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talkingpointsusa · 1 year ago

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Daily Wire Responds To; Elon Musk's Outburst on Wednesday.

For those of you who are lucky enough to be living under a rock, Elon Musk has recently gotten himself in hot water over an antisemitic remark he made on Twitter where he endorsed a tweet peddling "The Great Replacement Theory" as "the actual truth". This led to multiple advertisers leaving X, formerly known as Twitter, which has caused a bit of a revenue hit to the company.

On Wednesday, Elon responded to the advertisers by childishly throwing a tantrum and telling them to "Go fuck themselves".

This isn't the first instance of Elon's trollish behavior and won't be the last. I truly believe that a lot of this is Elon looking for attention, which he is getting in droves. Now lets tie it back to the topic of this blog; our friends over at the Daily Wire! Surely they would speak out against this, after all if it was someone on the left who told someone on the right to go fuck themselves they would be up in arms about how vulgar and crass the display was, the same must be true for Elon....right?

Ben Shapiro;

This is going to be a long day (Image via Ben Shapiro at the Daily Wire)

We might as well start with the big man himself, the man running the show over at the Daily Wire, Ben Shapiro. Watching Ben's show is a good pulse for the position that the rest of the crew over at the Daily Wire is going to take, mainly due to the fact that he is one of the owners of the joint and is more or less the face of the company alongside Candace Owens (and maybe Jordan Peterson, but I consider Jordan his own special type of entity that happens to be platformed by the Daily Wire in the worst possible way), who's employment is somewhat up in the air at the moment

(Matt Walsh is middle tier and Michael Knowles, Brett Cooper, and Andrew Klavin are non-entities). So let's see what he has to say in his Nov 30th, 2023 show.

0:07; "Schumer is not an amazing source on this particular topic given his consistent support of the Middle East's policies and the most antisemitic president in modern American history; Barrack Obama".

Alrighty, we're starting off with a bang aren't we? Ben starts the show off by talking about Chuck Schumer's speech on the senate about antisemitism. I find Ben's assertations that Obama is the most antisemitic president in modern American history deeply hilarious and ridiculous.

So, what antisemitic acts could Ben Shapiro be talking about? He could be talking about Obama's support of the Iran nuclear deal in 2015. Never mind the fact that Chuck Schumer actually OPPOSED the deal at the time. While Schumer was in disagreement with Trump pulling out of the deal in 2018, he cited that him backing down was due to the political factors at the time.

As for support of the Middle East, Schumer voted to condemn Hamas' attack and pledged financial support for Israel. As a matter of fact in that speech Ben plays, he's calling for support for Israel! He did support giving humanitarian aid to Palestinian civilians however, which is fair in my opinion given the amount of damage and casualties Israel's attacks have caused in Gaza. My point at the end of the day is that Chuck Schumer clearly does not support the Middle Easts policies.

Furthermore, there have been WAY more antisemitic presidents than Barrack Obama. Just ask Richard Nixon who stated on tape that "Jews are all over the government" and "are disloyal". Or how about Donald Trump? He accused that all American Jews "voted to destroy America and Israel" on Jewish New Year.

While this isn't a direct response to Musk yet, we'll get to that, this just shows how people like Ben put ridiculous arguments forward in completely bad faith.

5:24; "They'll slander him as an antisemite even as he goes to Israel to express solidarity with the families of murdered Jews.

What Ben is leaving out is the timing. Elon did this AFTER making the post and this is an obvious act of damage control. This was clearly something Elon did so that people like Ben Shapiro could have something to downplay the antisemitic remarks he made on Twitter. I find it absolutely insane that Ben Shapiro, a man who has been calling EVERYONE who questions Israel antisemitic, is defending Elon Musk. Guess it doesn't matter if it's your side right? And in case you're thinking that I am being overdramatic about this tweet, take a look for yourself!

Yup, totally not offensive whatsoever. Just a little Twitter boo-boo

Now, Ben didn't cover it much on the show on the 30th which is hilarious GIVEN THAT THE EPISODE NAMED DROPPED ELON IN THE TITLE. I believe this was because Ben couldn't quite figure out the narrative he wanted to use to defend Elon and instead decided to just rant about DEI, the rights new favorite boogeyman, in order to distract from what was clear antisemitism.

However, Ben came back on December 1st to his show clearheaded and seemingly with a narrative given the fact that this time he actually devoted an entire segment of his show to Elon's interview. Thankfully, the segment is posted in full on YouTube so I don't need to comb through the entirety of the show to find it.

(although rest assured we will be combing through the entirety of some of Ben's shows at a later date, we just don't have time now).

What I have noticed is that by supporting Elon Musk, Ben Shapiro and the rest of the Daily Wire have put themselves in the awkward position of defending the tweet that Elon was endorsing. Naturally when they do acknowledge it they dance around the issue with rhetorical tricks like "By X he meant Y", and that is only referring to rare events where they acknowledge what the tweet said in the first place.

So let's go through the show.

1:08; "Musk here was explicitly talking about companies like Disney, who's CEO Bob Iger had announced earlier in the month that the Mouse House would stop advertising on X, formerly known as Twitter."

Ben has positioned himself as a defender of the free market. He has entire videos on his channel where he explains "the beauty of the free market" in Q&A's. A key part of the free market is that corporations have a right to do what they wish, including deciding where they funnel their money and what people and brands they want their name associated with. Therefor Ben should have zero problem with Disney exercising their right as a corporation to pull advertisement from a social media platform.

2:31; "Now, it's one thing for an advertiser to decline to be associated with any outlet or product. That happens all the time. Happens on this show, happens on other shows. That's their right, we live in a free market"

Great, end the episode now and stop complaining about them pulling ads from X if you truly believe that.

2:40; "But when companies make public announcements that they are withdrawing their money, that is obviously designed to create public pressure"

Or, Elon said something really beyond the pale and these companies are publicly distancing themselves from someone who A); Doesn't embody their corporate values and B); Is a walking PR liability. They are essentially saying "Yeah guys, we want no part in this shit" in order to avoid public scrutiny about still advertising and or not condemning Elon's remarks. Plus at the end of the day, X is already attracting more far-right rhetoric than other social media platforms so it was probably already an advertising liability. Again, Ben should have NO problem with this.

Notice how Ben hasn't elaborated on the Tweet, only saying that Elon "apologized for it". Could it be that Ben's actual defense of the Tweet was so remarkably ridiculous that it was obvious that he was grasping at straws? He remarked on his November 16th episode that Elon was "Reading the term Jewish communities and instead seeing the letters ADL". That argument is ridiculous as it's insane to believe that someone as supposedly smart as Elon Musk would just happen to misinterpret a tweet painting an entire group in a bad light with one organization.

And by the way, if Elon immediately views the term "Jewish Communities" as "This organization of Jews that I don't like" that is still antisemitic!

4;07: "X is the only social media platform that allows, and is attempting to even preserve, free speech."

Ben Shapiro sucking up to Elon so hard that he forgot that Gab and Truth Social are platforms that encourage his own ridiculous view of "anything goes" free speech. There's also a subreddit dedicated to Ben Shapiro that is basically devoted to people talking about how great he is, so we can add Reddit to the pile.

Also, social media companies are well within their rights to not allow content that they feel goes against their terms of service that everyone who uses them agrees to. That's part of the free market. Also also, Ben has never been banned from Twitter so whose free speech is he talking about? Could it be the alt-right figures that Elon Musk has empowered? Hmmm....I wonder.

The other half of this video is an ad for a gold company, I shit ye not.

Matt Walsh;

Phew, good thing there's some transphobia in here with that last headline! Otherwise I wouldn't be able to recognize that this is Matt posting it (Image via Matt Walsh at the Daily Wire)

As mentioned previously, Candace Owens is a little up in the air right now due a load of drama that probably deserves it's own post, so we go to the Daily Wire's third most prominent commentator and ur-transphobe Matt Walsh. If you don't recall, my first post on this blog and last installment was all about how full of crap Matt is about, well, everything and how he seems to be fine with groups of people dying if he personally doesn't like them. While Ben Shapiro at least took time to form something resembling a take (and even then spent most of his videos on it dancing around the actual facts), Matt has devoted the longest portion of his show to talking about this story. I get the sense, and maybe this will change after I watch more of the individual Daily Wire personalities, that Ben Shapiro is significantly more careful in his rhetoric than Matt Walsh and Michael Knowles. This is probably due to him being the most watched guy on the platform and the CEO of the company. So if what we just went through is what a careful take at the Daily Wire looks like, let's see what the less spoken about commentors have to say about it.

4;15: "He was delivering the same message to every other corporate advertiser that has suspended advertising on X as a way to force him to restore the old censorship regime of Twitter"

It seems to be the Daily Wire position that these advertisers are suspending ads on Twitter not because Elon may have accidentally outed himself as an antisemite, but because he is being punished for "standing up to the man and allowing free speech on his platform".

I feel like the Daily Wire is showing what side it is firmly on when it cheerfully supports the platforming of hate speech. They do this because it benefits their own hate speech.

Also lets talk about this "corporate overlords" crap Matt is pushing. Is Matt seriously trying to argue that the literal richest man on the planet, a guy who is influential enough to fly to Israel and talk to Netanyahu on a whim, isn't one of our corporate overlords?! And let's not even get into what kinds of corporate overlords are paying the bills over at the Daily Wire, folks like the billionaire Wilkes Brothers.

5;10: "Mainstream journalists like Sorkin certainly cannot conceive of anyone standing up to corporations like Disney because these are all subservient masochistic little weaklings who bow to our corporate overlords everyday"

As a journalism student, I have every right to be pissed at this guy calling my profession a bunch of "subservient masochistic little weaklings", and I could easily say the same about a guy being paid by oil billionaires to lie about climate change and left wing causes like Matt, however I won't because unlike Matt I'm not a massive dickhead. However I would like to use this example as a way to highlight something that Matt does which other hosts at the Wire don't, being a flat out insulting jerk.

Matt Walsh loves to call people nasty and sarcastic little names to bolster himself up instead of actually presenting cohesive arguments. Take for instance, the way he deals with transgender people. Matt constantly deadnames them, calls them degenerates, and is just an outright POS to them for the awful crime of....being themselves in his presence I guess?

This strategy does a great job at "othering" his audience in the eyes of his viewers but simply lowers the discourse into the mud. I guess he probably related with Elon Musk when he crassly shouted at people to "go fuck themselves".

5;46: "But they were offended on behalf of the advertisers, the dear poor corporate advertisers"

The Daily Wire is an advertiser on X and just unveiled a massive ass contract to advertise their recent transphobic "comedy" Lady Ballers on the platform. Matt is EXACTLY what he claims to hate, someone who is offended on behalf of the richest man on Earth because Ben Shapiro probably told him to be.

12;31: "Media Matters went to great lengths to engineer a scenario that would put corporate advertisements near this objectionable content on their timeline"

Explain how Matt. Did Media Matters somehow burrow itself into Elon's brain when he supported an antisemitic conspiracy theory? Did Media Matters trick Elon into supporting Scott Adams when he called black Americans a "hate group"? Did Media Matters make Elon play an, at the very least, complacent role in the racist work environment at Tesla?

Elon has a long track record of promoting this kind of stuff and Matt is intentionally downplaying that for the sake of his argument.

Alright, enough of Matt Walsh. Time for our final Daily Wire talking heads take on Elon.

Michael Knowles;

Our favorite third banana giving his stamp of approval (Image via Michael Knowles at the Daily Wire)

Now Michael Knowles is interesting in of that most people not widely versed with the Daily Wire will hear his name and go "Who?". If we rank the main Daily Wire hosts by YouTube subscriptions, Michael is almost dead last only beating Andrew Klavan and Craine and Co. You know it's a bad state of affairs when Brett "Gwen Shapiro" Cooper is outpacing you in subscriptions when your show is twice as long as hers.

If anything, Michael is best known for publishing a book of reasons to vote for the Democratic Party that was filled with nothing but blank pages, great way to trick people into buying a book full of blank pages to "own the libs".

However I'm going to come out here and say it; Michael Knowles has some of the most royally batshit insane takes out of any Daily Wire host. Like the time he said people were right to question if Obama was born in the USA because "He doesn't talk like an American", or the time he called Greta Thunberg "mentally ill" which led to FOX of all people issuing an apology for having him on, or the time he called condoms "kind of gay", or the time he-

0;07: "The owner of the only non-leftist social media platform"

I'll say to Michael as I said to Ben; Gab, 4Chan, Truth Social, large swaths of Reddit.

1;03: "And Elon is absolutely right. If the richest man in the world is not allowed to speak his mind, if the richest man in the world is not even allowed to let other people speak the truth as we see it, then why even go on pretending that we live in anything resembling a free country anymore?"

If Elon was as censored as Michael claims he is, would he be up there speaking to prominent New York Times journalists? Would he be speaking to literal presidents? No, of course not!

Elon is absolutely allowed to espouse whatever disgusting viewpoints that he wants just like advertisers are allowed to say they don't support those views and stop advertising on his platform. Michael is allowed to espouse whatever ridiculous viewpoints he wants on his own show, just like I am allowed to to write a response like I am doing now.

And that's all Michael has to say on the matter despite naming the episode after the incident, clickbait much? Brett Cooper has no comments on it as she is too busy talking about stupid TikTok videos. I don't think Jordan Peterson has a stance on it and I am not going to his Twitter to find out. So that's all for todays post, have a great rest of your day and I'll see you all in the next one!

#journalism #right wing bullshit #elon musk #fuck elon musk #xitter #conservatives #conservative bullshit #fact checking #disinformation

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sondepoch · 3 years ago

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Breaking (4/5)

Breaking the Collar

Nine months in the human trafficking circuit has destroyed every sense of normality you ever knew. For you, it's commonplace to be ordered on your knees for your owner, his clients, anyone else Childe deems necessary—and you've reached a point where you accept it this misery, just going along with the motions of life because there's nothing else to do.

Diluc and Kaeya change that.

They enter your life on a regular workday afternoon, stepping inside Childe's massive office under the pretense of sorting out a business deal, but a single hastily written message makes it clear that they're not here to hurt you: they're here to help you.

The only issue is that you have no idea how to escape Childe.

MASTERLIST

Childe is broken.

That’s the only way to explain it, really.

Something in him seemed to change after his meeting with Diluc and Kaeya. The lazy smiles, playful grins, and rugged charms that Childe used to project as naturally as light off the sun have evaporated into thin air, leaving nothing but a shell of a man you once thought to be so powerful.

“Ajax,” you whisper, calling his name to wake him up. All he really needs to do is open his eyes. You know that he’s already awake, long used to how rhythmic the rise and fall of his chest is from months of sleeping by his side, but the redhead ignores you, pressing his head deeper into the crook of your neck.

“Ajax,” you repeat, frustration beginning to drip into your tone. “Ajax, you have to wake up.”

Except that he doesn’t actually have to.

The man received an onslaught of calls the day after his meeting with Diluc and Kaeya, all of which he answered with varying degrees of frustration, but ever since then, his phone has been radio silent. Where Childe used to be out of bed every day by eleven and in his office by twelve to attend to his meetings, he’s now done nothing but stay in bed all day—and the worst part is that no one seems to care, his phone completely silent save for the daily calls he’s been avoiding from Scaramouche.

Where a few days ago, you were annoyed with the fact that he forced you to do nothing with him for hours on end, not even fucking you at night the way he always used to, now, you’ve begun to grow concerned.

“Ajax, get up.”

You try to pull his head off your shoulder in hopes that you can force him to at least look you in the eye, but the way he instantly stiffens and burrows deeper into your shoulder is proof enough that he’s not going anywhere.

You sigh.

This marks the third day where he’s refused to even brush his teeth in the morning, the fourth where he’s refused to speak. If your life were anything normal, you’d have forced him up long ago—but you’re hardly in a position to pretend you have any authority over him. It’s clear that he knows that, too.

“Ajax, I really need you to get up...”

—which is a true statement, surprisingly.

The plan you’d developed to initiate your escape, perfected over the car ride back from Childe’s meeting with Diluc and Kaeya, was simple: snag a knife from the kitchen in Childe’s apartment, sneak into his office, use said knife to tear open the briefcase you know must have your documents inside of it, and then start running to the hotel Diluc and Kaeya said they’d be in.

You spent hours perfecting this: figuring out where Childe would be most likely to store the kitchen knives, what time of day will be best for sneaking out, and even what clothing you’ll wear when running away, since you can’t exactly run through the streets of Snezhnaya in your usual birthday suit, and for once, it seemed like the stars had actually aligned for you.

Unfortunately, when you developed your plan, you hadn’t accounted for Childe’s sudden change in behavior.

“Ajax, please…”

But the man barely even shifts in response.

Hours later, after you’ve long given up on waking him and have instead decided to join him in his slumber, you both wake up together to a voice much louder than either of yours.

“What the fuck,” Childe groans, throat hoarse from not speaking for days on end, “is that sound.”

In your opinion, it’s pretty clear what that sound is: Scaramouche’s aggressively loud shouts of “Open the fuck up!” and “Stop dodging my calls!” and “Get out of bed, asshat!” accompanied by a nonstop banging that makes you grateful no one else lives on this floor doesn’t leave much to the imagination.

Instead, all you say is a quiet ”I think that’s Scaramouche.”

Childe withdraws his head from your neck with a mocking glare as the intensity of Scaramouche’s banging increases.

“I’m coming in, dickweed!” the man shouts from many rooms over, and that’s the only warning you and Childe get before you hear what has to be the sound of a door being kicked in.

“Did he just…”

Childe stares at you in shock.

A small smile flits onto your face, grateful that someone has finally come to snap Childe back to his senses.

Scaramouche doesn’t bother quieting his footsteps as he stomps towards the master bedroom. He throws the door open with such force that you almost fear it'll rebound straight back into his face, but Scaramouche is across the room with his hands around Childe’s neck so fast that you’ve barely blinked before your owner’s head is being bashed against the bedframe.

“What the fuck,” Scaramouche snarls. “Made you think it was a good idea to tell anyone that you were the one who lost Lumine.”

“I didn’t—”

Your owner’s voice is cut off when Scaramouche grips Childe’s neck and wordlessly threatens to hurt him again.

“Do you know how many problems this will cause? No one wants to work with you anymore, Tartaglia.”

“I know, and—”

Scaramouche pushes Childe’s head back into the bed frame, albeit with a little less force this time.

“No one wants to work with me anymore for having worked with you. Same for Signora and Dottore.”

“There’s nothing I can—”

“And all your big clients somehow got wind of it, too. They’re trying to switch over, and they’re all going to traffickers who aren’t associated with the Fatui because you—”

“Do you think I fucking wanted people to find out?”

It’s the first proper sentence you’ve heard from Childe since he left that meeting room with Diluc and Kaeya.

“Do you think I fucking want the literal shittiest people in the world thinking that they can look down on me?” Childe shoves Scaramouche off him, blue eyes narrowing into a glare. “I’ve already lost everything, asshole, so I don’t need you here if all you’re going to do is remind me of that.”

Scaramouche’s face settles into a frown, though you do see a hint of apology in his eyes. The pain in Childe’s voice didn’t go lost on anyone in this room.

“You smell like shit,” Scaramouche says abruptly, looking away. “Take a shower. We’ll figure out how to fix this after that.”

Childe doesn’t say anything at that, merely stepping out of bed in his sweatpants and walking to the bathroom.

“Go with him,” Scaramouche tells you. “You smell even worse.”

You’re partially insulted, partially grateful when Scaramouche says that. Insulted because, well, it can hardly be considered your fault that your owner clung to you in his bed for days on end without letting you shower. Grateful because after watching Childe do nothing for so long, you’re not sure he’ll even be able to take a proper shower on his own.

“Ajax?” you whisper softly, following him into the bathroom. “Ajax, should I—”

“Be quiet,” he whispers. Childe steps inside the shower, eyes downcast. “Please,” he adds in a softer voice.

The man doesn’t start the shower until you’ve stepped in beside him, and you’re jarred when you realize how familiar this position is. It reminds you of how, months ago, when Childe first declared you his favorite and began inviting you to spend the night with him in his apartment, he brought you with him to the shower because he couldn’t trust you to be alone for so long. It was probably his first step in his attempts to win you over, since even back then, he was always so touchy with you, always asking what your preferred shampoo scents were and insisting that you let him wash your hair.

Back then, you were the sullen one, timid to speak and hesitant to look your owner in the eye. When he washed your hair for you, it was all you could do to shut your eyes and wait for his touch to go away, but now...

“Let me,” you tell him when he reaches for a bottle of shampoo.

It’s the first time you’ve ever initiated anything like this. You hold your breath, wondering if Childe will refuse you.

Wordlessly, the man bows his head to you.

You don’t entirely know what compels you to massage shampoo into his hair with such tenderness. A part of you says that it’s because you feel guilty, since it’s obvious by now that your slip-up to Kaeya that Lumine and Childe were connected is what’s resulted in his current plight, but another part of you does it simply because it feels natural. Standing next to him, his body blocking out most of the water as you let the soapy suds rinse from his hair, feels homey. Peaceful. Pleasant, almost as if the relationship between you isn’t owner and slave, as if the two of you are actually equals and you’re simply caring for him out of the goodness of your heart.

Childe seems to sense it, too, because right after you’ve washed conditioner from his hair and have finally begun using a loofah to clean his body, he stops your arms. He holds them loosely, just enough strength in his fingertips so that you know he wants you to stop but still sufficiently little that you’d be able to keep moving if you want to, and the two of you stand there like that for much too long, naked and vulnerable, staring into each other’s eyes as warm water beats down at you.

“I…”

It’s the first time Childe is actually speaking to you in such a long time, and his eyes soften the way they always do when he looks at you and makes you feel like you’re the only thing to exist in this world.

“I think I—”

“Hurry up in there!” The sound of Scaramouche kicking the door ruins the moment, and Childe abruptly drops your wrists from his hold. He steps back quickly, almost as if realizing how close his lips had moved towards yours, and a familiar pink stains his cheeks as he glances away from you and hurriedly scrubs the rest of his body clean.

“Sorry,” he blurts, so quick and uncomfortable that it almost reminds you of how he normally is. You’d believe it, too, if not for the slight twinge of distance in his eyes that tells you he’s still thinking about Lumine or whatever it is that has him so out of it. “Uh, thanks. I’m, uh, gonna go. Gotta talk to him, y’know? You can, uh, finish up in here.”

You almost want to laugh at how awkward Childe is as he steps out of the shower and towels off to brush his teeth, blue eyes flickering to your form only to glance away in embarrassment when he realizes that he’s being watched.

“I’ll put new clothes on the bed for you, so…”

Childe nods stiffly at you and closes the door, and it’s all you can do to blink after him.

Ten minutes later, once you’re fully clean for the first time in much too long and you’ve worn the clothes lain out for you on the bed, you make your exit from the master bedroom and follow the sound of voices into the living room.

“Listen, I—”

“Wait.” Childe puts up a hand, gesturing for you to come over. Wordless, you do, though it surprises you when your owner lets you sit at his side instead of on his lap. “Alright, continue.”

Scaramouche rolls his eyes the slightest before going on:

“All I was saying was that your career might be salvageable if you relocate. Let’s say you drop the name Tartaglia and instead fill the role of Capitano. You’ll have to move to Sumeru, but you might be able to continue your work there. Everyone now knows that Tartaglia was responsible for losing Lumine, but as long as you don’t tell people in Sumeru that you were Tartaglia, no one should question you there.”

“I hate everything about that plan,” Childe says, crossing his arms. “I don’t even know what language they speak there. I’ll be the foreigner. Everyone will think that I came to Sumeru as a last resort because I couldn't sell my merch anywhere else. Do you know how much I made fun of those two Mondstadt pricks for trying to do business here? They didn’t even have accents either, so imagine what people will say when I—”

“You don’t exactly have the luxury of caring about what people will say behind your back.” Scaramouche glances away, sensing that it’s a low blow. “I mean, listen. No one wants to work with you anymore, and this is the only way ‘you’ can become someone else.”

But Childe remains silent.

“You can keep all your merchandise,” Scaramouche continues. “In fact, the people in Sumeru will probably like that, since it means that the girls won’t know the language and they won’t be able to escape or ask for help. Hell, you can even bring her—”

“Is that even a question?” Childe asks defensively, a hand wrapping protectively around your knee. “Listen, Scaramouche, I appreciate you trying to help me, but Sumeru isn’t—”

“Isn’t what? Isn’t ideal? You letting it slip that you’re the imbecile who lost Lumine wasn’t ideal, but look where it—”

“I didn’t say shit!” Childe hisses in response. “Do you seriously think I’m that dumb? That I’d let those two Mondstadt pricks, of all people, know something that could destroy my career? That has now destroyed my career?”

“If not you, then who, Tartaglia? The only people who know are a part of the Fatui, and it’s not like—”

Scaramouche gestures to you wildly, evidently about to say that it’s not like you could have known, except that he now remembers that he did let mention Lumine in front of you to Childe once, and you can see the moment where he connects the dots.

“You fucking bitch,” Scaramouche whispers, eyes wide with fury and shock.

“No,” Childe says, standing up abruptly. “She didn’t say it intentionally. She still doesn’t know who Lumine is.”

“But she told someone, Tartaglia. You’re literally going to be kicked out of Snezhnaya because of her, and you still want to protect her?”

Childe’s mouth forms a thin line.

Scaramouche laughs mirthlessly.

“Fucking hell. Do you think this is a joke? Your life isn’t the only one she sabotaged, Tartaglia. Everyone in the Fatui is suffering, and if you keep letting yourself get seduced by your fucking toys, you should just quit being a human trafficker before one of us shoots you.”

Tartaglia says nothing.

“You’re a disappointment. At this point, you’ve caused more trouble for us than you have good. Everything you do seems to be another international incident, and I’m fucking sick of it.”

More silence.

“It’s people like you that make me terrified to retire. The more I talk to you, the more I think that you would have been better off as a slave rather than the owner. I never should have let you move up. You were built for taking dick, not for trying to control it.”

Your eyes widen as Childe remains silent.

“And you know who takes the blame every time you fuck up? Me. It’s me. Everyone in the goddamn Fatui thinks I made a bad call now when I set you free and, I’m going to be honest, I’m beginning to think they’re ri—

Childe stiffens next to you, standing.

“That’s enough,” he says, the look in his eyes dark. “What’s done is done,” he says. “Or do you need to vent some more?”

Scaramouche crosses his hands, a look of...regret? embarrassment? pity? Flickering across his eyes. He stands up with an unreadable look on his face.

“I’m...being serious. Consider whether or not you still want to work in the Fatui. This is the best shot you’ll have at leaving.” Scaramouche’s eyes flit over to you, where Childe’s hand is now wrapped protectively around your waist. “Though if I’m honest, I don’t think you even want to be a human trafficker anymore.”

Childe says nothing to that, merely waving casually as Scaramouche exits the apartment through the hole he made in the door. You wince when you see the damage, wanting to ask your owner how he plans on repairing it, but another question is more pressing on your mind:

“Ajax?”

“Yes?”

“Who’s Lumine?”

Your owner looks at you, brushing his thumb by your cheek as his eyes take on a nostalgic tint.

“I’ll tell you some other time.”

Childe goes back to his bad sleeping habits as soon as Scaramouche leaves. Within seconds, your owner is shirtless and has flopped onto the bed, shooting you a pleading look to curl up next to him. Thankfully, this spell seems to last a little shorter than the previous one because although the man refuses to get out of bed, he at least entertains you with a conversation.

“What else?” you ask, a playful smile on your face as Childe continues telling you stories about Xiangling.

“Well, there was this one time where some kid was making fun of Xiangling for being bad at art, so she and I decided that we’d bring in sandwiches for the entire class and make his extra spicy. I actually helped her with the cooking process and all, so I watched how much chili she put into the sauce she was going to use for this kid’s sandwich and it was ridiculous, like I thought she was trying to murder him or something, but anyway, we get to school and start handing out the sandwiches, and…”

You’re completely enthralled as Childe tells you the story of how he had to go to the nurse’s office because he, unfortunately, was the poor soul to eat the overly-spicy sandwich through a Xiangling-esque mix-up—and you don’t care that he’s probably making it up just to see you laugh, all that matters is that the man is smiling and talking and not staring miserably at the ceiling the way he has been for the past few days.

“You should try that the next time you’re in a business meeting with someone you don’t like,” you say, giggling. “It would be such a flex if they thought that you could eat something so spicy while they’d struggle.”

“Maybe,” Childe chuckles. “I really wanted to do something like that to those two Mondstadt pricks—and it might work, too, since they’re at least still doing business with me—but they already left the country.”

“What?” you ask in alarm, fear presenting itself as excitement through the speed with which you respond.

“Yeah,” Childe hums. “They had to go early or something. I guess it’s fine since we already agreed on the mode of transportation, but—”

“Wait, really? B-but hasn’t it been less than two weeks since your last meeting with them?”

Alarm bells begin to ring inside your mind. You remember—you swear you remember the two of them telling you that you’d have at least two weeks to get the documents before they’d leave. But could it be that they’ve forgotten about you? What if they decided you were trouble? What if they know that you’ve begun to grow close to Childe as of recent? What if they—fuck—you’ve actually begun to like the redhead, haven’t you? The fact that he’s not bringing to meetings anymore, handing your body off to be fucked like a toy before he takes you back, has made you forget that the man in front of you is a monster, hasn’t it? Could they somehow know?

A pool of dread rises in your stomach.

What you did today in the shower, willingly touching him and showing him affection he’s done nothing to deserve, was disgraceful. How can you expect Diluc and Kaeya to free you if you’re not even doing your best to be freed? What if they know about what happened today? What if they think you’re a lost cause? What if they abandoned you here because of your own naivety, and you’re cursed to a life of human trafficking for the rest of your days because of your own idiocy?

“Angel?” Childe asks, cupping your cheek. You violently flinch away from his touch, a defensive anger creeping into your eyes. “Angel, I—what? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I…”

You shut your eyes, reminding yourself of your position. He may not be using you right now, but Childe is a human trafficker. You’re nothing more than his favorite toy. Getting close to him like this will do nothing but hinder your escape.

“It’s nothing,” you say, averting your eyes. Still, you make no effort to return to Childe’s warm embrace. “Just, um, tired. I’m going to take a nap.”

Childe must know that what you’re saying is utter bullshit, primarily because these past few days have been nothing but sleep and rest and more sleep, but he doesn’t push it. “Alright,” he says, leaning forward to kiss your cheek.

You turn away from him before he can get close.

There’s a strange sound Childe makes, then. It’s something between a sigh and whimper, dejected and hurt all at once, but you don’t turn around to check on him. He’s a monster, you tell yourself, forcing the image of Childe looking like a kicked puppy out of your mind. A fucking monster.

And the only two people in the world who are willing to get you away from this monster may have just abandoned you, so you really need to get your shit together.

Pretending to be asleep comes naturally to you after nine months of learning that sleep, even if feigned, was the only escape you could ever have from this life. Hours pass until Childe really has fallen into slumber, something you test by calling his name out quietly, and then you know that it’s time to go—or to at least go do what you can.

You’re abruptly grateful that you and Childe went to bed right after Scaramouche left because it means that you’re fully clothed, which is an unnatural state for someone like you. When you quietly climb out of bed and out of Childe’s apartment through the hole Scaramouche made in his front door, it almost makes you feel normal because even though you’re still dressed in a cutesy skirt and blouse, you’re not being accompanied by the one man who has never let you go outside alone.

When you finally take the elevator down the ground floor of Childe’s building, no one pays you a second glance as you walk out the front door.

Then, your mind is abuzz.

Don’t look at anyone, you tell yourself because you know that if you have a panic attack here, no one will be able to save you. Don’t look at anyone, just go to the hotel.

Hours of pretending to be asleep helped you sort out your thoughts: it makes sense that Childe would believe Diluc and Kaeya to be gone. After all, they don’t want your owner getting any ideas that they were the ones to free you; however, you need to make sure that they’re actually here.

And besides, you reason to yourself as you cross the street and step towards the hotel you’ve seen so many times across Childe’s apartment. It’s best to make sure I know where they are so that I don’t get confused when I actually escape. It’s important to do this.

With your eyes locked on the ground the whole time, you enter the hotel and take the elevator to the second floor where rooms 213 and 214 will be, just as Diluc and Kaeya instructed. No one pays you any attention, as if reminding you of your insignificance, but you’re grateful for how invisible you seem to be as you exit an empty elevator and wander down a carpeted hall.

This hotel is a considerable downgrade from the extravagant location Diluc and Kaeya were renting out as a front for their supposed trafficking, but it sets you at ease. When you finally stand in front of room 213, it looks almost...normal.

Hesitant, you raise a hand and rap your knuckles against the wood.

“E-excuse me?” you ask, tension beginning to seep in. “Is anyone—are—Diluc? Kaeya?”

Their names sound foreign off your tongue but you repeat them anyway, the intensity of your knocking increasing until you’re practically banging on the door the way Scaramouche was this morning.

No response.

Panic begins to surface, and you quickly switch over to room 214, not bothering to start knocking quietly as you bang on the door desperately.

“Is anyone there?” you call, trying to keep your voice sufficiently low so as to not disturb other patrons of the hotel, but it’s really hard when your fears that Diluc and Kaeya really have abandoned you grow truer and truer with each passing second. “Please!” you sob, practically kicking the door in your attempts to will it into opening. “Diluc! Kaeya! You—you promised you’d—”

The door opens right as you’re about to bang your fists against it once more, and an incredibly annoyed and shirtless Diluc stands to catch both your fists right before you can hit his chest with them.

“I’m here,” he says in that familiar, deep voice of his. “Calm down. I’m here.”

“Oh,” you say, relief suddenly washing through you as you practically go boneless in front of him. You know it’s inappropriate, that the two of you share no real relationship other than the fact that he’s trying to help you escape, but you can’t help the way you instinctively throw yourself forward to embrace him. “Thank you,” you practically sob into his chest. “Thank you for being here.”

“I—” Diluc is quick to pull you back, and he levels his stare with you just as he wipes the tears from your cheeks. “Did you escape? Do you have the documents?”

The redhead glances around the hall once to confirm that no one is watching before he pulls you inside his room. You’re surprised to see a gagged and naked Venti on his bed, the boy’s eyes round in...fear? concern? You’re not sure. The gag surprises you until you remember Kaeya’s previous declaration that Venti was a masochist. He must be into BDSM, too.

“No,” you tell the man, shaking your head. “I just—Ajax told me that you and Kaeya left. S-so I wanted to check to see if you’d actually…”

It sounds stupid when you say it out loud. From the face Diluc is making, he seems to be thinking the same thing.

“Okay,” he says, effectively inviting you in as he walks back inside the room. He approaches the dresser to slip on the black and red gloves you saw from him last time, wearing them before moving to sit on the bed next to Venti, big hands cupping the boy’s slender thighs. “Okay, we’re here. And we’re not going anywhere anytime soon.”

“Okay,” you respond, trying your hardest not to look at Venti. It’s clear that you walked in on an intimate moment. “Um…”

“We were having sex.”

Your cheeks burn. “Right,” you say, nodding your head. “That’s—um—all I—just wanted to check—going to—”

“Don’t leave unless you’re sure that there’s nothing you need,” Diluc says. “We can help you, you know. Give you a lockpick or a hammer or even a gun if that’s what it’ll take to get you access to those documents.”

“No, I’m…”

A soft smile floats onto your face. Awkward as he may be, you’re sure that this is just Diluc’s stoic way of being nice.

“I’m good. I already have a plan for the documents.” You’re about to smile and make your leave when you remember something that’s been at the forefront of your mind for ages. “But…”

Diluc lifts an eyebrow, waiting.

“Um...you don’t need to answer this, i-it’s actually not relevant, so I should—”

“What is it.”

Somehow, when Diluc says that with such a sharp gaze, it feels like less of a question and more of a demand.

You shudder, familiar with the sensation. Nine months of training makes your response automatic:

“Do you know what happened to Lumine?”

Diluc’s face changes.

“I mean—you don’t have to tell me. I was just curious. Ajax keeps talking about her and Scaramouche kept mentioning her and I don’t understand why she’s so important, so I haven’t—”

“Lumine was the name of a human trafficking slave who escaped,” Diluc says, folding his arms. Next to him, Venti leans into him and pulls his knees in, hiding his manhood. “I don’t know any exact dates, since there was probably a gap between when she escaped and when people began finding out, but it happened sometime within the past two years.”

“O...kay?” You cock your head to the side. That...honestly doesn’t sound like a big deal at all, honestly. Slaves escape all the time: heck, Scaramouche said that Xiao disappeared just a few weeks ago, so why isn’t Zhongli facing the same loss in business that Childe’s going through?

Diluc seems to see the confusion on your face.

“The thing was, when Lumine escaped, she took important documents with her.” Oh, you think, beginning to understand why that would be a problem. “At the time, no one knew who had lost her, since that person maintained anonymity during the whole affair, but those documents were said to have definitive evidence that could be used to prosecute basically every human trafficker who had business dealings with Lumine's handler. And since that person was anonymous, it meant that every human trafficker in the world was at risk.”

“I...see.” Now you understand why people wouldn’t want to work with Childe at the revelation that he was the man who lost Lumine. “That’s unfortunate.”

“I guess.” Diluc shrugs and crosses his arms. “The incident was resolved pretty quickly, and everyone soon found out that Lumine had been killed before she could hand the documents over to anyone of importance. Still, though, for someone as prolific as Tartaglia to be the imbecile to have lost his merchandise…”

You hate how your heart immediately beats in defiance when Diluc calls Childe an imbecile. He is an imbecile, you try to tell yourself, despite the fact that you feel nothing but sorrow and pity for him now that you understand what situation you’ve put him in. An imbecile. An asshole. A monster.

But somehow, your heart doesn’t seem to agree with your mind on those words.

“And it’s my fault everyone knows…” you mumble, more to yourself than Diluc or Venti.

Scaramouche’s words from this morning echo through your mind—Your life isn’t the only one she sabotaged, Tartaglia: everyone in the Fatui is suffering—and instantly, guilt hits you like a ton of bricks. Yes, these are human traffickers, but if you remember the utterly dejected look in Childe’s eye this morning, it feels infinitely worse to know that you’re the cause of his misery.

“Are you feeling bad for him?” Diluc asks in a whisper, but the look in his eye is dangerous. Even Venti, who had been pressed beside him up until now, begins to look fearful. “Are you seriously sympathizing with Tartaglia?”

“No, I—I’m not—”

“I hope not,” Diluc says, stony. “Because there are hundreds of other girls who want to be freed and haven’t begun to feel bad for their handlers, and Kaeya and I would much rather focus on them.”

“I’m not—”

“I hope so.”

Diluc stands abruptly, and you take that as your cue to leave.

“Th-thank you for taking the time to—”

“Yeah.”

Diluc practically pushes you out the door frame, then, his broad chest obstructing your view of the inside of the room, but your eyes fly to Venti, who kneels on the bed to make eye contact with you over the redhead's shoulder.

As Diluc begins reiterating the instructions for your return, you focus on the boy in the background.

Venti doesn’t seem to care that he’s nude. Hell, there’s not an ounce of shame on his face despite being gagged and covered in hickeys, and it would alarm you if you weren’t focused on the way he lifts his bruised arms up in an X-formation and begins shaking his head frantically. His lips appear to be forming the words to something, but you can’t understand what he’s saying through the gag.

You’re about to ask what Venti is saying when Diluc turns to see what you’re looking at.

For a second, the room seems to drop ten degrees. Venti freezes, staring at Diluc with round eyes, almost scared, and you swear you hear the redhead growl for a second.

A muffled whimper spills from Venti’s lips.

Diluc turns to you, a gentle smile that unsettles you on his face. “I think you should go,” he says. “Venti must really want my attention now if he’s trying to play games to get it.”

“O-oh, but what was he—”

“I suggest you leave now,” Diluc says, the kind-not-kind smile beginning to slip from his lips. “Because you’ve been here a while, and the last thing you should want is for Tartaglia to find you missing.”

“What about Kaeya—”

“Kaeya’s at the gym,” Diluc practically spits. “So unless you want Tartaglia tracking you there, too, I’d go straight back to your little apartment with him and pray that he didn’t notice you left.”

Despair builds in your chest at that. You were certain Childe was asleep when you left, but what if he reaches out for you while he’s sleeping? What if that wakes him up and he sees that you’re gone? What if—

“Go,” Diluc orders.

The redhead doesn’t wait for you to respond, then, simply slamming the door in your face. Immediately, you’re back in action. You dart for the elevator, knowing that you need to get home as quickly as you can if you want to minimize the chance of Childe waking up to find you gone.

Panic begins to rise. The familiar vines of anxiety begin to climb higher and higher through your stomach as the elevator begins to close with painstaking slowness. Your fingers fumble with the urge to make things move faster, and you doubt yourself for a moment, thinking that you should have taken the stairs, but it’s too late for that, now, with the doors just about to close, and—

You hear the beginnings of a scream. A high-pitched wail, something agonized and miserable and ruined.

Then, the sound cuts off with the closing of the elevator doors.

Too panicked to think, you don’t bother pondering the source of the sound as the elevator reaches the first floor and you stumble your way back to Childe’s apartment.

This time, you’re in so much of a rush that you do attract attention as you exit. Somehow, though, the thought of Childe waking up and finding you gone manages to overpower your fear at being seen, and you stumble forward through the hotel and towards Childe’s apartment building as fast as you can. When you’re safe inside, you have to take the elevator once more: because while Kaeya and Diluc were on the second floor of their hotel, Childe has the penthouse of his apartment, a distance much too large for the stairs to be a viable option, but your nerves begin to calm as you feel the elevator shift higher and higher.

Maybe, just maybe, you’ll get home safe and everything will be okay.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

Probably not.

The elevator opens directly in front of Childe’s front door, where the hole Scaramouche busted open this morning still remains. Ever careful, you step one foot inside, shift your weight forward, and duck inside.

As soon as you’re completely within the apartment, the pressure and fear of having escaped dissipate. You think that you’ve made it back safely, that you snuck out and will be able to sneak back in with no consequences.

Then, you see him.

“Y-y-y-you’re—”

Childe is shaking like a leaf, looking pale and sickly. His hair is disheveled, messy in a way that lets you know that he’s been running his hands through it for as long as you've been gone, and his mouth is caught open in a mix of shock, confusion, and relief.

“You’re back,” he mumbles in disbelief, and the way his eyes glisten in the darkness of his apartment, catching what little moonlight shines in and reflecting it off, tells you that he’s on the verge of tears.

Then, he blinks, and the tears begin to fall.

“I…”

Words fail you. You don’t know what to say to justify your leave. You don’t know if Childe even wants justification. The man stumbles towards you, and while logic tells you that you should guard yourself, should protect yourself, should prepare to be hit or whipped or assaulted the way a human trafficker would normally behave when his merchandise acts out, the vulnerable look in Childe’s eye makes you think that he won't hurt you.

“I-I—I thought you left,” he blurts, reaching forward to catch your palm in his, squeezing it as if he can’t believe you’re real. “Why—why didn’t you—why are you—”

Back.

He reaches forward to clasp your other hand in his, and when he stands so close to you, holding your hands to his chest like your touch is his lifeline, everything else seems to disappear. For the first time today, the conscious thoughts that this man is a monster and he’s a human trafficker who destroyed your life and you should hate him all disappear—leaving nothing but pain for how miserable he looks at having been left, how shook he is that you decided to come back, how overwhelmed he is that, likely for the first time, someone has chosen to come back to him.

It shakes you to the core.

Never have you seen Childe so rattled. Displays of weakness like this are ones he rarely indulges in, and never at your side. This is the first time you're seeing him openly cry, the man practically clinging to your hand like it's the only thing grounding him, and you realize that he's hurting, too. That Lumine and Diluc and Kaeya and everything else in this godforsaken world of human trafficking have fucked him up just like it's fucked you over, and what you're seeing now is the culmination of all of that.

"Relax," you whisper, letting go of all your resentment for a single moment to pull him close into a warm, loving embrace. "Ajax, relax. I’m here. I’ve got you."

They're the same words Childe used to comfort you when you had a panic attack in the middle of Xiangling's restaurant, the same words that pulled you to safety at a time when even your mind had turned traitor against your heart.

You can't explain why you're comforting him when he's done nothing but ruin your life.

Yet, as Childe clutches your figure and chokes back a harrowing sob, thick, wet tears falling onto your shoulder as he chokes out the words “thank you” over and over again, you can’t help how your embrace instantly tightens.

MASTERLIST

Word count: 6.6k

Notes: OKAY so you know how this was supposed to be four chapters? yeah unfortunately that would make the final super duper rushed or super duper long so there's going to be a fifth chapter! and after the fifth chapter there'll be a short epilogue-y chapter!! the fifth chapter (finale!) and epilogue will be posted together at the same time - i can promise this bc i already have the epilogue written - soo yeah :D my apologies as usual for being late, hope you enjoyed the developments in this chapter! comment thoughts and predictions <3

Comment & Like

Next Update: 7/18/21 (hopefully)

I do not own the rights to Genshin Impact or any of the characters within it.

171 notes · View notes

bigteefsmallbrain · 3 years ago

Note

General Soul Eater HCs please

Soul Eater: General headcanons

Death the Kid:

He’s an art critic

Hear me out

He is obsessed with symmetry, and loves the beauty in it

So when he sees something non-symmetrical, especially in art, he can’t help but to critique it

May go as far as to send a personal letter to the artist (If they’re alive) about how offensive it is that they created something so asymmetrical

If he can’t send a letter to the artist, he’ll send one to the owner/museum and request it be taken down, while listing reasons why it’s horrible.

Anything he writes has an even amount of letters and words

Be that his test answers

Essays

Letters

Diary entry

Speaking of diary entries, he definitely has one

But it’s actually just a catalogue of symmetrical things he’s seen

He puts photos into it and writes about how beautiful it was to see

He doesn’t care what it is much, just that it was beautiful

Meaning he takes photos of people too

Which can be unnerving at times

He’s probably taken a photography class before, or at the very least is self taught

Literally has a photo album of things he views are beautiful, but non symmetrical and he would die if anyone found it

Like a particular sunset with uneven hills

Or a flower with one too many petals

Definitely has an 8 ball, not a magic one, just an 8 ball, it’s placed on a velvet pillow in his room and he frequently polishes it

Elizabeth Thompson:

Makes several backup plans as a way to cope

Especially after dealing with an experience with a ghost

She has notebooks full of them, labeled and detailed

At one point she started putting them in alphabetical order but stopped immediately when she realized Kid’s perfectionist habits were rubbing off on her

She practices acting in the mirror

Usually so she can charm a man into dating her

But also to con people

She used to be a “Street rat” and that thought of ending up on the streets again constantly plagues her mind

She takes full advantage of the “Rich life”

Shopping sprees

Quality makeup

Salons and spa days

The works

She lets Patty’s thought that she knows everything get to her head

The fact alone that her sister believes in her that much is enough to make her a bit egotistical

And Patty’s admiration for the girl makes it ten times worse

She literally doesn’t care if she ends up being wrong because she’ll just be right next time anyways

So stubborn in that aspect

Patricia Thompson:

She likes dark humor

You can’t convince me otherwise, you actually can’t, I have evidence

She made an origami Giraffe, and broke its neck

Laughed when Kid said he “wants to die”

She literally pokes him with a stick when he’s depressed

She likes dark humor, and probably looks up jokes to tell others just for kicks

She’s secretly sadistic, and likes scaring her sister and others

She may act naïve and innocent, but she is anything but

She definitely has, more than once, banged on Liz’s door at 3AM just to hear her sister squeal like a little girl

Honestly, she probably purposefully gets their pose wrong, just to see her sisters annoyance and laugh when Kid gets smacked

She likes origami

Probably first got into it because of the paper ninja stars

Then just found it relaxing

She most likely makes the ninja stars mostly, and keeps a box of her origami creations somewhere

Has in the past, and will not hesitate to do so again, beat someone up for kicks or just to destress

Patty has two faces, the childlike innocent one, and the insane anger one

So it’s not too far fetched to say that she’ll hide her anger till she can corner someone alone and beat them up

Or that she gets bored and decides to do so

I wouldn’t be too surprised if her sister occasionally joined as well

Maka Albarn:

She’s a Harry Potter nerd and you can’t convince me otherwise

She loves the concept of magic

Loves the dynamic between Ron and Hermione, though feels a bit of Deja vu thinking about it

Probably used to write fanfiction, but in a way that made it seem like it was actually part of the story

She will hit you if you mention it

Definitely the type to compare books to their movie counterparts

Not in like, a critic way, but she will definitely rant about the differences, or how a character looks exactly like she imagined, or if they didn’t put in a particular scene she liked in the book

Forces Soul into movie nights, but it’s only the movie counterparts to her books

I can see her forcing everyone into a group study session

Be super organized about it, and setting it up in a way so that no one can refuse

She probably has specific ways for everyone to study

Like having Black☆Star work out while studying so he retains the knowledge better

Or setting up the session in a symmetrical way so Kid doesn’t freak out about it

She writes letters to her mom, as a coping mechanism for when her emotions get to be a little too much

Like when she’s having a bad day

Or if she’s particularly peeved at something Soul did

She writes a lot more letters when it comes around the time of her mom's birthday or death anniversary

She likes the thought of an old timey romance, and often listens to songs that give off that kind of feel

She really likes “It’s Been a Long, Long Time”, it’s one of her favorites

She also likes the old Disney songs, like “Once Upon a Dream” and “So This Is Love”

She would be so embarrassed if anyone found out though, especially if it was her dad or Soul

She isn’t quite sure why she’s so worried about Soul finding out though

Speaking of, she half realizes, half doesn’t with anyone's romantic feelings, including her own

She’ll fantasize about getting a love letter or having someone present her with a bouquet of roses

But if it actually happens she’s like “Oh, thanks friend!”

She knows the behaviors, she just can’t put two and two together

They would have to be extremely blunt, no over dramatic confession, just “I’m in love with you and want to be romantically involved with you”

She reads dictionaries for fun

She really likes to read out of date dictionaries, just to see what words and slang existed back then

She also highlights words she likes and uses them frequently on accident

She has most definitely yelled “I have cupid’s kettlebells*! I’m not flat!” at Soul before

Soul Evans:

Bottles. Up. His. Emotions.

He’s influenced by “toxic masculinity” and fully believes that being vulnerable in a serious way “isn’t cool”

He will bottle everything up so deep down inside that it seems impossible for it to surface

Feelings of inferiority to others? Bottled

Want to cry or break down? Nope, gotta be cool

Started crying in front of someone and can’t stop? He’s not crying, you’re clearly blind

Speaking of crying, once he starts, and I mean genuinely starts, it’s so hard to get him to calm down, and even then the tears don’t stop

Sometimes he’ll start to freak out and send himself into a panic attack because the tears just won’t stop

He’s that influenced by the thought of being vulnerable

On a lighter note, he does adore playing the piano, but the only person he’ll play for is Maka

He swears it’s not favoritism, and it’s partially true, but favoritism does play a large role in it

He frequently drags Maka to his room to show her a new piece he put together

And if he notices her feeling a little down that day, he’ll start playing a song that he knows she likes

He definitely knows about her love for old timey romance songs and is very embarrassed to admit a lot of the pieces he constructs are based off of that

The walls are p a p e r t h i n , he can hear her music through the walls

He secretly finds it adorable when he catches her listening to it because she’ll be dancing around to it

He also frequently finds himself thinking about those moments

He’s the stereotype that parents tell little girls about, with how boys will bully their crush

He’s a lot more playful and easy going, but still teases Maka, so much

Unlike Maka, he’s fully aware of his feelings, and acknowledges them, but bottles it up, only letting himself entertain the thought every once in a while

He jabs at Maka’s lack of “Cupids Kettlebells” as a way to try and ensure she won’t fall for him, because he doesn’t know what he’ll do if she does

He reads the same dictionaries that Maka does, not for fun, but so he can know just what the actual h e l l she’s saying

More than once he’s had to look up a particular word or phrase online because he can’t find it in the dictionary

“What the hell? It’s an old Victorian saying!? Where does she keep finding this stuff!?”

Subconsciously, as time goes on, he starts using old phrases as well, he was so embarrassed the first time he got caught saying “Keep your idle daddles* off of her!” when defending someone from a perv.

Black☆Star:

Is so unbelievably selfish with food

It’s not even funny

He will stab someone if they reach for his food

He surprisingly eats healthy most of the time though?

Says something like “I have to otherwise I’ll never surpass the gods!”

The only person who could ever p o s s i b l y steal his food is Tsubaki, but even that’s pushing it

He has the weirdest dreams, and I mean weird

Dreams like being turned into a potato and being cooked, mashed, and devoured by Tsubaki herself

He didn’t talk to her for a week after that dream, and refused to eat potatoes for a full year because “You never know if it could be a person turned into a potato!”

He was also very offended when Tsubaki ate potatoes during that time period

He takes things very literally

Like up above, if someone does something in a dream, he acts like it was real

Or if someone makes a joke about fighting, he will drag them outside to fight

He’s secretly scared of Tsubaki

But it’s for literally the stupidest reason

And he fully believes that because of it she could fight god and win

She used to have a pet cockroach

One of the flying ones

And he is so unbelievably scared of them, because for some reason they just don’t die, and they have w i n g s

So the fact she owned one as a pet scares him so bad even though it was literally for only a week

He has a soft spot for children

He doesn’t really know why

He just does

Is secretly really good with kids

Literally the definition of dad material

He has his flaws but still

Little kids are the only people who could steal his food and get away with it

Every. Time. and it makes the others so mad

Tsubaki Nakatsukasa:

What can I say, she’s perfect

She probably receives love letters

Reads them over when she’s feeling sad

Likes to keep them in a shoebox she painted

She definitely paints to unwind and relax

Likes to go outside and paint the sunrise/sunset

Takes note of beautiful scenery so she can come back in her free time and paint it

She probably draws/sketches too

Carries a sketchbook with her

More than likely has drawn Black☆Star doing something

Like napping or training

She’d never show him though, too scared of inflating his ego or giving him the wrong idea

Stress bakes/cooks

We know she cooks

Liz took advantage of it and pretended Tsubaki’s cooking was her own

So we know she does

Sometimes painting/drawing doesn’t cut it

So she heads to the kitchen and bakes away her worries and unwinds

The main reason Tsubaki would possibly be spared from Black☆Star’s stabbing habit with food is because she cooks all the meals

She makes sure everyone is comfortable around her

She’ll go as far as to learn someone's customs and practice cooking their unique cuisine just to make sure that they feel comfortable and safe in her presence

She radiates mom friend energy

She’s perfect mom material, perfect wife material, perfect in general honestly

*Cupid's Kettlebells is a old term for a woman's bust

*Idle daddles is a old term for hands

I Hope you like these general headcanons for the main seven! You didn’t say which characters you’d like to see, so I played it safe by putting the main characters! Thank you for the ask!

#soul eater #anime headcanons #headcanon #general headcanon #maka albarn #soul evans #blackstar #tsubaki nakatsukasa #patricia thompson #elizabeth thompson #death the kid

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trans-reader-fics · 4 years ago

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Sugar, Spice, and Everything Nice: Criminal Minds(Girls) x Reader (they/them) - Bakery Headcanons!

TW/CW: Food, super mild swearing (uncensored).

Summary: More bakery/cafe AU! The boys’ part was getting long, so I figured I’d just split it up. The JJ and Garcia ones are fairly platonic, considering (so far??) they’re both taken. Also, I accidentally wrote the Garcia one as more of a coffee shop,,, oops. Let’s just call it a bakery.

**This is just the BAU girls, the post with the boys is here!

————————————–

Emily Prentiss

She loves your pastry. The first time you saw her in the bakery line, she barely took her eyes off of the mini fruit tarts in the display case. You didn’t blame her, they were your favorite too. Both to make and eat. Slicing fruit was something that you’d loved since you were young. Making sure each slice is even and laying them out in a little spiral on the tart was a surefire way to brighten your day.

“Hey,” The brunette walked up to the counter. Her bangs were blunt across her forehead. You thought it suited her, made her look confident. “Could I please have two of the mini fruit tarts and one medium latte?”

You smiled up at her. “Sure thing, that’ll be 17.50.” She handed you a credit card, and you blushed as your hands touched briefly. You hoped she didn’t notice, but you didn’t check. “I’ll have that for you in a minute! What name should I put on the coffee?”

“Emily,” she barely looked up. “My name’s Emily.”

She came back occasionally, maybe a few times a month. Almost always for a few tarts and a medium latte, although occasionally she’d opt for a muffin or cake pop. You started talking to her, striking up conversations as you poured her coffee and packaged her desserts. You got to know each other, built a friendly rapport.

Sometimes, she’d come in right at opening, when you had barely gotten any of the food out of the oven. You started making your tarts right when you got in, just in case. If it were just you two in the store, she opened up about her job a little. An FBI agent, part of the Behavioral Analysis Unit.

So she probably saw the signs sooner than you did. She was gorgeous, that you knew. That wasn’t unique to her, but the way that you got flustered talking to her, the tentative, fleeting eye contact? That was unusual.

It wasn’t unreciprocated. You would never have known, but her coworkers at the BAU heard about this cute bakery owner who made the “best damn fruit tarts in the country.” The unit was getting tired of hearing her pine over you, and so they trapped her into asking you out.

“Look,” Morgan hugged her from behind, annoying her. “If you don’t take them on a date-- or at least ask them-- you have to ask Hotch about Jack the next time we want something from him.” She winced playfully and conceded. The next time she went to the bakery, she would give you her number.

True to her word, when she came in for a strawberry muffin the next week, she lingered at the counter. “Hey, look, if you wouldn’t mind,” she glanced down at her shoes, her nerves showing through. “Maybe we could go get coffee sometime?” She passed you a business card.

You grinned and ran your fingers through your hair. “That sounds nice. I’ll text you on my next break, okay?” She looked into your eyes, moving her hand to cover yours on the counter.

“That sounds great.”

————————————–

Jennifer Jareau

You first met her when it was pouring rain. She was soaked, and while you were technically closed, she didn’t look like she had anywhere to go. So you unlocked the door, gesturing for her to come inside. She looked hesitant, but one look at the brightly decorated interior of your bakery, and she walked in. “Hey, thank you so much,” She smiled warmly. “My coworker was supposed to drive me home, but he blanked out and left without me. He should be here soon.”

“It’s no big deal,” you rubbed the back of your neck nervously. “I have some left over croissants, if you want any? No charge.” She accepted, and you went to get some from in the kitchen. She took a bite as she sat down in a chair, and you went back to wiping things down.

“Hey, these are really good,” you heard her yell. “I think you just gained a customer.” You blushed, thanking her. A few minutes later, you saw her walk up to your tip jar and drop a few dollars in. A car was double parked on the street, and you assumed it was her ride. “Thank you again,” she waved at you and ran back into the rain.

She came back occasionally. It wasn’t too frequent, but you couldn’t forget the blonde woman who you sheltered from the rain. She would jokingly ask how her knight in shining armor was doing, and you would respond with some melodramatic sentiment about how you were better with her here.

It was pleasant. Friendly. The two of you would always chat at the counter, occasionally frustrating the person behind her. But you didn’t mind. The bakery had a decent amount of one-time customers, and with the popularity growing, the foot traffic would make up for a lost customer or two.

You saw her on the news sometimes, as liaison for this fancy FBI unit. You never asked her about her job, just about how her coworkers were doing or if she liked the new book she mentioned a few weeks ago. She brought her coworkers around sometimes, with a light comment about how your coffee was better than at the office. “The office doesn’t have angel cake,” she remarked once, with a forkful of cake in her mouth.

She would ask for pictures of your pets, and you grinned as she gave you her business card. “I’ll send pictures,” you promised.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

————————————–

Penelope Garcia

She orders the most caramelly drinks ever. It changed sometimes, a peppermint mocha during the holidays or a fruit tea on a hot afternoon, but her usual order was always caramel.

“Hi,” she glanced down at your nametag, “(y/n)!” She greeted you one morning. You froze, not used to being called by your name, but she carried on without missing a beat. “Can I please get a large iced caramel latte, with almond milk? Oh, and a little bit of caramel sauce on top, too.”

You admired her ability to be direct, but not rude. Her entire personality seemed bubbly and sweet, which was at least somewhat influenced by her colorful outfit. “Whipped cream?” You asked with a grin on your face. “And what name should I put on the cup?”

“Penelope,” she flashed a quick peace sign. “Oh, and no whipped cream please!” You nodded, ringing up her order. The coffee was $4, and she paid in cash, dropping a few extra dollars into the tip jar next to you.

“It’ll be out in a minute,” you promise, already mixing the coffee together. “I like your skirt.” She looked down, clearly unused to people complimenting her clothes.

“Aww, thank you!” Penelope squealed. “I like your shirt. The color is nice.” You blushed, not expecting a compliment back. You liked her, you decided. She was sweet, and everything about her just seemed so genuine. You handed her the coffee, and she waved at you. “See you around, (y/n)!”

She came back to the store fairly often. She’d come in at odd hours sometimes, but her energy was always the same. You loved it, it was a nice break from the exhausted high schoolers and middle aged businessmen. You started writing Penny on her cups, not Penelope. It seemed friendlier.

“Penny?” She cocked her head in surprise the first time. You had apologies on your tongue, but she giggled, looking back at you. “That’s so sweet! Maybe I’m being too forward, but here’s my number! Text me.” She scribbled a cell number on a napkin and pushed it across the counter. “In a friend way,” she blushed, clarifying her statement. “I’m not trying to hit on you.”

You pocket the napkin. “I’ll text you, promise!” You did, in fact, text her, and the two of you became good friends. She kept coming back to the bakery, and you would occasionally throw in a few cookies.

The topic of dates came up once. Valentine’s day was approaching, and you moaned about how you wanted to go see some corny movie with a date. “The last time I hooked up with someone I met in a coffee shop,” She laughed, more awkwardly than usual. “I got shot. But this is a bakery, so it’s fine! Want to go see to that movie?”

#bakery/cafe au #gender neutral reader #they/them reader #fluff #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #prentiss x reader #jennifer jareau #jennifer jareau x reader #jj x reader #jj x reader criminal minds #penelope garcia #penelope garcia x reader

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m-y-fandoms · 4 years ago

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Vampire Nagito Komaeda x Ultimate Monster Hunter reader - Part 2 (Supernatural AU)

Part 1

WARNINGS: Blood Drinking, Vampire Bites

Please excuse any grammar mistakes. I think I got most but I edited this at 5 A.M. ... I will go back over it and scan for errors soon.

- Admin Kokichi

Hours passed since your unfortunate encounter, and your heart and mind had finally shaken off the creeps. After finishing your little self-guided tour of campus, you headed to the Main Course dorms to find your room. Your luggage was arranged to come later that evening, but you wanted to see the dorms for yourself now with little else to do.

Once you shut the door, the warmth of the sunlight gave way to a wave of the best air conditioning money could buy. The place looked very clean and tidy, with nothing out of place save for a few displaced balls and plastic cups atop a pool table and what appeared to be forgotten lecture notes on a shelf above a central fireplace. This must be the common area, a lounge for the most deserving students in the world!

Behind the fireplace on either side were two sets of pretentious-looking stairs that led up to what you assumed were the actual dorm rooms. You searched your pocket for your student key card. You flipped it around over and over again in your hand, searching.

“What?” You weren’t going crazy, were you? Neither floor nor room number were indicated on your card. You pulled your phone out, quickly sifting through emails and texts. Nope. Nowhere, at any point, had the housing department told you exactly what room was yours. Way to drop the ball, Kirigiri… you sighed, finding this situation both a bit humorous and exasperating considering the status of the school.

Well, you were a last minute transfer. There were bound to be slip-ups.

Sighing, you resigned to sit, relax for a few minutes, then call the housing department, or simply walk over to the main office building if it was still open.

"Maybe I'll just..." you decided you'd earned the two minute break and walked leisurely over to one of the beige leather seats. Sitting, you set your chin into your hand propped up by your elbow on the arm of the chair, and began to think of how much you missed your tools. School regulations didn’t allow poisons, crossbows, guns and silver bullets inside the dorms... for obvious reasons. Even students of the blade or other offensive disciplines had to keep all sharp and lethal objects in their practice rooms and out of the dorms (not that all of them followed these rules). Students were allowed to customize and adjust their uniforms according to their talent, but you couldn’t even do that, what with all of the tools of your trade being lethal or unexplainable to the ignorant masses.

It felt weird, not having a wooden stake strapped to your ankle, not having wolfsbane hidden away in a compartment on your belt. You felt out of place, without knives and rune-inlaid whips hidden on your person... uncomfortable. This school really wasn’t for you.

"Ah, it’s you!" A voice came from behind.

"Huh?" You gasped, flying up from your seat, thoroughly startled. Your knee banged off of the coffee table in front of it, leaving you feeling like an absolute buffoon. Your hand instantly flew to your leg, and you hissed softly in pain.

“Whoops! Didn’t mean to startle you, sorry!”

Your eyes followed the voice all the way up the stairs to its owner. Nagito was scrambling down the stairs toward you apologetically, feeling responsible for your blunder. He reached his hands out as of to offer you his aid, but froze upon seeing you take a step backward. He stopped directly in front of you, clearing his throat before continuing.

“What are you doing here? You don’t have to start classes yet?” You stared into his eyes, and a tremble ran up your spine. The greenish-grey, glistening spheres appeared icy and far away. “Well?" When you didn't respond, he spoke up again.

"I uh... um..."

"You have a way with words, I see, just like when we met earlier today." He teased, laughing warmly. He had one of those genuine smiles, where the eyes exude friendliness just as much as the mouth, and their misty shine entranced you deeply. He laughed again, a bit awkwardly as you merely gawked at him. A light blush formed on his cheeks and he swept some of his cloud-like hair away from his forehead. He held the eye contact, though, searching your mind for something, anything to tell him more about you. You felt a stinging begin, like a migraine forming in the depths of your brain.

You shook your head roughly, tearing your eyes away from his gaze. How could you have fallen for that one?

Vampires could very easily compel the mortal mind, put one in a mind-hazing trance with direct eye contact alone. Being the offspring of one of the best hunters ever born, you were trained to notice when the bloodsuckers made their attempts to ensnare your mind or read it like a book. That headache was your warning sign, the last defense of a disciplined mind, but it shouldn’t have even of gotten that far.

You were slipping… why did this vampire feel… different?

More importantly, you forced your mind to change the subject, how long had he been trancing other students? Was he doing this on purpose? Some vampires simply forgot their own strengths at times. Did Kirigiri know? Is this dangerous creature simply going around unchecked... doing whatever the hell he likes?!

He coughed, his eyebrows furrowing with a sudden seriousness. He’d been searching your mind, looking around desperately for a clue, a story, a hint, and just as soon as he thought he’d found an interesting page to start reading, the book was snapped close in front of him. He was pushed out in an effort that seemed practiced, skillful. You saw the discontent lining his features, and decided you needed you stop this. You two needed to be on the same page, before he tried anything else on you; something stupid, or more bold. You couldn’t keep up this charade any longer. You had a feeling he was feeling the same way.

"Stop that.” You spoke sternly, concisely, confidently. He needed to know not to try that shit again, that you would not simply be prey like others, not mentally nor physically. His mouth formed a smirk, one of relief and something like acknowledging the other player in a game.

“Ahh~ so I see that I was correct after all. Are we done playing pretend now? Awww, I was actually having a lot of fun! It was quite stimulating, actually.” He frowned, pouting like a child called home at dusk after playing outside all day.

“I’m afraid so. Sorry to disappoint you,” you crossed your arms over your chest defiantly,” and I don’t appreciate my mind being picked and prodded at. That’s extremely disrespectful, you know? That’s none of your business. If you’re doing that to people on the regular around campus, I will inform the headmaster.” You held a finger out, poking his chest firmly and with aplomb, and he only smiled in response, finding this attempt to intimidate him rather adorable. He held in a giggle behind his hand, not wanting to anger you. “Am I amusing to you?” You threw him a cross look, and he held his hands up in surrender.

“No, of course not! I was just thinking, well... how do you know? About me, I mean?”

You face went blank. You weren’t expecting this question, though you probably should have been. There was no possible way to answer this honestly. What were you supposed to say? The headmaster forbade you from telling anyone of your true talent. Disregarding that point, what would this vampire do to you once he found out you were one of those sworn to kill his kind? You didn’t have any means of defending yourself at present. You couldn’t outrun him, or fight back with raw strength. He couldn’t do anything right? He wouldn’t… if he were that brash, there’s no way Kirigiri would’ve let him enroll here in the first place. He has to be on excellent behavior to attend Hope’s Peak, right?

You blinked once, twice. He was waiting for a response, staring patiently. You needed a response, and quickly.

“W-what are you doing here?” Nice. Perfect.

“Huh?” His head tilted, taken aback by the curveball you threw his way.

“W-well you asked what I’m doing here, and you’re right, if I were starting classes today, I would be in one right now. We have the same core classes outside of the individualized training of our talent specialization. I saw the class rosters and schedules! I know you should be in class right now as well!” You were getting louder with every word, feeling very cornered and vulnerable at the moment. If you had just even one weapon on you… just one…

“Well, uh…” now you had him. You smirked, feeling pretty clever at the moment. “I forgot my books... just my luck haha,” he countered, “So I came back to my room to get them!”

“Then where are they?” And sure enough, he had nothing on him but the clothes on his back.

“Hmm… well I came through the second floor entrance,” he gestured over his back “...and I was about to head to my room but I got uhhh… distracted I guess you could say. I really am hopeless.” There was that big, dumb, goofy grin again. Your mind took a second, but then it clicked.

“...You smelled me…” you spoke slowly, cautiously.

“Uh… I guess yeah. You could say that. Well that’s exactly what happened, really. I suppose I am glad we ended our little farce! Would’ve been hard to explain that one...” his index finger reached up, scratching at the side of his mouth pensively.

“You really are a creep!”

“Yeah, I’m the worst, I know...” Why was he smiling while saying this? “I’m sorry, again. Usually, it’s not like this. Of course I admire our talented peers and am drawn to them as they are pinnacles of hope and the building blocks of the future, but...” he pantomimed through the air grandly, “ I am very conditioned to the human scent. It doesn’t usually alert me nowadays. I dunno… guess the... tantalizing smell of a particularly interesting human was enough to… stir me.” He smirked almost tauntingly. Your eyes widened, but narrowed again immediately. You would not show him weakness.

“Stop that.” You scowled.

“Apologies, (Y/N). Just speaking my mind. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’m just sort of a disgusting waste of space.” Your scowl melted into a sort of sympathetic frown despite yourself. Did he really mean that? Why would he say that about himself? Vampires were usually more vain on the spectrum of supernatural beings. “I just hold Main Course students in really high esteem, and you’re no exception... actually, far from it. Ever since I met you this morning, you’ve been on my mind more then most mortals… strange...” he seemed lost in his own little world. What? What the hell was going on in his crazy little head? The silence caught his attention, and he seemed to remember you were there as well, looking into your eyes again. He caught himself, making sure to not to make such direct eye contact with you. When he was in these weird moods, he never could quite control his more passive abilities and instincts. “Anyway... yeah, it’s unfortunate that I’m going to be missing part of class now… not that I don’t enjoy the pleasant surprise! I knew there was something special about you right off the bat!" Would he still think that after he knew your true calling? You looked to your right, thankful for the large staircase to escape to. He was giving you unsettling vibes once again.

Supernatural beings were known to imprint easily on mortals. Some saw them as beautiful, perplexing, ethereal in their impermanence. Some killed and ate them just because devouring humans, or torturing them until the panicked aura of their tiny, weak souls radiated around the room and feeling that temporary fragility, that adrenaline, was the only way they themselves could feel human. This urge to feel close to humanity was only doubled, dangerously so, in supernaturals who were once human themselves. It was an insatiable need to return to that normalcy, that frailty.

Swiftly, you scampered over to the bottom step to put some distance between you and the increasingly imposing immortal before you.

"Ah, I see. Well, anyway, thanks I suppose. I uh..." you grinned clumsily. “I was just looking for my room, albeit unsuccessfully. You can go ahead and get your books now! I don’t want to hold you up any longer!”

"I can help! It’s no big deal. The way they get students moved in here can sometimes be confusing. Actually, they put your room number on the student portal, not your card or paperwork, heh! And they don’t even tell you, leave you to find out yourself!” He pulled a large, black rectangle from his pocket, crossing the distance to wave it in front of you like a treat.

What the...? You patted down your shirt and bottoms alike.

“Is that my phone? How the hell-?!”

“Ah, yeah, sorry about that! I swiped it from you when I first came downstairs! I thought it’d help me get to know you better, had you not been willing to divulge the knowledge you have of my kind’s existence.” Once again he was calm, cool and casual whilst in the midst of saying such unusual words. What was this guy’s deal? “Here, you can have it back!”

“Yeah, I should hope so!” You reached out to snatch your phone from his hand, and it was like time froze.

The moment your fingertips touched his own in the exchange, your indignant eyes met his, and saw something feral flicker in them. The phone switched hands, and a spark of sorts traveled through your skin and into his. As you pulled back, his hand shot out, taking a tight grip around your wrist.

Your cheeks warmed up, at once flustered when the atmosphere changed drastically. Your eyes dilated in panic and his lips moved forward, resting upon your hand. He seemed to tense up, a rigidness taking up his entire body. His closed eyes opened wide to match your own and he inhaled deeply of the skin of your knuckles. You pulled away quickly, spooked.

"S-something wrong? Why are you so weird? I’ve never met any of your kind quite like you." You rubbed your hand curiously.

“So, you’ve met others?” It was clear he was trying to hold back something deep inside of him that begged to crawl out, his eye twitching slightly.

“Answer my question.”

"No, of course not... you just smell... nice, as I said before." He looked away from you, hand extending to guide you upstairs and in the right direction, but your brain was telling you not to go anywhere with him in tow.

“I- I can find my way myself, but thanks!” You began logging into the Hope’s Peak student portal through your phone’s browser, and quickly looking through your profile to find your room code and number.

“I insist!” He followed you up the stairs, trailing after your scent like a starved hound. Why couldn't he just get lost? Your thoughts raced anxiously. If you’d had your equipment on you, he would’ve been long dead. He was exhausting, and he didn't feel… safe. “Found it?” he inquired over your shoulder. As you reached the top of the steps, you began to feel your blood boil, but you knew not the true cause of this involuntary reaction.

Your last little exchange left you feeling foolish and naive. How could you have let a vampire get that close? Why would you let him indulge in the scent of you knowing how easy it was for them to take advantage of humans? You were royally pissed off, and looking for a way to expel that rage, to hurt someone or something the way you were hurting inside.

“I know you’re a vampire because I kill them. My whole family does. It’s essential to be able to identify one in my line of work. I’d be a pretty shitty hunter if I couldn’t do even that, and you aren’t exactly good at hiding it.” You found your door, swiping your keycard into the extremely sleek, high-tech lock system, and forcing it open a bit too harshly. The frustration you tried to hide in your voice was evident in your actions. Nagito halted, stilled stiff by your suddenly bitter words.

“Ah,” he cleared his throat, also hiding emotions of his own, “The Ultimate Hunter... it makes sense now.” He recalled seeing your title along with your name on his own school portal. How did he miss that one?

“Yeah, so maybe you should get lost.” Heartlessly, you began to close the door on him, now fully inside the spacey room that was bare save for a luxurious bed and some basic, modern furniture. “Hn?” A soft gasp left your throat when a polished shoe wedged itself inside the door, stopping you. You looked up, your body filling the crack in the door, and met Nagito’s eyes. There was that far away look again. His eyes were cloudy, tameless, wild.

“Why must you be so harsh?” His eyes bore into your own now, all inflection and kindness gone from his tone. “I understand you must hate my kind, and now I can appreciate why you reacted so aversely to my voice, my touch, my presence before, but have I done anything to harm you?” You were beginning to get scared now, reaching instinctively for your belt and finding it absent from your pristine uniform.

“I think you should leave. We obviously aren’t meant to be acquaintances.” You refused to let your voice shake. This might be a turning point, a critical moment. Vampires were never so dangerous as when they knew their prey was afraid.

“It’s your turn to answer me, now~” Nagito forced himself in the doorway nonchalantly, approaching your slowly retreating form into the middle of your room. You backed away, with him meeting every step.

“If you must know, you have offended me, yes. Trying to read my mind-”

“An accident.”

“Stealing my phone-”

“A precaution.”

“Smelling my blood like a pervert, twice!” He smirked.

“A natural, harmless instinct.”

“Even so...” Your eyes were on his own, obviously not focused on his body, and he took this opportunity to reach down, grasping lightly at your hand once again.

“Even so, what? Those are all petty misunderstandings. Ahhh~” his cold, pointed nose skimmed across the back of your hand once again as he brought it to his face. This time, when you tried to pull away, he held fast, and warning signals flashed in your mind. “Just as I thought! Your scent appeals to me so because you are a shining beacon of hope! I see it now! It’s all coming to me! You protect the world from those of my kind who would seek to destroy it! How wonderful!” His cheek bumped across your knuckles, and you failed once again to pull away.

“N-Nagito. Stop. This is.... you must consider context. If we weren’t in school right now, if we were just on the street meeting like this-”

“You wouldn’t do anything~ because I’m allied and protected~” He sung, his eyes twitching again, lids fluttering softly. Your heart dropped into your stomach. He was right.

You were trying to resist, but he was making it so damn hard. It shouldn’t be this hard. You found supernatural beings repulsive. Your father did as well. And his father did! They weren’t trustworthy. Their words were always the lies of a wolf in sheep’s clothing. They could charm and glamour weaker mortals with ease and enjoyed it! And you certainly were not a weaker mortal! You found joy in killing them... didn’t you?

“What you’re doing now is-”

“It’s strange, hah~ so strange~ I haven’t felt this inspired, this jittery about a mortal in such a long time... haha~ this excitement! I knew it! I knew you were special! You’re the true hope I’ve been looking for! The Ultimate of all Ultimates that will guide our classmates into their roles as the protectors and leaders that will inherit this earth!” He was manic now, inhaling deeply, raggedly onto your skin. One hand crushed your wrist into his own chest, the other held your hand so that it stayed splayed out flat for his access. There was something primal in his eyes. He was quickly becoming unstable. It was a perilous state so common to his kind, but yet it felt still so incredibly unique to Nagito himself, like it was not his immortality but his own character that caused this sudden shift in behavior.

“Nagito! You sound like a lunatic! Let go, you’re hurting me!” Tears threatened to fall from your eyes. You were strong, usually able to ignore some measure of physical pain, but the way his fingers dug into your wrist coupled with the consternation you felt at the situation set your nerves aflame. Once again you reached instinctively for a weapon or poison you did not have.

“Am I? I’m sorry. It’s just... I wonder...” You didn’t like where this was going at all. His chest shook with arousal , a bit of drool dripping from the fangs now on display in his mouth, which hung open in his state of reverie. “I wonder what this this hope tastes like... this pure, concentrated source of unbridled hope!” His voice shook, and you pushed at his chest with your free hand. He didn’t budge an inch. It was like he didn’t even notice your actions. “I know I’m unworthy, that a piece of trash like me doesn’t deserve to taste you... but I feel like now that I’m this close, haha~ I can’t stop myself! Truly, truly it’s a grand misfortune that a talentless, meaningless, soulless abomination like myself even dares to take part in such a feast! But...” He lowered his lips to your wrist.

“Nagito, stop! You can’t do this!” You began to kick and struggle, to scratch and tear at his clothes, to claw at any exposed skin, leaving marks across his cheek and arms. “If you do this, you’ll lose your protection!” His top lip pulled back, something like a snarl emanating from his throat. Clearly that approach wouldn’t work. “You’ll be expelled!” You tried the next deterrent on your mind. Wow, you must’ve been the worst Super High-School Level Monster Hunter in history. Day 1: fooled into a vampire’s clutches. His inhumanely sharp canines grazed the skin of your wrist, feeling your pulse race beneath the surface. He was entranced; there was no stopping this now. A human, without weapons, without enchantments or defenses, without repellants, bombs, herbs, poisons, silver, or means of healing, was no match for a supernatural being. “Please! Please, you- don’t do this!” a last effort. Why did you even try? These savages never sympathized with begging and pleading. They were killers. You were an imbecile to let your guard down around Komaeda for even a second.

His fangs sunk deeply into your skin, piercing a vein. You yelped out in pain, pulling at his hair and tugging your wrist back, which only nestled his fangs in deeper. You whimpered, little rivulets of your vital fluid running out of his mouth and down to your elbow. He was moaning in delirium, enraptured in the sensation of your blood running down his throat. You wanted to yell, to scream for help, but something inside you was hesitant and holding you back. Something inside you didn’t want anyone to find out about this, to find you two like this.

“Mmmh~” Nagito’s tongue swirled around the puncture wounds, his lips latched on like a leech. He drank freely, deeply, seemingly careless of how much blood he was taking. It’d been a long time since he’d felt the exhilaration of feeding from true prey. These days they had him on willing donors and blood bags. Nothing compared to the flavor of adrenaline and fear in the bloodstream, no matter how much he hated himself for indulging in it.

“Naaagi-t-” You stumbled backwards a step, wishing so desperately that you weren’t such an obedient student, that you’d deemed it justified to slip a stake, a knife, anything under your shirt. Your punches, your willful attacks on his abdomen, and the kicks to his knees began to slow down. They were losing the fight behind them, and yet, you would not give up. “St-tt-oo-” He continued to slurp and suck at your wrist, taking no note of the way you slowly were slipping to your knees.

The corners of your vision began to cloud and darken. Your head was ringing, much like a time you’d been left concussed after one of your first hunts. This might as well have been one of your first encounters with the supernatural world, with how badly you’d blundered every step.

Now on your knees, your head hanging limply down into your chest with your arm raised and pulled taut, trailing up to the vampire’s mouth, you felt yourself slipping. Finally, your vision began to fade for the last time, and you fell unconscious. The last thing your mind registered was the sound of Nagito sighing blissfully as he finally detached from your flesh, followed by the sound of frenzied laughter.

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peekbackstage · 4 years ago

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Hello. I’d like to ask what relationship usually have a manager and an idol/singer/group with e/o. It seems that some are very close like family that they even lend money, but some managers seem more like a inspector, who sometimes are so strict. Do managers obey idols or do they care only about the company head? Why do some managers neglect their stars as it was with DD at first as far as I know and with GG, when he had to find transport and accommodation by himself, looking for casting by himself? Do they still get paid when they treat stars like this? Does a career of a manager depend on popularity and success of a star? If yes, I can’t understand then such behavior then. Does a company chiose a manager or an idol have choice later? Thank you in advance.

Disclaimer: The following response is informed by my experience working in the music industry.

The relationship between a manager and an artist varies depending on a lot of different factors that include the following:

The length of time the artist has worked with that specific manager

The way the company treats their artists as whole. Some companies actually respect their artists and treat them well; others treat them like shit, even if the artist makes a lot of money.

The manager’s status within the company. If the manager is actually the owner of the company such as Scooter Braun is with SB Projects, it’s going to definitely be a very different relationship than a mid-level manager working for one of South Korea’s Big Three agencies.

Whether or not the artist is an idol/idol group or not can change how they are treated and the kind of relationship they have with their manager.

The artist’s gender. Generally, female artists have it worse off than male artists as far as different standards and how their management companies treat them. The only time I’ve ever had to deal with dietary restrictions was with a female artist, not with the male artists I worked with.

It is true that some managers treat their artists very well - they are just like family, and will bend over backwards to support them and go out on a limb for them. These are the types of managers who will risk their own careers for the artist - but that tends to be far more rare in parts of Asia such as South Korea, where managers usually are more loyal to the company that pays their bills instead of to their client.

In many ways, the Asian music industry structure can be quite different from the United States and Europe. Outside of Asia, management companies are usually separate entities from record labels. In Asia, when it comes to idols in particular, the management company is the record label. In South Korea, we have the likes of SM, JYP, Big Hit, and YG. In Japan, we have Johnny’s Entertainment and Upfront Group.

Unlike the United States and Europe, where managers are usually paid 10% of the artist’s gross royalties and income, Asian idol managers are paid a flat salary by their company. And unlike artists from other genres, who make money from guarantees and royalties, most Asian idols are also paid a salary by their company. So in many ways, they are just another employee.

As a result, Asian idol managers tend to listen more to the rules that are imposed by the company that hired them. If the idol company’s CEO tells the manager to treat the artist a certain way, then that is often how the artist is treated.

Why do some managers neglect their stars as it was with DD at first as far as I know and with GG, when he had to find transport and accommodation by himself, looking for casting by himself? Do they still get paid when they treat stars like this?

Some managers neglect artists because the stakeholders and decision makers decided that the artists aren’t worth the investment. Usually, a company will have a set annual budget and they have to allocate the budget accordingly with projects. In order to maximize ROI, companies will allocate more money for specific artists or projects that they think will bring them the most bang for their buck.

Essentially, the reason why both XZ and WYB were neglected by their respective companies was because the company did not see their inherent value and severely underestimated their actual lifetime worth. As such, they focused their attention and money on artists who they thought would take off in a big way, not realizing the diamonds in the rough they had on their roster.

When companies treat artists like this, they still get paid, as they are entitled to a portion of money brought in by the artist. The manager also still gets paid because they are paid salary by the company. So even if the manager is not actually bothering to manage the artist, so long as the company decides to pay them, then they will get paid. And as a result, for mid-level managers, their career is actually not at all dependent on an artist’s star value or success.

However, for a smaller number of managers - ones who might have independent management companies, or management companies that are more in line with non-idol artists - their success is entirely dependent on the artist’s success. The more successful the artist is, the more money the manager (and the management company) will make.

While most idols don’t have a say in who their manager is, as managers are just often assigned to them by the company, some idols (not all) who become popular enough or who end up with enough power in their respective company are able to decide who they want to work with and who they don’t want to work with. I’ve witnessed management team members fired by the artist in the middle of a tour because of mistakes they made while on tour.

In XZ’s case, he very clearly has his own management company and management team who supports him independently. I obviously don’t know what kind of contract he has with his team - but the fact that the company is named after him is pretty indicative of the kind of power he has within that company itself.

While I am unsure of the relationship between XZ Studio and WJJW (as no one has been able to get me 光点’s metadata to analyze) I can definitely say, without a doubt, that XZ now has a team who supports him and cares for him and he won’t be neglected. The same can be said for WYB, whose success is so astronomical, that Yuehua would most certainly throw all of their support behind him.

#artist management #music industry #idol industry #Anonymous #ask #peek answers

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dragonrajafanfiction · 3 years ago

Text

The Cage

Somewhere just outside the Mexico Border

It is a rusty metal warehouse in the desert in front of which is a vast gravel parking lot filled with trucks left running with the high beams on. Kingpins as well as landowners wearing button down shirts and jeans file past burly looking men in muscle shirts, flashing their credentials. A short man had his arm around the waist of a model as he flashed his. “She’s with me.” He said of the model who kissed him on his balding head.

There is no visible security. This area is an agreed neutral zone, a privileged spot where the turf wars and smuggling routes could be forgotten in favor of sport and fun, and yet was not a haven where these criminal masterminds would ever admit existed to their families. It was protected by both a silent agreement of non-violence, and the fact that it was every low level drug dealer’s dream to be here.

The Warehouse is a fighting arena that only opens once a year and sends out invitations to its exclusive clientele. Even these Kingpins saved up money to come and bet on the fighters here and there was no limit to their wagers. It was not unheard of for millions and even a billion to be lost in a single match. Land was negotiated here. Trade routes were negotiated here. The existence of entire gangs were negotiated here. War and peace between violent factions were negotiated here.

People in the small border towns had a feeling that the government and the police weren’t really what changed the situation on their street. But they could never guess that what did change things was the winner of a match in an arena in the middle of nowhere.

As for the fighters themselves, no one knew where they came from. They had names like Cobra, Diablo, Demonio, and La Muerte. Their identities were a mystery. But their appearances seemed to suggest that they came from all over the world. Those who had the privilege of coming here, would whisper about these fights, saying that the fighters seemed like animals, something beyond human, or like monsters. They would compare them to famous action heroes like ‘The Hulk’ or ‘Superman.’ While it was true that regular MMA fighters could do amazing things, they were limited by their humanity.

These fighters… they didn’t stop fighting, even if they were gasping out their last breath.

Francisco Pererra had somehow stumbled on one of those fighters. He was just appointed as head of a cartel in Aguascalientes and had come upon a small fortune in the form of a free and open water route up through Corpus Christi. It wasn’t just the route, but also his method, using a combination of decoy boats and submarines to constantly distract the meager Coast Guard and keep them away from the actual cargo -- fentanyl and cocaine. He’d gotten rich very quickly, but before he spent on anything else, he wanted to spend on this gambling ring. This was his debut on the world stage.

When he was approached by a young man in his private residence, introducing himself as a fighter, he thought it was too good to be true. The owners of those who fought were the upper of the upper class. He was doing well as a startup Surely, this man wanted something.

“I just need entry into the Arena. The rest does not concern you and it's best you not get involved any further.” The young man opened three large briefcases. “This should be more than enough to cover the entry fee, plus compensation for your cooperation.” The young man was stiff but polite and spoke fluent Spanish with an American accent.

“Is this a bust? I won’t be responsible for it…” He shook his head. “I won’t live very long if I am responsible for something like that.”

“I have nothing to do with any government or law enforcement.”

Francisco Pererra did not believe him. He smiled and said, “Oh of course and of course.”

As the young man was leaving, Francisco pointed a pistol at the back of his head. Before he could pull the trigger however, the gun glowed red hot and exploded in his hand, taking off two of his fingers. When the young man looked back at him, his eyes were glowing gold.

He calmly helped Francisco collect his severed fingers and put them in ice and drove him to the nearest hospital for reattachment surgery. When the nurses asked what happened, Franciso just said he had an accident with a firework.

That young man was no law enforcer. He was a true Demon Fighter.

Now Francisco Perrera came in, not from the front, but from the back. Wheeled horse trailers backed into a garage door and ramps were brought to them as they opened. Wheeled cages meant to house zoo animals rolled down the ramps and attached to a four-wheeler. Each cage was covered with a double layer of black fabric. Francisco’s champion was in one of those cages, but once they were in the arena, there could be no further contact between the sponsor and the fighter.

Francisco presented his entry fee in the suitcases on a cheap white plastic fold out table. Large men with assault rifles stepped forward and took the suitcases while Francisco waited. They were counting the money. He cleared his throat of dust and stood there, watching as one especially huge cage was rolled off the trailer. It was so heavy that it bent the ramp.

“Perrera!”

Francisco turned around, his heart rate jumping.

“Your entry fee is sufficient.”

Feeling validated, Francisco straightened his tie and tipped his cowboy hat and made his way to the VIP stands through a white door in the sheathing wall. The whole area smelled of alcohol and smoke. A group of big shots looked up from their game of cards. He gave them a proud greeting. “Good evening, I’m…”

They all turned their backs on him and continued their game. He let out a breath. Of course, they wouldn’t humor his attention. He was a newcomer after all. But maybe, with this fighter, he might actually get on their radar. Securing a treaty with a larger cartel had its risks and benefits, much like gambling but if you hit the jackpot you were set for life.

He sat down in a cracking folding chair. The arena was huge. Built for rodeos, it was temporarily reconfigured to house what could only be described as a gladiatorial contest. Bullet proof glass protected him from the rest of the lower level seats. And a double layer fence that stretched all the way to the roof protected the rest of the guests from the contestants themselves.

“Welcome Mr. Perrera.” A sweet young female voice greeted him and lowered a shot glass with a bottle of black label tequila in front of him. She was dressed in a tight red shiny vinyl dress. Her black hair spilled over her shoulders, looking quietly seductive. “Good luck on your first entrant.”

“Because you are a newcomer, you should be lower on the ranks, however, many in the crowd have thrown welcome money in the pot in your support.”

“Oh really?” Francisco had good instincts and didn’t rush to sip on the tequila. “Sit and drink with me. Tell me more about this.”

She obliged and he took his glass and poured a cup for her and handed it to her. She gave a knowing chuckle. “You really are new. All the death and violence is restricted to the Cage. But if you’re still nervous…” She tossed back the tequila and then slid the cup back to him.

“One can never be too careful. If I disappear it's not a big thing, no matter where I am.”

“It’s rare to get a new fighter and a newcomer. People are betting on you because they’re excited and want to encourage more fresh blood. No one wants to see the same fighters every year from the same people they’ve known for years. What’s more… the name of your fighter… they like it.” Her lips turned up. “Caimán!”

“I had heard these fighters had the look of a devil, but I found out this was… something more grounded than I realized. The first thing I thought when I looked at him was ‘Caimán!’ He looks at me like an alligator! He’s not some boogeyman. He looked like he could actually eat me.”

She didn’t leave his side as the PA system announced that the matches were going to begin. She slid a paper roster to him. “This is the line up.”

Caimán was going to be up against ‘Gigante’ in the first match! For the first time, Francisco felt upset to be here. How could they put a newbie up in the first match in an elimination contest and give him a chance to win? Even in the case of a champion, such fights were exhausting. He would have to defeat everyone of the beasts in the ring to have a shot at winning.

He stilled his expression and looked over the arena. Well, of course he wouldn’t have a chance at winning. The truth is, he shouldn’t be here at all. He was here on a stroke of luck. Winning was not in the cards for him. He should just enjoy his time and make the most of his good fortune. It was a shame this young man had to sacrifice his life. Despite his crocodile look, he had kindly expressed regret about the gun blowing up in his hand. He’d personally and quickly driven him to the hospital and then paid the bill. He even left him a wound care spreadsheet after the nurses forgot. It wasn’t the behavior of a tough as nails fighter or an alligator. More like a neglectful son come home to bother his father again. Much like he was once, years ago. Perhaps why he had taken a liking to him so quickly?

A roar interrupted his reverie. A roll up metal garage door clattered open and a giant of a man nearly eight feet tall of pure muscle, painted near black with tattoos, ran out, howling like a vicious animal. The crowd screamed and banged on the lids of garbage cans. The noise was deafening. The man clapped his hands over his ears and rushed the chains. Bright sparks like the sun snapped and popped.

The Cage was electrified!

Francisco reflexively crossed himself as the man didn’t react at all to the electrical current. When he let go of the fence, his hands were smoking. He rushed to the other side to menace the other spectators. Francisco saw it. The golden eyes!

Gigante suddenly stopped and turned. Another metal cage door was opening. Francisco could scarcely contain his grin! He pulled a napkin from his shirt and wiped his sweaty face.

Caimán was acting true to his name. He was slight in figure, hilariously shorter than Gigante. Despite the heat and humidity in the air and the dusty dirty surroundings, he wore a black Burburry trench coat that reached near the floor. In his hand was a long sword that shined with a blue tinged light even though it wasn’t dark inside the arena. Weapons were allowed in the arena so long as they weren’t heavy firearms. Especially given the size difference of these contestants, having a bit of an equalizer was viewed as permissible. He took two steps into the arena with the air of a mother who had caught her children doing something naughty.

Gigante and Caimán faced each other. Gigante was panting, his mouth running with drool, his eyes bloodshot. He looked rabid, but didn’t rush towards his much smaller opponent and rip him in two. The crowd murmured with the suspense of the wait. Francisco felt the hairs rise on his back. He didn’t know why he got this feeling, but the thought came into his head that Gigante was being suppressed, that the whole crowd was being suppressed! It was like a pall had been cast over the entire crowd. Everyone was afraid to move, afraid to breathe, weighted down by a strange fear they didn’t understand.

Caimán walked around the edge of the Cage taking the longest route to his opponent, strolling with a slow, measured gait. He took his time, looking Gigante up and down.

“What is going on?” The woman next to him was shocked. “Gigante never acts like this.”

Her kind welcoming demeanor had vanished, she now glared at Francisco fiercely.

Francisco sipped his tequila. “Ah… so Gigante is yours. No wonder you wanted to talk to me!”

She sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. Had this been any other place, she would have drawn a pistol and shot him in his smugly smiling face. Her nervousness grew as Caimán approached a still and silent Gigante. “Where did you find him?”

Francisco was silent. His intent was to use this opportunity to gain advantage for his business. The fighter had his own agenda beyond him and he shouldn’t be involved any further. This young man had walked into a room full of the highest ranking cartel members and had taken ownership of the entire space.

Gigante chuckled. “So… you’re finally here to put us out of our misery?”

Caimán didn’t answer for a long time. The crowd was getting restless in the silence, but that terrifying aura prevented anyone from speaking. “It’s my intent to free you.”

“Free? No one ever… gets free.”

When Gigante raised himself to his full height, Caimán raised his blade and that aura became more intense. He pointed it at him, like a knight facing off against an ogre. “Don’t.”

Gigante leaned back a bit as though struck by a strong wind.

“How are they controlling you? Answer.”

Gigante looked at Caimán, his eyes suddenly stopped glowing. “Get out… Get out while you c-”

A tattoo that hadn’t appeared before suddenly flashed red in the shape of an eye, right on his forehead, and the glow of his eyes lit up again. All humanity in those eyes froze, his pupils dilated wide until they became black save an eclipse ring of gold. Caimán for the first time in the match showed a touch of emotion, his eyes widening slightly as his Aura suddenly collapsed.

Gigante took a strong leap and closed the distance between them. Caimán reacted with a powerful thrust that slid the metal blade between the bones of the giant’s large knee. That leg was rendered useless in an instant but Gigante did not so much as flinch or cry out in pain. His arm whipped around and seized Caiman around the throat. That blade flashed again, neatly severing the hand. He didn’t have a choice. If he had waited more than that instant his windpipe would have been crushed. He rolled and staggered away from Gigante’s remaining fist. It slammed into the ground with skull-crushing force.

The crowd regained its former noise, cheering “Gigante! Gigante!”

At his tiny size and miniature build, one would think that they would have cheered Caimán as the underdog, but Caimán had walked in like a tyrant, barking orders like he owned the place. He’d humiliated not only Gigante but also all the spectators who were all predators in their own right and had been forced into silence by this newcomer. The sight of him fleeing Gigante was galvanizing. They wanted Gigante to smash this newcomer into a pulp!

Gigante was faster than a man his size should have been, it was like an ancient giant wolf, running his opponent down and forcing him to retreat or die. Even though he was running with blood, lame in one leg an missing a hand, he grinned and licked his lips in an intense desire to kill. Caimán however danced around every attack, not returning a blow if he didn’t have to.

Francisco was confused. Why didn’t Caimán go in for the kill? He had more fights after this. Why waste so much energy running his opponent around the ring? His female companion was only annoyed with Gigante. “Hit him! Hit him you bastard!”

He then noticed her ring. It was red and glowing.

The eye appeared on Gigante’s head again and the man suddenly screeched in a high voice. Caimán closed the distance and split the skin of the man’s forehead right through the middle.

The man’s eyes suddenly rolled back and he sank to his one knee. He went from a massive intimidating fighter to a hunk of empty flesh in an instant. Caimán who was still anticipating another motion suddenly lowered his sword and rushed forward, putting his fingers on the man’s neck. But there was no need to check his pulse. Gigante was dead.

The woman banged her fist on the table and stood up. “Spy! He’s a spy!”

Guns were suddenly pointed at Francisco. “Why are you saying this? You’re just angry that you lost! Put those guns away, this place is a place of non-violence!”

Her eyes turned cold. “You have no idea. You don't know anything.”

“He’s right.” Another voice came from the table to his right. An old man in a suit sat one leg crossed over the other, his white hair long down his back, his dark eyes like empty holes in his face. “Put the guns away. No need.”

The guns were put away and hackles lowered.

Caimán stepped away as a worker arrived with a forklift to carry Gigante’s body away.

“Perrera. I will buy this fighter from you. Name your price.” The old man said.

Francisco didn’t know what to say. The truth is the fighter didn’t belong to him, it was the other way around. The fighter had bought him with the intent to enter the fight for his own agenda.

“My price? You know I have a route, sir. I would like your protection on that route. Your protection of my assets. I am a small operation. Even with a lot of money, I can’t buy what you already have.”

“You are a very smart man! That humility has brought you here. Then… Welcome to the club, Pererra.” The old man raised his hand and again, he was wearing one of those rings, just like the woman. He waved his hand twice and Caimán’s reaction was instant. He clutched his head and fell on his knees.

“Oh… he is a strong one.” The old man continued to wave and stood up, walking up to the bullet proof glass. “He will make excellent food for my Tigre.”

Caimán turned his head, his golden eyes blazing, he started to speak, snarling like an animal. That voice generated dark waves of black heat that ignited the sawdust. The heat was enough to melt the chain links on the Cage. The heat was so intense that the spectators started screaming and fleeing. Even at this distance, all the people in the VIP area started backing away.

The saw dust arena had turned into a pit of flames but Caiman was kneeling in all of it. Clutching his head.

Francisco had no choice. He turned and ran from the arena, leaving him behind.

#Dragon Raja

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kaiser-s-bitch · 5 years ago

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OH MY GOD PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DO A GYUUTAROU X PREPPY BUT SWEET READER?!!?! like modern au or sum? She’s like very pretty and meets him through Daki one day n she’s like... “I tink I wanna fuck dis rat...”

ngl "I think i wanna fuck dis rat" had me ROLLIN🤣🤣

I’m sorry I highkey changed it up and smh read too late that you said modern au WHOOPS—

so uhhh well I hope these are still fine and you can bear w my stupidity—

————————————————————

Gyutaro (+Daki) hcs:

blunt but sweet s/o

• although you knew all the other moons’ faces from the gatherings, you never really talked to any of them before

• that was until you had met Daki by sheer chance, strolling through the red light district at night on the lookout for your next catch

• you were "just" a lower moon but you were pretty and cute with a personality that could coax anyone into trusting you, which had always made hunting quite easy for you

• which was pretty much the only reason Daki even talked to you in the first place

• Muzan had brought you along when he had visited the upper ranked beauty, deciding for you to stay around town with her since you were already here

• Daki was not exactly happy about it, but she would never even doubt his decisions, let alone consider talking back to her master

• so in the end she would, although unwillingly, drag you alongside her for now

• it wasn’t long until you met Gyutaro as well, shocked by the unexpected revelation but fascinated all the same

• Gyutaro being himself, he instantly assumed it was because you were taken aback by his ugliness

• that was until you exclaimed "Damn so that’s what you had been hiding all along Daki? You’re hot!!" without a trace of hesitation in your voice

• Daki didn’t waste a second to tackle her brother and trap him in a tight, sharp-nailed embrace, yelling "Nii-chan’s all mine, MINE!!"

• you laughed heartily once the realization dawned on you that he was her brother and not her partner

• lightly shaking your head, you motioned towards the male with newly found determination "I’m just saying! If you were a customer I’d certainly bang you-", you barely dodged the swing of Daki’s arm that had been aimed directly at your head

• "I’m only tolerating you here because Master said so, don’t overdo it", the pretty girl hissed in unconcealed hostility, draped around Gyutaro’s shoulders like a cat claiming its owner

• your smile only grew wider when you took a step backwards "Alright alright, I’ll leave you guys alone now, but I’ll be there when y’all need me~"

• in all honesty, Gyutaro didn’t believe one thing of what had just gone down

• your words couldn’t have been true, that was impossible, yet he hadn’t sensed any hint of deceit or mockery in your behavior or presence. how odd.

• you were blunt to a fault, but never dishonest, a trait that had helped you greatly with overcoming the two biggest obstacles you had faced with the siblings: Daki’s possessiveness towards her brother, and Gyu’s deeply rooted habit of self-depreciation

• Gyutaro would’ve never accepted compliments from anyone even if he had gotten them, since he had long found some kind of twisted masochistic pleasure in looking down on himself because he knew others did

• but the way you talked to and acted towards him had a soothing effect on his more than damaged ego, he felt like he had only ever felt because of his sister before: appreciated. needed.

• you were courting him without the slightest hint of embarrassment or shame, constantly letting him know of your interest in him, whether he wanted you to or not

• when time was passing, it eventually led to you stealing one kiss or the other from his lips when Daki wasn’t looking, flustering him to no end

• he would’ve been totally overwhelmed with the whole situation if it were anyone else

• but it was you, and everything just seemed so easy and natural around you

• with Gyutaro, patience is the key

• you knew it would be a long way to actually go for any sexual advances towards him because you understood that it would need its time, and you were more than willing to give him as much as it would take

• because to you, every second you got to spend with him was far more than worth it, no matter how it was spent

#kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer: kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny #twelve kizuki #upper moon #upper moon six #gyutaro #daki #kny gyuutarou #kny daki #request #my writing stuff

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drunklander · 5 years ago

Text

Drunj!Der Yells About Outlander

Thoughts on Ep. 511

Ok so this episode is like the perfect embodiment of my love/hate relationship with the books. And the show, but since the author wrote it, the books too, and her writing/plotting in general. I hated the other episode she wrote so my expectations going into this were *rull* low.

This episode was like a series of character-driven vignettes, which is what I like most about her writing (and why I bother even sticking around): random scenes here and there that I really enjoy as standalone bits. But, in true Outlander fashion, it also like ticked a lot of the boxes for stuff plot-wise that I can’t stand. Namely, yet more violence against multiple women, Marsali and Fergus getting shortchanged, Lord John crossing just over the creepy line for a sec with Jamie and the situation with Ulysses’ legal status. It didn’t check the rape box, but we may have to revisit that next week. I sure as fuck hope we don’t have to, but seeing as this show never met a rape it didn’t think was ToTaLlY nEcEsSaRy to include... *preemptive sigh*

Show-wise this very much felt like a penultimate episode and in that respect it accomplished what it was supposed to. In the overall arc of the season though, much like when considering the whole book series, a few solid standalone scenes here and there do not equal a good whole. To be in this fandom is to be an expert in eating around the moldy parts of the bread to get a few nibbles of good stuff.

Anywho, SCIENCE!JIZZ 5EVA!

Fuck yeah PB&J, and Claire is forgiven for not mastering fluff yet. But fluffernutters are also a staple in any growing kid’s diet.

Poor burned girl. It’s not her fault she vaguely resembles a walker so I spent the whole time thinking about TWD.

Omfg I got like PTSD flashbacks when I saw that dress in the title card. KILL THAT DRESS WITH FIRE!

There may not be fluffernutters, but Bree and Claire fluff and Young Ian and Jemmy fluff are good substitutes.

This kid is adorbs tho.

They’ve been really blasé about mentioning time travel in front of folks this season. First Marsali and now Young Ian. The latter will be remedied, but I’m still lowkey annoyed that Fergus and Marsali aren’t brought into the circle of trust... Esp. when there was a perfect opportunity for it later on.

I cannot with men, tbh. Seeking justice for a daughter who’s been “dishonored” by killing the dude is like the most overused trope of toxic masculinity ever. And now we’re supposed to be all like oh look how relatable the Brown guy is! Because our tropey men wanted to kill a dude like that last week! Hard pass. Also, fucking his kid wasn’t raped, she loves a guy who happens to be married, but everything was super consensual. Sooo like double gross points for you, dude.

And yes, I know it’s ThE pAsT, but I am not in the past, I am in the present, and the show is airing in the present, so thinking this sort of behavior is gross is totes ok. So the fucked up squad of randos who always jump into my notes about how they like “their men to be men” can just shove it, ok? Ok.

They’re like really not subtle with the foreshadowing this episode are they. But then again, when has subtlety ever been a thing on this show. That’s a nice still you got there, shame if anything were to happen to it...

I’m really digging the decor in this living room.

Oh hey! They finally decided to stop pretending like Young Ian was dumb and didn’t notice literally *gestures* everything about Claire.

I’m still salty they never told Jenny and Ian in S3 tbh.

Shockingly, considering who wrote it, so much of this episode is directly from the books. So I’m sure the Cult of Herself folks will be obsessed. And like yeah, some of the stuff in this episode is some of the bits I really like from the books as individual little scenes. However! I know some in the cult will use this as a reason why the show should StAy TrUe To ThE bOoKs more. And please, for the love of fuck, fight that instinct. Parts of this episode aren’t good “because they’re from the book,” they’re good because they’re emotional moments between characters, which is where both the books and the show are strongest. “Sticking with the book” on everything would make an already not great show even worse. I mean, the show ain’t great, but thank fuck they’ve streamlined the book stuff as much as they have.

Yes, I did notice the Pamela easter egg from the book. No, I’m not one who gets excited about shit like that.

Aaand here we get the problematic af bit about Ulysses and his legal status. In the book, he was offered freedom and turned it down to stay with Jocasta. Which is twelve kinds of fucked up. Here, he *is* a free man and he chooses to stay and cosplay an enslaved person so he can chill with Jocasta? FUCK THAT NOISE. That is some “benevolent slave owner” bullshit. They don’t get overt with the Ulysses and Jocasta are banging stuff from the book, which is also epically fucked up considering the power dynamic and how a fuckton of men enslaved their own fucking kids because they’d raped the mothers and children take the status of the mother. I’m glad they didn’t come right out and say that. But it’s like lowkey implied and even if it’s not supposed to be taken as canon, having a Black man be given the option to get the fuck out of there and choose to stay with someone who enslaves other Black people is like some dangerous white fanfic nonsense.

Also, thinking about the slave/master relationship dynamic today really makes me wish I saw Jeremy O. Harris’ play while it was running...

Oh yay, Bree and Roger are actually leaving. Much like the Bonnet shit, credit where credit’s due, I’m glad they’re not dragging the will they/won’t they go out for another season.

Don’t sound so butthurt that you didn’t get to murder a guy, Jamie.

Poor Young Ian. Buddy needs a hug. And more screentime for his story. Like, do we really need something else traumatic to happen to Claire when we could explore family dynamics instead? This time with Young Ian and his wife and their Mohawk family?

THERE ARE SO MANY OTHER WAYS TO HAVE DRAMA AND CONFLICT THAT CAN TAKE UP THE RUNNING TIME OF A SEASON THAT DON’T INVOLVE CONSTANTLY PUTTING THE WOMEN IN PHYSICAL DANGER.

Lol at the thought of LJG “working the land.” Like, buddy, have you seen yourself?

“No doubt there a great many things I shall miss about being here.” Don’t make it weird bro.

Yes, I know he’s like gonna miss their friendship and stuff. But he’s always been just a smidge too intense about it. And by a smidge I mean the gay guy openly in love with his straight best friend a gross trope and I don’t like it.

Ok so if we’re following the “rules” of the show that the production used to recite ad nauseam to justify why Jamie and Claire barely seemed to even like each other for a few seasons (”they’re married, we don’t need to see them fuck!” “we already know they love each other, it’s a given!”), this sex scene shouldn’t exist. Because it’s really not essential to the plot. Which just proves the “rules” are and always were bullshit excuses. And the author/writer of this episode def spouted that bullshit too, so she can also shove it.

Because this scene *should* exist and those “rules” *were* complete crap. Because Jamie and Claire are very sexual/physical people and, especially when they’re going through things, use sex to center themselves where they are and in their relationship. Bree and Roger are leaving. Jem’s leaving. They’re sad about that. But they’re also happy that they made a family and got to be together as a family and are glad to have had that chance. (And, they just like to fuck.) So of course this is a good character moment. This is the kind of shit we should be seeing instead of just a constant barrage of plot and violence. And the crew can fuck all they off with their not at all convincing talking points about “rules.”

Also this is a much better use of sex than them constantly having them fuck after a fight instead of actually working through the issue between them.

Also, fuck yeah, get it gurrrl.

SCIENCE!JIZZ! (I’m gonna need a gif of Claire’s face when Jamie’s figuring it out because that’s gonna be in heavy reaction rotation.

I just love Claire fuck yeah science Beauchamp.

It’s also another scene that does nothing to advance the plot, but is a nice respite from the constant trauma. The show has yet to find a balance between the two, which is annoying af because they’ve had five seasons to figure it out. So like whenever there is fluff, folks pounce on it like starving animals. Which some in the crew (and some fans) like to point out like “see, you all like everything now!” Or “look, why are you whining so much, we gave you this!” Or “wow you hate the show but now you like this part? Hypocrite.”

But like, no, that’s not what it means. Not giving someone water for days and then throwing them a small canteen doesn’t mean everything is hunky dory. It’s still super fucked up. So no, enjoying the fact that there are a few fluffy scenes in an episode doesn’t mean the show is good. If they made more of an effort to center the characters and spread the fluff around a bit more instead of waiting until there was like trauma fatigue and throwing in a fluffy life raft, the show as a whole would be stronger.

</rant>

Ok it’s super fucked up they hadn’t told Bree about Willie yet, but I’m glad Jamie is the one who tells her.

“And it wasn’t a matter of love between us, but it was her choice, and that’s all I’ll say about it.” BECAUSE SHE RAPED HIM. COERCION IS NOT CONSENT AND ALL THE PEOPLE WHO ARE STILL TALKING ABOUT HOW “HOT” THAT SCENE WAS ARE FUCKING DISGUSTING AND THE PRODUCTION IS DISGUSTING FOR SHOOTING A FUCKING RAPE IN THE MANNER THEY DID. AND ALSO FUCK THEM FOR HAVING IT BE A RAPE IN THE FIRST PLACE WHEN IT COULD HAVE SO FUCKING EASILY BEEN CONSENSUAL.

This show is so fucking not good.

This scene with Jamie and Brianna is super nice, but like, we saw nothing of them building their relationship. He didn’t even fucking hug her after Murtagh died. The scene loses so much of what it could have had because they never did the legwork to show us what they mean to each other.

It’s the same old shit they pulled with Claire and Jamie. “Oh they’re together and endgame so we don’t actually need to show you them building and working on their relationship that much. Because you know they’re together so just go with it.” Like no? Fuck you? That’s not how this works?

FERGUS AND MARSALI DESERVE BETTER!

Of course Marsali’s preggo again. Why the fuck should she do anything but spit out babies. Also, THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN A PERFECT TIME TO HAVE THE FRASER KIDS TALK ABOUT TIME TRAVEL.

And Bree’s become a sister to Marsali? We saw one fucking scene of them together. See above rant. Fucking show us them becoming sisters. Sorry to interrupt your constant stream of violence and trauma, but fucking actually SHOWING characters building relationships instead of TELLING us they did the thing is how this is fucking supposed to work.

I’m rull pissed we never got quality Fraser kid bonding, y’all.

And ditto with this scene with Lizzie. We saw more of Bree and Lizzie than Bree and Marsali, but like we never really saw them becoming friendly post Bree’s rape and Rogergate.

All the goodbyes are like making me feel inch deep feelings because they’re rooted in nothing we’ve actually seen. And I’m not a Bad Fan or dumb for not filling in the feelings myself. I’m the viewer. It’s not my job to fill in the show’s gaps. It’s the show’s job not to have emotional gaps.

Oh hey! Another shitty man who hurts his wife and another woman trapped in a physically abusive relationship who thinks the abuse is her fault! On Outlander? Who’da thunk they’d have something like this?!

I’m so tired, y’all. So. Fucking. Tired.

I HOPE YOUNG IAN FINDS HAPPINESS TOO, ROGER.

Ok but for real, every time Lord John talks about how Willie and Bree are like Jamie it has that gross tinge to it. Like I know he’s not meaning it like a creeper, but they leaned so fucking hard into him being so into and not over Jamie that the layer of grossness is always there.

Also like, grannie and grandda, we got like one scene of Claire and Jamie playing with Jem. WE COULD HAVE FELT SO MANY MORE FEELINGS ABOUT THEM BEING SEPARATED IF ONLY THEY HAD TAKEN THE TIME TO BUILD THE RELATIONSHIPS ON SCREEN.

Claire making everyone PB&Js is fucking adorable and I love her.

Old timey forks will never not be fucking weird looking.

“And now it’s just you and me again.” Uh, Fergus, Marsali and Young Ian might be a tad offended by that sentiment, Clairebear.

Ok but like do they really think a rope is gonna hold up to fucking magic time travel rocks? It’s gotta just be like a mental security blanket thing, right? Because if not, loooooooooool.

Ok but the really just let their kiddo run off like that in the middle of the magic time travel rock circle? Dumbasses.

Ok but like what’s the betting they ended up in like a RenFest type thing and think they haven’t traveled but they have and it’s like lol look at them fitting in with their old timey clothes vs. skipping them going back to the future and doing the going adventuring around the even past-er past part but with them all together instead of Roger and Buck?

I’m just hoping it’s something completely different than the books because I have zero interest in Bree and Roger in the 20th century and hate the Roger and Buck nonsense with a fiery passion.

Erm, that’s a little close to the house to build a privy, my dudes.

Is the setting a guy’s dislocated shoulder thing supposed to be a cute callback? Because like hey wink wink, first she was kidnapped and then set a shoulder and now she’s setting a shoulder and then getting kidnapped is kind of a fucked up “joke.”

But how about we get more of Nurse!Marsali and less of Marsali just being constantly preggo.

“Sort of like the opposite of what you do when ya joint a hog.” I JUST LOVE NURSE!MARSALI A LOT OK.

Aaand now that we’re all good and docile little fans who have been placated with some fluff and Fraser fucking as a treat, we can go back to the regularly scheduled violence against women. Because we literally just had a violent abduction last week. So clearly it’s time for another.

Everything in this story has been done before...

I swear to fuck, if they do the thing I think they’re gonna do next week, I hope they get rightfully dragged by fucking everyone.

And if by some fucking miracle of Caitriona putting her foot down they don’t do the thing next week, they get zero brownie points. You don’t get rewarded for doing what you should have done the whole time.

And of course the closing is Jamie lighting Flaming Dildo 2.0. His men swore oaths to him, not any government or crown, and protecting his family has always been the top thing for Jamie. So good choice there with saving Claire being the reason he calls up the men.

#*#outlander starz #outlander 5x11 #drunj!der yells about outlander

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lovskim · 6 years ago

Text

rewind | 01

pairing; jung jaehyun x reader

genre/warnings; fluff, best friends to lovers! au, swearing

word count; 2.7k

:: summary; you find an attractive man in one of your old pictures, except you have no idea who he is. you suddenly have the urge to do everything you can to find out who he is, and maybe if you're lucky, make him fall in love with you.

author's note; yay the first chapter! as i've said before, this will be a mix of some social media edits and the actual text so don't be confused if pictures randomly show up in the middle of the story!! i really hope you all enjoy!

( gif credits to owner. )

You rummage through one of your drawers, cleaning out the stacks of papers as well as some clothes and a few books.

You were – finally – moving out of your apartment shared with college student slash best friend Mark, and you were ecstatic. This was the first time you were going to own an apartment by yourself, and just the idea of you being alone without being bombarded with Math questions made you feel giddy inside.

Once you reach the bottom of the drawer, you let a sigh of relief as you wiped a bead of sweat on your forehead. Summer was going to start soon, not like it mattered for you. You graduated from college a year ago but still got excited whenever summer came. Maybe it was because Mark had more free time than usual, but you weren’t really sure.

You pull out a crumpled piece of photo paper, wincing when you see how old and dirty it was. Dust laid on the edges of the paper because of how long it stayed at the bottom of the drawer. You carefully blew the dust away before flipping the photo around.

You stare at your appearance in the photo. You looked gross, to be honest. The photo was probably taken four years ago when you were just starting college. Your bangs looked hideous and your outfit looked like a wreck. You wanted to burn the picture, hoping it never got to see the light of day again.

Just before you were able to do the deed however, another detail caught your attention.

You had no idea who he was, but damn, you had to admit, this man was practically perfect.

His hair looked styled to perfection, he looked extra hot in the basketball jersey (no one in your college was that cute that’s for sure) and he had this smile that brightened up your day immediately (accompanied with a cute pair of dimples). You were practically drooling over him, and mind you, this picture was taken five. years. ago.

If he was this hot during college, how hot is he now? You end up wondering as you stare at the photo in your hands.

You stare at the jersey again. The team name was covered, but he was definitely not from your college. But why couldn’t you remember anything about him?

The picture looks familiar, except nothing is coming to your mind. You have no clue on who this handsome man is, or what he does, but you sure wanted to find out.

Was I drunk? You shake your head. You never drank enough to get drunk, especially in college. You cared too much about your grades and reputation, even Mark was annoyed with it. But Mark is the biggest nerd you know.

You stood up and walked to the living room filled with boxes, grabbing your phone to text your friends.

“I’m home!” Mark calls out as he leaves the coat by the rack. You run out of your room and take his bag from him. You check the clock hanging above the TV in the living room. “Why are you home so late?” You scold him as you drop his bag by the couch.

“I went out with some friends.” Mark shrugs as he drags his feet towards the kitchen, looking for something to drink. You follow him, taking out a glass and pouring Mark a cup of water.

You watch as Mark gulps down the beverage, looking away once Mark raises an eyebrow at you. You’re silent, playing with your fingers as Mark practically stares you down.

“Uh..did you find..anything?” You don’t know why you're embarrassed about asking Mark. You guys were best friends, and Mark wasn’t used to you being embarrassed around him. He gulps down the last of his water before wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his jean jacket.

Mark's quiet for a while, setting down his glass and just staring at you, not saying a word.

“Nope. I'm so sorry Y/N.” He mutters sadly. He gives you a sympathetic look as you look down at the floor again. “Did you try asking Doyoung and Ten?” He takes your hands in his and you sigh, nodding.

“Doyoung’s out of town with no wifi and Ten hasn’t been responding to my messages when we damn well know that little shit doesn’t do anything.” Mark laughs at your comment on Ten before giving you an encouraging smile.

“You can do it. I bet you’ll find him soon.” You shake your head, losing hope and confidence. Finding him would be nearly impossible, especially since you didn’t know anything about him except for what he looks like.

“What if I grow grey and old and I still don’t find him?” Mark nearly chokes on his second glass of water at your statement. Water spills on his shirt and on the kitchen counter and all you can do is groan. “Gross! Mark keep it together!” You take a rag from the sink and throw it at him.

“Is that seriously your only concern right now?” Mark coughs as he wipes the wet spot on the counter. "You coughing your soul out of your body? Yes." You take the rag back from him before wiping the mess yourself.

"You know what i'm talking about."

You cross your arms in annoyance. Were you being irrational? Maybe. Were you taking this search a bit too far? Definitely. That didn't stop you though.

“Yes!” You argue back and he shrugs his shoulders. "Are you that desperate for love?" Mark leans against the counter. You think for a while. "Maybe." You admit sadly. You didn't date in such a long time it was getting annoying.

Mark finally decides to give up.

“Can I at least see the picture again?” Mark asks and you nod. You come back, handing Mark the photo you protected with your entire being. Mark raises his eyebrows in approval. “I see why you’re spending your time looking for him. He’s cute.” Mark says as he stares at the photo intently.

It’s quiet for a few moments. “Yo, what if he has a girlfriend?” Mark snaps his head towards you. You didn’t think about that. You shake your head. “Well, I didn’t think about that.." You reply, sound hopeless. Mark sighs before placing the photo on the table.

It was possible. A man with such a pretty face wouldn’t be single, right?

“It’s fine! You can meet up as buddies!” Mark claps, joking around and you immediately glare at him. You take the photo back immediately.

“Shut up Mark.” You mutter. It’s silent again.

“What if you guys had a relationship?” Mark wiggles his eyebrows and you nearly choke at his behavior. A relationship? Never. Right now, Mark sounded absurd. “First, I would’ve remembered that much, and second, college me would never.” You point at him.

“True. The college you would never.” Mark snorts at the vague memory of you during college. He runs his hand through his soft black hair, and you actually felt a bit sorry for the kid. You decide to drop the topic. You pat his head. “How are your scores?” You ask, referring to his finals. He got the last of his scores today, and he was worried the entire week.

“They’re actually really good. I flunked my Math and Chem, though.” Mark sighs, running his hands through his hair once more.

“What did you get? a 93?” You joke and Mark scoffs in reply. “Nope! An 89." He clicks his tongue. He walks out to the living room. You give him a look. "Yikes! Your finals were never that bad. Should I stop letting you out of the house?" You laugh and Mark rolls his eyes playfully as he enters the kitchen once more. "It’s fine. I’ll pass the subjects at least.” He gives you a goofy smile and you laugh again.

“That’s good. I know how hard you worked for them.” You say with a soft smile. He leans in for a hug and you gladly wrap your arms around the kid. He was so cute. Although you were older than him by two years, he was like your own child. “Thanks.” Mark yawns, stretching his arms.

“Go to sleep Mark. You worked hard today.” You pat him in the back and he nods. “Okay. Goodnight Y/N.” Mark mumbles as he walks towards his room.

“Goodnight. Sleep tight!” You smile, and Mark gives you a thumbs up in reply before leaving the kitchen. You take the photo in your hands and leave the kitchen, shutting all the lights in the process.

You sigh, tapping your fingers against the hard wood while waiting for your friends.

You promised your three idiotic best friends that you would treat them out for dinner today, which ended you up at a fancy Chinese restaurant at 8:00 in the evening. Of course, these losers would offer to eat at the fanciest restaurant in the district as long as they’re not paying.

After a few minutes, Mark arrives first, panting and sweating all over. He grips on to the chair, stopping you from saying anything. “Sorry.” He pants. “I got lost.” Mark pulls the seat in front of him and sighs in relief once you hand him a glass of cold water. “Those little shits. Doyoung and Ten told me that you weren’t paying today and the last one to arrive would pay for everything.” Mark wipes the edge of his mouth with the napkin in front of him.

“Hey.” You tell him in a harsh tone. “They’re still older than you. Don’t treat them like that.” You give him a look and Mark’s angry expression washed away almost immediately. “Sorry.” He sheepishly replies. You roll your eyes. “It’s okay. I’ll scold them later.” You smile playfully and Mark lets out a breathy laugh.

The next one to arrive was Doyoung, who just came home from his out of town trip. “Thanks for treating us today.” Is the first thing he says as he sits down in front of you. Mark chokes on his water, a few droplets flying out of his mouth and landing on Doyoung.

“What the fuck, Mark? Gross!” Doyoung groans as he uses the napkin to wipe the water on his shirt. "Mark this happened yesterday! Get a hold of yourself!" You pat Mark's shirt which had a few water droplets as well. Mark ignores him as he continues to cough. “Who are you?” Mark almost yells and you pat his back. Doyoung rolls his eyes in response. “I did a lot of thinking because there was no fucking wifi and data. I was practically suffering.” Doyoung sighs dramatically.

Finally, after waiting for an agonizing and painful fifteen minutes, Ten finally decides to show up for dinner. He smiles and places his fanny pack on the table. “Fashionably late as always.” He sits down beside Doyoung, smirking at his own comment. You place your phone down beside you and give Ten a smirk of your own.

“You’re paying for your own meal.” Your face tells him that you were dead serious, and had no intention of lying.

Ten gasps. “Take that back!” You give him a challenging look before raising your hand high in the air. “Waiter!” You call out, and Ten practically leaps on you, trying to pull your hand down. Doyoung chuckles as he hides behind the menu while Mark just seems to be dead hungry. Ten continues to attack you until he sees a waiter approaching. He quickly returns to his original seat, making you smile wide.

“I’ll do whatever you want.” Ten whispers in your direction and Mark stares at you, waiting for your response. You smile sweetly at the clueless waiter in front of you. “Sorry, I called you by accident. You can go now.” The waiter rushes away at once to keep up with the other orders of the customers. You turn to Ten. “Anything?”

You can practically feel Ten’s fists clench under the table before he huffs. “Anything.” He says.

“Okay! I’ll get back to you for that.” You lean back in your seat and Ten sighs in relief. “Good! Now that we’re all here can we order? I’m starving! ” Mark complains, clutching his stomach.

Ten calls the waiter as Mark gulps down his third glass of water. Doyoung just gives Mark a weird look while the waiter writes down all your orders, wrapping it up with Doyoung’s long list of orders. You sigh once you hand the menu to the waiter and drop your head in your hands. “I’m going broke.” You mutter.

You sigh, scrolling through your notifications before Doyoung breaks the silence.

“Any luck with pretty boy?” Doyoung takes a sip of his drink. Ten shakes his head in response. “No offense, but this dude’s probably dead. None of my friends know who he is, and I have a lot of friends.” Ten says and Doyoung rolls his eyes.

“There are 7 billion people in the world. It’s going to take more than your friends to find him.” Doyoung states the obvious.

“Do you wanna try asking social media?” Mark suggests, leaning his elbows on the table. Ten claps his hands. “Watch! You’ll get invited to star on Ellen!” Ten says excitedly and Mark snorts. Doyoung just chuckles at Ten’s statement.

“It’s fine. It’s not that important.” You assure your friends and Mark’s trying so hard to hold in his laugh. “That’s not what you said yes-” You kick Mark harshly in the shin, causing him to yelp in pain. As Mark rubs his shin, you notice Doyoung’s constant staring in your direction.

“We didn’t do shit and yet you’re still treating us.” Doyoung gives you a sorry look and you place your hand on top of his. Sure, Doyoung was a shithead most of the time, but he still cared about you and supported you whenever you needed it. That’s why you loved him.

“Consider this as Mark’s congratulatory dinner for acing his finals.” You clap your hands and Mark looks down shyly, too embarrassed to respond. “Yeahhhh nice one Mark!” Ten pats Mark a bit too hard on the back, causing the younger to cough and wince in pain.

Doyoung gives Mark a high five, and he chuckles, his cheeks turning a bright red.

After dinner, you recite a quick prayer as the waiter heads your way after Doyoung asked him for the bill. You reluctantly take the booklet from him, closing your eyes as you expect the worst. Doyoung leans back in his seat, looking pleased while Mark leans over to see how much your wallet has to suffer today.

“Damn it.” You mutter as you open your eyes and stare at the bill in horror. You reach into your purse and take out your credit card. Doyoung and Ten clap as you place the card in the booklet and slam it shut. The waiter looks at the four of you amused as you hand the booklet back to him. "Doyoung, you're treating for my birthday." You say angrily.

You step outside in the freezing cold, hugging your coat tighter against your body. “See you guys tomorrow?” Ten turns around and the three of you nod.

The four of you agreed to meet up the next day to go “shopping”, which is actually Ten going shopping while the rest of you lounge around, waiting for him. Mark loops his arm in yours.

“See you.” Mark says and Doyoung waves at the three of you, walking in the direction of his car. Ten waves goodbye as well, following Doyoung who was giving him a ride home. Your Uber arrives, and the Mark and you climb in the car. It’s quiet throughout the entire ride, neither of you saying a word.

The driver drops you off and you thank him, stepping out of the car before Mark slams the door shut. You wrap your hand around Mark and he smiles gratefully before following you in the apartment complex.

“Tired?” You laugh at Mark, who was already dozing off in the elevator. Mark nods, his head on your shoulder. The elevator doors open, and you practically drag Mark towards your shared apartment.

“I think i’m just going to head to bed.” Mark mutters as you enter your home. “Okay.” You bid Mark goodnight before entering your almost empty room and shutting the door.

You flop on your bed, letting out a sigh of relief as you kick off your heels and rub your aching ankles. You’re drifting off to sleep, not really caring about your current state until a soft ding! resonates through the quiet room.

You fall off your bed, too lazy to grab your phone. You practically crawl to grab your purse all the way across the room. You quickly open your purse, retrieving your phone and flopping back on your bed.

You squint your eyes as you adjust to the bright screen to your phone. An unknown user pops up on your phone. You're confused on who the hell this person is, or what he’s talking about, but nevertheless, open up his account.

You enlarge his profile picture. He looks familiar.

Another ding! resonates, and you open up your new text message from Ten. “Y/N!!! I FOUND HIM!! I FOUND YOUR GUY! his twitter is @jung1997!!” The text reads.

You open this guy’s Twitter. His username? @jung1997.

Your eyes go wide as you click on the guy's profile picture and enlarge it once more.

You immediately run towards your drawer and pull out the picture. You compare the pretty boy’s face to the profile picture displayed on your phone, and they almost look the same.

That’s when the realization hits you.

You found him. You finally found your mystery man.

“Oh…Oh…OH SHIT!”

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