#which fucking slaps from a reader perspective but ya know

[misterdetectiveswag]

❝ SO HIGHSCHOOL❞

summary; in which, you drag sae into trouble during your high school days. sprinkled with mischief during ephemeral times.

pairing; Sae Itoshi x m!reader

warnings/tags; song title made by taylor swift, suggestive at some parts, fluff, highschool au, cursing, sae & reader are already in a relationship, not proofread, teenagers being teens, makeout session

a/n; both sae and reader are a lil dumb but that's okay. i honestly don't know how different japanese schools are to western school so please forgive me for any inaccurate events

"saee..!" a small whisper rung through his ear, not paying attention to the other as he focused on whatever the teacher was saying.

once more, he called out to him. albeit louder than before but not loud enough to alert the people around them. it felt like the two were in their own little bubble. atleast in y/n's perspective.

it didn't take long before he nudged sae on his side. it was only then when he paid any acknowledgement at all with a sharp 'what.'

it sent shivers down his spine, but nonetheless he responded.

"notes. 'need them. i forgot to write 'em down."

"and you think i have some?"

a deadpanned expression made way to your face, a similar one mirroring sae's own face.

"..'had a query that, perchance, you'd be studious enough to take down notes with the time you spent ignoring me."

"do you even know what studious means?"

both stared at each other, as if they were trying to steal a glimpse of their soul before simultaneously turning away, however the loud voice of their teacher called out to them.

"Itoshi, l/n! no speaking to one another!"

as much as the two were different, they only had one thing consuming their thoughts. 'so uptight for no reason.'

and they both knew, one or the two of them were going to walk down the halls — not for the gates, but instead detention.

———

afterwards, they were called to stay a bit later at the end of the last chime of the day.

now standing infront of their teacher. mirroring sae's gaze on the ground cause you were slick like that.

"now do the both you mind telling me about your conversation a while back?"

the teacher was met with silence, however he kept pushing.

"you two will be met with detention, if neither of you don't talk"

again, nothing.

with a sigh, and the most miniscule of patience left; they were sent to detention. the moment the pair was out of earshot, sae slapped the back of your head.

"ouch! what the fuck, sae?!" you processed your words enough to not make it any more louder, since any more violations called of you will be only met with the back of your parents leather belt.

"why didn't you say anything, dumbass." sae on the other hand, did not care. if he was going down then he hands down believed you were going down with him.

"i thought you were gonna start talking!"

"as if."

"asshole."

(both didn't talk about their interlocked hands while walking down the hall, but it was stuffed in the comfort of sae's pocket and you thought it wasn't enough of an interesting topic to talk about.)

———

left with his thoughts, he sat in the corner of their detention room alongside sae. he laid his head down as sae oh so gently played with your hair.

tranquility, what both of you felt with your time spent. even though anything but peace came out of your mouth, no word could even compare to what you both felt. that's why you two opted for the quote, 'actions speak louder than words'

because in this case, it was all the more veracious.

the teacher watching you two didn't even care what you were doing. even going out of the room, unannounced and unprovoked.

and you two took advantage of that by stealing kisses and make up for whatever you spouted at each other.

luckily f'you, the teacher seemed to be outside for a longer period. and now you always met eye-to-eye with sae (not really). he knew exactly what you were thinking.

dropping his hand from your hair to your waist, he forced you to look up at him by pulling your chin to him.

"ya sure the teacher's gon' be out for long?"

"just shut up, would you? let me have this."

stealing your lips in a kiss, it felt better than no other. soft touches along the surface of your skin and his.

tugging his maroon hair, and teasing the back of his neck. small grunts came from both of you.

pulling away, to catch your breath. he looked pretty, prettier than ever before.

leaning in once more, he wanted to taste you now that he was intoxicated in the poison of you.

the door clicked, but you nor sae didn't seem to take notice. it was only untill a small cough erupted from the frame of the door.

oops. well, i guess the leather belt was always going to be the denouement, regardless what path you took.

© misterdetectiveswag

[outlaw-apologist]

Saved By The Gang | RDR2 x Reader

In which your SO saves you from your kidnappers! This was a request from AO3 :) Characters: Arthur, Hosea, Dutch, Sean, Charles GN!Reader Warnings for each story: Arthur: Graphic depictions of violence, cannibalism, and dismemberment Hosea: Graphic depictions of violence and human trafficking Dutch: Graphic depictions of violence, Dutch being himself Sean: Depictions of violence, use of strong language Charles: Graphic depictions of violence. Implied SA Notes: I kinda ended up writing these more from the characters POVs, so I hope that’s okay. I apologize for any errors of if my writing is bad. I’ve been struggling with insomnia so I'm not thinking great rn. I looked at this so much I kinda hate it lmao so I’m just gonna raw dog my mistakes :’) AO3 Link Arthur: Arthur had been gone for awhile doing the craziest things. He didn’t mean to be away from camp for so long, it just kinda happens. He decided to stop in Van Horn to finish up some quick business when he noticed your horse. Was it really-? Arthur’s eyes narrowed as he studied the markings on the horse’s coat. That definitely was your horse but you weren’t the one in the saddle. “Hey there partner.” Arthur made quick work crossing the road with long purposeful strides. “Where’d you get that there horse?”

The rider looked a bit flustered. “Isn’t’e a beaut? I found it just due south of Roanoke Valley all alone. Rider abandoned it so I thought I outta take ‘em in and give ‘em some good old lovin’.” “Roanoke Valley you say?” He scoffed. What the hell would you be doing up there? “Well, I know the owner of this fine horse and they wouldn’t just go off and leave like that. Where exactly did you find it?” “Listen Mister, I don’t want any trouble.” Agitation arose in the rider causing Arthur to throw his hands up in surrender. “No trouble here. I couldn’t care less about the horse. I just wanna make sure my friend is okay.” After careful consideration the stranger finally shrugged. “I found it drinking at the Kamassa river Northwest of Annesburg.” “Thank ya kindly.” Arthur tipped his head graciously. He hadn’t been up in that area before but the stories he heard weren’t great. This undoubtedly meant trouble. Arthur hardly mounted his horse before a bit of gossip reached his ears. “Another wagon disappeared near the mines. This time three women went missing.” “It’s gotta be that Murfree Brood. I heard they eat anyone they capture. Incestuous cannibals the lot of ‘em. Doubt we’ll ever see those poor women again.” “Shit!” A growl ripped from Arthur’s throat. His heels dug into his horse’s sides and he slapped the reigns. What if that were you? Kidnapped with those women? He needed to find you and fast. “C’mon Y/N. You better not be dead.” His heart pounded in his chest, wind whipping past as he cut off other riders on the trail in haste. He didn’t mean to be gone for so long… Away from YOU for so long… He always thought you understood it. His need to be everywhere and anywhere. And you did… You do… Yet, somehow, regret was eating at him like a deranged wolf. Snapping at the back of his mind, replaying memories upon memories of him returning to your arms after being away for ages. Arthur took for granted that you’d always be there when he gets back. He shouldn’t have left you as much as he does. He should have asked you to come with him. If you had business up in this region he could have been there to protect you. That horse is your world, he knows that. Maybe that’s why his mind was racing with so many regrets and thoughts.  That horse is your everything, if you weren’t on that horse you were probably seriously injured… or worse. That realization put a lot into perspective. It was always ‘What if I never return to Y/N?’ and never ‘What if Y/N never returns to me?’ “C’mon Morgan. Keep it together.” He had to shake these stormy thoughts away. Was it possible that he’d find you alright? Maybe a mild injury? Absolutely. But fuck, if it didn’t give him so much anxiety. Upon reaching the approximate area Arthur slowed his horse using gentle praises. “Easy now.” He reached out to pet it appreciatively, allowing his body filled with tension to drop down. Blue green eyes squinted while searching for clues or any sign of his beloved. Luckily Arthur picked up a few things while bounty hunting and it only took him ten or so minutes to find footprints he thinks matches yours. While following them he started noting how far apart your steps were. You were running. ‘Running from what?’ “Christ.” Arthur’s nose wrinkled just as the wind carried over the scent of rotting flesh. Sure enough there was a dead fellow not far from your tracks. The bullet casings surrounding the corps were definitely from your gun. Was this one of the cannibals? Arthur moved the body, flipping it over using his foot. He looked malnourished and white as paper. Even his clothes were rags. Arthur wasn’t really sure exactly what a cannibal looked like but if he had to take a guess, a cannibal would look like this feller right here. “Fuck, Y/N. What’ave you gotten yourself into?” Those sinking thoughts were back, dragging him into a pit of despair. Would he find your half eaten corpse somewhere in the woods? Are you still alive? Were you scared? You’re a shit significant other, Morgan. That’s what he told himself over and over again, shifting trough the bramble. What kind of man doesn’t know what his lover is up to? If he wasn’t so far up the ass of being ‘Arthur Morgan the big bad Outlaw’ he would know. Regret. Regret for not holding you in his arms every night. For not returning to you more often. He should have had more time with you. Should’ve spent every waking moment with you. How could he be so dense? This life was dangerous! He always stressed that to everyone who would listen. So why didn’t he spend all of his free time with you? None of you knew when your last breath would be taken, how could he waste so much precious life away from you? That fear only grew when those scared eyes focused on the disturbing image of human arms sewn together into some kind of hanging tree ornament. A gloved hand covered his mouth to suppress a gag. Gore wasn’t something that usually affected Arthur, but the thought that this could be you made him feel ill. At least he knew he was going in the right direction. It wasn’t long before he stumbled upon a couple of the Brood. He couldn’t hear the exact words being said because his ears immediately attuned to your cries of pain. Creeping closer in the grass, hand on his holster, Arthur grit his teeth at the scene playing out before him. Never in his life had he felt so much white hot rage. One of the sick fucks held you by the hair while another tried to pin you down. “We’re just gonna cut yer leg off!” He laughed. “What’re ya cryin’ for?” “No!” You screamed, desperately trying to fight against them. For three nights you watched in horror as the others captured were slaughtered, tortured, and eaten. Carved like Thanksgiving turkeys. For three whole nights you couldn’t sleep, drink, or eat because you were so terrified of these monsters. They saw how scared you were and they loved it. Milking every second of it. Because of your exhausted state fighting against them was grueling. “You killed our brother, it’s only fair.” A scream ripped through you just as your flesh tore against the blunt blade of a rusty sickle. “Get away!” Everyone froze, heads snapping towards the all too familiar voice. “Arthur?” “Y/N.” Arthur caught your gaze, a look of relief washing over him. You’re alive! “Hey! Who do you think you are coming hea-” The Brood member pulling your hair didn’t have enough time to finish his sentence before his head was blown off with a crackling BANG! Silence rang out after the loud pop from Arthur’s gun, then the mans body dropped. “You shot my brother!” “And I’ll shoot you too if you don’t get the fuck outta here!” With a click of his cattleman revolver, the last man scrambled up to run. “Too slow.” A dirty finger squeezed the trigger and down he fell. You simply stared as everything unfolded before you, your cries not subsiding but becoming much quieter. After all your pain and torment… All those people gutted like human sacrifices… Arthur killed your captors so easily. “Y/N.” His voice was gentle as he knelt beside you. Finally you shattered. Sobbing violently as soon as his arms enveloped you securely. You wanted to say his name. To tell him everything that had happened but couldn’t manage anything past blubbering incoherently. Never had Arthur felt so much heartbreak. Not from any loss or any breakup he had experienced so far. You’re one of the strongest people he knew. Seeing you look so small and afraid was devastating. Especially because this should have never happened to begin with. “I know.” Was all he could say. “Shhh, I know. You’re okay.” While embracing you with one arm he peered over to inspect your thigh. “I know darlin’, I don’t wanna let you go but I need to stop the bleeding.” He quickly hushed the whimper that passed your lips upon feeling his body shift away. Arthur’s fingers trembled, fumbling with his bandanna. Christ, this affected him more than he ever could’ve imagine. It took a minute but finally he managed to tie it above your wound to limit your bloodflow before immediately picking you up. Arthur made sure you could hide your face in his chest so you didn’t have to look at any of the hanging dismemberments on your way out. “God Y/N.” His arms around you were tight. “It’s okay. I’ll protect you. It’s okay now.” He tried to console you. To console himself. Hell, if he were in your shoes this would be more traumatizing for him than the Colm O’Driscolle ordeal. He could only imagine how you feel. Arthur couldn’t even bring himself to sit you on his horse yet. The moment you were in fresh woods he dropped to his knees and held you. Rocking you, kissing your hair and breathing in your scent. Sweet nothings fell from his lips in soft shaky whispers. Pads of calloused thumbs wiping away every tear from your cheeks. All you could do was cry and cling to him. All he could do was hold you as if it were for the last time. And it almost was. The last time. “How’d you find me?” After what seemed like hours of you two embracing each other, Arthur finally helped you onto his horse and you were on your way back to camp. “Saw some feller in Van Horn ridin’ your horse. Complete coincidence.” Arthur could feel how tense that statement made you so he added quickly, “Don’t worry. I’ll get your horse back. I just wanted to make sure you were safe first.” “Thank you, Arthur. For everything.” “I know how much you love that horse, it’s nothin’.” “No, I mean… Thank you for always being there when I need you.” Silence washed over the both of you. Arthur didn’t know how to respond. “I’m sorry darlin’.” You could feel him arm gently tighten around you in a loose hug. “I could’ve lost you tonight. I got to thinkin’ and… I know I haven’t been the best to you. I always prioritize everyone else. It shouldn’t be like that.” “Oh Arthur-” “I’m serious. I’ve lost Mary and Eliza. Most of my friends are long cold in their graves. I don’t know nothin’ about gods or divine intervention. Don’t know if something led me to you or not this time around….. I guess I was always feelin’ sorry for you because you’re datin’ a walkin’ target. Thought some space between us might do us some good in case I die. Never did I once consider life without you.” Arthur let out a hollow laugh which lacked any mirth or warmth. “What a fool I’ve been. I ain’t never learn my lesson. Tonight showed me that, that’s for damn sure. I dunno what you were doin’ out here but for now on if I leave camp I’m not going anywhere without you.” An exhausted smile reached your lips. “Good. My handsome man, it’s always been you and me. You just had to ask.” “You and me, huh? I like the sound of that.” You fell asleep in Arthur’s arms long before you reached camp. Arthur held you when you arrived, petting your hair as Ms. Grimshaw stitched up your leg. Arthur was needy after your attack. He never let you out of his sight and would always insist on holding you. Especially during nightmares that plagued you for months after the accident. Arthur stayed up singing to you and rocking you for many many long nights. And, of course, he got your horse back! How he did it or by what means, you didn’t care to ask. Slowly life returned to normal and the incident was long behind you both. Arthur kept his promise to take you everywhere until the very end. ___ Hosea: Five minutes. He took his eyes off of you for FIVE minutes so he could speak to the owner of a fence in San Denis while you waited for him outside, and you were gone. “Y/N?” He called out in confusion, scanning the sidewalks and streets for any sign of you. At first he’s annoyed. Did you wander off without saying anything? Hosea waved over the nearest group of men lingering nearby. “Good day. You wouldn’t happen to have seen my associate hanging around out here, would you? They seemed to have disappeared.” One of the men nodded. “Oh yeah, some nasty business I tell ya.” Well shit. “Nasty?” Hosea cocked his head, resting his hand over his holstered gun. “How so?” “These crazies came and bonked them over the head, saying they owed money or somthin’. Decided to mind my own business because they’re all brandishing guns.” “Money, huh? What way did they go?” “That way.” He pointed Eastward. “Towards the docks.” Tipping his hat, Hosea made his way down the sidewalk. He looked both ways before crossing the road, grabbing onto the trolley as it passes, riding the step until he reached the docks. The sun was setting but he knew your form like the back of his hand. It wouldn’t be too hard to spot you against the fire of the sky. However, you nor the supposed men were anywhere in sight. “Excuse me.” He flagged down a sailor and asked him if he’s seen you. He had not. Neither had the other five people he asked. Hosea knew this wasn’t good. The trail ran cold, leaving him hopeless.  There was nothing he could do but return to Shady Belle with a heavy heart. As your husband he was always supposed to protect you. Never in a million years did he think you’d be snatched away right under his nose. Mounting Silver Dollar, Hosea struggled to hold his tears at bay. The city was starting to suffocate him and he needed to leave in order to breathe and think. The weight of the world was finally settling into his old bones on the ride back. The horror the gang had experienced the last few months was devastating. The Blackwater incident aside – Arthur’s escape from Colm, Sean’s death, little Jack’s kidnapping…. Dutch wasn’t listening to reason anymore. The gang was in shambles and now… He let out a defeated sob, hanging over his horse for privacy. What was he supposed to do without you? You’re all he has left. His entire world. What if he wouldn’t be able to find you? It all happened so quickly. To think only an hour ago you were fixing his shirt collar, hanging on his arm with a smile on your face and now POOF! Gone. This was the last drop in the bucket for Hosea. Suddenly he couldn’t stop his tears no matter how hard he tried. He was tired. So god damn tired. Silver Dollar slowed to a stop just off the road. If anyone who passed-by peered close enough through the darkness they could make out the silhouette of a broken man with his head in his hands. He kicked himself for stalling your rescue. Precious time finding you, wasted. By the time he made it back to camp it was late into the night. Dragging himself up the stairs of Shady Belle he knocked on the door to Dutch’s room. Candlelight could be seen flickering through the crack of the doorway leading to Hosea believe he must still be awake. Silence. He knocked again, this time Hosea could hear the bed squeak. “You better have a good reason to disturb me.” Those words flew sharply through the cold humid air. “Dutch…” Hosea would have cursed himself for sounding so… weak. Calling out his friend’s name with a wavering voice. It was noticeable enough to immediately draw Dutch’s attention. The bed squeaked under Dutch’s weight then heavy footsteps led to the door. Hosea kept his gaze down, watching Dutch’s shadow as he moved until the door creaked open and the faint candlelight illuminated Hosea in contrast against the inky hallway. “Hosea- What happened?” “Y/N… I don’t know, it all happened so fast.” Wrapping an arm around Hosea, Dutch led him inside, guiding him to sit. “What happened to Y/N?” “I was looking for a buyer for the bonds we have left, asked them to wait outside because I was just going to be a moment. I stepped out and Y/N was gone. Apparently a group of men took them towards the docks. I tried not to arouse suspicion, I-… Maybe I should’ve gotten there faster, I don’t know…” He shook his head as if to clear it. “Y/N wasn’t there. I may have been too late.” “Someone just took them? In broad daylight?” “Just like that.” Hosea snapped his fingers. “Somethin’ aint right.” Rubbing his chin quizzically, Dutch began pacing the room. “Y/N isn’t stupid, they would’ve screamed or something. You really didn’t hear anything?” He paused to watch Hosea shake his head. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Staring down at his hands, Hosea slowly uncurled his fingers, watching the light dance over his palms. “It was a setup.” “It was a setup.” His friend repeated. “But by who?” “Could be Milton.” “I don’t think so. He’s a thorn in our side. If it were Milton he would’ve showed up in our camp already. Waving Y/N around like a prize.” “That’s very true…” Hosea only looked up when he heard Dutch abruptly halt. “It can’t be….” “What?” “Perhaps… Bronte had a hand in this? I don’t think we’ve done anything to cross him but he’s the only man in the city who could kidnap anyone in broad daylight and not a soul would tell.” He could feel the relief wash through him, the possibility bringing him a weird sense of comfort. He hoped it was Bronte. That would mean you’re probably safe and sound somewhere just like Jack was. “We’ll get Y/N back, Hosea. Let me pull some strings. We’ll find them.” The strings were pulled quite quickly as Hosea found himself waiting outside yet another fabulous party for Arthur to return. “It wasn’t Bronte.” His heart sank. “It wasn’t? Are you sure?” “Pretty sure.” Arthur leaned against the residential fence while lighting a cigarette. He was gussied up to fit the mood. “Asked around ‘n’ nobody had a clue what I was sayin’. I did, however, get this.” Held out between two fingers was a business card. Interested, Hosea accepted it. “Exotic Imports and… Impurities?” “Human trafficking. They apparently have these masquerade parties where rich folk can bid on people anonymously. I think that’s where Y/N is.” God… Was Saint Denis truly such a shit hole? He knew this place was low, but a human trafficking ring? “Are you sure?” Arthur met Hosea’s gaze with the most sincere look he could muster. “Hosea-” “I know you wouldn’t lie to me dear boy.” “I heard someone mentioning there’ll be an auction there this Friday. They mentioned someone who sounds pretty darn close to Y/N’s description in the lineup. I’ll scope the place out, maybe we can rescue Y/N sooner than that. And if not…” Hosea tucked the card into his pocket. “I guess we’re attending the masquerade.” Arthur knows how much you and Hosea are sweet on each other. How hard it was for Hosea after Bessie’s passing and how you brought life back into him. Arthur would do anything for you. So when he had to scope out where the auction will take place he took the job very seriously. He wanted to get you out as soon as possible if you were really there. The place was heavily armed, much to his dismay. An open window was easy enough to sneak into but getting you out was near impossible. He couldn't even find you. However, in a back room Arthur discovered a pile of discarded clothing. A shoe caught his eye, one he knew you wore often. Before he was able to grab it Arthur had to leave as the area filled with guards. “Y/N is in there alright. Too busy for me to get ‘em.” He reported back upon his return to camp. That’s how Hosea, Dutch, Arthur, Bill, Micah, and Charles found themselves attending one of the most unnerving ‘parties’ in San Denis on a muggy Friday evening. They looked expensive, dressed down to the newest shoes on the market. Each donning their own masquerade mask. The building looked beautiful. Expensive. Guest flooded the entrance. “Guns aren’t allowed at this event.” A doorman held his hands out while the gang handed over their weapons. They weren’t worried. If everything was going according to plan John and Javier should already be inside posing as security. Upon entering the mansion, the gang mingled and sweet-talked everyone they could. Trying to get information, word of your safety, anything. One by one they slipped out of the room to John or Javier who gave their guns back to them before joining the guests in the auction room. The auction room was massive, theatrical even. Women in glorious gowns, men who’s suits cost more than a house, they all gathered with glasses filled with alcohol of their choosing. Chatting and laughing as if they’re about to watch a play. Hosea’s stomach churned. The curtains opened to reveal the first person to be auctioned. It was a young girl trembling and sobbing. He gripped the armrest of his seat, knuckles turning white. One by one these people were being bid on. “7,000 dollars. Do I hear 7,000 dollars? 7,500. 8,000 to the man in white!” All of this stress made him want to down glass after glass of alcohol. If he didn’t need to be clear headed he would’ve. “Next up, folks, is person number 9.” You were shoved onstage. Even though your face was covered he recognized you immediately. Almost a week ago you were idly waiting outside, gazing down at your clothing trying to fix a button when you were struck from behind. Blurry vision greeted you after, god only knows how long you were unconscious. Blinking it away you tried to move but to no avail. Hands and feet bound, you were left alone in a cold room. Little light trickled into your cell. You could hear the cries and pleas of other people who were presumably prisoners too. Every time you tried to snap at or fight against the guards they beat you. They fed you just enough food and water to keep you barely alive. It was hell. Every night you prayed someone would find you. Anyone! Hosea, Arthur- were they looking for you? It had been so long…. “Get up.” You snapped awake with a groan as you were kicked. The guard pulled you up, dragging you to get washed and dressed. Stumbling into a back room after being shoved, you blinked at all the faces staring back at you. These were the people you heard crying at night. “What’s happening?” You whispered. Only one woman was brave enough to speak up. Her low voice shook with emotion. “They’re selling us.” “What!?” “Be quiet or I’ll make you quiet!” A guard snarled at you, causing you to shy away. For hours you listened silently to the auction from backstage. Was this really happening? It felt so surreal. Fear filled you as the line moved forward until you were next. A bag was forced onto your head so you couldn’t see. Fingers dug into your arms, you could feel yourself being dragged onto the stage, causing you to stumble. “Next up, folks, is person number 9.” Your breath hitched painfully. Heart racing loudly. This is it. You were about to be sold as person number 9. Bracing yourself for the bidding a loud boom crackled beside you, so loud it made your ears ring. Your head snapped in the direction it came from. Not being able to see anything, panic arose within you as the screams and sounds of running reached you. The crowd was fleeing for their lives! Gunshots popped off in the surrounding area. You ducked down in case any bullets flew your way. “Y/N!” “H-Hosea?” The bag was lifted off your head, beaming lights above glared into your eyes causing you to squint. Hosea’s face slowly came into view. He wrapped his arms around you, throwing you over his shoulder. “I’d love to have a romantic reunion with you, my dove, but I’m afraid we’re in the midst of a shootout.” “I can see that.” You groaned, hanging onto him. For an older man he sure did carry you with ease while shooting his way out with the gang backing him up on either side. “Hosea, let’s go!” Dutch shot the guard who blocked off the door. Hosea had to pass you to Arthur, who barreled through a cloud of bullets with you safely tucked in his arms. He was able to reach the rendezvous carriage, placing you inside before anyone else could enter. Hosea slid in and gathered you in his arms. “Drive, damn it!” He called out, causing the carriage to lurch violently before moving. “Oh Y/N. Oh my little dove.” He carefully looked you over as tears filled your eyes. You were shaking, veins pumping with adrenaline. Your rescue happened so quickly it made your head dizzy. Hosea’s hands were gentle as he touched you in case anything hurt or scared you in your shaken state. He examined every inch. Face was pensive, while taking in every mark and bruise on your delicate skin. “Are you seriously hurt anywhere?” “No.” You whispered, pressing against your husband for comfort. He gladly held you, kissing your lips over and over again. “I’m sorry it took me so long my love. I shouldn’t have let you out of my sight.” Hosea rest his head atop yours and rubbed circles on your back soothingly. “Let’s get you back to camp and fed.” “Thank you.” You nuzzled him, breathing in his comforting scent. “I knew you’d come for me. I missed you.” “I missed you too.” The rest of the ride was quiet. When the carriage parked outside of Shady Belle, Hosea scooped you up immediately. You gasped as the whole gang rushed  over to greet you. “Y/N’s back!” Abigail announced. “Oh Y/N, I’m so glad you’re safe!” Mary-Beth gushed with relief. Even Pearson was there to see you. “Welcome home Y/N. Camp ain’t the same without ya.” “Thank you everyone.” You let out a watery laugh, heart filled with love. You were so appreciated amongst this group and it showed. Hosea brought you inside, cleaning you carefully. He asked if anything hurt or if anyone touched you and you responded with yes or no. He clothed you in his own clothes, hoping his scent would bring comfort. A warm bowl of stew was pushed into your hands. Hosea held you while you ate and snuggled you up until you went to bed. He played with your hair all night, unable to sleep after losing you. ___ Dutch: Dutch doesn’t notice you’re gone until the ransom note arrives. “$3,000 in exchange for your lover?” He scoffed. “Who does he think he is? We’ll light his ass up.” The page was quickly crumpled in his hand. Dutch felt a deadly fury rise in him so great his own blood ran colder than the Upper Montana river. Colm O'Driscoll won’t get away with it this time. Not after what he’s done to Dutch’s past lover and to Arthur. “Dutch, I think we should be cool about this one. He already captured me to draw you in for the Pinkertons. He’s probably not done try’nna cut his deal with ‘em. If we ride in hot-” “Not now, Arthur. A few Pinkertons we can handle. This is Y/N we’re talking about, for Christ’s sake.” He scoffed, face snarling up in anger. “Y/N would have come for you, dear boy, had we known you were taken. Y/N would have come for you.” Arthur heaved out a sigh. He still wasn’t fully well after the green gang shot him up. “I know, Dutch. I love Y/N just as much as anyone. We ain’t ever leave one of us behind. I just think… If they want to draw us in they’ll treat Y/N right. If it’s a trap it’ll make more sense for us to come in quiet and get Y/N outta there safely.” “We don’t have time!” Dutch grabbed his gun, much to Arthur and Hosea’s exasperation. “Dutch, I know you love Y/N, but I think Arthur may be right.” “Who’s side are you on, Hosea? If that were you we would already be on the road.” He waved his gun around before holstering it. The air in camp was tense. Dutch seemed… Unsettled. Unpredictable. His eyes were crazy. Love made him crazy. “Who’s with me? John, Micah, Bill?” John and Arthur exchanged looked while Bill jumped up eagerly. Micah seemed interested but didn’t bother grabbing anything extra like the others. “I’m comin’ with you.” Arthur’s shoulders fell. He followed Dutch through camp up to The Count which Dutch mounted with ease. “No, dear boy. You rest. Watch the camp with Hosea, we should be back before dawn.” “Alright, if you say so. Be careful out there Dutch. Things are getting nasty. Bring Y/N home.” “Oh, I intend to.” With the rescue party ready Dutch rode out with his boys. “If you see an O’Driscoll, shoot. If you see a Pinkerton, shoot. We leave no one alive. Not even the women. If Colm wants to play, we’ll play. By our rules.” John moved up beside Dutch, calling out over the whistling wind. “Are you sure about this Dutch? What if Y/N gets hurt?” “Y/N isn’t getting hurt.” The words were spoken as if John’s idea was ludicrous. “Now you boys know how I feel about Y/N. And I-… Well, call me foolish, but I’ll never let any man, beast, or tycoon lay a finger on the love of my life. The moment we slaughter his sons he’ll know we mean business. Colm is many things, but stupid he is not. He knows hurting Y/N would give us cause to burn his world down piece by piece and I don’t think he could take the heat.” “As is your right, Dutch.” Micah spoke up. “The O'Driscolls should know by now you’re a kind and just man. I’m sure they understand the reckoning hurting their assets would bring.” Feeding into Dutch’s anger pleased the gang leader. “That’s what I thought.” He agreed. The rest of the ride was tense with anticipation. John knew there was nothing he could say. He just hoped you’d survive all of this. Dutch was getting sloppy and with you involved… He would slaughter the whole world if he had to. “We’re here.” Dutch announced. Night had long fallen by the time they reached the O’Driscoll hideout. “Let’s make a little noise. Micah-” Riding closer to the compound, Micah lit a stick of dynamite, throwing it over the fence. Dutch watched with great pleasure as the O’Driscoll boys caught in the blast began to scream. “Let’s show them you don’t fuck with Dutch van der Linde.” The guns came out. Time slowed down, men began to rush at them. The Count reared, spooked by the sudden barrage of bullets. Dutch shot every single O’Driscoll effortlessly, one by one. You were beginning to think Dutch wasn’t coming. Why would he after Arthur outed Colm’s setup a week ago? They had kicked your face in until your mouth filled with blood and your nose cracked in three different places. Breathing was hard with your damaged ribs. The O’Driscoll’s wasted no time in beating you to a bloody pulp before tying you up. The way you were tied was ridiculous. Your hands and feet were tied separately then were tied together to ensure you wouldn’t be able to move an inch. You guessed Arthur’s escape was a sore spot. You struggled and fought until the ropes dug angry marks, rubbing the skin away. In all honestly you usually would have half a mind to spit at or curse any O’Driscoll out, however this seemed different. It was grim, very grim. You remember how scary it was watching Arthur collapse off his horse barely alive and wondered – would you make it? Surely they won’t let an escape happen again... Dutch would probably move camp, you thought. And if you could survive… I don’t know, a week longer, he’ll come and get you. These were the thoughts running through your head while you tried to plan your survival. ‘It’ll be torture, but I can last that long’, you reassured yourself. It didn’t work. Colm killed Dutch’s girl way back, what’s stopping him from doing it again? You knew the man had a nasty streak to him. And Dutch… well... killing you sure would make Dutch slip up enough to get caught. That bastard Colm just wanted to see him hang. Many many thoughts occupied your mind as you dozed off. Aches and pains were screaming at you so being unconscious was probably best. At the brink of sleep you were jolted wide awake by a loud explosion. You froze, halting your breath, straining your ears to listen. Silence. What’s going on? BANG BANG BANG! Dutch- It had to be him! Your face lit up with hope, eyes fixated on the door. Any minute now... The O’Driscoll’s screamed, cursed, and cried out. “Get ‘em!” “Don’t let them inside!” “We gotta hold this for Colm!” Despite anticipating its happening you still flinched back when the door was kicked in. “Y/N.” Dutch sighed out of relief. Kneeling down he cut you loose, brushing the hair from your face. You both were quiet. Just taking each other in. You because you had missed him, and him because he was stunned by how badly you were beaten. “Those animals. We’ll make ‘em pay.” Dutch’s words were said more to himself than to you. “I’m alright, I can walk, I think-” Helping you up, Dutch’s eyes filled with sadness when he noticed you wincing. He could hear your chest heave with pain and it was grading against his eardrums. “I’ll carry you. Just hang on, we haven’t cleared them all yet.” Scooping you into his chest, your arms were granted purchase around his neck. Dutch was stronger than he looked. He held onto you with one arm wrapped tightly to secure you while shooting any man who ran this way with the other. “Bastards! They’re everywhere! John, Micah, let’s go!” “You get Y/N?” John asked after shooting three more men. There were so many O’Driscolls they couldn’t even take their eyes off them to check on you. “Yeah. Let’s get outta here.” Micah covered Dutch’s right while John covered his left and back. They shot the best they could until finally they were free of the building. Dutch placed you on The Count, climbing behind you. The others quickly mounted seeing as there was no way they’d win this gun battle if they stayed. “Shit! Incoming!” Bill cried out, alerting everyone to the drove of Pinkerton galloping straight towards the gang’s direction. “God dammit!” Jerking the reigns, Dutch kicked his horse into action. “This way, c’mon! Let’s lose them through the trees. We gotta hope we can outrun them.” There you were, rocketing towards salvation on a white horse. Pinkertons and O’Driscolls crashing down around you like violent ocean waves. There was so much noise to the point where your ears rang in an effort to tune it all out. Breath didn’t leave your body. Time slowed. You watched in horror. Every bullet shot by John seemed to take ages before knocking down its opponent. Bill was screaming yet not a word of it reached you. You could feel Dutch’s arm wrap tighter and tighter around your waist. Suddenly you’re soaring through the air, hair flying back against the dusty breeze. This was it. The moment of truth. The Count’s feet touched down  after leaping over a fence and suddenly time returned to normal and everything sped up in your race for life. Your heart thuds erratically, clammy hands clinging to the saddle for dear life. “Duck!” Dutch ordered and you immediately lowered your head before a low hanging branch creamed you. You stayed low Dutch’s body now covering you protectively. You couldn’t see and had no idea what was going on. Your own breathing was so loud at this point it took you awhile to register – the shooting had stopped. There was no more screaming, no more calling out or angry orders being shouted. Only the sound of four horses huffing and puffing and your own shaky breaths filled the air. “My love… Are you alright?” Dutch lifted himself off of you, his horse slowing to rest. “I…. I think so.” You gazed down at your hands and arms before looking at Dutch with wide traumatized eyes. “Oh, my little bird. I’m so sorry they hurt you. I came as soon as I could. They’ll pay for this.” Something sinister swirled behind his eyes but his fingers were gentle against your skin while caressing your face. “Come now, let’s get you cleaned up and to bed. You need rest.” Dutch kissed your shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re here now. So glad.” ___ Sean: Sean thought you were mad at him. Avoiding him for some awful comment he made because he, yet again, went too far. It hurt his feelings but he decided you’d probably come back when you were ready to see him again. “Sean, have you seen Y/N?” Mary-Beth asked. “I haven’t seen Y/N since yesterday morning.” Sean’s heart fell to the pit of his stomach. You weren’t the type to leave camp often or without someone accompanying you. “Christ, I haven’t. Where’d you last see them?” “Over by Kieran. I already asked him and he said Y/N helped with the horses then wandered off.” “An’ no one saw them come back?” He began power walking through camp, searching the area for you. “Has anyone seen Y/N?” Tilly and Uncle shook their heads, John just gave a shrug. “That isn’t weird to any of yous?” His voice was raised enough to get the attention of Arthur who had just rode in. “What’s goin’ on now?” “Y/N is fucking missing and no one said a damn word about it.” “Alright, alright calm down. I’m sure we can find them, where were they last?” “Oh I don’t know English, lemme just take this crystal ball out of my ass-” Sean rolled his eyes while grabbing his gun. “We’re gonna have to track them down. Think you can do that?” “Well…” Arthur wipes the sweat from his brow. “Charles taught me a few things.” He paused, gently catching Sean’s shoulder. “I know you’re upset but I need you to keep your head. I’m sure wherever Y/N is they’re okay. We’ll get them back safe.” “Speak for yourself, I always keep my wits.” “That right there is what I’m worried about.” Arthur huffed while mounting his horse. Sean was silently grateful for Arthur’s words though he’d never admit it. There was a storm churning inside of him. An ocean of guilt rocking his consciousness. If only he respected your boundaries and didn’t make that joke maybe you wouldn’t have gone missing. “We’ll bring Y/N back safe.” He repeated to himself, climbing onto his saddle. Arthur gave him an affirmative nod. They rode around the outskirts of Clemens Point looking for any sign of you. Sean felt like throwing up the whole entire time. Suspense was killing him. “Over here!” Air left his lungs in relief as soon as Arthur’s voice broke through the thick air. Walking his horse over, that relief was short lived. “Fuck.” Sean hissed. Arthur held a ripped piece of fabric clearly bloodied. The fabric was from something you wore often making it was unmistakable. “Looks like three riders were here. ‘Dunno who they could be, but…” Morgan hesitated, knowing Sean probably shouldn’t hear the next part. “There was quite the struggle.” The Irishman cursed, kicking at a nearby stone, sending it throttling into the trees. “I’ll kill every last one of ‘em! I swear it.” The Van der Linde boys followed the hoof prints best they could, using other clues to figure out what way your kidnappers may have turned when the trail disappeared. With each passing minute Sean’s knuckles turned more and more white around his reigns. “I shouldn’t have said anything. This is my fault.” His feelings were so big inside of him they spilled out of his lips like a broken dam. “I’m a right bastard.” “You two have a fight?” “Sort of… We was fuckin’ around and Y/N got sick of me and asked me to stop teasing them but they look so cute when they’re angry I just- I don’t know.” He hung his head. Arthur studied him silently as they rode. “Well… Sounds about right for you two. I’m sure Y/N wouldn’t blame you.” “Maybe not, English, but I blame myself. I just hope they’re okay.” They didn’t talk any more after that unless to comment on the path changing. A few hours away from camp they came across smoke indicating a fire, right in the general direction of your kidnappers. “Must be them.” Sean was ready to charge in, but Arthur’s hand shot out across Sean’s chest, stopping him in his tracks. “We should get to higher ground first, see what we’re dealing with.” “Are you crazy? Y/N could be there!” “That’s exactly why we can’t rush in like fools! What happened to keepin’ your wits? Do you want Y/N getting shot?” Sean’s mouth opened and closed, words getting choked up in his throat. The thought of you getting shot was about to bring tears to his eyes. Shoulders slumping forward, he sucked in a shuddering breath. “Let’s go look up that hill.” “That’s better.” Arthur snapped his kicked his feet, leading his horse higher with Sean close behind. Sean wasn’t playing around now. Knowing you might be close and that you were probably hurt- It took everything in him to quench ranging fire burning within. He whipped out his binoculars, setting eyes on the men surrounding the campfire. “Stupid Lemoyne fucks.” “Do you see Y/N?” Arthur asked. Sean moved his binoculars with his turning head. “I’ve got eyes on them. They’re tied to a wagon just outside of where they’re sitting.” He bit his lip while taking in your sorry form. You were filthy, bloodied, and your face was swollen. They clearly didn’t treat you kindly. “Let’s kill those fucks, Morgan. My baby needs me.” Without another word Sean tucked the binoculars away, charging full force down the hill, cattleman revolver in hand. He managed to shoot one guy in the throat, ducking on his horse to avoid the flying bullets. His horse galloped straight for you, stopping just shy with the intention of creating a barrier between you and the shootout. Arthur did most of the shooting while Sean nearly flung himself off his horse to cut you free. “Oh my baby! What did those bastards do to you?” He gently cleaned your face with his handkerchief, ignoring all the gory sounds echoing from behind. Sean didn’t even notice when everything became silent. You had his full undivided attention. “Sean!” You wept, wrapping your arms around his neck to bury your face into his chest. “I’m sorry baby. I should’ve never let you out of my sight. I’ve got you, my rose. I’m here now.” He kissed your hair, rubbing your back. “Did they hurt you real bad?” Tears now stung his eyes when you nodded. It was difficult seeing you this way. He loves you more than anything else in the world, seeing his partner so beaten and broken- “Shhhh. We’ll make it better.” Sean attempted to calm his tears, crying silently while burying his face in your hair. His chest was warm and welcoming after what you’ve endured. Even though every bone in your body ached all you wanted to do was hug him and you were grateful he didn’t pull away immediately and put you on a horse. “I love you. So much. I was so scared.” You whimpered. “I know, I know I’m so sorry Y/N. About everything. I should’ve never pushed your buttons. I thought you ran away.” “What?” You pulled away in confusion, studying his face. “Sean… You think I’m upset about that?” It was cute seeing Sean feel guilty over a minor playful argument, something you both have often, and you couldn’t help but to giggle. “Don’t be silly.” You reached up, wiping away his tears. Confused, Sean gently caught your hand, pressing kisses to your palm while examining the bruising on your skin. “I guess that’s who I am when I’m with you, Y/N. A silly man. C’mon now.” Carefully you were scooped up into a loving embrace. Sean placed a peck on your lips. He was afraid of hurting you further so he treated you as though you were made of glass. Once you were in his saddle he pulled himself up behind you. “Let’s get you to camp, baby. I’ll make you feel better there.” “Thank you.” You pressed your back against him in relief. Exhaustion flooded your still trembling body. You never had any doubt Sean would come for you but the experience of the Lemoyne Raiders kicking your face in was rather traumatic. “Glad to see you’re okay L/N.” Arthur shot you a little smile. “Sean here was real riled up about your disappearance. Nearly bit my head off.” A faint smile crossed your lips. You winced as your skin pulled on a bruise. “Thank you for coming too, Arthur. If you weren’t here I don’t think he would have been able to rescue me.” “Oh not this again!” Sean groaned. His arm was wrapped loosely around you and he still pressed an odd kiss to your hair here or there. “I would've done just fine!” “You shot one bullet!” Arthur pointed out with a laugh. “Then you flung yourself over your lover like some actor in one of those dramas. If I weren’t here you and Y/N would be riddled with holes by now.” “I love you Arthur Morgan, but shut up. I killed that fellow with one shot! ONE!” “What was stopping you from killing the rest of ‘em?” “Y/N needed me!” “See if I didn’t come-” “Shut up Morgan!” Listening to their familiar arguments was the best welcome home you could’ve ever wished for. Your eyes fell shut as you listened and soon the pain shooting through you and the exhaustion of being awake and afraid all night  started catching up. Slowly your body fell limp against Sean’s chest. You were only faintly aware of his arm tightening around you, keeping you safely on the horse. It was pitch black when you came to. Fear shot you awake, your eyes scanning the darkness. “Sean?” You could hear an exhausted exhale to your right, a hand reached out from the black to gently pet your hair. “I’m here baby.” There was some fumbling then a match lit, illuminating your lover who had fallen asleep sitting next to you. Sean lit a lantern and that’s when you noticed you were laying in Arthur’s cot. “We thought it best to give you some privacy until you’re in tip top shape. Said I wasn’t allowed to sleep with you in it though.” Sean leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’m just glad to have you back. Get some rest, no one will hurt you now. I’m here.” Relaxing again your fingers laced with Sean’s as you settled back in to sleep. ____ Charles: Charles usually minded his own business whenever you fucked off outta camp for a few days. You had been running with the gang far longer than he has and everyone knew you to be quite capable. God only knows what you’re up to half the time. Similar to Arthur, you’d go off and do your own thing then return with money or a fresh kill and a story of your adventures. Charles likes that about you. He admires your independence and how you have so much strength. When you didn’t show up to camp for a week he didn’t think anything of it. You were probably off climbing waterfalls or helping strangers. The gang carried on as normal unless Dutch wanted to offload a job onto you, then he’d ask around. “Charles.” Dutch called him over with a waggle of his finger. He already heard him calling your name and asking the ladies if they’ve seen you so Charles had an inkling as to what this was about. “Can you go find Y/N? I don’t care what it takes, just get their ass over here. We have money to make.” Charles didn’t mind being asked. Any reason to get some peace and quiet and reunite with you was a good reason in his eyes. The problem was, you were flightly, and your tracks were old. It has rained twice since you left camp. Charles followed your prints the best he could. Up into Strawberry, then to Mt.Shann where he took a break to enjoy the view and watch the birds. Charles smiled a little when he saw you had set camp there at one point. It was a beautiful place to stay, he would have done the same. He then doubled back to Owanjila lake where you had your second camp. He wondered what you were doing in the area, having absolutely no clue. He did, however, chuckle to himself when he found one of your gloves that you must have dropped. “Oh, Y/N.” The words slipping from his lips were fond and warm. He scooped the glove up deciding to store it in Taima’s saddle bag then he carried on his way. Charles began to get confused when your trail led straight back to Valentine. So… you were close to camp and didn’t stop by to rest your horse or grab supplies? That’s very unlike you. These tracks were fresher, not more than a few days old if even. Your lover became frustrated when entering town as the hoof prints belonging to your horse became lost in the bustle of main street and Charles couldn’t pick them up again. “Excuse me. Have you seen-” He began stopping residence of Valentine, asking of your whereabouts. You had been seen at the arms store and according to the man at the front desk of the Saints Hotel you stopped by for a wash only a day before. Well… If you were here yesterday you’ll probably be back at camp soon. After thanking the clerk, Charles returned to Horseshoe Overlook to inform Dutch you’d be back soon. The next day Charles awoke early. “Mr. Smith, can you please go into town and get us some supplies? Normally L/N does it but they ain’t back yet. Ms. Grimshaw ain’t too pleased.” He was attempting to enjoy his early morning coffee when Karen approached him. “Sure.” He set his cup down, accepting the list. “Did Pearson add what he needed?” “He only asked for corn.” He raised a brow in amusement, sharing a knowing look with Karen. “I understand.” Tucking it away safely Charles finished his coffee, throwing the rest out, then made his way to Taima. Your whereabouts weighed heavily on his mind during his ride into Valentine. ‘I miss Y/N’, he thought to himself ‘I hope they return soon’. Camp just wasn’t the same without you. He liked the gang alright but he liked you more. Valentine was a breath of fresh air after Blackwater. Quite literally. Charles took deep breaths, breathing in the crisp mountain air before entering town. Taima was soon hitched outside the general store where Charles leisurely strolled in. He walked around, footsteps echoing in the empty room as he gazed at the shelves. The clerk wasn’t there. “Hello?” He called out. Soon, sound of a door being swung open and rushed footsteps up the stairs filled the silence from what he assumed must have been the store room. “I’ll be right with you.” You were bound painfully tight. Ropes dug into your skin until your wrists bled. Tied to a chair and gagged. It had all happened so fast. Days ago you were going about business as usual. You stocked your ammo; took a nice long bath; and followed a dog around you wanted to pet before returning to camp, and of course, to the arms of Charles. What can you say? You love dogs and this one was particularly funny. You had grinned to yourself, studying the animal as you followed it out back. You didn’t expect to look up and be met with the stares of men who were clearly in the middle of an illegal operation. “Shit!” Your hand flew to your holster then froze as you heard a click and felt the barrel of a gun pressed to the back of your head. Your hands slowly rose as you tried to eye whoever was behind you. “Well well well, look what we have here, fellers.” “Real unfortunate, ain’t it?” You narrowed your eyes but kept silent. O’Driscolls by the looks of ‘em. “Hey…” A tall one began circling you, looking you over as if you were bait. “I remember you. You run with the Van der Linde boys, don’tcha?” This wasn’t good. “I think you’ve mistaken, mister.” “No… No I recognize you alright.” He stopped in front of you, leaning so close you had to recoil when the stench of his foul breath hit your face. “This isn’t your lucky day-” Before you could react he drew his elbow back and punched you so hard you nearly flew to the ground. Quiet laughs rang out among the group. Pain overcame you when one grabbed you by the hair, literally dragging you into the basement of their operation where you were hastily tied up and beaten several times among other unsavory happenings. For days you starved. Your face swollen beyond recognition. Only did the grocer show you any compassion. Feeding you water while muttering little ‘I’m so sorry, I wish we could let you go’s. He was a nervous man… A sweaty man. Hell you’d be nervous too if a gaggle of insane Irishmen took over the basement of your shop. You appreciated his little kindness but the weight of the situation was never lost on you. You needed to get out and soon, or else they’ll kill you. You thought of Charles and your beloved friends Arthur, Mary-Beth, and Lenny. Were they looking for you? Did they ever realize you disappeared? Today repeated the last two. The second the O’Driscolls noticed you were conscious their abuse started again up until mid morning when they left to take care of some business. The clerk made his way into the basement, removing your gag so he could give you water. “I’m sorry but you have to understand. If I let you go they’ll kill me.” You were too tired to argue with your heavily bruised jaw, sipping at the cool liquid. Suddenly a sound met your ears. Old floorboards overhead creaked with heavy footsteps. “Oh goddammit.” Cloth was shoved into your mouth once more, immediately drying your tongue. “H-Hold on. Stray here..” You glared at the clerk. Where the hell were you gonna go all tied up like this? The sweaty man dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief, opening the door that divided you from the outside world. “Hello?” A voice called out, rushing the clerk who felt so overwhelmed and frenzied with stress that he accidentally left the door open. “I’ll be right with you.” Staying coherent is a struggle for you at this point. Listening to light footsteps run up the stairs you let your head hang limp against your shoulder. “What can I help you with?” “Just here to resupply. Do you happen to have… uh… a bushel of corn?” “Corn? Yeah, we got it.” Wait… was that? CHARLES! Energy rocketed through your veins with the hope of rescue. Charles was here! Gazing around frantically you searched for something, ANYTHING. The only thing close by was a broom. Hopping your chair over to it depleted you immediately, every bruise and broken rib screaming out. But you had to do this. You had to get Charles’ attention. It was so much work just to get close enough to tip the broom over. CLINK! Your head snapped towards the stairs with anticipation. Charles read the list over again. “Actually a bushel of apples too.” CLINK! He glanced down at the stairs then at the clerk who laughed nervously. “Haha don’t mind that. Just some junk.” Charles hummed, grabbing a few cans off the shelf. “I’ll take these as well.” “Is that all for you?” Your heart squeezed in your chest. It didn’t work. ‘Charles! Charles I’m right here!’ You so badly wanted to scream. No words left your muffled mouth beyond your hearing. There had to be a way to get his attention. Nothing else was close enough to you and you didn’t have the strength to move yourself and the chair any further. The only thing you could do was throw yourself to the ground as hard as you could and hope for the best. BANG! This time Charles froze. His eyes napped towards the basement then back at the grocer.  A terrified look flashed over the man’s face. That’s suspicious... Oh- “Just some junk, huh?” “Yes sir.” In once swift movement Charles pulled out his gun, cocking the hammer. “Then you wouldn’t mind showing me what’s down there, right?” “H-Hey listen! I don’t want any trouble.” “No trouble here. If there’s nothing down there then I’ll pay and leave.” “It’s just junk mister! Honest!” “Then it should be okay if I take a look at this ‘junk’.” The clerk folded under pressure. “They said they were gonna kill me if anyone found out!” “Then get out of here and hope they don’t find you.” Charles didn’t know who ‘they’ were but he had a pretty good idea about what was going on.  He watched as the grocer fled before cautiously making his way down the stairs, cattleman revolver still drawn. Charles was stunned. All breath left his body in disbelief the second you two made eye-contact. “Y/N!” He hurdled himself towards you, picking the chair up to sit you upright before removing the gag. “What did they do to you?” Swift work was made of your binds and soon you were pulled into the comfort of his chest. Giving a whimper of pain you couldn’t help but to cry tears of relief. “Charles!” Your voice cracked. You almost thought it wouldn’t work and he would leave without you. Charles rubbed your back, pulling away to assess your injuries. “Y/N…… I-.” He didn’t know what to say.  So many emotions hit him in waves, washing over him strongly which inevitably flashed across his face. Anger at the people who hurt his beloved. Guilt for not tracking you any further. Resentment towards himself for not considering you might be missing or in trouble. Sadness. So much sadness. He had never seen you this badly beaten and it disturbed him. Quickly he tried to hide his thoughts. You were so small and frail in his arms, crying uncontrollably now. Charles could imagine by your current state that it must have been a horrible ordeal. “I’ve got you. Can you walk?” All you could do was cling to Charles while shaking your head. You felt the weight of his coat drape around your shoulder before feeling yourself being scooped up. “You found me.” Charles winced at how weak your voice sounded. Placing a gentle kiss on your forehead he shushes you. “Save your energy my love. You’ve been through a lot. Let me take care of you.” It’s the least he can do after failing you so badly. As he carried you up the stairs Charles make eye-contact with Sheriff Malloy who bowed his head slightly out of respect – serving as a silent apology. “We’ll hang whoever did this.” He promised.  Deputies flooded the store actively as he spoke. "When we find ‘em, you’ll be the first to know.” “Thank you.” Those words meant nothing to Charles. The Valentine law was useless and it showed. All he could do now was shield you from curious onlookers while mounting Taima with you securely in his arms. “Are you in any pain?” He whispered, making his horse walk so the ride wouldn’t jostle you too much. “Yeah.” Charles had to lean down to catch your quiet words. “Try to rest against me. I’ll get some morphine from the Reverend. Just hang in there. I’m sorry, I know it hurts.” He was trying desperately to find the right words to say. Anything that might help you or ease your suffering. Anything that might relieve his guilt. Grasping at words floating around his mind yet none could be combined into something coherent. They rode on in silence. “Mister Strauss, Reverend. We need medicine.” Most of the gang couldn’t see what was going on, Charles had you tucked protectively against him for privacy. He knew you probably didn’t want everyone ogling at you. The air of the situation was enough for everyone to gain understanding and many sprang into action. “How bad is it?” Strauss asked. “I think their ribs are broken, maybe sprained jaw. Definitely a sprained ankle.” “Bring Y/N over here.” Arthur called, leading Charles to his cot. “Probably better than the ground. Shouldn’t be movin’ much with cracked ribs.” Your eyes fluttered open the second you were placed in the comfort of Arthur’s bed. Charles immediately helped you take medicine to ease your suffering. “Do you need anything my love?” His voice was gentle as if speaking to a spooked animal. Large calloused fingers brushed the hair from your face. “Food… Water…” Arthur gently squeezed Charles’ shoulder, earning a grateful look from his friend. “Let me.” Your love settled into a chair beside you, still playing with locks of your hair. “You’re so brave Y/N. And so incredibly smart. I’m so happy you’re safe now. I-… I’ll never let this happen to you again.” He watched you struggle to stay conscious. Maybe the food will have to wait. Slumping forward, he places a feather light kiss upon your lips. “I’m coming with you everywhere for now on.” He knew you couldn’t hear him but it eased his soul just saying those words out loud.

[strawbxrryneptune]

Cw: praise, talks of snakes, lots of kissing, fingering, dirty talk, cursing, my bad puns, fem!reader

《 @kingkatsuki @miggiisdumb 》

♡♡

Thinkin about going on a wildlife tour in Australia, with a tour guide who loves pulling pranks on the tourists, telling them about dangerous snakes and getting them nervous and anxious, pulling up to a "snake hotspot" and holding in laughter when he plays a track of a rattlesnake and everyone panics, actually cackling out loud when he gets off to "make sure the fuckers didn't ruin his truck" and throws a rubber snake over the side, resulting in multiple screaming children and women and a man who mightve pissed himself.

Has to turn around to take everyone back cause they're sooo mad, and he just chuckles and yells out that,

"If ya' can't handle a lil' snake, yer' ain't cut out fa' Aussie, Mates!!"

He turns back around to drive off on his own personal tour and sees you sitting in the passenger seat, having moved up since everyone else got off.

"Where we headed now, Mista Tour Guide?"

The handsome blonde raises an eyebrow at you before grinning wildly.

"Well well well, I see lil' miss city girl ain't afraid."

"Of a rattlesnake? Please. We going or not?"

He laughs, rounding the car and hopping in, driving off and leaving a cloud of a dust in his trail.

You side eye him, checking him out subtly as he takes you back along the tour trail.

He looked shockingly good in khaki, shorts tight around his bulging thighs and white shirt straining to contain his muscular torso, rings and chain glistening in the afternoon sun. Sweat trickles down his neck, your eyes following the movement until it dissapears into his shirt, which is sticking to him due to him perspiring, giving you a view of intricate tattoos swirling along his chest and arms.

"Ya done starin', sweetheart?"

You smile, gazing into his red eyes as he looks at you from the corner of his eye.

"Nah, I'm not done. Could ya maybe pull over so I can get a better perspective?"

He chuckles at that, ears flushing pink as he tightens his grip on the steering wheel.

"Aren't ya here for a tour of Australia?"

"I've done my fair share of touring. I wanna explore."

As you say that last word, you trail a hand down his chest and tugging on his chain, watching his smirk fade as he subtly clenches his jaw, eyes narrowing on the road.

"Watch yerself, Gorgeous."

You sigh, leaning back onto your seat as you throw your head back against the wind.

"If you're too scared to show the city girl what it's like down under, I completely underst-"

You're cut off with a snarl, the tour guide pulling over to a spot near a ledge, turning off the car and grabbing your jaw.

"I ain't afraid of shit, little girl. You should be afraid, sittin on a cliff with a rando who's got you by the jaw."

You smile as best you can with his fingers on you, rolling your tongue out to lick at his hand.

His pupils dilate, breath hitching before he leans forward and catches your mouth in a rough kiss, wet fingers sneaking into your top and pinching at your nipples.

"Hah, what a fuckin' minx. You wanna get fucked on the side of the road like some whore?"

You mewl against his lips, panting as he slips his thick fingers lower, tracing soft, teasing circles on your panty clad cunt before giving it a firm smack, your mouth dropping open in shock and arousal.

"I asked y'a question, sweetheart. You want me to fold in fuckin' half and give you this dick? I can make you fucking scream."

You breathe a laugh, rolling your eyes teasingly as you thrust your hips against his big hand.

"P-please, as if. You're just a-ahhhh"

He gives another sharp slap to your pussy, this time directly on it. You hadn't even realized he had ripped them off, too busy trying to make a comeback.

"I'm just a what, Sweets? A fuckin' God? Say it, come on, tell me I'm makin you feel good with just a few pussy slaps. Let the whole fucking plain know who's making your thighs shake like that."

You huff, burying your face in his shoulder to muffle your moans when he slides a finger into you, but he quickly takes you up by your hair and drags you to his mouth, tongue rolling over yours and the deep baritone of his moans sending shockwaves to your core.

You shake and tremble as he kisses you, the feeling of his thumb rubbing slow, teasing circles on your clit and two of his warm, ring clad fingers curling inside you has you rushing towards release.

You bring one of your hands down to rub at his bulge, teasing over the spot where his tip is. He groans into your mouth, pulling away to pant against your lips as his eyes lock onto the creaminess of his fingers, your slick covering his hand.

"Shit. You're fucking dripping. All this for me, baby?"

You can't even scoff at him, only answering with a whimper when he starts to whole heartedly pump into you, rocking his hips against your hand.

You hit your peak suddenly, eyes rolling back and fingers tightening around his tip, causing him to choke on a gasp and bite down into your shoulder, hips shaking underneath you as you both cum.

When you finally get a bearing, you see a spreading damp spot on the cloth of his shorts, some creamy cum dripping down his thighs.

"Well shit. Down under really is fun."

"Shut the fuck up."

[transsexualhamlet]

Moriarty the Patriot + The Final Problem

aka another unecessary essay from ya boy on how yuumori, instead of taking away from the original text, adds meaning and depth to it

So I finally got around to reading the final problem after wading through all the memoirs of sherlock holmes and yes, I am in fact reading these because of yuumori. I wanted to see how it was portrayed, what the differences and influences from the original source were. I did end up getting incredibly attached to the original series too, so yeah... I'm glad to report that the original and adaption get along well.

And yeah, I have a lot of thoughts, most of them being just me generally praising yuumori. I think it was straight up genius how they pulled so much content from... well, frankly. The Final Problem was a 15 page short story tossed off by Doyle in order to have an excuse to be done with sherlock holmes, told from the perspective of someone who wasn't even there. And yuumori still managed to make it generally very accurate and complementary to the original, while still being, uhhhhh really fucking different, let's say that.

Read more because again, long essay

Just my observations on the final problem itself is that it is so underdeveloped and told from an outsider perspective. Because of that, so many questions go unanswered, and the reader gets a sense that they are only witnessing a very small part of what actually happened. Sherlock can't afford to go into detail on what Moriarty was even involved in, Watson isn't privy to what's honestly even happening most of the time, and Moriarty just... has this extensive network of organized crime that just isn't even talked about other than Trust Me It's Bad Bro. We don't know Moriarty's intentions, most of who he is, and more questions are honestly brought up than answered within the story. Sherlock knows, oh that's for sure, Sherlock knows what's going on and he has no fucking time to tell Watson. You get a sense that Watson himself isn't even telling all that went down.

So yeah, I can see where there's so much room to expand upon here, not even to change things or make it different because it would be cool, but there's so much that could be happening just within the realm of plausible deniability in the canon.

And I think that it's amazing how Yuumori chose to market itself that way- not as an adaption or reimagining- but that this was in fact the Real story, with Doyle's final problem being... honestly a bit of a cover up, a purposeful misrepresentation of a small slice of the full story. It lends itself completely to that, and I think that's amazing.

(One thing I do find funny is that in Yuumori the story "the final problem" is depicted as a full novella that could be published on its own... man it's not nearly long enough for that but I find it funny in any way)

Of course, there are elements of yuumori that are yknow, simply not realistically something that could have happened, but most of the story is actually within that range of plausible deniability since the canon is so vague and sparse. And since they state that things were changed on purpose to protect people and the moriarty plan, it basically covers that all as simply The Truth. It's well done, and very interesting, especially with the new anime ending taking them to Reichenbach itself.

Like, yuumori didn't even truly change the appearances of the characters, from the descriptions. (we're not counting the illustrations lol) like, Sherlock was never stated (as far as I can tell) to have a specific hair or eye color, hairstyle or such.... he was described as tall, thin, eccentric, messy, with like... long fingers and stuff. Man, yuumori did not go against that. With Moriarty it's different, though he was also reportedly Tall and Thin and Built Like A Yaoi Protag for some goddamn reason, he... you know, has these weird and unattractive features as well, which... in the context of Watson trying to portray Moriarty as unmitigated evil in order to protect the plan, were in this situation made up specifically to further the idea that he was just that.

Because of this situation, the Moriarty that is portrayed as yeah, a smart guy and a threat but seriously just A Bad Dude who seems to have no particular reason behind his actions save being A Bad Dude actually make more sense as a cover up behind a more dangerous secret of him having Real Feelings than the only stated reason being "he inherited being evil from his family". (like... watson, really?)

It explains the vagueness and the events and the weird connection between those two better than the original does, and that's really cool to me.

On their own, without yuumori to back me up on these things, reading this would have left me confused and depressed. But as a half truth immortalized as the real story, you get so much more out of it.

Especially these certain scenes:

When Moriarty just pops into Sherlock's house and they proceed to have a basically wordless conversation amounting to

"you know why I'm here" "you know how I'm going to respond" "well then" "here's date and time of our mutual destruction" "thanks I'll be there" "well I'll be off nice knowing you" "wow it sucks that we're enemies he's such a civil guy"

It just really adds something to that, don't you think?

And the subject of their fall itself, simply the fact that Watson wasn't even there. No one witnessed it. No one found even Moriarty's body. No one found evidence of anything at all.

All Watson could say was that Sherlock and Moriarty had gone up to the mountain together, Moriarty told Sherlock of his plans, let Sherlock write and leave a letter to Watson, and that they never came back down. So he came to the conclusion that they must have fought and both fallen off.... like, holding each other. Not really sure how they reached that conclusion, to be honest.

It doesn't even make sense, exactly told how it is. If Moriarty wanted to kill sherlock and survive, he would have just... brought a fucking gun. Or just pushed him off on the way up. As soon as he got him alone just fucking stab the man. It would have been that easy, but no, he had a whole ass convo with the man, they went up civilly side by side, and they stayed on the cliff a long time while Sherlock wrote that letter. Even then, Sherlock could have just waited to catch Moriarty off guard and pushed him off. But he didn't.

Why would they even have fought, if it was so scheduled? You telling me to believe that after this letter was written and moriarty stood there watching him sipping tea or whatever he was suddenly like "ok im ready to fight now", knowing they would both probably die, and if they were genuinely trying to kill each other and survive, that would even make sense?

Of course, these problems in the original stem just from Doyle no longer giving a shit and slapping this together after losing motivation for sherlock, he was obviously, not hinting at some great conspiracy in the slightest.

But damn, Yuumori really does change that all for you, huh. It adds a whole new layer of context to it. And I like it a lot, I like what they've done on their own, I like what they've done for the original stories, and I especially like what they've done telling the "real story" of this short, vague, mystery that otherwise leaves you feeling unsatisfied and confused.

[rudysrings]

Twin Pogues of the OBX - 1

A/N + Summary: SO I’m currently obsessed with the Outer Banks right now, and I had no idea that there was so much hype about it until I hit tumblr after watching the show. It kind of got me back into writing for a bit so I thought I would go ahead and publish something that’s been sitting in my drafts. It’s essentially a fanfic that goes through the entire show from the perspective of the reader, who is John B’s twin sister. Let me know if it piques anyone’s interest, because I don’t want to keep pushing out something that people hate lol. 

Warnings: Mentions of sex, cursing, slowburn

Word count: 3056

Masterlist

ON WITH IT!

You didn’t want to admit it, but you were tired of listening to the waves. It made you sick to your stomach. It didn’t help that the Chateau was so close to the water that it was all you could hear at night. The waves crashing on the shore. The waves colliding with each other. The waves fighting to topple boats that made the mistake of trying to take on a storm too big for them. 

You listened for your father in every wave. You hoped you’d at least hear the ghost of your father.

Unlike John B, you had no hope that your father was alive. At first, you didn’t bother voicing that thought, but as time went on, and John B continued to have delusions, you started getting more and more vocal about your opinion. Your dad was dead. Period. 

And it was time that John B accepted that, too. 

The two of you may have been twins, but you were as different as two people could get. John B was, for the most part, quiet, reserved and mild. You, on the other hand, had a fuse shorter than the short end of the stick you had pulled. You were hot headed and often misjudged situations too quickly. John B was the calm before your storm. You preferred to call yourself passionate. You smoked, John B did not. You slept around with far too many tourons. John B did not. John B was a dense motherfucker. You could read the room the moment you walked in. The only thing that really bonded the two of you was your love for surfing, your love for the pogues and your love for your dad.

Now that one of those things had died, or simply “vanished,” as John B would say, all that was keeping your two member family together were the pogues and surfing.

The last few months had been hell, and all you wanted this summer, was to have a good time, all the time.

Speaking of which, you and the pogues had decided to break in the summer with a little rule-breaking. Kiara wanted to check out one of Gary’s new beach-house developments, which was being built right over a turtle habitat. You all shrugged at the suggestion and agreed. 

You threw a can of beer up, JJ catching it instantly, wrinkling his nose when he looked at the label. “This is the shit stuff, Y/N,” he complained. 

You rolled your eyes. “Next time I’ll boot-leg champagne for ya, sweetheart,” you drawled.

JJ winked. “That’s more like it.”

Rolling your eyes, you tossed two beers to Pope, which he promptly dropped and bent down to grab, dusting himself off, embarrassed.

You rolled your eyes, watching as he threw one to John B, who was far too drunk to hold onto it, dropping it on the deck of the house, causing it to burst. 

Before you could comment on Kie’s overly concerned “Please don’t kill yourself,” to John B, you heard voices yelling “Hey! What are you kids doing up there?!”

“Shit,” You said, looking for your hat.

“I second that shit,” said Pope nervously.

John B swiftly made his way down, grabbing Kie’s hand and leading them out, Pope on their heels. 

“Guys, have you seen my-”

Suddenly, you felt something slip over your head, and you smiled up at JJ, who patted the top of your head and pushed you down the stairs and out of the house, all five of you laughing as Gary and his men chased after you.

As John B jumped the fence, he held his hand out to help Kie over, doing the same for you once she made it. You rolled your eyes, slapping his hand away and smoothly making it over yourself.

Pope, as expected, fell over onto the ground as he jumped, JJ shoving him further jokingly. You glared at the boy, and he held his hands up as you helped Pope up, pulling him by the hand into a sprint.

JJ held his hand out of John B’s beat up old van, pulling your laughing body in. Pope closed the door as John B gunned it, but you opened it again, teasing Gary, who was struggling to catch up with you guys. 

You tossed him a beer, which he tried to catch, but failed as he stopped running, his hands on his knees.

JJ laughed as he too leaned out of the van, “They don’t pay you enough, bro!” He yelled to Gary.

Your hair blew in the wind, strands of it tickling JJ’s cheeks. 

He spat overdramatically, coughing, “Hey, uh, Y/N? You mind not choking me with your hair?”

You simply gave him a playful punch in the gut, taking a seat in between Kie’s knees, who was sitting on the bench behind John B.

Kie took your long, wild hair in her hands, taming it into a french braid. JJ watched with a goofy smile on his face, his conversation with Pope getting too boring.

John B drove down to the docks, where you guys took out the HMS Pogue for the rest of the day. You tried to slap the book out of Kie’s hands, holding a freshly rolled blunt out for her to share with you, but she glared at you, turning back to her reading. You noticed Pope doing the same thing.

JJ grabbed the blunt from your hands, lighting it. 

You leaned an elbow on his shoulder, tutting. “Didn’t realize we ran with a bunch of nerds…”

Before Kie and Pope could retort, John B turned around, releasing a pile of freshly caught fish onto the deck of the boat and you cheered. “Nice, John B. We eatin’ good, today.”

“Yeah we are. You’re cooking.”

“I’m what?” 

John B smiled smugly, “I did the catching, you do the cooking.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest, “Fine then I’ll also do more of the eating.”

“I never agreed to that,” John B argued.

You turned to him, “And that’s because you’re a greedy, cocksucking parasite and-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. We’re here to have fun, you guys,” said Kie, her hands out to the two of you.

“Man, I’d really like to go one day without you guys at each other’s goddamn throats,” Pope groaned.

“Forget the fish, there’s a party tonight. First summer party. We gotta be there,” said JJ.

“Hell yeah, I’ll take a touron dick appointment over fish and chips any day,” you put your hands on your hips, looking at the rest of the pogues.

John B rolled his eyes at your blunt words, while Pope and Kie shrugged, agreeing.

Everyone looked to John B and he sighed before saying, “Yeah, I’m down.”

You all cheered, running over and piling on top of him, laughing.

The party was one of the best you had been to yet. While Kiara got on her soapbox about plastic and the boys were looking for girls to flirt with, you were on the hunt for someone who could make your night count.

As you waited in line at the keg to fill up your cup, the guy behind you spoke up. “You look too good to be hanging around the cut.” He flirted.

Your blood boiled as you turned around to get in this guy’s face. You stopped short once you saw what a nice face it was. You weren’t shallow, just… horny. “Am I now?” You smiled slightly.

He nodded, “Oh yes, too good for North Carolina even. The likes of you belong in Hollywood, babe.”

He had neatly trimmed blonde hair and striking blue eyes. Guess you had a type, after all, you thought fleetingly. 

“Wow, can I get a name, kind stranger?” You flashed your teeth.

“It’s Asher ma’am, and you are?”

You shrugged, handing your cup to the guy near the keg, who handed it back within a second, full. You put your hand on Asher’s cheek, tapping it as one would a small child, “Oh, sweetheart, you gotta earn that.”

Asher’s eyebrows rose, walking with you down the beach. “How might I go about that?” He asked, suggestively.

You smirked. “It’s not how, honey, it’s where.”

And that was all you needed to let this guy rock your world that night.

You woke up alone the next morning in the hammock outside the Chateau, having crashed there after the party. Groaning, you rolled over until you fell on the ground, struggling to pick yourself up. John B appeared out of nowhere, helping you up.

He handed you some water, which you downed immediately, his hand on your back.

“You alright, kid?” He asked. You nodded, “Yeah, I just need a shower like yesterday,” You moaned. 

John B nodded, slapping your shoulder. “Next time don’t drink so much, eh?”

You rolled your eyes, flipping him off as you walked inside. You were heading to the bathroom when you passed John B’s bedroom. You noticed JJ, half-naked and leaning over some blonde on your brother’s bed, his forehead practically touching hers. He noticed you instantly. Some emotion flashed across his face before he glared. “Dude, come on. Get outta here,” he said and you smirked.

“Get some, JJ,” you encouraged, barely dodging the pillow he hurled at you as you shut the door.

As you walked into the bathroom, you couldn’t understand why your stomach lurched when you thought about what JJ was probably doing with that blonde in John B’s bed. You shrugged, it was probably just the alcohol.

That afternoon, you and John B had an appointment with social services, who basically confirmed that you two would be put in foster care after they confirmed that your uncle wasn’t home to look after you two tomorrow.

As John B expected, you didn’t take it well. To your credit, you kept it together in the social worker’s office, but you practically had a meltdown the moment you stepped foot outside.

“How can they just fucking take us away! What did we even do wrong? It’s not our fucking fault Uncle T decided to split! Can’t they see that we’re better off on our goddamn own, John B?!” 

John B shrugged. “Not much we can do, Y/N. It’s the law.” 

At that, your breaths came even faster, “But it’s not fair, John B! What if-What if they split us up?” You were almost hyperventilating now, pulling your own hair.

John B furrowed his eyebrows, pulling you into a hug. “They’re not going to do that. I’m not going to let that happen, Y/N, you hear me?”

You pushed him away from you, “We’ll see, John B.”

The two of you caught a break. Hurricane Agatha came in the same day DCS was supposed to do your assessment. Your mind immediately went to the sick waves that would be forming. You tugged on John B’s shirt, pulling him away from the TV, “Call DCS and call them to reschedule. And then grab your surfboard.” Your grin stretched across your whole face, your eyes probably wild.

John B looked confused, then concerned. “You can’t be serious. There’s a hurricane?”

“Dead serious.” You crossed your arms. “Like you can resist these waves.”

John B shrugged. “Yeah, I’m in.”

The two of you ran out to the ocean, the dark clouds and harsh winds not fazing you, Pope having bailed on you guys, claiming that these weren’t surfable waves. 

As you surfed the waves, constantly getting wiped out due to their sheer size and speed, you couldn’t help the thought: Did a wave like this kill Dad?

John B tried to surf a few waves, but he lacked not only your skill, but also your tenacity. He gave up and simply watched you from his seat on his board. 

When you noticed a clearly fancy boat being tossed around in the waves, you pointed it out to John B, who squinted, trying to make it out. He agreed that it was strange. Who would go out in a storm like this?

The next morning, after surveying the damage that Agatha had caused, John B suggested that you guys go fishing, given the likeliness that there would be a whole lot of fish to catch in the marsh today.

Happy to put off cleaning up for a day and high on the fact that DCS wouldn’t be able to catch a ferry down here for at least a couple of days, you agreed. 

After practically kidnapping Pope from his dad and picking up Kiara, the five of you drove down to the marsh, Pope steering. 

Giggling, you pulled JJ by the hand up to the bow of the HMS Pogue and handed him one of the beers that Kiara had brought. He smirked and held it up along with you as he shouted for Pope to go faster. Pope groaned. “We’ve tried this like six thousand times.”

You shook your head. “I’ve got this. It’s gonna work.”

And it did. Kind of. You and JJ were downing your beers, Kiara complaining that it was getting in your hair. You looked over at JJ from your peripheral and smiled slightly at his silly face, mouth open like a fish as he attempted to get all of the beer that was being hurled out of the bottle.

Until the boat lurched to a sudden stop, catapulting you and JJ into the air. You felt your entire body flip as you fell into the water with a loud crash, water surrounding your ears. You broke the surface immediately, blinking against the sunlight. “Fuuuck,” you groaned.

You felt JJ reach you, wrapping an arm around your waist. “You good?” You nodded at him, resting your hands on his shoulders as you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

John B called out, “You good, Y/N? JJ?”

“I think my heels touched the back of my head,” JJ groaned.

You swam back to the boat, JJ right behind you. “Pope, what did you do?” You asked.

Pope looked as confused as the rest of you guys. “Sandbar. Channel changed.”

As you made it onto the boat, JJ pulled himself up, too, saying, “No shit.”

As your clothes were soaked, you slid your shorts and t-shirt off, leaving you in your teal halter bikini. 

You didn’t miss how JJ’s eyes dragged up your figure, his ears turning pink when he reached your eyes and realized you noticed. 

Biting your lip to keep from laughing, you turned to Pope, who had his eyes on something in the water.

“Guys...I think there’s a boat down there,” He said.

John B scoffed, “Shut up.”

Kie smiled, “No way.”

But Pope didn’t let up, “No, no, guys. I’m serious. There’s a boat down there.”

You all leaned over the side of the boat and sure enough, there was a large shadow, vague, but obviously in the shape of the hull of a boat.

“Holy shit. He’s right; let’s go!” You said, jumping into the water. 

As you swam towards the shadow, you heard Pope muse, “You think there’s a dead body down there?”

You couldn’t stop your subconscious from immediately thinking Dad.

You almost threw up at the thought of stumbling across your own father’s drowned corpse.

But you knew that if that was the case, you would handle it far better than John B. You swam faster, trying to get down there before him.

The five of you made your way to the boat, your eyebrows raising against the water as you saw what kind of boat it was. This was a rich guy’s boat for sure. You recognized it as the boat from yesterday. You all took a peek inside, but couldn’t make out a body. You sighed aloud, bubbles releasing in the water. 

As you guys resurfaced, you all laughed. 

“That’s a Grady-White,” JJ laughed in shock, “A new one of those is like 500 Gs, easy.”

You guys climbed back into the boat. John B gave you a look. “That’s the boat we saw when we surfed the surge. Maybe it hit the jetty or something.”

Kie looked confused. “You surfed the surge.”

You smirked. “Well… I surfed the surge. John B mostly just watched.” Your brother rolled his eyes but he didn’t correct you.

JJ was getting on the boat when he heard you say that and his entire face lit up. “Yeah, that’s my girl, pogue style,” he said, giving you a high-five. 

You grinned back, your stomach involuntarily tumbling at the words my girl.

“Fuck,” you whispered to yourself. Kie noticed, shooting you a look.

You blushed, looking away.

Pope asked, “Wait, wait, do we know who’s boat that is?”

John B opened the hatch on the deck of the boat, looking for the anchor inside. “No. but we’re about to find out.”

JJ shook his head, “Dude, it’s too deep.”

“Only for the weak and feeble, JJ,” John B said.

“Well, I’m not resuscitating you. I’m just making that clear up front.”

You worried that there could still be a body down there. Your father’s body. John B couldn’t see that. Plus, something about the thought of diving felt like a challenge. You took the anchor from John B’s hands. “I’ll go,” You said.

“What the fuck, no Y/N,” said John B.

JJ grabbed your upper arm, “Yeah, not a good idea,” he said.

You shook him off lightly. “I’m doing it,” you insisted.

JJ shrugged. “Well, I wouldn’t mind resuscitating you,” he joked.

You rolled your eyes, “You wouldn’t even know how.”

JJ smirked, “Yeah, but I have experience with-”

Pope interjected as you walked to the edge. “Diver down, fool,” he shook his head in slight disappointment. But then again, when was Pope not disappointed in you?”

JJ came over to you. Looking you hard in the eyes, he gave you a questioning look. You steeled your eyes. “I’m ready.”

He smirked, “You better be.” He gave you a shove on your shoulders, pushing you backwards off the bow of the boat and you could hardly hear him say “Diver down,” and John B say, “The fu-” before the water hit you, swallowing you whole as you quickly sunk with the weight of the anchor.

Masterlist

[ibelongtowrath]

Come Find Me - Mammon x Reader

reuploading cause of tags lol let’s hope they work this time, also sorry i forgot to put the “read more” oop

Tags/Warnings: angst, lots of angst & mild cursing Word Count: 3.9k Notes: I tried switching perspectives, which are indicated by the dashed lines. I hope it doesn't make it too confusing! I was listening to “Give You Up” by Asking Alexandria, like really listening to the lyrics when I was smacked in the face struck by inspiration for some angsty Mammon. So, as I do, I dreamed up a scenario. This took me so long to write, and holy crap. Hope you love it!

Lyrics taken from 'Give You Up' by Asking Alexandria. 

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

11 months later.

“I wasted so much time on wasting time Made a million excuses, told myself I'm above it Now there's symphony where there used to be Nothing but silence, and I'm never gonna give you up”

Pulling open the closet door to find that one shirt you remember buying, but can’t for the life of you remember where it is, you wince. Clothes and shoes are strewn everywhere, organization severely neglected as of late. You hadn’t really been inspired to straighten out your mess, not since--

No. You shake your head, suppressing the memories. Not now, not for a long time...until it stops feeling like a hot knife is carving your heart in half whenever his name flashes across your mind.

Your eyes scan and assess the mess, landing on a black duffel bag shoved into the corner, emblazoned with an all-too-familiar gold badge. Your eyes close briefly, letting the familiar icy pain wash over you, as if you’ve been walking into the winter ocean until your entire body is submerged. You stare at the bag until your vision blurs, surprised to find yourself blinking away tears as you come back to reality.

You told yourself you wouldn’t leave the Devildom with any regrets, but you did.

“Okay. Well. We’re just going to deal with this now, and bury it,” you tell yourself, needing to hear yourself say it out loud as your own affirmation.

It was finally time to face the anguish head on, instead of compartmentalizing it, telling yourself you would process it eventually. Picking up the bag, you slowly back out of the closet, a torrent of emotions beginning to well up inside you, threatening to wreak havoc. You close your eyes. Breathe, Y/N, breathe. Step back, and lean against the wall, subdue the onslaught.

Tossing the bag onto your bed, you sit beside it, hand reaching slowly to grasp the zipper. Once undone, you reach inside and pull out your R.A.D uniform, skimming the small buttons embedded in the stitching. You smile softly as you remember Asmo pouting every time you complained about how ill-fitting it was. Your hand moves to the golden R.A.D. medallion, your fingers dancing over the hard, intricately grooved surface.

Folding the uniform and setting it aside, you reach into the bag once more, fingers brushing something hard and flat. Confused, you lift your hand, finding yourself grasping your D.D.D.. Your eyes study the yellow smart phone, remembering how he insisted...Fuck. The memories begin to crash into the forefront of your mind.

“Wait, Lucifer, ya gotta give her a yellow one! She’s gotta match with me! N-not that it’s all that important or anything...” Mammon blushed, looking down towards the floor.

“I-I just think...yellow’s a good color to have. That’s all. Symbolizes a lot ‘a different good things. Luck, lotsa Grimm...thank me later.”

You didn’t know it at the time, but that was the start of your undoing.

You came to the Devildom harboring resentment. Why the hell did you have to get uprooted from your life to serve someone else’s agenda? And not only that, but you had to live with seven fallen demon brothers, many of whom barely hesitated as they considered killing you. But...then there was Mammon.

It was always him, even when you refused to acknowledge it. The first demon you made a pact with. You slide your shirt down your arm, glancing at your now-bare shoulder, remembering the slight jolt of electricity as the sigil was emblazoned into your skin. You smile softly as you remember his persistent boasting, nearly on a daily basis:

“I’m Y/N’s first man! So get your paws off her!”

Mammon. Always so stand-offish about his feelings, but so were you. That resentment you bore dug deep into your core. Your heart was indifferent. You challenged Lucifer and the other demons without inhibition, consistently getting yourself nearly killed. You disobeyed the rules and expectations designated to you as one of the representatives of the human world. You did it all with no qualms about the potential consequences, even if it could have resulted in your death. You had given up. You didn’t give a fuck anymore, so bring it on.

They all gave a fuck about you, though, even if it was mostly because Lord Diavolo forbade the killing of the human students. But Mammon…

It was more than that for him. He grabbed your hand in the face of danger, thinking he could protect you. Despite his constant denial of how he felt for you, you could see it. Not only that, your feelings mirrored his; but you were so stubborn, you were headstrong. You were not going to let yourself fall, especially not for the Avatar of Greed. You had convinced yourself that he would be a selfish lover, always putting himself first. All he would do is take from you. After all, the demon was in love with his goddamn credit card.

You were so wrong.

Turning the phone over and over in your hands aimlessly, you remember it all. How easy it was for you to keep falling back into the darkness within you, the anger and resentment you bore deep in your heart. It was easy, it was familiar. Until...

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

Mammon remembers that night. He’s replayed so many times in his head, there isn’t a single detail he can’t remember.

As usual, his brothers teased him relentlessly; this time, they had gone too far.

“Oh! Y/N, I dropped my fork by your foot, would you mind being a dear and grabbing it for me?” Asmo asked, innocently enough.

Mammon had looked up upon hearing your name. He watched as you bent down and struggled to pick up the dropped fork, too far away to grab from your seat. His gaze remained on you as you stood, bending behind you to pick it up; then, Asmo lifting his hand to give you a playful slap on the ass. Then back to you, your beautiful lips upturned in a playful, flirty smile as you laughed and handed Asmo the fork.

Mammon’s anger blazed, his vision tinged red. It was like a knee-jerk reaction, the movements required no thought. He stood from his chair, nearly kicking it in, half-eaten plate of food abandoned. Wordlessly, he took his leave, the torrent of emotions welled up inside threatening to erupt. He knew it wasn’t a good idea to react, that it was only going to add more fuel to the fire for their teasing.

But he didn’t care. They took it too far, touching his human like that. He had laid his claim for you thousands of times, spelled it out, and everyone knew. Yet, it didn’t stop them. Mammon was forever the brother ridiculed and mocked most, despite being the second-oldest; his brothers’ contempt for him was never-ending. The constant jeers and derision about himself and his sin, he had put up with for millennia; but their taunting and blatant disregard of his feelings for you?

He couldn’t stand it any longer.

Mammon was on autopilot, barely feeling the movements as he walked swiftly throughout the halls of the House of Lamentation. He doesn’t even recall if he took a single breath on his journey back to his bedroom. He gripped the doorknob of his room, knuckles turning white as he nearly ripped it out while turning it. He stepped inside, slamming the door with a residual bang!, so loud that surely even Lord Diavolo could hear it in his castle.

His feet moved him to his bed, where he sat on the edge, head in his hands. He clenched his jaw, hard, in an attempt to subdue the anger pulsing within him. It wasn’t only anger, however, that was welled up inside. There was humiliation, resentment, and feelings of hopelessness; all directed at himself. Mammon clenched harder, hands beginning to shake as the emotions swelled furiously.

No matter what he did, he felt like he failed. He felt an overwhelming desire to protect what was his, and he had even failed at that. Mammon isn’t sure how long he stayed that way, caught in the middle of the emotional thunderstorm, staring at his hands but not actually seeing.

In his trance, he barely heard the knock on his door; three light taps, then one loud one. Your signature knock. It didn’t even register in his mind. He wishes he looked up to see you when you walked across his room to his bed. He only noticed when you grabbed his arm, gently, in that way your touch always was. He lifted his head slowly, the feelings of hopelessness finally starting to ebb when his melancholy gaze met your serene one.

There you stood, in all your beautiful glory. Your hair hung in glossy rivulets down your back, a stray piece hanging in front of your face; Mammon wanted nothing more than to reach up and tuck it behind your ear. Your face, your beautiful face, wore an expression that simultaneously made his heart race and feel peaceful.

“Mammon.”

You spoke his name, and in those two syllables, and he knew. He knew your soul shined so brightly in the darkness of the Devildom. He knew you were the light to all of his darkness within.

He knew he was irrevocably in love with you.

Mammon felt your grip tighten on his arm, ever so slightly. He stood before you, realizing your close proximity, and immediately felt the heat rush to his cheeks, tinting them with a rosy blush.

“Y-yeah? What do ya want, Y/N?” he asked, looking off to the side. He reached his arm up, rubbing the back of his head. “Sheesh, you didn’t even tell me you were comin’. A little advanced notice would be nice, ya know.”

You didn’t even answer. Before he could react, you had pulled Mammon into a hug, your arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

“Wha-?!” Mammon yelped. “Just what do you think you’re doin’, human?!”

He recoiled at first, arms hanging down at his sides, unfamiliar with the feeling of such affection...such love. Rarely was he ever shown such things, especially from his brothers. He hesitantly reached his arms up, wrapping them around your body, the soft texture of your hair under his fingers.

He leaned his head down, his cheek resting on the top of your head while he stroked your hair.

And then, you said it. You spoke the words that made him come undone completely.

“I love you, Mammon.”

Mammon’s body stilled for a moment. It felt as though his heart had stopped completely. The words caught in his throat, unable to speak, fingers threaded into your hair. He felt you squeeze him harder, turning your head to look up at him. His eyes met yours.

You had come here to the Devildom, and at first, Mammon was indifferent. He would have gladly sold your possessions for some extra cash with no hesitation. He insulted you, he acted like an arrogant fool. You did risky things, you talked back. And yet, you somehow were able to make your way into his ice-cold, tsundere heart.

He sunk back down to the edge of the bed, pulling you towards him. You sat upon his lap, legs on either side of his waist. He wrapped his arms around you, pressing you flush to him, fingers splayed across your back. He pushed your hair to the side, burying his head into your neck, lips against your soft skin. All he wanted in that moment was to breathe you in. He swallowed, pressing a kiss into your neck, hoping, praying that you wouldn’t react negatively.

It’s hard to remember the exact sequence that followed. The only thing Mammon knows is your lips pressed against his in a deep kiss, causing his eyes to widen in surprise. He pulled away, grinning, then kissed you again, and again, and again, his hands roaming under your shirt, across your back.

“Shit, Y/N. I guess you have me feeling some type-a way, too,” he whispered, kissing and biting the delicate skin of your neck, an overwhelming desire to leave his mark on you.

It hadn’t gone any further that night, and Mammon had been okay with it. He had walked you back to your room, grabbing you and kissing you deeply before you went in. He was sure the grin hadn’t left his face the entire rest of the night.

It was essentially the way you and Mammon had spent your final weeks in the Devildom. Stolen kisses here and there. Grabbing your hand in the hallways of R.A.D., lacing his fingers through yours. Spending the entire night together, not sleeping, watching movies on his projector or him teaching you how to play poker. Buying you little gifts using Goldie, much to Lucifer’s chagrin. He wanted to give you all that he could, to provide for you.

He held you close whenever he got the opportunity, stroking your hair, ingraining every feeling of your touch into his memory so he would never forget. He knew he was running out of time to be yours, to give you all of him. Mammon had never been so happy.

Then, that fateful day arrived. The day you were going back to the human world.

Mammon could hardly look at you when the time came, too afraid his emotions would well to the surface and tip over. He finally lifted his gaze to yours, thousands of unspoken words etched into the space between you, visible only to you and he. You had never spoken of a plan for the future, too painful to think about. He regretted all the time wasted, kicking himself for not telling you his feelings sooner.

Maybe then, you wouldn’t have left at all.

Mammon didn’t embrace you before the ceremony to transport you back began, knowing that once he did, he would never be able to let you go. He watched the light flash, as bright as your beautiful soul, taking you away with it, leaving nothing in its wake. The pain of losing you was like a knife plunged deep into his heart, twisting back and forth.

And then, you were gone.

Gone.

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

Gone.

And then, Mammon was gone.

“Mammon.”

You speak his name out loud, for the first time since you had arrived back. You still for a second, the unfamiliar syllables passing over your lips. You hope he’ll appear suddenly, as if summoned. But of course, he doesn’t.

And he never will, not again.

The tears fall freely now, a gut-wrenching sob wracking your body. The anguish crashes over you as all the emotions and pent-up grief finally break through the dam you had built deep inside. You fall to the side of your bed, gripping the D.D.D. tightly, knuckles turning white from the effort, as if the phone holds the power to bring Mammon back to you.

You’re unsure of how much time passes before the tears finally begin to subside, opening your eyes once more, adjusting to the sudden brightness; the feeling of it unwelcome, as you had learned to cherish the dark in the Devildom. The false sense of comforting dark you felt when you closed your eyes was erased each morning with the unrelenting rise of the sun.

You lift your hand, the yellow phone still gripped tightly within. And in a moment of hopefulness, or desperation (perhaps both), you press a button, gasping as the phone lights up. Though you shouldn’t be surprised; you remember Mammon telling you he put a spell on it so that it would hold a charge long after you took it off the charger, essentially always staying on.

So you could talk to him whenever you needed it.

Fingers moving faster than your brain can compute, you open your messages with Mammon, feeling the knife twist in your gut once more as you scroll through them. You shake your head furiously, willing yourself to stop, and focus. Your fingers dance across the digital keyboard as you compose a new message.

I love you, Mammon. Come find me.

Send. You hear the all-too-familiar whoosh sound of the message sending, watching it pop up onto the screen.You stare at the phone for God knows how long, willing a notification to sound off, unsure of why you’re feeling so hopeful.

The reply never comes.

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

Mammon stares at his phone in disbelief. He reads the message, then stands, beginning to pace around the room. He has to be seeing things. He has to be. He’s convinced.

There is no way he just received a message from you, in the human world. Especially not one telling him that you love him and to come find you.

His fingers fly across the screen, furiously typing a reply to you, pressing send.

Error! Retry?

“What?!” Mammon exclaims, pressing “retry” over and over and over again.

Error! Retry?

Error! Retry?

Error! Retry?

“This piece ‘a junk!” he yells, furious. The feeling of anguish washes over him as he realizes you won’t get a reply from him, picturing you sad yet hopeful, staring at your screen. He finds himself leaving his room, legs moving automatically as they bring him to the large double doors of the last place he ever wants to be.

“Oi! Lucifer! Open up right now! It’s an emergency!” Mammon yells, pounding on the door.

Hearing an exasperated sigh on the other side of the doors, Mammon continues to pound relentlessly.

“Lucifer! Open up-” Mammon’s words are cut off as Lucifer opens the door, a pained expression on his face.

“How can I help you, Mammon?” Lucifer asks, oozing contempt.

Mammon storms past him into the office, beginning to open up drawers, sorting through files of papers.

“Lucifer! Where the heck’s Y/N’s info? I need it. Where is it?!”

“Mammon,” Lucifer replies cooly, “what is this all about?”

“It’s Y/N! She texted me! She texted me from the human world. Can ya believe it?! She told me to come find her. I have to go to her, Lucifer, I have to!”

“Mammon, calm down. Explain everything to me.”

Mammon shoves the phone in Lucifer’s face, panic etched into his voice as he recounts the story, impatience creeping in to his demeanor. He has to get to you, and he has to get to you now.

Lucifer nods, holding his gloved hand under his chin as he thinks aloud.

“Mammon, you will have to be patient. I will speak to Diavolo, and see if he will grant you permission to leave the Devildom for a few days. Unfortunately, we do not have an exact location for Y/N. I can only give you the general area of where she lives. You will have to hope that she has remained living there, or close to the area.”

“What?! What are ya tryin’ to say, that I won’t be able to find her?!” Mammon yells in disbelief. “Of course I’ll find her. She told me to! And I can’t wait, I gotta get to her now! I can’t text her back, can’t let her know I got it…”

“I know how important she is to you, Mammon,” Lucifer says, nodding his head.

“Like hell ya do! Have you ever loved anyone that much? Or anything?”

“Mammon. I will speak to Diavolo immediately, and he will set everything in motion. It is still likely you will have to wait until at least tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow morning…,” Mammon repeats, trailing off. “Y/N, I’m comin’ to ya. Just hang on one more day. Please, babe…”

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

You find yourself at your favorite mall the next day, hardly remembering the drive there, as if you were on autopilot.

As you enter, you stand still for a moment, closing your eyes and inhaling briefly, taking in the sounds: the tinny music filtering through the speakers, other shoppers exclaiming to one another over a new collection in a store, somebody sipping their iced coffee noisily.

You had told Mammon about coming here quite often during those last few weeks. One night in particular, the two of you had lain on his bed, holding one another close, telling each other everything. You hadn’t cared if it was trivial, you wanted to know everything there was to know. Often, you had imagined coming with him here; holding hands, dragging him into all your favorite stores, trying on clothes.

Now, that will never happen.

You shake the negative thought from your mind, fighting as you feel the corners of your lips begin to tug downwards. Turning yourself to the right, you decide to head to your favorite bubble tea stand, smiling softly to yourself. Another memory you had shared with Mammon. Rounding the corner, a figure hunched over on the soft bench near the bubble tea stand stops you dead in your tracks.

Tousled white hair, orange-tinted lenses in his glasses. A brown leather jacket, striped with white across and at the collar, a fitted black t-shirt underneath.

No. No way. Your mind is playing tricks on you, Y/N, you think to yourself.

You walk hesitantly up to him, stopping a few feet away, watching as he notices your shoes, then moves his head up to meet your gaze, that adorable lopsided grin tugging at his lips as he stands.

“Knew I’d find ya here, Y/N. Lucifer didn’t believe me, that jerk,” he drawls.

“M-...Mammon?!” you exclaim, not caring who hears. You barely feel the movements as you throw yourself into his embrace. “H-how?!”

“Ya told me to come find ya. So I found ya.”

Gripping the collar of his jacket tightly, you lay your head on his chest, tears streaming furiously down your face. Mammon lifts your head, cupping your cheeks, wiping your tears away with his thumbs.

“Hey, hey. No tears ruinin’ that pretty face. Unless they’re happy tears. In which case, cry away, I guess. But your makeups’ runnin’ down your face,” Mammon tells you, and you grin through them.

“How did you know to find me here?” you ask him as you pull away, brushing more tears away as you swallow.

“I remembered you tellin’ me about it. How you liked to come here when you weren’t feelin’ all that great,” he answers, draping an arm over your shoulder. “I tried to answer ya back, but my stupid D.D.D. wouldn’t let me. I thought ya might be sad, so I figured I’d try ya here.”

You laugh, grin growing wider.

“I love you, Mammon.”

He pulls you into another tight embrace, pressing you flush to him, lips crashing against yours in a deep kiss. You close your eyes, savoring every second of it before pulling away, eyes wide. You laugh once more as he pulls you close to him again, gasping a bit in surprise as his tongue darts out to dance with yours.

“Mammon, we’re in public!” you hiss, though you’re smiling against his lips.

“Don’t care,” Mammon retorts, kissing you again. “I have ya here with me now. And I ain’t ever gonna give you up. Never again.”

“In my darkest of days I've got a light now to show me the way It's like I've found my place And the world doesn't feel the same”

[baconpal]

talkin bout fuckig manga

hey it’s me, haven’t had internet for over a week and i’ve been sick and uni and blah blah blah time for a rant about manga

this time its about  "Soredemo Machi wa Mawatteiru", tl;dr, good manga read it idk

lots of bullshit below the cut

Before anything I say gets too confusing or I go off on an insane tangent, just know my recommendation is that you read "Soredemo Machi wa Mawatteiru". It's not very easy to find online since it has an official English release (which my recommendation extends far enough to suggest I might pick up in the future, just to have it, but I am very stingy), but there's an alright torrent of all the volumes on your local anime torrenting website, and is at the very least worth the trouble of reading as such. There is also an anime that gets better as it goes, but the manga is my primary recommendation. Beyond this point I'm not gonna give much regard to what I write, so get ready for anything, read the manga and see if you agree with me, or don't and see if I care:

BOUT THE ANIME: The SoreMachi anime is one of those rare comedy anime you find where the animation and overall production is just really extra the entire time. Hopefully you know what I mean because I won't really be able to explain it any other way, it's simply one of those shows where the jokes are decent and it's a fun time for the most part. Unfortunately, the anime makes a couple of critical missteps that kept me from getting far into it when I first tried watching it about a year ago, and in retrospect seem even less reasonable.

Starting with the good, as an adaptation it does a good job with most chapters it covers, it properly sources where each chapter comes from incase you intend to read the manga and skip around to catch up, and the anime adapts some sections to have additional jokes that fit very naturally in to the story. It also covers up some of those problems only manga can have like having a concert segment without any actual music involved, until they invent mp3-paper it's just something we'll have to live with. Translation work was pretty good (I watched the [WhyNot] release for those who care), which is extra important for something as difficult to translate as jokes from another language. The set of episodes they chose to end on was very good, and was expanded to be a lot more impactful in the anime. If it wasn't for the last episode being as strong as it was I may have given up on finding the manga when I saw it wasn't super easy to read online.

As for what the anime fails in, some episodes feature some really blatant over-acting that doesn't really help make characters believable, and there's this obnoxious gag that continues the whole where through where most scenes have a few seconds long line from what is essentially a forced mascot character, which usually mean nothing and only serve to harm the pacing of many episodes (there isn't even any sort of equivalent bit in the manga so I really don't know why they did it, most of the anime original jokes are pretty good so I just really don't get it). The biggest issue the anime faces is that the source material is about 140 chapters, while the anime is only able to cover 24 chapters. This comes with a LOT of problems, the first being what I'd call the "required reading". SoreMachi is not a 1-note simple comedy where you can skip to any chapter and be completely okay; There are many small but meaningful subplots lying beneath, and characters have a fair bit of development throughout. What this means for the anime is that the first 3-4 episodes are just the first few chapters of the manga, which are a bit rough and not as good as the majority of the work, which is true of a lot of comics (god fuck I promise there will be more than a first chapter of my comic I promise it'll get better fuck). In terms of the anime by itself, I'd say episode 1 is decent, 2 is middling, and by 3/4 their still taking a while to introduce members of the cast, and I didn't immediately want to finish it. I put the show down for a long time until my internet started dying and I wanted to watch something fun. Slapping it back on at episode 5 I immediately had a great time and watched the rest of the show pretty soon after. While I understand the reasoning behind doing this, the anime does not pay off this structure, as beyond the first few episodes, the chapters start being presented out of release order and out of chronological order, kind of destroying any consistent throughline. This decision in and of itself isn't the worst, since the comic isn't always chronological, and the volume ordering is a bit different from the release ordering, but the inconsistency makes the first few episodes feel lessened without reason. The other large failure that comes with only animating about 1/7th of the entire work is that many themes and concepts that are core to the manga are not represented in the anime well at all. One of the biggest is the rare but unnerving supernatural chapters, of which only one is animated, and not a particularly good one. In order to talk about these themes I'll have to transition into talking about the manga itself, since they aren't part of the anime.

DA MANGA: So one last recommendation that you read the manga, the whole damn thing. Cus we're gettin into themes and character moments that take a long time to pay off, and obviously is all part of my interpretations, so if that stuff means anything to you don't let me ruin it for ya.

The title of the manga is, in essence, the entire manga's "punchline" in that every chapter could meaningfully end with simply the text "And yet the town still turns..." (My translation of the title, fuck "And yet, the town revolves" or "But the town moves"); by this I mean most chapters end in an anti-climax where a mystery is left unsolved, or a mystery is solved and undercut by the realization that life simply keeps on going without much change. This is used to essentially force your eyes open to all possibilities when reading, as the main character spends her time acting like a detective, and these mysteries end up as either misunderstandings, secrets, riddles, and sometimes something out of the ordinary happens that makes you unable to pin anything down firmly. Similarly, these endings aren't always read-and-forget scenarios. Several chapters come back in the form of a continued joke, a continued mystery, or contribute to some greater purpose later. Readers are properly rewarded for keeping everything they can in mind, while also tormenting such people with loose ends.

I enjoy Hotori as a protagonist due to her character being defined not in flaws and strengths, but in mindedness. Hotori seems like a simple "haha she's dumb" character to start, but consistently throughout she proves that her strengths are in memory, observation, and deduction, while lacking in some more common sense and abilities. Her brain works in strange ways that some people may or may not understand, such as her need to think through even the most trivial fictional scenarios, which I relate to deeply.

The art and paneling throughout are wonderful. Ishiguro Masakazu is one of those artists who draws very simple characters, but knows how to use details and depth to breath so much life into the artwork. He also clearly uses the occasional supernatural happenings as an excuse to draw what he loved, as all sorts of artistic depictions of the supernatural come out that simply look satisfying. These parts obviously meant a lot to him since he's been working on a primarily mystery-action manga that has a lot more of that stuff in it. (Also, as hindsight is 20/20, if you've read any of his new work you'll notice that the main character of it is eerily similar to a character who shows up very late in SoreMachi that the author obviously fell in love with, cus she just keeps coming back and even ends up with a really unsettling end to her character arc despite only being introduced as a component in a harmless mystery. Feel free to call me out for the same shit 30 years from now when I'll probably do the same shit)

I'd like to get into some of the major themes of this work, as a lot of them hit very close to my mind (which I guess is true of any theme you recognize for yourself, you wouldn't really "get it" if it didn't mean something to you...).

The simplest theme, again, comes from the title. The main character, Hotori, expresses a desire that the town she lives in continues going on, unchanged forever. This is obviously a fear of change, which ya know, same, but also an exploration of what it means to fear change. Hotori actively tries to keep businesses from closing down, keep friends from leaving, and keep relationships from changing, while simultaneously making all sorts of new relationships and solving mysteries. Hotori even comes to realize that simply learning the truth about something changes the world through your own perspective, and that such changes can't be undone. In spite of this, Hotori mostly gets her wish, any time she fears that a large change will impact the town, its resolved about the same as any other issue. Whether its a message that even time can't keep you from your loved ones and that change isn't worth fearing, or a concession that large changes to the setting would be a bad idea in terms of humor, I can't really decide. This theme reaches it's conclusion in what is one in a series of "ending" kinda chapters at the end of the series. Hotori is faced with a supernatural ethical situation, save her town from destruction at the cost of her existence, or live through the disaster, knowing her town and the people in it will forever be changed. While the actual result is that nobody disappears and nothing is lost, and the event may have simply been a strange dream, Hotori confidently decides that sparing the people in her town from a life altering event is worth giving up her memories with them. A kind of bold spit-in-the-face to the idea that change is okay, where we find that Hotori didn't fear change for herself, but rather for the people around her.

There's another major idea in this manga, which takes a very long time to pay off, and completes its arc at the very very very actual end of the series, the idea of "leading someone to be something". A character that rides that line between main and side character, Shizuka, is a writer of detective novels, who feels the best person to judge her works would be a version of herself without the bias of being the author. She tries to achieve this by leading Hotori to be interested in detective works (including her own) and generally be just like her, starting from a young age. The end result is a young girl dead set on being a detective herself (or at least another novelist), while Shizuka keeps her identity as an author secret. She then uses Hotori as a scapegoat for herself, attempting to see how she would solve various mysteries and use that as inspiration, and this is depicted as though Shizuka were some sort of villain, which she may feel like she is. The end result of it all, though, is that Hotori was likely already a detective-minded person, and that even if Shizuka pushed her down that path, it was Hotori's decision to continue down it, and the very end of the manga is a scene revealing that Hotori figured out Shizuka's secret at some point, and even still respected Shizuka and aspired to reach her, and the two accept each other for who they are. I enjoy this ending a lot, since as an artist I've worried that some of my love or aspirations for and from other artists came with an ulterior motive of wanting a better community for art to exist in, but people are people and will make their own decisions, and some day everyone may be able to become equals in a truly meaningful sense, where everyone is inspired by and guiding each other together.

So that probably didn't mean shit to nobody and I didn't even really talk about anything in the comic like most of the main characters or any of the shit goin on but ya know fuck you go read it, and thanks for reading this.

[normal-thoughts-official]

i'm not trans but i want to write trans magnus, what are ig the dos and don'ts? (only if you dont mind <3)

i don't mind! happy to reply to those. altho i'll be real, there's a lot of stuff, so it's a bit hard, which is why i'd say that my first tip is to have a sensitivity reader (even better if it's multiple). i even offer to do that, more trans magnus content is what i want! so i'd tell you to consider that

i'm going to make a list, but i ask you that first of all, you try to understand the reasons why i'm saying what i'm saying (i'm trying to outline them as clearly as possible) instead of just taking it as a checklist of what you're supposed to write or not. the most important thing is that you understand why certain things are/can be harmful, and approach them accordingly. there is rarely ever going to be a rule like "EVERY SINGLE TIME YOU DO THIS THAT'S TRANSPHOBIC". it depends a lot on the story and how you do it

(sidenote: of course there are things that ARE always transphobic, like using men in dresses as the butt of a joke. but that's not the case for most things, and I hope this kind of very obviously transphobic trope is already understood to not be a good thing doiajdsoija)

other than that, i think the first things that come to mind are the following (i'll try to have more do's than don't's cuz i feel like giving you a path to follow is more helpful than paths NOT to):

DO research about transphobic tropes in media and make sure you understand why they are harmful. that's a great way to avoid the most glaringly obvious Bad Takes™

DO try to understand your character's identity as much as you can. are they a trans man/woman? are they nonbinary? if they are nonbinary, what do they identify with? you don't have to have a fully fleshed out identity, but at least know whether they lean more towards neutral, fluid, multiple gendered, outside of the gender binary, etc. if you want a culturally specific gender, KNOW WHICH ONE. have details. and do your research on that. i don't recommend doing that if you don't know exactly what you're talking about

DO try to incorporate the character being trans into your understanding of their backstory. did they have help from their community? what was that like? how did that influence other parts of their story? when did they realize and when did they come out? being trans is going to have an impact on a person's story, so the more you know about that, the more you can build a character that feels real, not a cis person with "trans" slapped on their forehead

however, DON'T have their entire backstory and life be about them being trans. that's not how it works with anyone. you want to understand how being trans intersects with their life, not reduce everything about them to being trans. your goal here should be to incorporate the aspects that are related to that person being trans and the ones that are not into one thing that feels cohesive, because that how it works

DO wait until it's pertinent to mention the fact that your character is trans. it's kind of *sigh* when the fic starts like "Magnus Bane (who is trans) was buying groceries". that feels like what i just mentioned in the last don't: everything revolves around him being trans. you don't want that. if it only comes up halfway through the fic, then it only comes up halfway through the fic. i actually think that's kinda rad because it really normalizes a character being trans, but it all depends on what the rest of the story is like

DO approach their transness like any other element in the story. if it's a light-hearted story, you don't have to approach their transness from an angsty perspective. that doesn't even necessarily mean u can't approach transphobia as a topic, but it's just weird when the whole fic is happy and upbeat and then suddenly there's an on-screen transphobic microaggression and the person is very sad, and then back to upbeat. if you really want to broach this topic on your light-hearted fic, you can do it in ways such as "*flops down on the couch* god, i'm exhausted. some asshat tried to pick up a fight with me today" you know? again, i'm not saying "don't talk about X or Y subject", you just don't want the tone to be completely different from the rest of your story. it feels not only like his transness is out of place (which alienates the reader) but also like just... bad writing, i guess you don't have to take that as an absolute rule, just... as with anything else you're writing, make sure that it fits the story you're telling. if it's gonna have a different tone when u mention something, know why and how you want to do it

DON'T feel obligated to approach every aspect of their identity/backstory/everything they face as a trans person. it's good that you, the author, know it, so you can even know what is or isn't important to mention. but you don't have to give the reader a whole exposé on his transness. approach what's relevant

DO include them making jokes, puns about being trans, having other trans friends, etc. it just feels more real and we do all that all the time. it's just unrealistic for a trans person to hear the word "transparent" and not crack a joke (with people they feel safe with, of course)

when you do mention them being trans, please DON'T treat it like a big deal. when the whole narrative stops so you can mention that a character is trans, it just feels like their transness is a spectacle for a cis reader. similarly, if the reader can tell that their reaction is supposed to be like "*gasp!*" it just feels like trans people aren't supposed to be seen as normal. i'm talking specifically about how the narrative treats it here, not necessarily what happens in the story. you could have a scene where the character comes out, for example, and then of course this is going to be a big deal for them. but there's that, and then there is "magnus bane put on his binder. that's right, hE IS TRANS!". a trope i wouldn't call harmful but that i particularly hate and turns me immediatelly off any story, particularly, is the thing where the character is like "I put on my binder, getting ready for school. I am trans, and anyone who has a problem with it can fight me". no one thinks about how they are trans every time they do anything that's related to their transition. that'd be exhausting. you don't brush your teeth and are like "that's right. MY TEETH NEED CLEANING! i want to avoid caries, because i am human and that might happen"

DO try to think of every element of how they express their transness in relation to that character. you don't have to outline the reasons in the story (that'd be exhausting) but don't just go "well, magnus is trans, therefore he wears a binder and a packer, wants surgery, and [list of Transmasculine Traits™]". WOULD magnus want a binder? WOULD he want a packer? remember that those things are all choices, not a checklist that determine whether or not you're trans. each trans person is an individual, and thus each trans person's relationship with their transness and how they express it is different. so treat your character as such

DON'T make him being trans something that is only used for sad things!!!!!! again, i'm not saying "you can't approach transphobia", but if him being trans only comes up when it's to bring Bad Things His Way, it just feels like being trans = bad for you. know what i mean? try to mention it in neutral or positive ways more than you do in negative ways. a few things that i think are positive: you get to choose your own name, you get to rethink every bit of how you want to express yourself instead of just following a script, you get a lot of friends who Get It, you have the jokes about all the guys named Skylar, the flag is cute, transitioning feels so good! every new thing is a discovery. coming out as trans and transitioning is very liberating, it feels like you are so much more real. sex feels a lot less like a scripted ordeal when you have a completely different relationship with your body, i feel like trans ppl naturally communicate a lot more about sex and explore a lot more of different ways to touch their bodies even when they don't necessarily have genital dysphoria. the puns and jokes are also a nice bonus. the slang is so fucking funny. you learn a lot about your body and hormones and the such just from having friends who hormonize and looked up every detail. as for neutral things, just being like "magnus put on his binder" is a neutral thing. it's just a part of his life! when you only remember that a character is trans because they are going through violence, it just makes people scared of being trans

and i guess those are the most important pointers? just, don't make trans identity a whump thing and remember that not every trans person is the same, build that character just like you do any other. if anyone wants to add more stuff, feel free to! i have a tendency to forget to mention or explain certain things (like "don't make trans ppl the butt of a joke") because to me they are obvious and i forget that they aren't obvious outside of trans circles. i have very few cis friends (that's something that makes a difference too) so ya know. diajsda

another tip i think can be helpful is, if you're uncertain whether or not something sounds natural, try to imagine that instead of talking about a trans character, you're talking about a person who wants to be a mechanic. when you're building a character who wants to be a mechanic, that can be part of a super angsty backstory about how they lost their parents in a car crash due to a car malfuction... or not. it can have relevance to a certain point of the story, or not. it can fit naturally into this part, or it can feel like you just really want the reader to know that the person wants to be a mechanic. it can be integral to the plot, or it can be just another thing about that character. you know? that sounds kinda lame, but i think it's a good way to try to think about what you're writing without all the pre-conceptions and pressure not to Fuck Up Your Representation. idk, something to try out and consider whether or not works for you

if you have any questions, let me know! and ask other trans ppl about their perspectives too, i'm just one person. if you want a sensitivity reader, i'd really be super happy to help :) just DM me, or whatever you feel more comfortable with

[goldenkookietae]

Contract - On the Table (M)

BTS One shot

Pairing: CEO!Yoongi x CEO!Reader

Word count: 7,020 words

Warnings: Smut, swearing, dom!yoongi, dom!reader, masturbation (male), spanking, oral (fem rec.), a lil bit of Taekook (mentions and intense gazes lol)

Summary: Y/N and Yoongi think their only common trait was to be on the cover of Brilliant Minds, a contract proves that they have more in common that they know.

A/N: After that Variety photoshoot? All of them be pulling off the damn CEO look and it has me drooling. This one was a request and I am more than happy that I wrote it. It’s pure filth, get me some Hobi water guys.

Disclaimer: This story is an AU fanfiction that I have created using the names of the members of BTS. I do not claim any ownership over the members of BTS. The plot and the personalities of the characters are entirely my own.

Do not plagiarize my work and do not repost.

Moodboard

*I do not claim ownership over any of the pictures. They are credited to their original owners.

“I want him.” Y/N declared as her fingers trailed over the smooth texture, imagining them touching the expensive suit and wondering how soft it would feel. Being on the cover page of Brilliant Minds was no joke and it was definitely something to be proud of. The most influential people made it there, the wealthiest, the ones with an attitude, astronomical ego and as they so popularly called it, a brilliant mind. Among all of these business magnets, the most common trait was that they were all too young to be that successful. That was exactly why they were called brilliant minds. They really did live up to the title.

The magazine didn’t have a publishing schedule. It all depended on coming across the right person to be in it. Needless to say, business soared right after the publication. Not that any of the people on its covers needed it, but it was a milestone, the highest of them all. The last one had been a month ago and the latest edition from just two days ago had definitely caught her interest.

The man staring back at her, his slim figure donned in a sharp grey suit, a hooded look to his eyes and his jaw clenched, looked impeccable. His single raised eyebrow said it all. This man was fucking proud. She could prove it from the barely noticeable raise at the corner of his lips.

Y/N fucking loved it. It was the same look that was etched onto her face since the past month. The previous copy of Brilliant Minds laid right next to the latest one and her own eyes stared back at her. She was fucking proud too.

“Funny, I heard he wanted you too.” Jungkook nodded from the other side of her desk. He quickly inverted the magazine towards himself as he flicked through the pages to the middle. It held another sharp cut of the same man with his side profile and Y/N immediately noticed the tantalizing jaw line. The two pages would have details of the interview with this man, and Y/N was definitely looking forward to reading his responses.

“Oh, really now? And how, may I ask, do you know that?” Y/N raised an eyebrow at her secretary, finding it unbelievable that he had insider information on almost everything. He was a social bird, and she hated that most of the time, she hated almost anything that was too loud and bubbly, which was exactly what Jungkook was. But there was a difference between how she treated others and how she was with Jungkook. She hated him in an almost, endearing way.

“Well, his secretary told me.” Jungkook shrugged and Y/N sat up straight. “How the hell do you know his secretary? And how close are you two?”

“We’re not that close, even if that’s what I want. Still getting to know each other. We only met a few weeks ago, we were drunk so ya know we just happened to roll around in the sheets and-” Jungkook stopped abruptly looking up at Y/N apologetically.

She raised an eyebrow higher as if to say, ‘Get to the point now’, and Jungkook did just that. “Anyway, we were talking about things that absolutely infuriate us, I didn’t mention you so don’t worry, but Taehyung accidentally blurted out that his boss was an annoying prick and had recently gotten obsessed with some contract that he wanted to get into with our company. I believe it started from your interview with Brilliant Minds.” He finished, tapping the magazine and shrugging.

“Interesting. Jungkook, I totally support you dating this guy. And I need you to do me just one tiny favour.” Y/N grinned, leaning back into her chair and clasping her hands together. “I need you to let slip, purely accidentally of course, that I’m interested in a contract with their company. And that I won’t stop pestering you about it. So infuriating, isn’t it?”

Jungkook let out a laugh as he narrowed his eyes playfully. “I don’t want to take advantage of him, but you know what, I think a contract will benefit all of us. More money and higher bonuses.” he sighed, nodding his head.

“And Jungkook,” Y/N added with a second thought, “I’m going to have to cut down all the business secrets you get to know. I’m not sure how well you can hold your tongue when the alcohol gets to you.”

Jungkook frowned immediately. “You’ve known me since we were babies and you know I don’t do that. And that plan won’t work because I have my ways, people always tell me everything.” he smirked, and Y/N rolled her eyes.

“Well, I wonder why no has told you yet that your fly is open.” she pointed to his pants and Jungkook immediately slapped his hands down to his crotch, fumbling with the zipper and realizing that it was secured to the top. He glared at her and she could see the promise in his eyes that vowed revenge for tricking him.

Y/N grinned. “Gotcha.”

Jungkook was always at the top of things and Y/N knew he did his job all too well. But nevertheless, it was still a surprise when Jungkook walked into her workspace the next evening, informing her that Taehyung had contacted him about his boss wanting to speak with her about a proposal.

“Seems like he jumped at the opportunity. I literally only told Tae last night. His boss must’ve been waiting for this to happen.” Jungkook analyzed the situation like he did to almost everything going on around him. It gave Y/N a different perspective sometimes and a headache all the other times. However, at the moment, she simply gazed at the magazine that had become a part of her room décor.

“Alright, I’ll speak to him.” she declared, as Jungkook nodded and instantly jotted it down onto her schedule. “I’ll gather his contact details and let you know. It’ll probably be just an introduction call, but you can discuss the actual details of the contract face-to-face. I’ll check with Taehyung for his schedule and book a meeting room-” Jungkook rambled mostly to himself as he noted down everything he could possibly do around the job.

“Kook,” Y/N stopped him with a sigh, “whatever you do is perfect.” Taking that as less of a compliment but rather his cue to leave, Jungkook nodded swiftly and backed out of her room.

No longer than an hour had passed and Jungkook had sent her the contact details. He slipped into her cabin just as she was opening his mail, drawing her attention to him.

“So, I think, it’s better if I get the basic talk done myself. I’ll try and get to know a little about what their idea is and maybe pitch in a few of mine. I’ll check with you on how you like it so then we could go ahead and set up a meeting. Taehyung and I will take care of stuff for now, you guys just have to finalise the deal when you guys meet.” Jungkook suggested.

Y/N nodded. Ultimately it was lesser work for her, and she thought it better to use her time to seal the deal rather than having introduction calls pretending like she actually cared about how the other person was doing. She just wanted her work done.

“Thank you Jungkook, you’re the best.” she muttered, before smiling and winking at him. “Have fun planning things with Taehyung.”

Yoongi was pissed. It didn’t matter that her secretary had come all the way to their office with a stupid gift pack to make up for rescheduling the meeting just an hour before it was set to begin. ‘Ms. Y/N had to deal with an emergency and had to cancel unfortunately. She’s deeply sorry to have caused you the inconvenience.’ Her secretary’s words still played in his mind and it made him sick. He knew more than anything that it had not been an emergency, it had to have been work related and it was so important that she cancelled out on him. He was livid.

He was already pissed about the fact that Brilliant Minds had put her on the cover before him, and it frustrated him that her company was a position higher than his on the official list of the most successful companies of the year. The feeling of coming next was new to him, he couldn’t get it out of his mind, and he would do just about anything to beat it.

He’d extended an offer just so he could see what was so special about her, but she’d cancelled on him, even after she’d seen him on the cover of the magazine. His company was no fucking joke. A million contracts for collaboration were at his doorstep and instead of choosing ones readily available he’d went ahead and approached hers all by himself, and for what? For her to call it off. He felt like a fucking idiot. He should never have let himself believe Taehyung’s words, sending out a formal invite based on rumors made up over a couple of beers.

He clenched his jaw tight as he downed the wine in one go, slamming his glass down on the table with a loud clank. Taehyung had left him a bunch of emails for him to check on but Yoongi refused to listen to his secretary at the moment. He considered firing the guy from his job but somehow, he knew he’d regret that once he got back into his work. Grudgingly, he went back to his desk, flopping down onto the chair and scrolling through his emails.

He wasn’t wrong. Being away from his work for two hours had landed him with over hundred emails and those were just the ones that Taehyung had filtered out as important for the time being since he knew Yoongi was in a terrible mood. Sighing, he looked into each one as quickly as he could, already mapping out how long it would take him to get them all done with.

He found one from Taehyung saying Y/N’s company wanted to reschedule the meeting and he immediately responded with a ‘fuck no’ and then proceeded to delete the mail for good riddance. Just after he’d done that, he noticed another one just below, and he clicked it faster than ever once he made sense of the sender’s name.

17:34 pm

Dear Mr. Min,

Please accept my sincere apology for being unable to attend today’s meeting. It was very important to me, but I had to cancel due to an emergency. I hope you understand. If you are still willing to go through with the contract, it would be my pleasure to reschedule the meeting to another time and date.

Do let me know of your thoughts and have a great evening!

Sincerely,

Y/N

Yoongi read the mail over and over again, feeding her contact details from her signature into his phone. He raised a finger to touch the mail right over the sender’s signature. He’d thought that he’d made up his mind, he never wanted to get into a contract with them again. But he was so wrong, this had been on his mind for more than a month and an apology mail from Y/N herself made him feel like he had the upper hand. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was smug at the fact that she wanted it as much as he did.

Without a moment’s delay, he typed out another mail to Taehyung, ‘Reschedule’, he wrote, not bothering to elaborate because it was more than obvious. He was going to meet her.

“I think you may have pissed him off.” Jungkook pursed his lips as he watched Y/N chuckle and shake her head.

“Look, when you’re running a company, you get busy and sometimes you can’t make it to stuff okay? We all have a one-track mind when it comes to work, and these kinds of things are normal. We don’t fight over that. What are we five? And plus, I sent him an apology mail, what more can I do?” She looked at Jungkook as though he was being ridiculous and he himself thought he was.

“True. It’s happened before but, I don’t know. When I went there to inform him, he seemed mad.” He sighed, clutching his fork and pushing it brutally through his spaghetti. Satisfied with how much he’d gathered after twirling his fork, he stuffed his mouth and began to chew loudly.

Y/N stared at him amused. “It’s fine. I’ll make sure to let him know again how sorry I am for cancelling and he’ll have to be okay with that.” Jungkook nodded, puckering his lips and sucking stray spaghetti into his mouth. “So you’re nervous.” Y/N said casually, sipping her wine and staring at Jungkook over the rim of her glass.

“M ’not. Why’d I be.” Jungkook rolled his eyes, gulping down his food and staring at her, no doubt demanding an explanation. “Taehyung is going to be here in two hours, Jungkook. You’re nervous. Don’t be, you’re amazing.” She smiled at him and Jungkook frowned. He opened his mouth to deny it but shut it closed as soon as Y/N raised her eyebrows at him. Sighing, he chomped down the last bit of his meal as he gulped slowly.

“Yeah okay, I am nervous. But you’re right, I’m awesome so I don’t really have any reason to be.” He nodded to himself and Y/N snorted. “Make sure you don’t do any funny business under the table alright? This is a professional, work thing.” She chuckled dismissing the glare Jungkook gave her.

Y/N was waiting near the window, her phone in hand as she went through random news articles. Jungkook had just slipped out of the room, no doubt welcoming that day’s meeting attendees and leading them to the meeting room. No longer than five minutes later she heard footsteps outside the door and straightened herself to her full height.

Jungkook entered with two men on his trail and she could tell that no matter how professional the pictures in the magazine looked, seeing Yoongi in the flesh was unbelievable. Everything about him screamed arrogance and pride, making his presence stand out as eye-catching. It was evident from his jet-black hair styled neatly to the side, the expensive maroon suit he donned, the Rolex glinting from his wrist and the indifferent look in his eyes. Despite being shorter than Jungkook and the blonde-haired man who she assumed was Taehyung, he still dominated the stage with the way he held himself.

His eyes met hers and, in a flash, so fast she could’ve missed it, he had scanned her from top to toe, as though he’d noticed that she’d done the same thing to him. Out of all the introductions Y/N had had with potential clients and business partners, the one with Yoongi bagged the award for being the most intense. Not once were too happy smiles or polite greetings exchanged, just hooded gazes, nods and tiny smirks.

The meeting never came to the discussion of whether or not to take up a project together, it was as though they’d already decided on that a long time ago, the meeting was just to kick off the project. Y/N had taken her time considering bringing up the what if’s of not making the deal, but half-way through the meeting, the kind of ideas she and Yoongi had come up with together pushed the thought right out of her mind.

Over the span of two hours, they’d laid out a rough draft of a road map, and they hadn’t even realise that they’d downed all the beverages without paying the slightest bit of attention. They had another meeting scheduled for the next week, and Y/N seemed to notice that Yoongi had pushed down something on his schedule to make up time for it. For the past fifteen minutes that was all Y/N had been doing, staring down Yoongi as he talked to Taehyung about setting up a call with his internal team. She had already put up Jungkook to the same task, but right then, she was more interested in Yoongi’s mannerisms.

Y/N had a hard time keeping her eyes away from the way his jaw moved, sharp and defined making her wonder how hot it looked when he while he was making out. Every once in a while, he would swipe his tongue over his lips or the tip of his tongue would poke out the side of his mouth, accompanied by that gaze that made him look like he wanted to eat her out.

Instantly, her mind flooded with pictures of how that scene would play out, how he could bend her over that table right there and shatter her sanity with everything he wanted to do to her. As her mind came up with images of him pushing his fingers into her, and her gaze slipped to his hands, she was not at all disappointed. His long fingers, studded with metal rings had to be the sexiest pair she’d ever seen and whenever he pointed to something or did random gestures, her thighs clenched, imagining them moving inside of her.

When they’d concluded the meeting, it seemed as though Yoongi knew what Y/N had been doing and she knew he felt the same. The lust in her eyes reflected in his too and she didn’t miss the way his touch lasted a little longer than it should’ve for someone as professional as he when they shook hands. Yoongi smirked at her as he exited the meeting room and his hand almost shot to his crotch when he saw her smirk back at him.

As soon as Jungkook was back in Y/N’s room after escorting Yoongi and Taehyung out of the meeting room, she groaned, imagining all the work Jungkook no doubt would’ve laid out in her schedule for her to do. It was that time when she was feeling good and thought she was on the top of everything, but it always ended with Jungkook reminding her of a ton of things that had to be done on priority.

“I was actually having a good day, don’t dump work on me now.” She said anyway, knowing Jungkook would never listen to her because that was his job. She was the boss, he was the secretary and she had to get work done, not delay it.

“You say that, and when you actually have nothing major to do, you whine about not having work instead of chilling. You love working, stop complaining.” Jungkook called her out and Y/N sighed as she realized that was exactly how it was.

“Really. You use that phrase to dump work on me now?” She asked, still being stubborn and fighting against a lost cause.

“We can talk about that, or we can talk about how you and Yoongi eye fucked each other today.” Jungkook said casually, and Y/N rolled her eyes, chuckling slightly.

“Was it that obvious? He’s hot. I’m hot.” She shrugged and Jungkook shook his head. “Taehyung and I were wondering when you’d both jump onto the table and do the nasty, but surprisingly you guys held it in.”

“Alright fine. Give me my schedule and leave. We all noticed the intense stares you and Taehyung were giving each other. I think I remember him squeezing your thighs under the table. Everything okay done there, JK?” Y/N raised her eyebrow and held out a hand, smiling at how Jungkook blushed and placed his tablet in her hand.

“Whatever.”

Twenty minutes into the video on his personal laptop, ready to relieve his stress for the day, and Yoongi realized that he really had fucked up. He had fucked up the very first day he’d come back from the first meeting with Y/N with an aching cock. And to add the cherry on top, he’d gotten rid of his boner jerking off to explicit scenes of Y/N that his mind had conjured up so readily.

Even when he made a conscious effort to pay attention and jerk off to the porn on his computer screen, his mind drifted off to Y/N, and that would be the only way he could get off anymore. Had she been his secretary, he would’ve fucked her already by then, maybe more than just once. With that thought becoming regular, he waited for his cock to get up and make him feel alive as he played his favorite porn to correct the mistake he’d made and get back to normal.

He almost thought his dick was broken as he plainly watched a boss fuck his secretary as punishment, until he closed his eyes and he was in his office, with Y/N standing in front of him, her ass tucked into a short tight skirt and her black blouse shaping her figure so well he wanted to rip it off of her.

“Fuck!” Yoongi groaned feeling himself growing hard at the thought of Y/N being his secretary, constantly following him around in tight dresses that left little to the imagination, doing everything he told her to do and taking punishment whenever she made a mistake. His cock was aching, and his hand moved to the tip of his cock already dripping with precum. Giving up his efforts to go back to normal a millionth time, he indulged in his fantasy and his hand gripped his cock tightly, spreading his precum over his length.

His mind was reeling, and he was then standing over Y/N bent over his table, recreating the scene on his computer with her and himself. Instead of punishing her, he was rewarding her for doing a good job on the project, stroking the soft flesh of her bare ass held in the air just for him to touch and do with whatever he pleased.

His hand moved up and down his length, and he groaned when the fantasy version of himself slipped two fingers between Y/N’s dripping folds, bringing her juices to his cock, his tip leaking with precum and he jerked as he pressed his thumb to his slit.

“So good for me, aren’t you sweetness?” He whispered, his fingers plunging into her tight heat and curling as she gasped, laying helpless with her face pressed to his table and hands held behind her back.

“Yes, sir. Just for you.” Y/N mewled, as Yoongi thrust his fingers into her faster, his hips now jerking up from the mattress as he fucked into his fist, his mouth opening at how delicious she sounded, a little bit of drool slipping past her lips as her mouth hung open with how good he made her feel. He increased his pace at that thought, the fact that he was the one making her feel so good that her body quivered with unbearable pleasure.

The thought made him angry, pissed at how he was jerking off to the satisfaction of pleasing her, and to make himself feel better, he slapped her ass harshly, once, twice and he kept going, Y/N’s body moving forward with the force, and he was sure that it was stinging at that point. Yoongi expected her to scream, beg him to stop as he spanked her relentlessly and his fingers pushed into her heat brutally, but even in his fantasy, his mind betrayed him, and Y/N moaned.

“More.” she begged.

“Fuck, that’s so hot. Fuck fuck fuck!” Yoongi grunted as he reached his peak, spilling ropes of white hot cum over his hands, chest and his sheets. As he rode out his high, he imagined Y/N cumming on his fingers, her body shaking from her orgasm and she tried to look back at him from the table. “Thank you, sir.”

Yoongi groaned, his hands having a mind of their own as he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked on them, where behind closed eyes, he tasted Y/N’s sweet arousal. A growl ripped through his chest as he swallowed, his tongue circling over his fingers until he had cleaned out every drop. Slowly opening his eyes, he took note of the mess he was in his bed.

He shut down his laptop harshly, throwing it to the side as he cleaned himself with the tissues by his bedside. His habit had turned into an addiction and if his fantasy made him so hard, he couldn’t comprehend what it would be like to actually be inside of Y/N.

On the pretense of discussing pressing issues, he found himself at her office countless times, and he couldn’t help all the dirty thoughts his mind came up with when they sat across each other. And the fact that he knew she wanted it, she thought about him just as much, made him leave her office with a hard on every single time.

Not surprisingly he’d come to realise that fantasy-secretary-Y/N and the actual Y/N were nothing alike. He was always in control when he imagined her as his secretary, but when it came to the woman who came up with solutions for issues in the project, the CEO of the company he wanted a deal with, the arrogant one who was on the cover of Brilliant Minds, it was evident that Y/N was always in control.

While Yoongi was used to people honoring his opinions above all else, Y/N had no problem turning them down, only picking up the points that interested her and were beneficial to the project. It irked him that she always had a logical explanation for every idea she refused, and he’d understood in quiet a short while as to why her company was doing as good as it was.

Even when they both checked out each other, she never showed signs of weaknesses and his idea of distracting her from work with his seductive demeanor wouldn’t go as planned, and it made it harder for him to convince her to implement his opinion. He never dared to act out on his fantasies; his work was not something he wanted to put at risk when he was responsible for employing so many people.

He’d adopted her thinking technique swiftly after, and then seemed to agree with most of her opinions, she was helping him grow that was for sure, and over the course of six months while their project was implemented and went into the market, Yoongi was at par with her thoughts. He would point out flaws in her ideas and if he thought he was the expert before, he had definitely perfected his decision-making abilities after the deal with Y/N.

At the first mistake he’d ever pointed out, Y/N had been surprised, and then she’d slowly gotten used to it, her own mind gearing up for a battle as she worked harder to spot his mistakes. With a silly quarrel keeping the project efficient at all times, it bloomed through the market and the both of them were fairly satisfied.

Their deal was a hit, and it was only natural that they’d pursue more. In no time, another contract was made, this time with higher investment, more project staff and greater focus on marketing. They were so damn sure of success.

“So what do you propose be our strategy?” She asked, her eyes not leaving his lips as she bit her own. It was impossible to look away from his face and she was fully aware that she was checking him out again with no shame, but when she realized he was doing the same to her countless times, she just couldn’t get rid of the habit.

“Let’s go deep. Let’s do something that makes us feel good too.” Yoongi rasped and if she was distracted before, her mind was completely astray now. His words held an entirely different meaning and she was starting to grow hot from whatever he had implied.

Yoongi felt the same, the way Y/N’s eyes had widened by the tiniest fraction and then fallen down to a low hooded gaze had him licking his lips in anticipation. He had been hard since the moment his legs had accidentally touched hers under the table, and just the thought of being able to feel them with his hands made his cock strain against his pants.

All he wanted to do in that moment was, to pull Y/N onto the table, mount her and make her scream his name as he pounded into her. He wanted to feel the fantasy he’d jerked off to every night in the past few months, the night before and that morning when he decided to ask her to come and meet him for no particular reason. He wanted to see her in his office for a change, and he no doubt felt in control.

Her presence, the way she looked at him with her chin held high, the way she shot down some of his ideas by pointing out the loop holes, the way she’d raise an eyebrow and subtly tilt her head whenever she made a point, every time she exuded power in even the tiniest things she did, fucking everything turned him on.

To be constantly beaten at his own damn game with the dominance she had, made him pissed. He wanted to put her in her place, and at the same time he wanted to kneel down and do anything she’d say. Even then, as he watched her drag her lips through her teeth, it made him furious, furious that he wasn’t the one doing it. Involuntarily his body sat up and he watched her rise in the same moment, a brief pause before they were both leaning over the table and crashing their lips together.

Y/N tasted divine, a low groan rumbled deep in Yoongi’s chest as his tongue met hers instantly, the realization of her hastiness bringing on a wave of arrogance as he tried to savage her mouth. His tongue had explored her mouth for barely two seconds before she was pushing again, her tongue clashing with his as they fought for dominance. It was so important to the both of them, their ego slipping into the way they kissed, bit, licked, nipped, sucked and it would only end when one of them would surrender. It didn’t seem likely.

As they pulled apart for breath, his lips pressed to her jaw and his hands went around her waist pulling her onto the table to sit. With one sharp tug he pulled her across to himself, twisting her completely towards him and wrapping her legs around his waist. Y/N’s skirt bunched up at her thighs and Yoongi’s hands instantly pressed onto her skin, palming and squeezing the soft skin as his lips mapped their way back to hers.

Yoongi had imagined that Y/N would give up fighting after all this time, but even as he pulled her crop top over her head and cupped her breasts, she still managed to dip her tongue into his mouth, never losing control even as she moaned at the way he fondled her breasts. A soft whine slipped past her lips as Yoongi pulled away from her, his own lips missing her touch as he unhooked her bra with one hand and threw it behind him, closing the distance between them again as he sucked her breast into his mouth.

He rolled his tongue around her nipple and Y/N gasped, gripping his hair and bringing him closer to her. He released her breast from his mouth with a small pop, his face burying itself in the valley between her breasts and inhaling the fragrance. He dragged his tongue all the way to her neck, her jaw, her chin and eventually into her open mouth. He sucked on her tongue as she took a hold of his tie, pulling it loose and snapping open the buttons of his white shirt.

Y/N was desperate to touch Yoongi and as soon as her hands felt the warmth of his smooth skin under her fingers she sighed, laying her palms flat against his chest and rubbing the skin. She had waited too damn long and at that moment she didn’t care if someone would knock on the door. She hadn’t missed how Yoongi had locked his door behind her when she came in, but either way it wouldn’t matter if anyone walked in on them at that point. She wanted him, and she would have him.

Catching up to her hastiness Yoongi undressed just as quickly, throwing away his blazer which was followed by his shirt and tie. His hands moved to Y/N’s skirt, flicking the buttons open and pulling down as her hands worked on unbuckling his belt. As his trousers dropped to the floor, he pulled his briefs down to his ankles, his cock springing free from the containment and growing painfully hard at the sight of Y/N stepping out of her skirt.

He stopped her as she moved to pull off her thin black stockings, staring at the skin he could see through the translucent material. His mind snapped a picture of how Y/N looked right then, naked on his table, with a poor excuse for cloth covering her legs which were accentuated by her black pumps.

“Those stay on.” He growled, and much to his annoyance she bit her lip and smirked at him. As he made to grab her waist, Y/N put a firm hand on his shoulder. With the slightest pressure, she was pushing him down, face lowering past her shoulders, jaw and her navel to the only place that he knew he wanted to be at.

Her strength was incomparable to his really, and he could throw her off in a second if he wanted to, but her eyes fixed on his sent him into a trance and he was surrendering, sitting on his knees, his eyes leveling with her dripping heat.

“Eat me.” Y/N commanded and without a second thought, Yoongi buried his face into her heat, his tongue licking a broad strip over her folds gathering her sweet juices. Y/N moaned as her hands clutched his hair, tugging at the roots in want.

The treat was long awaited, and Y/N enjoyed just how good he looked at that moment, his face stuffed into her core and doing all she told him to. Yoongi poured in all of his anger into it, how she’d pissed him off, how she’d constantly kept him sexually frustrated for the past few months and just how unfair the situation was when she displayed her power.

His mouth ravaged her, gulping down every drop that slipped from her heat and pushing his tongue into her hole for more. His hands grabbed her thighs, feeling the soft material of her stockings stretch under the force of his fingers. Pulling up both of her legs, he rested them on his shoulder, the pointed edge of her pumps digging into his back as she clenched her thighs around his head.

Y/N gripped her hands at the edge of the table as Yoongi fucked her with his tongue, the soft muscle curling inside her walls wonderfully as his hands kept her from shutting her thighs together from the pleasure. She wanted to finish right there, and she knew that was what Yoongi would love to do to her, make her cum with his tongue alone. Gripping Yoongi’s hair tighter she pulled him away from her heat, his eyes hooded with lust as her juices dripped down his chin. She pulled his face closer to hers, swiping her tongue from his chin to his bottom lip, collecting her arousal and pushing it into his mouth. He let her in so easily, lapping hungrily at the sweetness and moaning.

“I want you inside me.” She moaned, reaching for his cock and pumping it twice to spread the pre cum leaking from his tip before pushing the tip into her heat. Yoongi grunted at the sudden shift in pleasure, his eyes closing as he pushed into her fully and bottomed out.

“Fuck, so tight. So wet, sweetness.” He groaned, and Y/N held on tighter to him, pushing him backwards until he landed on the chair behind while she settled down on his lap. She pushed down onto him slowly, rolling her hips and adjusting to his size. Her hands gripped his shoulders for support and Yoongi wrapped his around her waist to keep her from falling.

Her lips were latched to his collarbone sucking on his skin no doubt creating the same red patterns that he had done over her chest and shoulders. His hands moved up the span of her bare back to her neck and he slipped his hands into her hair and pulled her face to his. He managed to kiss her while she bounced on his cock, her breasts touching his chin and neck with every move.

He cupped her ass as she circled her hips against him, and he buried his face once more between her breasts. He tightened his hold on her as he hauled her up, and placed her on the table, pushing her backwards and laying her down as he climbed the table on his knees, straddling her. Smirking, she spread her legs wider, and Yoongi’s eyes slipped to her heat, groaning at how filthy the sight was to look at. Another push and he would crumble.

His eyes flared in anger at her cockiness and he decided on the only thing he could do. Punish her. He thrust into her suddenly, knocking the breath out of her as he bottomed out, only giving her a second to compose herself before he slammed into her repeatedly. Y/N’s face was twisting into a fucked-out look that Yoongi considered dangerous rather than a sign of weakness.

Her body jerked as he pushed into her, moans slipping out from her mouth with every thrust and sometimes overlapping to turn into gasps as he increased his pace. His hands were laid flat on her belly holding her down and making sure she took every inch of his length. She let out a slight gasp as he smacked her breasts, marveling at how they bounced with every thrust. Looking down on her as he towered over her naked figure, spread out on his office table while he pounded into her, it was his fantasy coming to reality.

He savored every moment of being in control, being the one that made her look so fucked out underneath him that the sight alone had his orgasm teetering on the edge. But he refused to give in, he refused to come until she did, and with all the will power he had in him, he pulled her up by her waist and held her tight to his chest, hitting her deeper from the new angle.

Even as his ego swelled, he knew he was far from being in control. He’d already seen what Y/N could do; she had made him get on his knees first, and he had enjoyed it more than he would’ve ever imagined. At that moment, as he sucked on her breasts and his hand teased her clit, he knew that she was letting him be in control. It was obvious that they both were into power play. Y/N was her own person, independent, strong and she didn’t need anybody but herself to keep her satisfied, much like him and that made everything about her so god damn sexy.

As Y/N felt the cool metal of Yoongi’s Rolex rub against her clit, she shivered, pushing herself down to match every one of his thrusts, the feeling of him deep inside and the cool metal on her nub driving her closer to her orgasm. Yoongi was quick to observe, her walls clenching around him tightly, and he worked his fingers faster on her clit, desperate to get her to reach her release first.

He almost thought he’d succeeded as Y/N’s walls were so tight around him, he let himself climb the high and as soon as he let his guard down, he knew he was done for when he noticed the glint in her eyes. She swooped down to lick a broad strip across his abdomen and with the same need to devour him, she pulled his nipple into her mouth, biting the pebble and twisting her tongue around the skin deliciously. When she moaned against his skin, the vibration shot straight down to his cock deep inside her and he shattered. As he groaned into her hair, his fingers instinctively pinched her clit and she was following him, tipping over the edge.

Both had their heads tilted back as they rode out their highs, their pants becoming the only thing they could hear as the sound of their skin slapping together reduced and eventually halted. Y/N could feel Yoongi’s hot load dripping out of her heat, pooling on the table as they clutched each other tight.

Once they’d both regained their breathing, Y/N chuckled and bit her lip. “That was a good strategy. Very deep.”

Yoongi snorted. “Yes, I do love how it fit so perfectly.” He murmured against her hair and pushed into her slightly to emphasis on the fitting part. As soon as he did, he was growing hard again, and the fact that Y/N’s walls were still so snugly wrapped around him was only adding fuel to the fire.

Y/N looked at him with raised eyebrows, “Is that what I think it is?”, she bit her lips and Yoongi blushed. When he made to pull out, Y/N wouldn’t let go of him, holding him tighter and inside her.

“Door’s locked.” She grinned and Yoongi cursed, almost cumming again right there.

He growled as he picked her up off the table and carried her to the nearest wall. Playfully biting at her nose, he pressed her against the wall, lips finding hers as they dove back in. In his mind, he’d figured out his schedule for the day, and he would do it over and over on every inch of his office.

“It will be as long as you’re here, sweetness.”

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[honeymoonjin]

pre-elimination thoughts

hello here is a compiled list of all the asks i woke up to this morning relating to the elimination ksdjfks please enjoy 

If u see it from the pov of yn like actually that the person yn said “lets vote kook off after he shared his feelings and got provoked abt it” thats gonna hurt koo so much and he probably will completely shut himself off/ maybe even ask to leave the house if sora allows that?😳 and for yall b’s to vote him off!!! I’ll never forgive yall if sora announces that he got voted off fr fr!!!

Listen I’m not trying to be hateful but what did tae give us this week in comparison to JK??? Did he give us a whole scene? did he take the time to set up the gym into an exam room? Give us a sexy doctor moment?? No. He gave us some relatively mild puppy play which is fine!! But i mean compared to everyone else’s scene?? JK needs his moment, needs US on his side! Tae will still have jimin if he gets eliminated but koo needs a moment to shine! #byetae #savejk

I just remembered the elimination is based on sex...i voted the wrong person😞

why are people kicking off hoseok what did my man do

I’m gonna day this once. Vote koo out and I’m coming for kneecaps. There is so much potential there with the Maknae line. Listen hear me out the candidate that would hurt the least is hobi I know he was gonna get booted last week but like he’s the one that is the least emotionally attached to yn ya feel?! And also I feel like this opens up opportunities for him to dick down other members…. not naming names but *cough* jimin *cough* anyways that’s my tea if Jungkook is booted this week Readers …. I’m cracking my knuckles and we’re fucking throwing hands accept there won’t be a Seokjin and Yoongi to hold me back when I push y’all on a coffee table 😤😤🥱🥱👊🏾👊🏾

jimin may of instigated the fight, but jungkook threw the first punch and to me that’s a lot worse

the way it just took me five minutes to vote 💀 and 4 minutes and 55 seconds of those 5, i was just staring at my wall contemplating

Let's try and think with the few braincells we have left fam. Hoseok scenes are the most fun to read bc he is extremely confident and also one of the most experienced in the house. DON'T VOTE HIM OUT. A lot of the others could have a great storyline just hanging out in the house and creating sexual tension and drama. HOSEOK SHINES WHEN HE'S PERFORMING AND BEING A HARD ASS CONFINDENT SEXY DOM. PLEASE I'M BEGGING YOU DON'T VOTE HIM OUT JUST YET.

i swear to fucking god i y'all vote hoseok out i'm rioting

People out here fighting for who should get eliminated but I'm here cant even figure out who to vote for cause I love all of them so much,,,, BUT IF ANYONE EVEN COMES NEAR MY BABY JIMIN AND YOONGI AND KOO IM KILLING ON SIGHT -jimin slap me anon

Ngl y’all wish I could vote y/n out 😂😂😂 girl gets into a relationship on a porn show... with 2 guys she doesn’t really seem to even like that much in a romantic way. Idk I’m fine with vmin but I don’t like the poly :/ not because it’s poly just because it doesn’t make sense + it’s complicating a lot of shit. I love the story though so I’m gonna keep reading it I just don’t agree with the relationship. I don’t think she should have a relationship with any of them until the show is over

Aaah this chapter was so good but also a mess 😭 I literally don’t know who to choose, I would actually be the worst in such a situation because I hate making decisions like that! I‘m seeing all those aggressive asks you’re getting and I‘m just sitting in the corner over here instead trying to deal with emotions 🥺 I just hope they’re all going to be alright in the end!!

I sent u two asks already queen and it def shows what good of a job you've done but this time let me be selfish for a second Because these anons are pissing me OFF! I can't believe so many people are in favour of voting Taekook out bro I'm really gonna pull a Kook and fight yall in the living room like UR really gonna break their hearts like that? JKS gonna blame himself for opening up and Tae will be devastated that he cant touch MC since touch is one of his love languages! Yall make Me SIQUE!

im voting tae out bc imo his scene was v plain. I get that pet play is out there n kinky but it was boring. While the hopekook scene with y/n was explosive it felt like tae having jimin there for his scene was a cop out. n then they did their dumb poly thing which should honestly be against the rules. WHAT SNAKES! also ngl but i feel like jimins been such a b to hopekook all the time FOR WHAT! im voting out tae for this week n jimin after. VMIN CAN GO FUCK EACH OTHER IN THE BUNKS FOR ALL OF TIME

Please please please don’t throw JK under the bus, if he gets eliminated his mental state is going to crumble even more than it already did, poor baby boy doesn’t deserve to get eliminated specially if we vote solely on the sex, because this man really went all out with his prompt, he was so diligent with staying in character and all, AND come on y’all did you not read the part in which he was being taken out crying while saying how sorry he was for the mess? We can’t break his heart even more

#kickjk2020 vminy/n for the win ‼️😼

Okay I’m sorry for yelling in my last ask BUT I’d be lying if I said I couldn’t relate to the way jk reacted bc I’d definitely feel the same as him that, doesn’t make the actions he took right but I mean have y’all really never felt that upset and alone before? You’re up against a wall with no where to go dude. Ofc you’re gonna lash out. His prompt was AMAZING he put in so much effort and it was SPICEY. And he felt so apologetic after the fight. He needs more time please:(((( #SaveJungkook

Ok but what i think some of us don’t get is that the elimination vote is from Y/N’s perspective, right? So how in the world will that go down? After all this, her voting Jk off. So, what i’m saying is #saveSora and #savejk

that chapter was so emotionally exhausting 😓 you’re such a great writer but it breaks my heart nonetheless. I guess that’s all I have to say about the chapter. but as far as voting, my choices are COMPLETELY DIFFERENT. cause one I want to vote out based off of sex, and the other strictly based on emotion. uugh I can’t decide (even though I know you want it based on sex). my final statement I’ll campaign for is PLEASE don’t vote out jin or joon 🥺 #savejin&joon

I see ask about voting my man Jimin or sweet baby boy jk and even sweet taetae out while I'm here wondering if we can veto yn out 😔 i get her pov but damn im really pissed that she just gets "plant mode on" in situations like this

I’m so sorry for my baby but Tae is the one who has to go, c’mon everyone he is the safest option! He will still have Jimin and he can still have fun with the rest of the gentlemen, and you can’t tell me that he wouldn’t enjoy just watching and/ or punishing y/n when she decides that she can’t keep her hands to herself, HE WOULD STILL BE ABLE TO ENJOY BEING ON THE SHOW WITHOUT THE SEX WITH Y/N BECAUSE WE’VE SEEN HIM ENJOY SEXY TIMES WITH THE OTHER GENTLEMEN! HE CAN STILL BE HAPPY IF HE GOES

If koo gets voted off I'm actually going to c r y just-

if y’all vote my baby koo out i will personally hunt you down and crack your spine like a fucking glowstick xx

PEOPLE DONT VOTE KOOK OFF. HE LET OFF SOME STEAM NOW ALL WE NEED IS FOR HIM TO APOLOGIZE AND MAKE THINGS RIGHT 😭

PLEASE DONT HURT KOO IM LEAVE THE BABY ALONE OKAY???:(((((((

#SAVEYOONGI WE GOT THE TINIEST CRUMB OF HIS FEELINGS ON THE COUCH WITH Y/N THE NIGHT OF THE THREESOME AND I WANT THOSE FEELINGS TO FLOURISH 👁️👁️

i’m sorry but if we’re voting by who did they prompt the worst you have got to choose seokjin. i feel so bad for him because the thing ab his feelings just came out but the most interesting scene he’s had up until now was the threesome with yoongi. if i could, everyone would keep participating but in this moment, seokjins the obvious choice to me

luckily it wasn’t as many as i thought but still fsdjfkjks phew yall are passionate ;;-;

[bossman-hazani]

Gangstars episode 1

Hey so this is my first time using this website. I’m moderately new to it but I thought that this might be a good place to post the scripts for an animated comedy series I wish to one day start. I decided that since I have no idea on how and what the hell to do in order to get it noticed by a producer, I thought a good place to start was to post the scripts online and see if I could build a community on it and see what will come from it. I mean, worst case scenario is that literally nothing will happen and it’ll go completely unnoticed so here it is. Please feel free to give any feedback in whatever way is possible on this website lol. The first episode might be a little weak I’m not really sure what to expect from readers but please give it a chance to when I post the second episode before giving up on it. I guess the kind of humour it comes off from is more a Rick and Morty type of thing. And please can nobody be an ass with feedback? I’m still new to this and I don’t really appreciate it. This isn’t really a final product and I’ll probably change the script based on any feedback I get so please try to keep it constructive and helpful. Thanks and enjoy.

Gangstars Episode 1 script

(The camera shows a brick wall in an alleyway with a door. You can hear the muffled voices of the interviewer and his mother)

Interviewer: "!?"

(Door opens)

Mom: "DAMMIT BOY, IF MY SON'S GONNA SMOKE, HE'S GONNA DO IT IN HIS OWN DAMN HOUSE, NOT THE TRASHY APARTMENT HE BOUGHT HIS MOM CAUSE HE DOESN'T LOVE HER"

Interviewer: "alright, alright! I'm going!"

(Interviewer exits door, grabs a cigar, takes out his phone and starts talking to someone on the phone while leaning on a wall)

Interviewer: "Hey, Stu. Look, I need you to do me a favour. Dammit Stu are you drunk again!? Fine, whatever. Just go tell Cindy that I'm gonna be in the office to tomorrow morning - what do you mean what!? Why the fuck do I even pay you!? Dammit Stu! You'd better give results or you're fired! Oh so NOW you remember. Whatever. Now tell Cindy that I'm gonna be in my office in the morning and that she has to go get mike so I can meet him and promote his ass. Heh, yeah, he's gonna be making some big bucks now"

(Interviewer continues talking while smoking, and as this happens, a large arm (Fat Toni) with a burger starts creeping off side of screen and attempts to suffocate him.)

Interviewer: "WHA-!?"

(Interviewer punches Fat Toni in the stomach to which an immune sign appears, slowly rising. As time is running out, Interviewer grabs glass bottle and hits Fat Toni over the head with it.)

Fat Toni: "ah SHIT!"

(FT drops to floor directly onto interviewer's leg and a crack is audible)

Interviewer: "Fuuuck!!"

Fat Toni: "Help me up, guys!"

(Two more figures, Teef and Giuseppe run in to help FT up there is clear strain in doing the process.)

Teef: "Holy shit, Toni you’re so fucking heavy!!"

Giuseppe: (Makes strained sounds)

(Interviewer politely waits through this event)

(When Fat Toni is finally up, he takes a moment to catch his breath)

Fat Toni: "Ok, where were we??"

Interviewer: "Uhhhh I think you were about to proceed with kidnapping me?"

Fat Toni: Ooohhh yeeah... Well... Do you wanna go through with it or has the moment kinda passed?"

Interviewer: "Nah I think I can bring it back."

(Interviewer backs away, into a wall, unable to stand. The shadow of a LARGE man slowly, with help, makes their way up and looms over interviewer)

Interviewer: (In fear) "What are you?"

(Bag goes over interviewer's face and screen goes black)

Fat Toni: (As if talking to a sick child) "Wake up, this is a temporary kidnapping."

(From the perspective of the interviewer, you can see his eyes opening and closing slowly)

Fat Toni: "Wake uuuuppp"

(Interviewer still doesn't wake up)

Fat Toni: (Irritated) "Hey, cmon, wake up already."

Fat Toni: (yelling and at the same time slapping the interviewer) "Wake up!!"

(Interviewer is awake now and looks all around him. He can see a messy room and at the end of it stands a dark figure who is not visible due to a light shining into the interviewer's face)

Fat Toni: "Alright now, talk!!"

(An irritated muffle comes from the interviewer as he makes it clear that he cannot)

Fat Toni: "Oh, right. Sorry about that."

(From the figure comes a hand that reaches to the face of the interviewer and removes some duct tape)

Fat Toni: "Ok NOW talk."

Interviewer: "Somebody help me!!"

Fat Toni: "Naah I was just messing with you, you never had to talk. But what we ARE gonna do is we're give you something to make sure that you can't go to that interview tomorrow."

Interviewer: "huh? But-"

(Toni's hand goes over interviewer's face and the screen goes black for a few seconds.)

(The camera then goes to Mike. He's walking in a suit with a briefcase (office work starter pack) through the Jimmyasssteak building and his fellow employees pass by, engaging in conversation. It's clear that Mike is familiar and comfortable in his status and that EVERYONE knows and loves Mike.)

Employee 1: "Hey, Mike!! Pretty sure your gonna be promoted to CEO!! AND your gonna meet the boss! Even I haven't seen him"

Mike: "Yeah ikr! But it still hasn't been confirmed... Fingers crossed though!!"

Employee 2: "EY, MIKE!! YOU FUCKED MY WIFE!"

Mike: "Yeah I did"

Employee 2: (High fives mike) "Holy shit! That's really an achievement! I still haven't fucked her after 5 years together!! Anyway, have a good one, Mike!"

Mike: "Yeah, you too, Gary."

(Mike goes into a reception and starts waiting. After a sew seconds, a secretary comes up to mike)

Secretary: "Oh, hey Mike, the boss will see you now."

Mike: "Alrighty then, let's go."

(Mike and secretary start walking together through a corridor)

Mike: "So uh you know what the big guy's like? What I should say to him? What he looks like?"

Secretary: "I have no idea. I've never seen or heard him in person. Every day at 11 I escort everyone out of the building and security is turned off so he can enter his office. I guess you could say he likes his privacy."

Mike: "But then how did he tell you he wanted to see me?"

Secretary: "We communicate through ASCII. (but pronounced as ASCI)"

Mike: "So... the Advertising standards council of india??"

Secretary: "No it's with TWO 'I's."

Mike: "Ohh..."

(Camera slowly blacks out then slowly back into colour to show Mike and the Secretary reaching the end of a corridor. The secretary is a blubbering mess while mark is just confused and shocked)

Secretary: "And then I said "what, you don't like me that way?" and then you'll never guess what he said. Go on guess."

Mike: (slowly and confused) "How? This wasn't even a long corridor. It was only 30 seconds ago that we were talking about the boss. How did- Just- how!?"

Secretary: "HE SAID YESSSS!"

Mike: "Well I hate to have to leave you at the peak of the... The conversation but- uhh- we're at the boss so I kinda have to do my interview and all..."

Secretary: (clearly fine now) "Oh, ok!"

(Secretary goes to a computer and types in a legitimate ASCII message. In response, a message that's clearly not ASCII pops up)

Secretary: "Alright, I'm going to have to go while the boss opens the door. It's standard procedure. So bye Mike!"

(Secretary starts walking away. A door slowly opens. Mike goes through the door, looks around and sees Fat Toni, who is drawing a moustache on the Mona Lisa painting hung up on a wall)

Fat Toni: "OH, HEY! Mark, right? I- uh I wasn't expecting you!"

Mike: "But didn't you literally tell your secretary that you were ready for me through ASCII??"

Fat Toni: "Mike... How in the goatlord’s shitting anus am I supposed to contact my secretary through the advertising standards council of india!?"

Mike: "Oh no she says it's with two 'I's."

Fat Toni: "Aaaahh. Well that makes more sense. I thought she was playing a number game when she sent me all those ones and zeros

Fat Toni: "Mike... I don't like mike... Is it ok if I call you Donnie?"

Mike: "Please call me by my name, sir."

Fat Toni: "Then it's settled. Your now Donnie... Donnie Dwayne!"

Donnie: (small and powerless) "ok..."

Fat Toni: "So Donnie. I'm gonna ask you some questions and your gonna answer then a’ight?"

Donnie: "Sure, whatever."

Fat Toni: "What are your thoughts on crime??"

Donnie: "I've always hated crime. I don't want to establish myself in it in any way and it helps nobody in any way. Innocent people just get hurt."

(Fat Toni gives a disapproving 'hmm' and literally scribbles on his notepad)

Fat Toni: "Now for the second question; What's your weight and how much do you normally eat in a day?"

Donnie: "How does this have anything to do with my promotion?"

Fat Toni: "Trust me, it's very important."

Donnie: "Well I guess I'm more or less the average person for both of them."

Fat Toni: "So... 49,000 calories each day??"

Donnie: "what!? No! That's stupid!! It's like 2,000!"

Fat Toni: "TWO-THOUSAND!? WHAT KINDA SUPER FUCKIN DIET ARE YOU- *ahem* That's very, very low. I gotta say, Donnie, your not doing very well for yourself so far. But you can still make it back."

Donnie: "Ok, ok..."

Fat Toni: (Dark and slowly) "Now it's time for the third question..."

(features of Fat Toni's face are blackened and are very serious as he says this and Donnie is concerned)

Fat Toni: (All grim and dark features on Fat Toni's face quickly disappear as he says this) "Do you like burgers? I like burgers."

Donnie: "Oh- well I like a good burger. They're actually pretty good."

Fat Toni: "I should probably tell you the truth... You know the gangstars?"

Donnie: "Umm no..."

Fat Toni: "Oh c'mon you gadda know them... Ya know... Biggest gang in the worldiverse?? Startin' gang wars here and there? You've probably heard of the but don't remember"

Donnie: "Ohhhhh those guys are JOKES!"

Fat Toni: "Ah c’mon, they're not that bad..."

Donnie: "I mean, they were the first and only gang to ever have their heist thwarted by an old lady"

Fat Toni: "Well- uuhh- I'm pretty sure they felt bad for the grandma and they didn't wanna hurt her..."

Donnie: "Dude, she was 96 and they had guns. She was only armed with a walking stick."

Fat Toni: "Pretty sure she was a martial artist."

Donnie: "What kind of martial artist is called Masel?"

Fat Toni: "UM only the most powerful ones. You know how martial arts gotta be, you can’t have your enemy suspect it. Pfft what do you know. Listen. I'm not your boss. My name is Fat Toni. I'm here to recruit you on the behalf of the Gangstars."

Donnie: "No."

Fat Toni: "Look Donnie, The gangstars need you. We're at a very bad state and this is the final straw for us. We need you."

Donnie: "No."

Fat Toni: "In this job, you were about to be promoted to CEO of the company. Would you rather be a CEO of Jimmyasssteak and get about 15 million a year, as tempting as it is, I think our offer will still win you over. By joining the gangstars, you get to risk your life, for scraps from heists!" (shows a picture of two happy people) "See, in the picture, you can see two of our happy members, enjoying the rough territory of wars."

Donnie: "Who even ARE they??"

Fat Toni: (Looks at the picture) "Ah. That's Tim and John. They didn't make the old lady attack. Don't ask. And I haven't even gotten to the good part! If you choose to join the gangstars, you get a chicken! On the house! With deals like that, SOMEONE'S gonna be making it through the winter!"

Donnie: "Well, I was GONNA say "no.", but I think the chicken part really changed my mind to... No.

Fat Toni: (pulls out gun to Donnie's face) (Aggressively) "It sure is a good thing that you're so excited to join the gangstars. You start..." (Looks at watch) "now!"

Donnie: "Of course. This is just great."

Fat Toni: (Holds up handcuffs) "you're gonna need to wear these..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ (Fat Toni and Donnie are walking on the pavement of a motorway. Occasionally, there's a car passing by. Most give an aggressive comment to them.)

Fat Toni: "Sorry we had to walk. We have a small unicycle back at the HQ... I totally forgot it though."

Donnie: "A unicycle? You can ride one?"

Fat Toni: "Yeah you should see us when we use it. We look like a fuckin' circus crew piled up on top of each other."

Donnie: "That's kinda st-"

(A car passes by, and says an aggressive comment."

Driver 1: "You fuckin' dumbass!!"

Fat Toni: "You too you piece a' shit!!"

Donnie: "What the fuck was that about?"

Fat Toni: "Well you're in the motorway. In these areas, it's home to some of the most aggressive drivers in the city. A word of advice, do NOT go through the motorway in a car. VERY few people ever see the end of the motorway. Don't worry about the comments though, asshole comments are like compliments here."

Donnie: "Oh. Well that's also stupid. What's the gangstars like??"

Fat Toni: "Oh they're great once you get to know them. But if you're gonna fit in, you're gonna wanna work on your gangstar voice. Try one now!!"

(Passing car)

Driver 2: "HEY!! I'm drivin' here!!"

Fat Toni: "yeah, I bet you are!!"

Donnie: "Well what do you want me to say??"

Fat Toni: "Ummm... say that the gangstars don't suck and that they're actually super cool."

Donnie: "Ok, that sounds like a fairly simple task." in gangstar voice) "The ganghhh-"

Fat Toni: "Go on, say it."

Donnie: (in gangstar voice) "The gagstars donn- donnut sss-" (out of gangstar voice) "nope. I can't do it. It's physically impossible They just suck that much."

Fat Toni: "Ok, imma let that pass, but don't say that any more. Look. We'll work on your gangstar voice later"

(Passing car)

Driver 3: "How's ur mom!?!?"

Donnie this time: "Much better than yours!!"

(Car stops in the distance for a moment and then starts reversing. Meanwhile, Fat Toni is in shock.)

Donnie: "Wait what's he doing?? Didn't I compliment him?"

Fat Toni: "Dammit Donnie!! YOU'RE OUTTA THE MOTORWAY ZONE!!"

(Camera shows the ground with half of donnie's front foot past a black and yellow tape on the ground)

Donnie: "Well how tf was I supposed to know that!?!?"

Fat Toni: "THERE'S A NEON ADHESIVE TAPE ON THE FLOOR AND ABOUT 50 SIGNS!! HOW COULD YA MISS IT!?"

Fat Toni: "Just let me handle this!"

(Fat Toni pulls out his gun and points it to the driver who is at this point already out of his car and is approaching them. Meanwhile, Donnie starts slowly making a getaway.)

Fat Toni: "Look sir, I'm sorry about this misunderstanding. My grandson over here."

Driver 3: "Idiot. You don't look anything like him. And the age gap is WAY too small for him to be your grandson."

Fat Toni: "Oh but he is my grandson. Tell 'I’m Donnie."

Donnie: "Huh? Oh- yeah, sure am."

Driver 3: "Well tell me something, then. Why is your grandson trying to run away?"

Fat Toni: "Are you serious?? That's like the oldest trick in the fuckin' book. Did you really think that was gonna work? Go on, Donnie, tell him how you're still here!"

Donnie: (slightly distant) "YEAH!! He's right!"

Fat Toni: "See what did I tell ya!?"

(Fat Toni looks back and sees Donnie running away)

Fat Toni: "SON OF A BITCH!! Uh... is that someone calling you a fucking dumb ass??"

Driver 3: "You're the fucking dumbass if you think I'm falling for that bu-"

(Fat Toni throws the gun in driver 3's face and starts running for donnie.)

Fat Toni: "Donnie? Donnie!! Don't worry. I think the guy's knocked out!! You can stop running now!"

Donnie: "You idiot! That's not why I'm running away! I need to go back to my LIFE! I can still get my promotion and forget all this EVER happened!!

Fat Toni: "But Donnie!! The chicken! It's still up for grabs!!"

Donnie: "You're fucking crazy!! Just leave!"

Fat Toni: "Slow down, Donnie, I'm fat!!"

(Donnie continues running while looking back at Toni who's stopped to catch his breath.)

Donnie: "hah haha AAHAHAHAH IT'S OVER! I'M FREE! OOP!

(Donnie runs into a tree and falls back onto the ground and goes unconscious. The camera shows Toni picking up Donnie and holding him over his shoulder and carries him off. The screen slowly fades.

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

(Donnie wakes up in a small room on some hay, holding his head. The room looks old and floors and walls are made of wood. Donnie walks out of the room to another but this room looks normal and modern. Just regular but it's shit. In the room, Fat Toni stands alone in the room. He notices Donnie, starts walking towards him while talking.)

Fat Toni: "Hey Donnie, How did you enjoy our 17th century themed guest room?"

Donnie: "Well I feel like shit. I also smell like shit and I don't remember that before I hit my head."

Fat Toni: "Yeah... It's a pretty weird coincidence how the guest room does that to ya."

Fat Toni: "Listen Donnie, You're about to meet the other members of the gangstars. But, before you meet them and officially become a gangstar, you gadda sign this" (holds up a blank contract with only the signing area.) "so that if you bail, we can add shit in the blank and take you to court claiming shit you never agreed to! And if you don't officially join the gangstars, then we'll kill you. So... it's nothing important. You get it. Now sign it."

Donnie: "Welp. Doesn't look like I have that much choice... Uh... should i sign it as Donnie or should i use my actual name??"

Fat Toni: "Donnie will work just fine. I mean, I don't know how it not being your real name would affect how we can take you to court."

Donnie: "Oh I'm sure it doesn't. Real names are way overrated anyway"

(Donnie signs it as "Donnie")

Fat Toni: "Alright, this is the moment, as soon as you meet the rest of the gangstars, you'll officially be a gangstar. There's no going back from here."

Donnie: "Ummm I don't really need t-"

Fat Toni: (yelling upwards, cutting Donnie off) "GET YOUR ASSES DOWN HERE!!"

(Distant shuffling)

(the gangstars start walking in one by one)

Teef: (Talks in a shitty Italian accent) "What the fuck is it now?? If you've lost your cheeseburger again, we're NOT gonna help you this time"

Fat Toni: "Well actually I'll talk to you about that later buuut I called all your asses down here because I wanted to introduce the latest addition to the gangstars... Everyone meet Donnie!!"

Teef: "Oh, another one?? This is the fourth time this week. They keep dieing, dammit!"

Guiseppe: "Taglatelli!!"

Donnie: "Wait-- what's up with that guy, why did he just mention a delicious food that doesn't relate to context."

Fat Toni: "Ah, that, is guiseppe, he's got pure Italian blood, but we never really got to figuring out why exactly he doesn't talk proper Italian. His language is based mostly on Italian words that Americans know and love in their language likee... Ravioli, or pizza then there's also a sprinkle of random American words, but he CAN understand what you say. We came around to calling it retarded Italian. Oh yeah, he also makes a great ravioli."

Giuseppe: "Pizza ravioli Guiseppe (holds out hand) spaghetti"

Donnie: (shaking hand) "So is it like every word has a translation??"

Teef: "Nah it's really completely random. One ravioli could mean biscuits in one sentence but shit in another."

Fat Toni: "Yeah... Trust Teef's judgement when it comes to retarded Italian. He's the only one who understands retarded Italian."

Teef: "Welcome to the gangstars, if you need anything, just reach reach me, I probably got what you need."

Fat Toni: "Teef's our guy whenever we need something, if you need something done, just go to him!

Donnie: "yeah, sure, whatever, but why the fuck does he sound so weird??"

Fat Toni: "Well a couple years back his ass got into some deep shit and well... He knew some people who could fix it... let's just say long story short, according to the law he's related to guiseppe and is legally required to speak in a shitty Italian accent. It's a story for another time."

Guiseppe: "Spaghetti artichoke" (starts ruffling in pockets) "biscotti penne"

Teef: "Oh c'mon Guiseppe. You really gotta do that this time??"

Guiseppe: "broccoli."

Donnie: "Wait- What's happening?"

Teef: "He uh says you gotta do the ritual."

Donnie: "Oh for fucks sake what's it now?"

(Once guiseppe seems content with what he was searching for, he pulls out a live chicken and holds it in both hands and starts talking retarded Italian. What he's talking about isn't important.)

Guiseppe: "coffee ciabatta gelato..."

Donnie: "What the fuck!? Where the hell did he even fit that thing!?"

Fat Toni: "It doesn't matter, it's bad luck to question the ritual. It's a tradition that's been going through the gangstars for centuries now, your gonna have to accept the complimentary chicken."

Donnie: "What!? No! I'm not gonna accept this stupid chicken!"

(Guiseppe takes note of this and looks offended, but continues with the ritual.)

Teef: "You gotta take the complimentary chicken man. No excuses now, you're a gangstar."

Donnie: "What the hell even is this place!?"

(Guiseppe finishes speaking and goes down on one knee and holds the chicken above his head)

Donnie: "I'm not gonna take the chicken"

Teef: "You gotta take it man."

(Guiseppe starts to slowly push the chicken towards Donnie's face)

Fat Toni: "just take the damn chicken, just for a minute."

Donnie: "I can't, I'm allergic dammit!"

(Guiseppe slowly starts getting seriously pissed)

Teef: "Would you do it for a quarter?"

(Donnie shoots Teef an annoyed glance)

Teef: "He ain't buying, Toni."

Fat Toni: "Well raise!! We need him to take the chicken!"

Teef: "But I already offered a quarter!"

Fat Toni: "Whoa Teef, he's not worth our entire budget."

(Guiseppe slowly starts getting seriously pissed)

Fat Toni: "Donnie, I'm telling ya this as a warning, not advice; take the chicken."

Donnie: "Alright! I'll take the chicken!!"

(Donnie takes the chicken in a sudden movement, Guiseppe goes back to normal and walks out.)

Donnie: (throwing the chicken behind him followed by a squawk) "What a weird motherfucker..."

(Doogie walks through the door)

Teef: "Motherfucker..."

Doogie: "Reporting for business, boss!"

Fat Toni: "Ah come onn didn't I give you that calculus book!?"

Doogie: "That was a colouring book for kids."

Fat Toni: "And I did NOT think you'd finish it so damn fast"

Donnie: "Alright whose this dumbass?"

Doogie: "well my-"

Teef: "We'll do the talking, asshole."

Teef: "His name's Doogie; the smartass dumbass never really officially joined the gangstars, he just started coming here."

Fat Toni: "Physically, he's worse than useless, but he's a real smartass... Most of the time he's just annoying though. No matter what we do, we can't get rid of him.

Donnie: "Well why don't you just" (makes a slitting throat gesture)

Fat Toni: (excitedly) "Oh yeah, that reminds me, check this out"

(Fat Toni pulls a gun to Doogie's forehead between his glasses and shoots him without hesitation. When Doogie dies, he makes the most pathetic sound. Doogie's corpse slides a small distance so his head is under an object.)

Donnie: "What the hell did you just do!?You killed the weird kid!!"

Fat Toni: "What? you suggested that I kill him? Didn't he Teef?

Teef: "He did, and by laws of the gangstars, he'd be held responsible"

Donnie: "No! I was making a joke! I didn't want you to seriously kill him!!"

Doogie: (Weak and slowly) "Goooo..."

Donnie: "Wait- why did he just make a noise? What was that?"

Teef: "That. Is the reason why we could never get rid of him. I mean cmon did you really think we didn't try killing him? I mean just look at him."

(Doogie starts making a very slow rise)

Teef: "If you'll excuse me for a moment, I have something to get"

(Doogie starts talking while rising)

Doogie: "How many times do I have to tell you to not to do that guys? I know it's funny but it's annoying. You ruined my good glasses too..." (continues )

(Teef walks next to Doogie with a shovel and smashes him by the back of the head towards a wall. Doogie makes another one of his pathetic noises as he dies. His corpse slides towards a wall and and some sort of stacked tall object falls just right to cover his body from the viewpoint and from all characters in the area.)

Teef: "Welp, I think I took care of that."

Donnie: "So.... What!?"

Fat Toni: "To put it simply, it was by some really shitty fortune that the one useless pain in the ass is basically impossible to get rid of. We've never seem what happens when he's being reborn. The surrounding will just comically rearrange themselves through extremely unlikely processes to cover his corpse."

Teef: "The more you try to force seeing the regeneration process, the more destructive the events get so they'll force YOU not to see it. So uh try not to do that."

(Two semi-large guys walk into view next to Toni)

One of them: "Hey Toni. A word please"

Toni: "Oh, hey Donnie, meet these guys." (points to one of them) "This guy is Tommy de mato" (points to the other one) "and he's Danny 'D' Ruff."

Donnie: "Damn, those are some pretty stupid yet kinda catchy names."

Teef: "Yeaah... That was back when we were using the catchy name generator."

Fat Toni: "Ahh that was a good one... Anyway, they're mostly undercover or doing background work so you won't be seeing much of them."

(Fat Toni turns to Tommy and Danny and then back to the others)

Fat Toni: "Alright. I'll be back in a minute"

(Fat Toni walks a small distance with Tommy and Danny to talk.)

Fat Toni: "Alright so what's up guys?"

Danny 'D' Ruff: "We found a bank. This one's too easy."

Fat Toni: "How much they are we gonna get outta this heist??"

Tommy De Mato: "Well they don't got much money or gold or much of anything because they literally just opened but they got cookies; lots and lotsa cookies."

Fat Toni: (Stroking chin in deep thought) "How many cookies are we talking about here?"

Danny 'D' Ruff: "Get this; whenever you deposit or withdraw money from an account, they'll give out free cookies."

Fat Toni: "Holy shit that's a lot of cookies..."

Tommy De Mato: "Think about it man, this time in a few days, we'll be rolling in cookies beyond our wildest dreams and a small portion of money."

Fat Toni: "Dammit, we're doing it!!"

(Fat Toni rejoins the rest and Danny and Tommy leave.)

Donnie: "No the fuck I won't do it!"

Teef: (Offering a bloody bat to Donnie) "C'mon it's not that hard to just give him a whack to the head."

Doogie: "No, please don't. It hurts"

Donnie: "No!! It's psychotic!"

Fat Toni: "Don't worry, Teef. He's only finding it so difficult because he doesn't know him well enough."

Teef: (with a hint of hostility) "Just give it time."

Fat Toni: "Alright guys. We're gonna rob a bank."

Teef: "Sweeet. It's been way too long." (yells upwards) "HEY, GUISEPPE!! GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE. WE'RE PULLING A HEIST!!"

Guiseppe: (muffled) "Taglatelli pastrami!? Fusili?"

Teef: "uhhh... Brocoli lasagna pizza"

Guiseppe: "Fusili!"

Teef: "He's in."

Donnie: "Yeeaah I don't know... Now we're breaking the law? This felt more like some creepy fanclub thing. I never really thought of doing illegal shit..."

Fat Toni: "Yea but that's only cause you don't know the stash we're gonna pull from this heist."

Donnie: "Fine. What is it??"

Fat Toni: "Cookies; lots 'n' lotsa cookies."

Donnie: "Yup... Just as incredibly stupid as I figured."

(Guiseppe joins the group)

Guiseppe: "Concerto."

Teef: "He says he's ready."

Fat Toni: "How about everyone else?"

(Camera scrolls to the side as everyone gives their answer)

Teef: "Yeah!"

Guiseppe: "Libretto" (yes)

Doogie: (excitedly but cut off) "Ye-!"

Fat Toni: (Excitedly) "You aren't coming!"

Doogie: "Awww..."

(Camera goes on to Donnie who has an exaggeratedly and comically pissed off face and his arms crossed and is hunched)

Donnie: (with a childlike misery) "No."

Fat Toni: (excitedly) "Doesn't matter!!"

(View goes back to Fat Toni.)

Fat Toni: (In a cool voice) "Well. Now that everyone's ready..." (pauses while putting on some of the stupidest glasses on the end of his nose and pushing the glasses up the bridge of his nose) "... Let's go rob a bank."

*** END OF EPISODE 1 ***

[plunder-heaven-and-devour-god]

Tropes!

My brother and I are discussing how to put out tropey indulgent media out there while still making original content that is aware of its environment. 

We were looking at tropes and stupidities that we never get tired of in movies/books/games and why we still kind of want them in our content. For example, I can’t get enough of Enemies to Lovers and the bro loves the Jerk with a Heart of Gold Trope. How do you incorporate that into new original ways to stories that still feature a socially conscious voice?

You cannot slap on traits of that trope and expect it to work. You cannot frame the shortcomings of the trope as ideal and you cannot gloss over the ramifications of the trope. Discard what is harmful, take what you love, and run with it. 

EDUCATE YOURSELF, really though, figure out the shortcomings of this trope. Where does it fail? Where does it succeed? I know that my Enemies to Lovers falls through A LOT! How many times do you find  they’re battling each other and clearly the writers weren’t aware of the rules of said trope and they end up being ultimately flat and abusive? The Byronic Hero being the other one people get wrong A LOT. How do you tread that line with elements that can easily run into abusive and violent (or fucking stupid for that matter)? Same for the Jerk with a Heart of Gold  trope, which done properly is great. How many of us have fallen prey to any character who cracks wise and makes bad decisions but ultimately loves and cares? If done badly it treads into dismissive/belittling/abusive 

To give examples of two shortcomings and two successes with these tropes I’ll offer up:

Byronic Hero:

Good: Mr Rochester 

Bad: Literally any bad YA love interest

“Byronic heroes are charismatic characters with strong passions and ideals, but who are nonetheless deeply flawed individuals who may act in ways which are socially reprehensible because he's definitely contrary to his mainstream society. A Byronic hero is on his own side and has his own set of beliefs which he will not bow nor change for anyone. A Byronic hero is a character whose internal conflicts are heavily romanticized and who himself ponders and wrestles with his struggles and beliefs. Some are portrayed with a suggestion of dark crimes or tragedies in their past.” THE LITERAL BYRONIC HERO TROPE PAGE

I feel like that biblical paragraph sums up the Byronic Hero. Where lets say Rochester and Frankenstein or their modern equivalents never have their behaviour or actions framed as good, we still find ourselves engaging with them. It’s indulgent in its admission. It has to be your bag, and it’s that you have to be here for. You have to like engaging with a character that has done bad things but still has enough emotional relatability that instills fascination. 

What is not fascinating/enjoying/attractive is watching bad YA that frames these bad qualities as ideal or go as far as to fetishize them. For instance, the possessive boyfriend angle ‘cause it’s hot is one of my PET PEEVES. YOU WILL ALWAYS GET MORE TRACTION WITH FRAMING THEM AS BAD THAN HAVING THEM DO CREEPY SHIT AND BANKING ON US EMOTIONALLY ENGAGING WITH THEM POSITIVELY. (Looking at you Tiger’s Curse)

You have to be aware where the trope works and where it doesn’t. The authors of bad YA have the intent to make them conflicted/tragic/flawed but don’t really want to examine what made those byronic heroes enjoyable. Instead they take surface attributes and slap them on. Byronic Hero is hiding a wife in the attic (BAD and framed as such)! Bad YA Love Interest is demeaning and patronizing to flirt (BAD and framed as good!) Challenges God and Nature and is NOW A FATHER (Not So Great Frankenstein and not framed as such) . Bad YA Love Interest is physically possessive because that is what this demographic finds sexy (BAd and framed as Good)

Here is an alternative! YA Love interest does bad shit and its not framed as anything good! The protag can react with more autonomy than :Oh that’s hot and my reader’s will think so too! The protag can be dismissive, angry, or shitty right back! No one is absolved! But you can still engage with them on a more nuanced level. You can suddenly make connections with the Byronic Hero because you understand their fear or their conflict, rather have it be a lazy flashback to explain why your bad YA Love Interest is being shitty. 

How to be indulgent: Make your awful characters awful and frame them as such! IF you’re able to create a subtle character that warrants the trope then clearly they have what it takes to be engaging! 

The Jerk with a Heart of Gold trope:

Good: Iron Man (I know people with debate this but we like him in this house so go with it) 

Bad: Any sitcom husband ever

“A person you would expect to be a big Jerkass has some redeeming qualities behind their tough demeanor. Occasionally, they'll try to make it a Hidden Heart of Gold.” - The Jerk with a Heart of Gold TV Tropes Page. 

Awareness is a big factor in incorporating this trope into new ideas and new content because I don’t think this one is ever going away. It obviously manifests in different capacities and genres. But I chose the above examples because they’re familiar, and can be played for drama and laughs. 

Tony Stark is a good iteration Jerk with a Heart of Gold because his actions aren’t framed as harmless or irrelevant. He is a hot mess, he says it himself. He makes bad decision after bad decision and endangers himself and others in the process. Why does he still have a heart of gold? He still gets the “save the cat moment” and he is given time to show his conflict and reasoning as relatable.  He creates Ultron, sides with the UN in Civil War (I still see a lot of his motivation as valid which to each their own when it comes to that movie). He does so out of guilt and the desperate need to hold himself accountable. Being the only person on the avengers who fights by ways of inventions he has understood the consequences of bringing this technology in the world and stepping up an arms race. And yet he continues to fight. To an audience we see his shortcomings as an individual. And yet we feel for him. He is framed with a more subtle dialogue, he is flawed, he tries to be heroic, but he has no clue what he’s doing, and continues anyways.        

I bring Sitcom Husband up because so often show writers will create Sitcom Husband with harmful and toxic male coded traits in mind. They are:

Callous, lazy, clueless, domineering, stupid, always wrong, uglier than their partner, enforce toxic gendered norms, homophobic, transphobic, and/or racist? 

You are not framing your Sitcom Husband’s actions as shitty and bad and worthy of changing. They are being framed as commonplace, expected, and normal. These are not just “jerk” things to do, they are emblematic of larger social issues that many sitcom writers shouldn’t be allowed to tackle. There is the opportunity to have characters that evolve and change but they aren’t allowed because they represent you, the male viewer, and you are shitty and unable of changing. And to all the other genders out there: this is your lot and life, this is how people will treat you. 

Flawed Superhero sides with the UN (Not Ideal but Framed with Good intentions). Sitcom Husband cant remember anything relevant about children’s lives (NOT GREAT but framed as commonplace instead emblematic of a larger issue).

To give an example of Sitcom dads who don’t hit this bad note: Bob from Bob’s Burgers is great, he’s tired of his family’s Shenanigans, but loves them and would do anything for them. An example of Jerk with a Heart of Gold that doesn’t have his shitty actions framed as okay but is still likeable (sounds a bit Byronic Heroish but he’s not trust me). 

The Lens:

Gender

The Byronic Hero and the Jerkass with a Heart of Gold are very gender laden tropes as well. The moment you apply these tropes to people who are not cis men, they transform in meaning, and not to mention, there are BARELY ANY OF THEM. Just trying to find villains who are just cis women with proper writing is a task in 2018. These terms get applied to men and their definitions are validated by their interaction with heroines or other men. 

The failed Byronic Hero is aimed at “female audiences”. It’s a tangled snare of a male content creators guessing at what “women” want and women who have fetishized and internalized the failures of this trope. All come to the conclusion that “chicks dig bad boys”. Not to be that person, but it also vastly misunderstands the appeal that Byronic Heroes have for all genders. It is extremely difficult to create new content that pays homage to this trope without hitting the pitfalls of most media. 

The failed Jerk with a Heart of Goal is aimed at a gender dichotomous audience. It’s a snub of content creators of what they think, you, man or woman, are. The faults are framed as inevitable manifestations of gender and yet still excusable because these jerk related tendencies are just part of being man or a woman, and not a vast social system that favours few and marginalizes many. This extends to race and sexuality as well. Your jerkishness is thanks to your identity, and therefore, unchangeable. 

Race

From a race perspective? They’re all white. We are at a point in Western Media, at the very least, where diversity is becoming an increasing demand. But with media content creators still being part of an out of touch racial group, it’s difficult to see any character, let alone anyone with the discussed tropes represented. We are at the point where your diversity, if a larger role, is going to be portrayed as perfect. This is a major issue I take with creating poc, and woc characters, not to mention characters of different gender and sexual identities. There aren’t enough diverse content creators to get us past this block of creators making them perfect because they don’t know how to make a human character who is also of color. 

This makes the Jerkass with a Heart of Gold impossible to tackle. We are starting to see more fleshed out characters nowadays. It is still a fairly recent sensation to HAVE A SELECTION to chose from.

I would love it if Byronic Heroes and Jerks With A Heart of Gold came in color. We are meant to watch white guys do bad shit and engage with the conflict of their character. And as a mixed race women it is definitely a weird place to sit when one does enjoy tropes like that. IT’s even more unsettling when we can’t extend that empathetic engagement  to men of color, or woc, or god forbid, trans people. (let everyone have a byronic hero honestly)

And in a world of hate crimes and deplorable race relations, what is the relevancy of this trope? What is the relevancy of this trope in a visual mass media already saturated with badly written YA Love Interest or Not So Deep Byronic Heroes?

I’m not an expert, but as a  consumer of books/tv/movies/etc I don’t think fiction is the root of all mankind’s evil and I don’t think fading this trope out of visual mass media is going to get rid of it. I, personally, think we need more content creators of color, of different gender identities, and different sexualities reinterpreting Jerk Ass with a Heart of Gold and the Byronic Hero.

Gender Binary and Sexuality

I chose these two tropes because they’re traditionally VERY gender related. And I mention this to clarify that the market is aimed at a gender binary: straight girl or straight boy. Gays, Bis, Non Binary, Gender fluid, or trans folk, for example, are left out of the equation of: what do they want to see in media?

I do know that for as long as evil has existed there has always been a very clear coding as to what the villain’s sexuality might be. It’s clearly deplorable how literally the only representation a huge marginalized community get will be in the form of a morally or sexually debauched villain. Which is why I will never forgive LeFou being made gay (you couldn’t have picked any other character from your 600000 other features Disney?). 

Also as a Cis woman, I don’t feel like I can do an accurate run down of how indulgent tropes fail or succeed with a LGBT lens. I have a base idea of WHAT NOT TO DO but I would rather see other people talk about it! 

 So PLEASE! Add to this discussion! I would love to hear about which tropes you love but where media fails you and in what capacity! Or where they’ve gone right! 

But as someone who loves their tropey enemies-to-lovers and villains I will keep returning to them in my media consumption and I be subject to paying them homage when the time is appropriate! 

That being said! I had no clue this would get so long.

[benjaminreevesart]

WHY DOES FORTUNA DISAPPOINT ME SO?

In November of 2018 DE released its latest OpenWorldTM Fortuna, an update I had been waiting for with bated breath from the edge of my seat since its announcement last year. At the time of launch I was logging in every day just for the chance to be one of the first to experience it.

Now over a month later, I sit here struggling to convince myself to go back. Yes, even after the heist update. A sentiment seemingly shared among many others in the community. So as with all things in life we must ask ourselves… why?

-Aesthetic: they decided to drop this thing in November, so I guess instead of going outside to play in the snow users could stay inside log on to warframe and play… in the snow. Yay.

I find myself missing the familiar exotica of not-africa and its kind-of-alive-but-not-really-except-its-made of-flesh-and-you-can-eat-it-wtf-DE? tower. (that bothers me). Just standing in these updates’ respective hub-areas and listening to the ambiance of the environment speaks volumes. The plains has haggling traders, merchants announcing their wares, wind rustling through the many canopies and tent flaps of hand hade fabric, it feels alive where fortuna feels like a cold mechanical day job. If you say that’s intentional… well, I hardly think boredom is anything to aspire to.

I get that they’re going for a sci-fi-punk feel, but it just comes off as monotonous, hopeless, and impersonal.

-Personal connection: Sure Saya’s Vigil was stupid romantic melodrama, sure onko’s decision is lame, sure it was kinda dumb to give newby players a warframe blueprint they couldn’t build until after reaching the mid-game, but ya know what? It worked.

I know who saya and konzu are, i have been with them on their story, every time I see konzu standing there with his girl I know that is because of me. My journey, my struggle, my effort brought these people together. Its simple its small, its human.

I mean who the hell is eudico anyway, why does she fight? Why caste shade on biz’s origins, and are we just going to gloss over an innocent person getting their head chopped off and their organs harvested in the open fucking street???????? There are constant references to people being “brain-shelved” which I can only assume means they get their brain put in a jar and thrown in someone’s freezer, and we get ZERO resolution for that! I mean sure there are fragments to find and scan, but they don’t really tell us anything that couldn’t already have been inferred. With exception to the relationship between biz and little-duck, not that it seems to play into any of their interactions at all. The business does have his conservation thing, which is a part of his character, an old war veteran understand the fragility of life and working to preserve it through peaceful means. But the spirit of it is robbed when they give the same shtick to the random bird guy from cetus. Why? while I could buy Nef Anyo hunting whole species to extinction for profit, nothing about the setting of the plains suggests the animals are in any kind of danger from the grineer. Its just pointless. I mean you could’ve just used the business for both, maybe he’s building a zoo for critters from all over the system, I wouldn’t have questioned it. Heck, it could even have been a nice little unlock to see the place once you catch one of every animal.

Weirdly enough the one character I think is kind of done right here is ticker. Yeah, the kiosk guy above biz’s shop whose only purpose is to sell you debt bonds so you can increase your standing. Maybe its just a dumb stereotype but I like tickers flair for the theatrical, I find it charming. Plus, his first fragment is so terribly depressingly human it just makes me want to give the poor dude a hug.

But at least there’s plenty of snow in the sandbox… er…

-The sandbox is full: I may not be in the console market these days but there have been a lot of sandbox games as of late, like… ALOT! Its basically the only game Ubisoft makes anymore. A wide-open area filled to burst with pointless shallow time wasting minigames of no real importance. OpenWorldTM. The announcement said Orb Vallis would be twice the size of Eidolon and good god does it feel like it! The very construction of the map itself restricts you from moving around it. With its massive board blocking Tim Burton mountains, and how those same mountains prevent you from utilizing the full freedom of the hoverboard, a new vehicle introduced with the update. Sure, there’s a new pet and new guns, but we already had fishing, we had mining, we had a new faction of peaceful traders and merchants to interact with. Outside of new shooty-tubes and endo dumps I don’t really see what’s so special here, especially when the terrain itself renders the races more chore than a challenge without delivering on any significant or memorable locations. Which is weird since there are interesting set pieces in the Vallis that are just never used. Of all the bounties I did getting to “old mate” rank the only location used was a data vault spy mission. You know, the building with the profit taker on it, yeah, you know the one the worst part of the map. Its built like a maze, is too easy to get lost in, has too many BIG rooms going into tiny vents you need an eagle eye to find, and its just an unenjoyable mess. This is especially infuriating as there are numerous more interesting locals around the map, they could use for practically any of the bounties. But no, its never the big Nef Anyo statue we’re fighting under it’s that damn farm thing again. Its never that cool cavernous road through the mountains, its that same damn bridge right in front of Fortuna. Its never a big base filled with enemies and tons of vertical platforms, its always that one generic outpost just down the road.

-Environmental Story: what’s even worse for the environment is its total lack of connection to the rest of the universe. The Plains weren’t just some vaguely African safari area, it was a battlefield. Haunted with the remains of shattered sentient contained within a massive forcefield that also happened to protect it from the deadly radiation and poisons of the outside world. The strange rocks which dot the landscape are the remains of alien spacecraft and its soils are stuffed with all manner of deadly armaments and tools. So, it makes perfect sense that the grineer or other factions would covet this area for its agricultural and military resources. The vallis just looks like a giant sink of effort and resources that could be put to more productive use elsewhere, doubly so considering it’s the corpus funding the whole operation. Which is even more sad given that environmental stories are the one story telling mechanic exclusive to video games. There is no other medium which allows a reader or a viewer to experience its world at their own pace to seek information in their own ways. Making this literary opportunity not only a waste of warframes universe but of the medium itself.

This is naturally only compounded upon with how the resources of the vallis seem even more restricted to fortuna than the plains did to cetus. The toroids are the worst offence in this, but I think I’ll save my thoughts on this growing problem in warframe for when I get around to covering the jovian concord as the issue of resource gating is more blatant there.

-The warframes: so garuda and baruuk, while I find it strange that DE released two frames around the same time that where functionally immortal, I just find their acquisition boring. Garuda’s main blueprint is just handed to you after finishing the introduction mission, and baruuk is straight up just another item you buy. The only difference between buying baruuk for real money and buying him for in game currency is time, and a lot of it given how rare the resource to get him is. Now I know garas main was given at the end of sayas vigil too but there it was built up as an ancient relic of mystical origin. A man left his wife and home to keep this powerful artifact out of enemy hands, sacrificing his whole life and happiness to keep them safe. You weren’t building just another tank with tits; you were reviving a warrior of legend who slew giants and protected the innocent. Revenant as well, had a deific entity granting visions to a child guiding you to the grave of an ancient warrior who fought and eventually fell to the control of his hated enemy. This might sound like a re-tred of inaros for most of you but at least gara and revenent look their parts, rather than just a mish mash of infested gunk slapped onto a skeleton. Point is worldbuilding matters, especially for the warframes. Being the name-sake of the game they deserve some kind of gravitas behind them. Treating a new warframe like another commodity to be bought off a shelf or passed out like a gold star from kindergarden is just… condescending. At least hyldryn got a boss fight out of her release, which is more of a backhanded compliment when you realize almost every other warframe gets a boss fight by default. Soooo… yeah.

 Conclusion:

Maybe I’m jaded, just sick of snow, or maybe I’m projecting my exhaustion with the OpenWorldTM genre, I don’t know. There are a lot of reasons I find fortuna unfulfilling, but ultimately, I think its this; fortuna and the vallis were supposed to be an extension to the warframe universe, a playground to explore new perspectives and build on its mythos. It didn’t do that. We went from space travelling assassins trying to fight a war on many fronts to make the galaxy a better place, to a plucky resistance force against an evil conglomerate. It just doesn’t fit with the world we’ve already seen. everything “new” that was introduced here may be new to warframe but has been done much better within any title from the cyberpunk genre.

Its really a shame too as just looking a around can be breathtaking at times, some caves and structures are genuinely beautiful to look at. A lot of work was clearly put into this update, just not in the right places. Gameplay has a few upgrades, the environments are pretty if frustrating to traverse, but the story just comes up short. Sure, we can tolerate illogical grinds and only semi-complete mythologies for our new areas, but without a good story to keep us coming back, to tie everything together, its just disappointing.

-END OF LINE.

[jackblankhsh]

Truth Fact -- The Fool’s Ordeal -- “Hold your hand out naughty boy...”

This is based on a true story, in so far as anything can be called true considering that every story is a recollection warped, even ever so slightly, by perspective; and facts are not as objective as one may like to think since things like mood can't be measured by scientific instruments -- a set of calipers to calculate the dimensions of one's personal universe; suffice it to say this is an approximation of real events given the availability of particular details which may, or may not offer the fullest panorama possible, however, they do afford an opportunity for a slice of life, though perhaps roman à clef is more accurate given that some bits of fiction may have been overlain given the secondhand nature of certain anecdotes vital to the illumination of back story fleshing out some of the narrative's players, those being the parties involved with events described hereafter in media res.  

 "I took that jolly cunt by the ear, and slapped him so hard I hurt my own hand. Pass the greasepaint would you kindly... thank you darling," applying clown makeup he went on, "But fuck-all if I can remember why I did it.  There's only bits of the blackout I recollect with certainty. Like you fucking that donkey April Mars."

 "I did not."

 "You did too, Jimmy, you did too."

 "Nope, nope. She sucked my cock a piece, but no stuffing I swear."

 Shrugging, Mark used a brush to draw a black diamond on one cheek, "I've no reason to doubt, so I won't, but you know the saying 'in for a penny' and such?"

 Jimmy adjusted his oversized bowtie, "Yeah?"

 "Course you do, it was rhetorical ya pigfucker.  The point being any bit of a sexual doings with a cow is the same. Fuck an ugly duckling in the mouth, why not get some puss as well, eh?"

 Jimmy nodded, "I see your point, though at the risk of ridicule, I have to say, she's not ugly."

 "She's no cover model."

 "Neither is Daphne Greene, and you went for her more than once."

 Slamming down his lipstick, Mark turned to face him, half an exaggerated smile in place, "Are you comparing that dugong April Mars to the fine swan that is Daphne Marilyn Greene?"

 Jimmy stiffened, "I am."

 Shaking his head, and returning to finish the grin, "Well, I can't argue with an irrational man, but if you find the donkey desirable have at it mate."

 A soft knock at the door.  Mark slipped a bottle of whiskey out of sight in the bathtub.  Jimmy opened the door.  Mrs. Pembrook poked her head inside.

 All warm smiles she asked, "Are you gentlemen almost ready?  Folks are getting anxious."

 Mark gestured at his face, "As you can see, it'll be another minute, but no more than two."

 Mrs. Pembrook nodded, "Excellent.  You look wonderful James."

 "Thank you Mrs."

 The door closed. Jimmy aimed a middle finger at it, the gesture hyperbolized by the enormous puffy gloves he wore.  He glanced at himself in the mirror.  Even while he frowned the painted grin wouldn't stop beaming.

 He sighed, "This better be worth it."

 Mark slapped him, friendly backhand across the shoulder, "Course it will.  I've been on both sides of the line here.  You put on the clown gear, go out, and give the people a show.  It's simple. Better than prison, lemme tell ya."

 "I don't want to get hurt too bad."

 Never seeing a need for sugar coating, "A few cuts maybe, some bruises that'll last a week, but no one's ever broken a bone."

 Jimmy grabbed the whiskey.  He took a long pull from the bottle.  Chugging at least two shots he shivered.

 A thin glaze spread across his eyes, "Law of the land, I suppose."

 "No supposing, Jimmy.  And we must respect the law, to a certain extent, otherwise we're nothing but animals."

 This may not be the most opportune moment to intrude on the narrative, however, returning to the matter of truth, mainly as it applies to point of view, I used to know a man who operated under the absolute certainty that he occasionally excreted diminutive, Lilliputian sized people from his rectum, or to put it simpler, he thought he shit out people; but insisted to such an impassioned extent that these events were not delusions, hallucinations, or any of the myriad explanations offered by mental health professionals as well as the average person -- whatever average means psychologically speaking -- that at the very least one is forced to accept that for this man a reality existed wherein he defecated fecal homunculi.  We now return to the story, again, in media res.

 The Judge slammed the gavel down.  Silence descended on the orchard.  Mark brushed a bit of ash off his shoulder, grey snow from the surrounding bonfires. Jimmy tried not to the fidget, but the stern expression on the Judge's mask, the glowering made him nervous.  He wondered if he knew the person behind the porcelain.

 The black robe and white full-bottom wig turned the current Judge -- elected in secret by the town mothers -- into a somber specter.  As a child Jimmy used to have nightmares about Judges coming to get him, beating him in his bed with their gavels.  He never thought he'd stand before one in real life.  He wondered if the dreams would return.  

 The Judge spoke, voice distorted through a mechanism in the mask, "You have been found guilty, and for your crimes, you have been sentenced to the Fool's Ordeal."

 Mark glanced at the clock tower, visible even this far from town.  If things picked up a tick he might just make last bells at the pub.

 "Do you have anything to say?"

 Jimmy looked down at his feet.  Shuffling his floppy shoes, he shook his head.  Mark considered saying nothing, but then:

 "I don't think we did anything wrong, but we got caught, and law is the law.  So let's have at it."

 "Very well," gavel raised, "Let the sentencing be carried out."

 Bang! went the gavel.

 The Queen kissed the King, the porcelain lips of their respective masks clinking.  They stood, and gestured at the vacant throne of roses.  

 Mark sighed, "Let's get it done."

 "After you," Jimmy said.

 The two clowns sat on the wide throne.  Mark leaned on an armrest.  Thorns speared him, but he ignored them.  Now was not the time to look like he could feel pain.  The whiskey helped in that charade.  He glanced at Jimmy.  Poor sod sweating profusely to the point his makeup already ran, white droplets staining the red bowtie.  

 Figuring the ritual would distract the kid, Mark said, "Show time!  I went to a brothel the other day.  They had a sign up, 'Beat it.  We're closed.'"

 The Queen pantomimed laughing.  The King shook his head in disgust.

 Mark went on, "Feeling a pint might ease my sorrows, I go to the pub.  A barmaid, seeing I'm glum, says, 'I got something ought to distract ya.  You know a bit of archeology, right?'  I sez, 'Yeah.'  She reaches up her skirt, pulls out a used tampon, and splats it on my table, 'Tell me what period that's from.'"

 Jimmy started to get the feeling Mark enjoyed this.  Maybe it was just bravado.  He couldn't be sure, but he knew what worried him:  this didn't matter to Mark.  

 Mark carried on for a few more minutes until the King and Queen shook their heads in unified disgust.  Crossing their arms they stepped away from the throne.  The Queen made a slit-throat gesture.  The King nodded in agreement.  

 The Wolves emerged from the darkness.  Dressed in everyday clothes, but wearing wolf masks, townsfolk marched towards the throne of roses.  Some rubbed their hands in anticipation.

 Mark got up. Jimmy hesitated.

 Knowing better, "Get up Jimmy.  They'll just come get you."

 Jimmy shook his head, "I don't care.  Why make it easier?"

 "Show you're taking responsibility."  Mark walked into the throng.  The Wolves punched and kicked as he passed.  Some gave him more than one blow.  He walked until the beatings caused him to fall.  

 Reluctantly, Jimmy got to his feet.  He entered the Ordeal.

 I have one more point to make about truth, mainly the beauteous possibilities inherent in its malleability, perspective acting like a prism separating a single truth into a rainbow of truths, but I can tell by the look on your face, dear Reader, that perhaps it's best to get back to the action in media res.  

 He heard the ocean, a gentle shooshing of waves rolling lazily onto shore.  Then the darkness abruptly filled with a barrage of colors and shapes.  They seemed familiar, but his brain wouldn't comprehend any of it -- Jimmy winced -- yet something about the view seemed off.  It took a moment to realize one eye remained shut, swollen closed.  Though it hurt to move he sat up.  

 An explosive cheer resounded throughout the room.  

 Mark shouted, "He's awake!"

 Quinton started to sing, and the pub crowd soon joined in:

 "And when he landed back, his wife said, 'Tell me Jack, While you've been in Paree have you always thought of me?' 'Always darling,' murmured he, 'For your love I've been pining night and day.' And then the gramophone began to play.

 "Hold your hand out naughty boy. Hold your hand out naughty boy."

 A few patrons playfully slapping the backs of theirs hands, while they sang:

"Last night in the pale moonlight I saw you, I saw you With a nice girl in the Park..."

 Mark thrust a pint into Jimmy's hand, "See now, that wasn't so bad?"

 "I'll let you know once I've seen my face."