking. You will wait till I finish.” Mitsuhide interrupted Shin and held his control over the conversation easily. Pausing for a few seconds to revel in the other man’s agitated confusion. “There’s a good boy. Well now. By the condition of this place and the direction of the light coming you could have only brought me to one of two buildings. But knowing an amateur this is probably the old carpet factory.”

Mitsuhide was bluffing. Bluff a bad hand and see if it's enough to make the challenger raise his interest and take the bait. He had always had a way of making things sound believable and worked it to his advantage. You can fake mostly anything if you have a basic knowledge on it. You just had to use the right words and have the ability to keep your nerve while acting confident. When playing games, it was a boon. And there is no bigger game than one where your life is forfeit. The fact was this building was one he was intimately familiar with, he had used it himself many times. If you had just travelled a little further and gone to the storage and loading areas you would have seen it. You would have recognised… this is my playroom… my dungeon. But you didn’t, did you?

“How?... not that it matters. You know where you will die.” The hesitation in his voice was telling. Shin was definitely feeling like he had missed something vital. He had moved back again and was roaming his eyes around as if he thought he would see a clear indication that way of what was going on.

“Ah ah ah I’m still talking!” Mitsuhide kept his captor’s attention from wandering in a direction that could work logically. Distractions. They could be simple or they could be hard but ultimately a distraction is a distraction, and they can cost you dearly.

“Why does it feel as if we have reversed roles?” Shin muttered to himself, bringing his hand up to the back of his neck and rubbing it. This should have been simple. It should have been easy. Everything was planned… everything had been thought out and arranged. He had taken everything into account. Except for the victim. The infuriatingly calm, goading man before him. This whole situation was wrong, but Shin couldn’t think clearly long enough for him to make any of it make sense to him.

“On with the lesson. You tie me to a…” Mitsuhide gave a little wriggle as he once again tested his own position. “closed elevator gate and by the feel of it… oh yes…. Mhm…. you used plastic ties on my wrists.” He kept his expression the same, head angled to the side as if he was still checking details. His feral grin frozen in place. If Shin had been closer, he would have seen Mitsuhide’s eyes starting to dilate. The pain of being suspended, the uncomfortable biting sensation digging in his wrists from the cable ties. I really hate to admit it to myself, but this does feel exceptionally nice… No that can wait for another day. A different path to entertainment and pleasure has presented itself.

Shin noticed the change. It should have been minor but to him, it was as clear as the traverse of the night into day. That guy is so calm. I seriously feel like I’m missing some-… wait, is he enjoying this?

“And you left my legs unbound? Tut… tut. Although I would say that is ok, as long as you don’t intend to get closer than ten feet now that I am aware that I can move them.” As Mitsuhide spoke Shin stepped back a couple of feet without even realising he was moving. “Second mistake.” Mitsuhide’s head snapped up. A movement that was so sharp and sudden that it made Shin jolt.

“Another? What?”

Panic. That was what that foreign feeling was inside him now. His organised attack. His well thought out plan. All of it falling apart and failing him and he couldn’t see how. The barbed tongue of the viper before him had laced his words with such effective poison that he didn’t even realise the control he had lost until it was completely taken from him. This was not good at all. Shin looked over and the rippling chill that was filling him moved like a flash freeze in his system. His gun, his tools… all of them cleanly and meticulously laid out for use. All of them were around twenty feet too far away for him to reach. Shit…

“This elevator is more than seventy years old and the gate likewise. An amateur would put a brand-new lock on such a gate to keep it closed I… oh, look how confused he is at this simple comment. Did you figure out the problem yet?... No? ok, looks like a demonstration is in order as you still don’t seem to be getting it.” Mitsuhide chuckled sinisterly in the darkness. It was worse than any horror film audio Shin had heard. It travelled in the air, clinging and sticking to things, bouncing off them only to echo more. “Right, are we paying attention?” Shin didn’t move. He couldn’t in the same way he couldn’t look at anything else but the malignant and terrifying spectre in front of him. “What happens when a new solid reinforced metal strikes against an old rusted piece of metal?”

“It… It breaks.” Shin answered rather like a programmed doll. There was a brief moment of triumph in his voice as he got the right answer but it was washed away by a wave of anxiety as he looked at the new Yale lock hanging like a wish token in a temple on the gate.

“Correct” Mitsuhide cried out as he managed to swing his legs to the side and kick off from the solid wall.

The stress and pressure of such a sudden movement caused the padlock to snap the rusted metal it was on, breaking its hold on the gate and making the hinges weaken. The binds on his wrists twisted into his flesh drawing blood. But that was only a momentary euphoric agony as the gate began to concertina and snap shut behind him. The folding metal cleaved the plastic ties from him as it went.

Gracefully Mitsuhide landed softly on the ground just in front of the gates behind him. Hinges giving out finally causing the rusted metal to frame him like corroded wings. “As I was saying. I have you exactly where I want you. In a locked room where I have access to the only escape route.” Shin stood there in awe. He had never seen that. Never had a meal turn on its plate and fight back. Never seen someone look as inhuman and wild as Mitsuhide. “And would you look at that? You even laid out all these charming little toys beside me.”

Mitsuhide felt a familiar thrill straining within him. He could drink until his body passed out and never feel this kind of intoxication. His voice was low and growling, his movements were smoke edged with lethal intent. You broke the chain. You fed the beast. Time to pay the price.

“Well, Mr Takada… Are you ready to play a game?”

---

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digoxinpurpurea2-blog · 7 years ago

Text

One of my grandfathers died of AIDS complications before I was born.

There, that's my pound of flesh. You have to present those before anyone listens to you on this fucking website.

I didn't delete my tumblr because oh no I'm the Hamilton cannibal mermaid freak. I have been that for years. And, for what it's worth, I never interacted with Israa as Israa. She tried to interact with me, once, two years ago, about the intentionally dumb garbage I wrote in my spare time. I ignored her because I didn't know who she was and I didn't care.

Nah, I deleted my tumblr because you freaks kept sending me death threats and I couldn't exactly deal with that after being awake for four days and trying to manage the emotional fallout of this monster.

Don't send people death threats, you fucking loons.

This was not about fandom, because I do not orient my world around fandom. This was about my grandfather, and not just him, and not just the other people I have known who have had their lives irrevocably altered by HIV, and not just the fact that she stole money. This was about basic common decency. It's not about me. I'm not going to pretend I'm an angel or anything but I have never done anything like this.

But this is not about me.

The person behind hivliving, Alix McLiar:

1. Lives in a $500,000 waterfront house in a wealthy suburb in the US with her married and very wealthy parents, both of whom have terminal degrees in the sciences

2. Goes to a prestigious private out-of-state university on a merit scholarship worth approximately $250,000 over four years. Or maybe not. Maybe she got kicked out. Still not sure. Her school has been contacted multiple times by multiple people, and the chief of police of her university told me that she would be punished appropriately. I believe, at least, that she's no longer involved in the school's anti-racism groups as an administrator, and I know that her advisor knows, and that the head of the diversity office knows, and that her friends all know and have completely stopped talking to her. Rephrase: she went to a prestigious university while this was going on, majoring in a healthcare-related field.

3. Went to one of the best high schools in the United States

4. Started racefaking on the internet early in her senior year of high school, possibly earlier - she was 17 at the time and is 19 now

5. Vacations internationally with some frequency

6. Is white and cisgender and REALLY FUCKING RICH, meaning she definitely used the money she got as “Israa” for drugs or something

7. Is probably going to do this again

She used the following identities:

1. Israa, Liar Prime - bigender bisexual Chinese-Pakistani 19-year-old, from the China-Pakistan border (once or twice specified as westernmost Xinjiang), HIV+ after being trafficked into sexual slavery by her parents as a young teenager, Muslimah, hijabi, once had her eye popped out of its socket after someone found out her HIV status, once raped and robbed by police at gunpoint, pregnant, miscarried, married, living in India with her wife - blueskysapphic/hivliving/angischuyler

2. Muk(h)ta (she spelled it different ways) - Somali, Catholic, raised in America by her American father who was implied a few times to be a diplomat of some sort, 18, trans woman, lesbian, married to Israa, trafficking victim, not HIV+ - thewarsnotdone

3. Naj, American lesbian POC (never specified other than that), congenitally HIV+, fairly active in ace discourse -allolesbean/hivliving

A bonus identity discovered while investigating:

4. Alix, Lebanese Jewish lesbian, self-identified as an Arab, from Lebanon, living in the states for college - lesbianeclipse

(the Jewish community in Lebanon numbers about forty, by the by. She's fond of doing this)

Israa lied a fuckton but she didn’t just pop out of the blue. She had put together the biracial trafficking victim persona before she started posting her fic. She had convinced other people of this persona before she started writing fanfiction - named the wife, picked out Chinese and “Muslim” names (yes she called Israa her Muslim name), found a beta for her fic, made up a backstory.

And it wasn’t just hivliving that she was involved in. Israa and friends' modus operandi in fandom was to declare someone a pedophile over fanfiction, sic followers on them, threaten to dox them, force them to divulge (often sexual) traumas, and then use those traumas to harass them into self-harm. She did this multiple times, mainly to young gay teenagers and young trans men and young impoverished women. Some of those people did self-harm. And she knew it. And she kept on bullying, and told anyone who said “Stop it” that how DARE they, she is HIV+, she can do this.

And, given that Israa and her crew placed so much emphasis on IP address hits to Tumblrs as "stalking," it is absolutely impossible that none of them - including the one who followed her on her "Lebanese Jewish" tumblr and Facebook-linked twitter - did not know. This was a squad of teenagers dedicated to threatening and sexually harassing rape victims over fanfiction, with their core defense being 'Israa has been much more traumatized than you, by people like you, and she's protecting other people by hurting you.'

Yeah, no. Weirdly enough, most trauma victims don’t go out of their way to tell victims of child sexual abuse that they should kill themselves.

Israa used the social capital and following she gained being a moral arbiter and Teller Of Wise Truths About HIV in fandom (she and her crew also picked on an HIV+ member of the Hamilton cast on Twitter such that I believe he blocked them, by the fucking way) to start hivliving.

The person behind Israa is not Muslim. Or Jewish. Or HIV+. Or Somali. Or biracial. She was not trafficked to another country by her parents. She grew up wealthy. It was incredibly obvious she was not who she claimed she was. A basic knowledge of geopolitics would have nipped this shit in the bud literally years ago, because nothing Israa said made any sense. This should have been caught day of. Other people knew and let it ride because it’s fun to cloak your repulsive behavior in the language of social justice to get away with it. Other people should have figured it out.

Point by point:

1. Language

Israa claimed to speak Chinese and Urdu natively and English, Spanish, and Kannada as second languages. She exclusively used English on her blog. She learned English as an adult and yet had absolutely perfect grammar, spelling, mastery of American slang, etc. Is this impossible? No, of course not, but learning a second language as an adult - especially in a non-immersion environment, especially one from an entirely different language family, presents a ton of difficulties. I am currently learning a second language in a non-immersion environment. Writing and reading are easier than speaking, sure, but they do not come easy.

Israa wrote like a native English speaker. She never made the mistakes in grammar or spelling common with people learning English from Chinese. She never had slightly odd turns of phrase borne from not grasping all the tiny nuances of a given English word. She never had an accidental character inserted when she forgot to rotate the language on her keyboard. (I rotate keyboards. Lemme tell you, it happens frequently.) She used British spellings pretty consistently, but not British or Indian English phrasing. Her slang was all American, young, Tumblr-approved. The media she talked about was almost all in English, minus one Chinese-American film and one Chinese novel available in English translation. She never used Chinese or Urdu on her blog, except to write brief greetings or her name. She never talked to anyone in Chinese or Urdu or Kannada. Her punctuation was completely American. She never, ever forgot a word.

This person, from a family poor enough to knowingly traffick a child into sex slavery, was fluent in 4-5 languages, presumably literate in at least 3 (meaning she could effortlessly cycle between 3, possibly 4 different writing systems) and somehow so fluent in a language she had started learning only two, three years before that she was indistinguishable from a native speaker.

How?

How was her English so native-perfect after only two or three years?

Because she didn't only have two or three years to build on. Because she was a native speaker. Duh.

2. Offensive racial stereotypes

Israa consistently presented herself as from western China, right along the China-Pakistan border. Never specified city or town, presumably because Alix was not invested enough in the character to pick a random town name off of Google Maps. She also once posted about her family having a dispute about the family rice farm.

There is almost no rice agriculture in extreme western Xinjiang. Not none, but almost none. Too arid.

But rice, China, right?

Also, bit of a digression as the character could have started wearing it while not living there, but about wearing hijab in Xinjiang: it's not exactly legal, right now. Crackdowns on specifically Uyghur Muslims in Xinjiang have been front-page news in major English-language publications for years. Crackdowns on Hui Muslims (the ethnic group she occasionally claimed to be a part of) are less common, but they happen. And, of course, not all Muslim women wear hijab...but all Muslims are the same, in Israa-world. Speaking of.

Israa claimed that she had relatives in Gaza and that she did medical research at a clinic in Gaza under the auspices of her university.

1. How did she get a passport? It would have to be either a Pakistani or Chinese passport. Traveling from India to the Gaza strip on a Pakistani passport would be, shall we say, extremely difficult. It would be difficult for her to acquire a passport in the first place (did she have any documentation before she was trafficked? After? She was trafficked into India and India repatriates trafficking victims. Presumably she would have been repatriated to China. Would she, an HIV-positive member of a Muslim ethnic minority breaking the law in Xinjiang, be allowed to acquire a passport? How would she afford a passport? etc) 2. How would a 19-year-old non-medical student undergraduate receive permission to enter the Gaza strip, especially if she was traveling on a Pakistani passport? 3. Current Israeli law gives the Minister of the Interior the right to deny access to Israel (and thus Palestine and Gaza) to any HIV+ alien or migrant worker. Presumably Israa counted as an “alien or migrant worker,” so how did she get into the country to travel to Gaza in the first place? 4. Did Israa not realize that Pakistan and Palestine (and China) are culturally very dissimilar because they're in very different parts of the world? This is another China = rice moment. Alix assumed that all Muslims are the same? How would the aforementioned impoverished ethnic minority family be wealthy or mobile enough to have relatives at the other end of the continent?

I'm pretty sure her logic there was "Chinese Muslims are oppressed, Palestinians are oppressed - basically the same, right? Family!"

Oh and by the way she seemed to not remember if her family was based in western Xinjiang or in Karachi. She had sisters living in Karachi at some point and then she told me and, apparently, told quite a few other people, that she would be moving back to her loving parents in China soon after graduating university, at the age of 19.

Her parents who trafficked her.

Hokay.

Oh and besides the 80s high school AIDS crisis AU fic she wrote a lot of seriously offensive “Muslim AU” fic that trafficked in a lot of incredibly harmful and racist tropes about Muslim women but I said I wouldn’t mention fandom

3. Her wife

Mukta/Mukhta - Somali, Catholic, raised in America by her American father, somehow ended up in India as a trafficking victim, monolingual in English. She implied a few times that her father was some kind of diplomat. Muk(h)ta married Israa and they lived happily together as an interfaith couple, doing such coupley things as packaging Christmas care packages at Muk(h)ta's church and having wanted pregnancies.

1. As far as I can tell, Mukta and Mukhta are not Somali names, and if Muk(h)ta was monolingual in English wouldn’t she, like, spell her name in the Latin alphabet consistently 2. There are approximately 100 Somali Catholics. (Like I said, she liked doing that.) 3. An American-raised child of a diplomat being kidnapped (?) and trafficked for sex in India would have made international news. I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH. IT WOULD HAVE BEEN INTERNATIONAL NEWS. 4. Legal gay marriage does not exist in India. I wouldn't bring this up, people can call their partners whatever they want in the absence of legal recognition, but Israa made a distinction between "wife" and "girlfriend" and talked about having a wedding in a religious space, so - 5. How were two married female teenagers living together with apparently no problem in Bengaluru? 6. Muk(h)ta and Israa ended up in the same brothel together after being trafficked and one day decided to take the bus out. TO WHERE. HOW DID THEY GET THE MONEY. How Israa talked about the brothel was completely bullshit too and seems to have been based on legal brothels in Australia or Nevada - personal amenities, private bathrooms, private rooms, et cetera. 7. Again, India repatriates, or attempts to repatriate, known minor victims of trafficking - so why were either of them still in India?

Oh also Muk(h)ta's blog literally only talked about how awesome her wife was and Hamilton and she almost never interacted with other people by herself and she would have had the same non-Bengaluru IP address as Israa (same blog organization, frankly, as allolesbean), so -

4. Being a student in India

Israa insisted she, a Chinese (and?) Pakistani national, was a science student at a university in Bengaluru. She would not have been able to do this without documentation and you have to apply for a student visa in India outside of the country.

So:

1. Again. How did she acquire a passport? 2. How did she prove her residential address outside of India? 3. How did she put together the money to pay student fees? 4. How was Muk(h)ta living with her in the interim, if Muk(h)ta wasn't an Indian citizen? 5. How did she overcome the language barrier in either English or Kannada in enough time to start studying science? 6. Where was Muk(h)ta during the application process? In China? In Pakistan? In India? How?

6. The pregnancy

Jesus Christ where do I start

Israa always, always insisted that Muk(h)ta presented as a woman, was understood as a woman, etc, and the pregnancy was expected and wanted - the old ladies at church (who 100% accepted her) cooed over her baby bump.

Two AFAB people and their magic desired child baby bump.

NO 19-YEAR-OLD HIV+ PERSON IS GOING TO RECEIVE IVF. ANYWHERE. EVER.

When someone pushed back on this, she started insisting that Muk(h)ta was a trans woman, taking hormones, and then later she conveniently miscarried.

1. How did Muk(h)ta access hormones? 2. How did Israa access her HIV medications such that she was fine with having unprotected sex (she stated a couple of times that she and Mukhta were a serodiscordant couple), and/or how did Mukhta access PrEp? 3. Why would two impoverished teenagers living on student visas (and it had to be student visas as, again, India repatriates foreign trafficking victims) plan to have a baby? 4. How did Muk(h)ta, a devout church-going Catholic living in India, safely and successfully navigate as a lesbian trans woman married to a Muslim woman such that her church accepted her and the pregnant partner unconditionally? 5. Same question but about Israa and Israa's mosque, which she apparently attended regularly 6. If the child was planned, how did Muk(h)ta, a young (17? 18?-year-old) trans woman on hormones, access the healthcare that would have assured them both that her hormones weren't interfering with her fertility? 7. How did Israa access neonatal care? 8. How could they afford all of this and yet Israa needed to ask for donations on hivliving to deal with vague miscarriage-related medical bills?

And on. And on. And on.

Am I saying it's impossible for someone to learn a language quickly, or to be Pakistani and have relatives in Gaza, or be a victim of trafficking, or be a lesbian in India, or any of the other things she claimed separately? No, of course not. I'm sure there's actually someone who is very like Israa out there, minus all the lies.

I'm just saying - are you fucking kidding me? Are all of you so illiterate about how the entirety of the world works that this bullshit was allowed to pass unchecked for two fucking years??? Are all of you so illiterate about how the world works that no one wondered why a person with this background would be spending her internet time primarily writing god damn Hamilton fanfiction??? Yes, you are, because instead of putting together this incredibly obvious idiotic racist garbage in a post to point out the many insane consistencies, I had to wade through the goddamn cash.me terms of service LITERALLY MONTHS AFTER SHE STARTED DEFRAUDING PEOPLE.

And that was obviously not the only time she'd demanded money, she just deleted her tumblrs before I could find the "friend's paypal" she had used earlier on blueskysapphic/angischuyler.

Did she ever talk about living with HIV in any meaningful way? Did she ever talk about it in a way that wasn't just yelling about not blaming asexuals or complaining about people twenty years older than her not using Tumblr-approved phrasing or whatever? Did she actually do anything with hivliving besides reblog things other people had posted and tell people to pm her for more information? The real Alix is a 19-year-old college sophomore who is so stupid about public health that she told people RENT is a good introduction to the AIDS crisis in twenty god damn seven teen and told me that she checked herself into a hospital for narcissism (spoilers: there's a huge lack of beds in psychiatric hospitals and no psychiatric ER is going to admit a person not immediately in danger, especially not for NARCISSISM). She had absolutely nothing of value to contribute. She was clearly not talking from a place of expertise. She did not sound like she knew anything about anything and what she did regurgitate was highly Americanized. If her value as the person who ran hivliving was as an HIV+ pregnant married nonbinary non-American trafficking survivor, then it should have been obvious earlier that she was none of those things.

It is not difficult to figure out things like it is costly and difficult to move between countries, or that midcontinental aridity precludes heavy-water-using agriculture, or that adults who are learning English as a third or fourth language from a non-Germanic language will have quite a bit of trouble with grammar and vocabulary even several years in, or that a nineteen-year-old bigender woman-aligned person would have difficulty living safely with her wife anywhere, or that it’s nigh impossible that a person holding a Pakistani passport could get to the Gaza strip, or that most Somalis are not Catholic.

BASIC KNOWLEDGE. BASIC COMMON SENSE. BASIC GEOPOLITICS. A few hours on Wikipedia could have thrown all of this into the garbage.

Why did any of you believe this garbage?

Easy! Because:

1. Tumblr fetishizes oppression, especially that of trans people and Muslim women, and Alix made herself a persona that hit every jackpot possible 2. Tumblr consumes only fanfiction and thus elevates it to an insane level of importance in culture, therefore fights over fanfiction content are actual justice (it's not that fucking deep) 3. Tumblr has an extremely warped understanding of social justice theory and abuse dynamics 4. Tumblr refuses to absorb any news or history besides that which is presented on Tumblr 5. Alix was so prone to leading harassment mobs that any pushback would lead to more abuse 6. Tumblr hates gay men and would rather listen to an obvious bullshit artist than anyone the community that is primarily affected by HIV

Really can't stress that last one enough. REALLY can't. I remember some big name ~tumblr LGBT-community famous~ blogger telling their thousands of followers that the pogrom against gay men in Chechnya wasn't happening, partially because they were so stupid that they didn't know how to click through on tabloid publications to the serious reporting done by actual journalists, but mostly because Tumblr has decided that gay men aren't oppressed and AIDS is over or some bullshit.

At least five people, five men, five GAY AND BI MEN, came to Alix with their status, begging for help. She fed them garbage and lies. She looked them in the face and decided she would continue with this monstrousness and you just fucking let it happen and then you made it about fanfiction because you don’t understand that there are things way beyond fandom. She was a psychopath who OPERATED IN FANDOM and 15 years ago she would have pulled this shit on the TWOP boards or the scarleteen message boards or neopets or something.

God, fuck all of you.

I have a tiny bit of money spare this month. If you send a receipt of a donation to an HIV/AIDS-related organization of your choice to [email protected], personal information redacted as you so choose, I'll match it, multiple its, for a total of $50 from my end. If that doesn't happen by February 15, I'll just send it all to one of my choice. I can hold a couple bucks spare each month so that, God willing and my rent don't rise, I can consistently send to Rainbow Railroad or my home LGBT center's HIV/AIDS program.

Nothing is going to fix what she did and she's never going to get held to account in the way she should but I'm going to post receipts every so often anyways because I am nasty and angry enough to care about other people. I am angry enough to do penance on her behalf. I have been furious and horrified and sick about this ever since I found out and dealing with her vileness has caused actual tangible harm in my life but again, it's not about me, and I'm going to remember that even if you motherfuckers won't.

I would seriously advise anyone under the age of 21 to get the fuck off of this website and go learn how to communicate with other people in a healthy manner. Go outside! Interact with other people in the real world! Read a book. Read a fucking newspaper! Learn about the world. Or you can stay here and burrow in the echo chamber and become credulous fauxwoke racist homophobic morons who prioritize calling other teenagers pedophiles til they try to kill themselves because Steven Universe or something over doing literally anything that could help the world. Your choice.

The rest of you: comport yourselves like normal fucking human beings for once in your fucking lives and sort out your goddamn priorities. Read a fucking newspaper. Stop giving obvious racist fraudsters like medievalpoc and Israalix the benefit of the doubt and actually think about the information that is being presented to you and then maybe do something more useful with your time than getting into internet fights. For example, I organized an auction in my spare time that, with the help of another lovely person and dozens of wonderful donors, raised $3,917 for various charities over six months, including $200 for GMHC and about $75 for an HIV/AIDS organization in Wisconsin. Go do something similar or get off the fucking internet! It’s 2018! You’re adults! Try tangibly helping other people, at some point, instead of engaging in this terrible narcissistic performative circlejerk where trauma has become a cudgel to beat others!

If any of you do anything like this again I will find you and I will fucking destroy you. That is a promise.

Go to hell.

#hivliving #blueskysapphic #allolesbean

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