#Basically I'm done with this disgusting site
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DONE
Note: Due to the rampant uprising of plagiarism on this site and others I am stating once and once only that this is my ORIGINAL work. If I find out that you have stolen/taken any part of my work I will handle you and the situation the way I see fit.
None of the pics or gifs I use belong to me unless stated otherwise. Full credit goes to the originators of said gifs and pics.
A/N: Be gentle with me yall lol. I'm rusty and this is my first story back after basically rebranding my blog. Hope yall enjoy.
Trigger Warnings: Mentions of miscarriage
Length: 1,133 words
Genre: Angst
Jaela was beyond done. This man had embarrassed her for the last time. She stared at herself in the mirror and couldn't help but be disappointed in herself for how her life turned out. How did she get here? When did she become this woman? After leaving her bathroom she walked out into her living room where 6 large boxes sat, full of her ex's things. Yahya Abdul Manteen II. The man who's responsible for the cold heart that now sat inside of Jaela's body. When she went to see him on set she heard him fucking another woman in his trailer. She was there to surprise him, only for her to be the one getting surprised. She left quietly, making sure none of the other cast and crew or his team saw her. She vowed that this was the last time she'd stand by while he cheats. She was over his constant infidelity and she hated that after each time he'd given himself to another woman, she'd take him back after his broken promises to do better. So she did what she had to do. She ghosted him. It'd been almost 2 weeks of him calling and texting non-stop. He even had his friends and his mother calling her. The only person she communicated with was his mother. She was the one who introduced them and she was disappointed in her son but had hope he and Jaela would work it out..
“So he’s convinced that you’re cheating on him and that’s why you’re not talking to him. Asked me to call and spy on you.” His mom spoke. She chuckled a bit remembering how desperate Yahya sounded.
“Well that’s rich coming from him. He fucks anything with legs and he’s worried that I’m sleeping with other people?” Jaela replied. She knows she's supposed to respect her elders but she was thrown off by his audacity.
“What are you going to do? Don’t you think he deserves to know that you no longer want to be with him?” She asks.
“Are you fucking kidding me? I know that's your son and I'm sorry for all the cussing. But you need to ask his trifling ass did I deserve to know he wanted to fuck other women before he decided to cheat! I would have rather he dumped me first but noooooo he wants to have his cake and eat it too. I’M FUCKING DONE!!!!” Jaela yelled. She hung up on her then resumed her packing.
She managed to fill a couple more boxes and put them in the living room with the others. She popped open a bottle of Stella Rosa Black and got the largest glass she could find. She filled it a bit over half way and started chugging her wine like it was water. Before she could finish off her glass, she heard a knock at the door. When she peeked through the peephole, she was disgusted. She opened the door without a word and let Yahya walk in.
“Well hello to you too. Mean ass. And here I am thinking you're sick or some shit.” He said.
“Boy, why are you here? I know you’re dumb, but you’re not that dumb.” Jaela snarked. She hated how smug he looked and wanted to wipe that shit right off of his face.
“Awww baby don’t be like that. I entertained this bratty shit for 2 weeks. It’s time for me to come back home.” Yayha teased.
“Home? And what bills do you pay my nigga? Cuz last time I fucking checked, I pay all the bills in this bitch. You need to leave. I told your ass I was done and meant it. So get all of this shit outta my house or I’m donating it to the Good Will.” Jaela yelled. He looked at her like she lost her damn mind. Ain’t no way this bitch just talked to him like that, he thought. He walked up on her and yoked her up, applying pressure to her upper arm.
“See, I know you don’t think I was just gonna let your ass walk away like that. Did you really think you were gonna dump me in a text and I wouldn’t pop up on your ass? What? You mad cuz I fuck other women from time to time? So the fuck what. You knew what you were getting into when you got with me. I love you and I come home to YOU! Yet you trying to leave ME?! Bitch I should have left YOU, especially after you killed our baby. But no, I stayed with you. Just like you stayed with me after all those other times.You wanna break up, fine. But just remember, no one will love you like I do.” Yahya seethed. Jaela promised she was done shedding tears over this man but at the mention of the son they lost, her eyes watered. She remembered that day. The ride to the hospital, hearing the news. She even remembered him blaming her for the loss and she got angry.
“FUCK YOU! I lost our child because of YOU! You stressed me out with your bullshit and our son paid the fucking price. And I’m glad no one will love me the way you did because that shit isn’t love! I fucking HATE you and I wish I never met you. You’ve fucked me up so bad in the head. For 3 years I let you ruin me and break me down. But no more. NO FUCKING MORE!” Jaela fumed. She’d had it with him. The fucking audacity of this piece of shit. He had never seen her this angry and he didn’t know what to do.
“Baby I-”
“Get the fuck out!” She sighed after calming herself down. She was exasperated and beyond exhausted. All she wanted to do was get her living room cleared out and try to enjoy the rest of her night.
“You not giving my shit away, Jaela.” He warned. She looked at him and laughed. He was taken aback but let it go.
“All of that and you’re worried about all this materialistic ass shit? Oh baby don’t worry, I’ll make sure your precious items make it back to you safely. Just leave.” She said, as she watched him walk out the door, she collapsed on the nearest sofa and let out a long shaky breath. In a way she felt relieved. On the other hand she felt heartbroken at the deterioration of her relationship. Yahya was the man she called her forever and he ruined that. She also held herself accountable for all the bare minimum things she accepted out of her fear of loneliness.
But tomorrow is a new day and it’s time for her to begin her healing.
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An Important Message for the Pinky and The Brain Fandom.
Hello everyone! I know I haven’t been the most active in recent weeks, but I just want to discuss something with all of you. I’ve noticed that there has been a lot more toxicity and frustration in the fandom as of late. There has been some controversy surrounding certain pieces of inappropriate art being shared where minors can view them. I don’t think that this is a very good idea and I believe this should be stopped immediately. I'm aware that some artists tag their posts correctly, so this is not to put hate on them. I follow a few artists that post this kind of stuff, but I know that they understand what to post and what limits they have. To put my point-of-view out there, I’m writing something where I address recent events and what should be done about them. This is my attempt to keep this fandom alive and to make sure that it remains a heathy place for everyone to explore.
Posting/Re-blogging NSFW Art: Every fandom has NSFW art/fanfiction. It's basically a given to any community. However, there should be some limits to who and what can be seen/what can be posted to everyone. Posting this kind of stuff is fun, as long as you have made is EXPLICITLY clear that this is not intended for a younger audience. Some people as of recently have been posting this art to the public on sites like our very own Tumblr and Twitter. Posting and/or re-blogging this stuff where minors can view it is disgusting and very disrespectful. There are a lot of younger people in the PaTB fandom who adore and love these characters and this show so much. Showing them these things can have emotional and mental consequences of massive proportions. I get it, some people make mistakes. Some others I follow might accidently support this kind of behavior because they don't realize that minors are seeing this. But if this becomes a regular occurrence, then it needs to stop. I've seen gross things in other fandoms I'm involved in (The Owl House, Animaniacs), so I'd hate to see this become one of those. And if you're mad at the fandom, don't be mad at the entire fandom, get mad with the people who promote this kind of intolerable behavior. If you're posting NSFW art, be careful to who can see it and if you want to post it at all. Re-bloggers, BE CAREFUL! Make sure you don't allow minors to view your re-blog or just don't re-blog it. Also, the art you make might not be interpreted as inappropriate by you, but it can be interpreted that way by others. Don't get mad with those people for posting the art or for those who get uncomfortable with what was posted. Don't assume that what they posted was out of malice, they might've not seen it that way. Those who get uncomfortable by this, I get it. People have their limits. Others need to respect that.
Tagging NSFW Art: When tagging NSFW art, make sure you imply everything that's featured in your art in the tags and make sure that minors cannot see this. On Tumblr, mark your post as mature so that people under the age of 18 can't see it. Put tags down to allow people to decide if they want to view the art. If you don't mark if your art is mature, then you'll be on the receiving end of tons of hate from fans. Being respectful of others and what they like/dislike is one of the keys to a strong fandom of people. Putting what occurs in your art (similar to tagging things in fanfiction on AO3) allows people to make a decision on viewing something. Don't post something without using appropriate tags, it will only cause problems. I've seen a wide variety of people posting NSFW art without using the right tags, that could get you blocked, reported, or even banned. So, I implore every artist on this site, mark your art posts as mature if they are mature and if they have sexual themes, violence, or contain alcohol/drug abuse. Failure to do so will often spell despair and doom for your reputation in the fandom.
Keeping the Fandom Safe (especially the minors): The previous two things mentioned are only a few ways to help keep the PaTB and other fandoms safe for the younger crowd. A few other things that you can do include communication and having respect. Make sure to mark your posts as mature and to also express to your audience that this post was not intended for minors. Re-blogging these posts will also put others at risk for viewing NSFW content. So, please tag all sexual or mature posts with the appropriate tags and make sure to communicate with those who follow you about the nature of your post. Respecting others is also important. Don't get mad at people who do post NSFW art but have all the correct tags. Those people have their limits too and they know that minors won't be allowed to see it. Calling others out for just being themselves is wrong, especially when they are doing all they can to make sure minors don't view what they make. However, posting/re-blogging this art without proper markings and tags is horrible and must be stopped. Minors can view this stuff and can become confused/concerned/mentally scarred. Condoning this kind of behavior is unacceptable and tragic. Also, don't target certain people who post this art but make sure that it's tagged correctly. These people are emotionally affected by these words and it can really hurt their appreciation. I personally know someone who's been going through some serious crap as of recently. I want to tell this person that they don't deserve this. They did nothing wrong and if others can't see that, than it's their fault. I'm hoping that they stay within the fandom because I want to see them shine. I hope that they understand that a ton of people in the fandom truly support them. Let's all work together to keep the Pinky and The Brain fandom a safe and welcoming place for everyone. I get that it's not as popular as it once was, but let's please not let it end up like other fandoms out there.
What to do if You See This Happening: If you see someone posting or re-blogging NSFW art without the correct marks/tags, please don't stay silent about it. Report it immediately to the site, maybe something can be done about it. You can also acknowledge what occurred (DO NOT USE NAMES OR CALL SPECIFIC PEOPLE OUT! It will make everything a million times worse!) and try your best to stop it. If the issue persists, do everything in your power to cease what happened. These harmful actions can cause people to leave fandoms, which is awful. These ideas might not work for every situation, but it can help.
Conclusion: I'm absolutely devastated about what I'm seeing. I encourage others to not mimic the behaviors of these people who are doing horrible things. I also encourage others to hold onto the fandom. It may be difficult, but avoiding these people could lead to a great experience. There are many talented and amazing individuals that aren't toxic and actually respect and admire the fans of the show. Trust me, the PaTB fandom isn't entirely made up of bad people. I've interacted with many others who are awesome. If you can't tolerate this behavior and want to leave, I'm not stopping you. But if you want to stay, please tag any NSFW post with the right tags, respect other people and their limits, and don't frustrate others in the community who are trying their best to leave a positive impact. I don't want this fandom to die a slow and painful death. I want to make it last. So, to any person who is posting these works without the right tags, please stop. Minors will view this and won't understand what is happening. It will lead to emotional and mental scars and that's not something that should happen. Don't harass others who tag their art appropriately. I hope that this will help to relieve some of the pain of recent events. I'm not trying to call anyone out or spread ill will, but I'm hoping that these individuals will understand how their harmful actions are affecting others. I'm not leaving the fandom just yet. I'll be trying my best to promote a friendly and fun community with my regular posts. I´ll leave everyone with these final words: if you are promoting these to minors, whether it be accidentally or intentionally, I'm encouraging you to please cease this behavior immediately. You are harming people in various ways and are leading to the harassment of innocent fans. I'm hoping we can resolve these issues so we can continue to support a great show that we all love. I'm glad some people are taking responsibility for their previous actions, and I can only hope that this is only a short-lived thing. Let's re-shape the PaTB fandom to be better and stronger than ever.
Signed your friend,
patb-pics
#pinky and the brain#patb#this is why I avoid twitter like the plague.#why is the fandom becoming so toxic suddenly?#I don't want anyone to think I'm attacking them personally#I'm just trying to make sure that we all know that people have limits#we need to respect others and not harass those who've done nothing wrong#patb fans let's maintain a healthy fandom please#don't worry I'm not leaving the fandom you sillies!#this is just me addressing the recent events and my response to them
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Genuinely not trying to get into anything here, just wanting to learn more. What about Khalid and Nader's writing is a poor example?
Don't worry about it! Asking questions out of curiosity is always a good thing :)
People directly concerned with this topic will be more apt to give a detailed answer, but I'll do my best.
People from the Middle-East as well as Northern Africa generally have a bad reputation around the globe and face discrimination as a result. This is especially true of immigrants. Like, where I'm from, they're seen as untrustworthy, thieves, even murderers or r*pists. There's also the fact that they're associated with Islam, so on top of facing racial discrimination, they also face religious discrimination (whether they're actual Muslims or not). Not everyone thinks that way, thankfully, and I believe some states are trying to address this issue.
But then, you have the police who sometimes (often...) have no qualms about arresting people or violently repress people because they look a certain way. There were riots in France a few months ago because a policeman shot a young man - Nahel Merzouk - of Moroccan and Algerian descent to death. You can find articles about this on sites like The Guardian if you want.
Now let's return to FE3H/FEW3H.
In Houses, we learn that Almyra invades Fodlan for funsies and the soldiers then celebrate the fight with a big feast. So killing people (or getting some of your people killed) is basically treated like a joke... Fodlan's throat was built to better protect Fodlan from these attacks... which are treated like a game by the interloping party. That's... really not great.
But we also learn from Claude's B support with Hilda that his father - the king of Almyra - tied him to a horse and dragged him around because he was a "brat" sometimes? And her own mother just laughed when it happened (granted, she's not Almyran, but still... nobody seemed to think that Claude's treatment was disgusting)? So physically abusing a child is seen as something funny. Again, reaaaally not great.
And Cyril tells us (well, Claude technically) in their B support that his parents died in battle, and he had to survive on his own without any help, especially not from the king. And he was serving in the army at age 11/12 (possibly younger). Whether he was forced or not... I'm not sure, but it's entirely possible he had little choice if he wanted to survive somehow. ... not great at all.
In Hopes, we have Nader looking forward to "taking some souvenirs" aka pillaging and Lorenz - a white nobleman - telling him that pillaging is not allowed in Fodlan. Not Claude. Lorenz. Important Almyran general (and probably most of his soldiers lbr) thinks pillaging is fun for the savages from Almyra so we need local white nobleman from Fodlan to teach him that it's bad. Yikes.
Then you have Clod who... well, first of all makes the worst possible decisions in part 2 (why side with the country that did nothing to you when you can help the one that intends to invade you?). He also believes Edelgard's words about Rhea without... I don't know, find a way to verify the information he's been provided? And he's shown to be a backstabbing, untrustworthy scumbag with the Randolt chapter for example.
He uses morally reprehensible 'tactics' to invade a country that has done nothing to him (e.g.: inciting Sreng to attack the kingdom). He centres power around himself and suppresses the nobles who want to bail because they're not happy about this.
Oh and there's Shahid, a prince so stupid he doesn't recognise his own brother in chapter 3. He attacks Fodlan to get a better chance at inheriting the throne. That's quite... ugh.
This is when a sensitivity reader and a diversity editor would have been GREATLY beneficial to this game's writing (can also be applied to Petra and Dedue tbh). Sadly, it's not a thing in Japan as far as I know.
Also, I probably forgot (or overlooked) some stuff, so any correction or addition is more than welcome!
#anon ask#claude von riegan#golden wildfire#hope this helps#and makes sense#tw racism#tw murder#tw r4p3#adding these just in case
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something i wanna mention re: your post about the bots stealing photos, it’s important to note that many of these come from transphobic, exorsexist, and intersexist targeted data breaches and are sourced/scraped from malicious sites/boards like the k-farms.
i’m ace and sex-oscillating (sometimes i’m fine with seeing sexual things sometimes i’m not) and even when i’m at my most sex-repulsed i want everyone to know that the sex workers in the tag are some of our most vulnerable population members (no matter their gender(s) or exact identity/terms) because they’re being targeted by these sites.
idk sorry if this is reiterating your post but you’re the first person i’ve seen mention the importance of “these photos are stolen btw” instead of “oh yucky porn” like. y’all some of these are photos which were only intended for one or two people to see. these workers can now no longer regulate that OR how people interact with them.
they get so much harassment because of stolen photos when it’s been ripped out of their private accounts…. it’s awful
Thank you so much for adding that. I sometimes forget that not everyone is aware of how dangerous sex work, even purely online not in person sex work, is. I should have emphasized more that sex workers are not the danger; they're largely *in* danger.
And not just of being harassed, having their material stolen, or being targetted, but also by the death of internet privacy and net neutrality. Bills like fosta-sesta, and it's successor kosa- which is moving forward as we speak- are steadily erasing protections for anyone who creates nsfw content anywhere on the internet. It removes software and data tracking that allow sex workers to vet their johns before they interact with them, especially if they're going to meet up in person, and that data was one of the CHIEF ways human traffickers are found and arrested, and their victims tracked down.
KOSA isn't just a danger to fandom- though it is *also* a danger to fandom- but to very real people doing a job as old as time. Outlawing the expression of sexual materials is never going to stop sexual activity, it just forces it to be done in the dark, where sex workers, a large chunk of whom are queer, are at increased risk of being harmed, killed, or losing their ability to make a living.
One of the things I said in my post was that sexual materials belong on tumblr like they belong anywhere. Some people may point to the fact that that's no longer allowed under the terms of service- regardless of what tumblr "clarifies," they still ban it, especially from trans people. I was here before then. I was here when net neutrality still existed. And I am going to continue to operate under those attitudes until the end of days. I don't post sexually explicit materials myself, but I am never going to tattle on people who do, and people who do report those real users (not the bots) to staff disgust me.
If you're sex repulsed, I get it. I'm personally repulsed by the smell of pomegranate perfume. It's a trigger for me. But I am responsible for my feelings- it wouldn't be right to demand everyone everywhere stop wearing pomegranate perfume, and by going in public, I run the risk that I will bump into someone wearing it. I will have to remove myself from that situation.
And the same is true for if you don't like sexual content. You are responsible for what you do with those feelings. It's okay to have them; you can feel however you want about sex! But it's not okay to demand that other people cease harmlessly expressing themselves to conform to your feelings, and it's not okay to act like a fucking cop and purposely try to interfere with their job because you have the ick and don't approve.
Sex work is labor. Sex workers having ways to protect themselves and others is as close to "unionizing" as sex work gets. Stop interfering with what are basically their labor regulations. Block and move the fuck on!!
Do report the bots though. For SPAM. For STEALING MATERIALS. Not for the sex.
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I'm gonna reply to your full ask anon, but I decided to make this part a stand alone reply. I'm gonna tell you something that I'll say over and over again, at any chance life will get me to mention it.
The very first time I met my therapist, I didn't think I would keep coming to see her, so I decided I would ask the one question that's been weighting me down a lot lately.
I told her that I'm a fan of dark fiction. I explained in detail what exactly do I love. I explained that it's not the sense of disgust that attracts me to it - I genuinely feel happy when I read about fucked up stuff.
And then I asked if that makes me a bad person.
You know, a lot of proshippers get told to "seek therapy" when they talk about their interests online. Here's what an experienced therapist says to a "proshipper" when they encounter one:
"I don't think there's anything wrong with you. If that type of stories makes you happy - I'm happy for you."
"Are you sure? A lot of people online would say that I'm a horrible person for liking that sort of stories."
"What people specifically?"
"Well... just people online. I see it a lot on the social media where I post my artworks."
"You said there was another site, where you post your "dark" stories, and people tell you how much they love them?" (She means AO3)
"Yeah."
"Then I think you should make friends with those people more, and not worry about the ones who don't like what you do."
"That idea makes me feel uneasy. If I only surround myself with people who agree with me, how will I make sure that I'm not in the wrong? ... There is an online community for people who wants trans people like me dead. They're called terfs. They also surround themselves only with people that they can passionately hate us together with. How do I know that this isn't like that? If a trans-hating person asked you for advice, would you also tell them to seek like-minded people and stick with them?"
"If a person came to me and said that they passionately hate other people for existing, that would be a completely different issue. Those little "hate clubs" don't live for a long time. What do you think they'll do once they're done sitting in a circle and hating trans people? ... There is no such thing as "right or wrong". There's just things that people think and do. What you do makes you happy. This type of stories has always existed, and there's nothing wrong with them. It could be your way of processing the trauma that happened to you in the past."
"No, I don't think so. Because my trauma makes me sad. But those stories make me happy. So this... doesn't make me a bad person? You're sure? You promise?"
"Yes. In fact, lots of people love horror. There's always plenty of people watching those movies where people get cut up-"
"I don't mean the gorey movies. I just like abusive relationships. Sometimes between an adult and... not quite an adult person yet. I mean like a 16 year old or something."
"Oh, I see. [She waved her hand in a dismissive manner] Yeah, there's plenty of those stories too. There's nothing wrong with you for it."
So the moral of the story is 1) Do not feel ashamed for things that make you happy and 2) There's your therapy for it. Basically this
(Source: @assignedmale )
And 3) Fuck terfs. It doesn't really have anything to do with the post, just a good thing to remember.
#proshipping#I did not survive an active war zone to keel over a little online discourse from the resurgence of puritanical cult mindset in the youth
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🦾🥃🍙 for the memory ask meme please share the beloved Riley lore
Thank you!!! I will be spilling that goddamn tea lol
🦾- Johnny Silverhand
Riley and Johnny are two very similar people and as a result the pair of them bash heads like a pair of red-painted bulls. Both ridiculously stubborn, both insanely bitter at the world for different reasons, both containing soft hearts beneath hard shells that they're terrified of showing. I think I could include a lot of conversations these two've had but I'm going to go with their conversation after Hanako's kidnapping, where Riley really gets a taste of what Mikoshi actually is and why Johnny's so determined to tear it down (the second tapeworm conversation, basically). By this point the pair of them are mostly on good terms with each other but Mikoshi is really only something V has heard about in passing. She doesn't have a strong grasp of coding and netrunning so hearing Johnny describe what Mikoshi was like for him frames him in a new light for her. Johnny and Riley both have their own fair share of traumas but Riley never stopped to wonder if his were ever more than physical. And more maybe the first time since she's known him, she sees him openly distressed. He tries to hide it, because of course he does, but she knows what he's really trying to say.
Her hearing him say "...and that's why I'm going to fix it" absolutely sticks in her memory, too. Not only is it the first time Johnny's admitted to wanting to save her life, but it's also the moment that she realizes she actually believes him. Even after all of the horrible shit he's done, both to her and everyone else he's ever known, for the first time she feels like she wants to help him too. They were already partners before this, but this is the real moment that they actually become friends.
🥃- Rogue Amendiares
Answered here!
🍙 - Goro Takemura
Riley and Goro........do not see eye to eye lol. Their partnership is one of necessity only, and while neither of them will ever say the unspoken out loud, they're both pretty aware of the the other's stance. Goro knows Riley has no love of corpo-types like him and doesn't bother trying to reason with her, while Riley knows Goro would be more than willing to stab her in the back and go running back to Arasaka the first chance he got. As a result, their core moment with each other is when she and him split takeout on the top of the construction site before nightfall. When they talk about their pasts, it's with an air of bitterness, because they each know the other is judging harshly on lives they'll never really understand. Riley views Goro as what she could've become if she was a corpo-type-- her rule-following nature and ruthlessness would've translated perfectly into an agent, something she's been told and has not taken very well-- and her antagonism during the conversation stems from being disgusted with Goro's apparent willingness to throw himself back under Arasaka's bootheel. Goro views Riley as a defector from decadence, someone who turned her nose up at a frankly very comfortable lifestyle to become a streetrat without morals and now has the fucking gall to judge his life choices. They end the argument very bitterly, both realizing that despite helping each other time and time again, they're both on paths the other can't follow.
This moment is less of a "what could be" and more a lament of "what could've been", since Riley and Goro are far too rooted in their own lives and choices to ever truly trust each other. At this point, she only agrees to see the parade through because hey, in for an enny, in for a goddamn pound. But the pair of them never reconcile after this moment.
#beammeupbroadway#My V#Riley Aldana#THANK YOU AGAIN ENJOY DUMPS#Johnny Silverhand#Goro Takemura#Long post
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Hate to say this, but leaving the children of former aristocrats/royalty alive when remaking a society through revolution only weakens that revolution. It leads to problems when determining who the next ‘legitimate’ ruler is. One rich toddler is not worth more than one hundred poor, starving toddlers just because history puts emphasis on their name and face. You’ve been brainwashed by individualistic propaganda. AND If you really grew up in poverty, you would be disillusioned by the whole ‘children aren’t responsible for their parent’s sins’ logic because it only ever gets applied to privileged children, never to the poor or oppressed. You’re the one that needs to read your history over again (and stop parroting capitalist propaganda lmfao ie:commies need to read a history book) if you cannot even understand the basic frameworks of revolution or why too much sympathy towards the oppressing CLASS leads to failure. Stop bitching about commies making MEMES online and actually go do something for your community.
Okay, this level of callous justification for MURDERING babies is why I'm about to take anonymous asks off yet again. When a third of the anons I’m getting are just insults and telling me to kill myself, another third insisting no children died during the French revolution “And I have a PhD in the French revolution so I would know!” and then a third literally telling me why children deserve to die because of who their parents are... I’m done.
This is too sick. Congratulations. You made the poor person disgusted in other poor people.
And yeah, I did grow up in poverty. An Apartment complex on Newbridge Road, North Beilmore, NY, Long Island, across the street from a lovely crack house. Feel free to Google the neighborhood if that was enough clues for you. Section 8 (that’s welfare) housing. My mother was seventeen when she had me. She raised my brother and I in that apartment and we had three other people unofficially living with us.
“If you really grew up in poverty..” I hate no scotsman arguments, especially whey they are PRO-MURDER CHILDREN because of their class. WTF?! What the fuck is wrong with this website?! Seriously!
I’m not showing “too much sympathy to the oppressive class.” I’m showing sympathy to ALL any child. A human baby is a human baby, no matter where they are born or who their parents are.
Seriously, i am currently temporarily homeless and staying in someone’s back room. And this reply, this reply is so fucked up, so evil, it’s chilling.
And yes, I DO know history despite what this site has convinced itself about me. I always scored in the high 90s on World History tests and (during times we “borrowed” cable from a neighbor) grew up on a steady diet of shows like Highlander the series (which was surprisingly historically accurate for a fantasy show with flashbacks), and History Channel and History 2 (before it went defunct).
The American Revolution (which succeeded where the French one lead to eighty years of chaos) did not require murdering the British royals or their children. And Velvet Revolutions don’t require killing anyone.
Listen up, anon. My stepfather was Jewish, my brother is Jewish. During the holocaust Hitler convinced the German people that Jewish people were the oppressive class and “even the children need to die” and that they were at fault for all of their country’s unhappiness. “The oppressors and their children need to die” takes a whole other meaning if you remember who, in the last hundred years, said those words...
What really chills me about this is I'm not sure if this person realizes or not but they just accidentally paraphrased “The Final solution” and “why the Jewish people (including their children) had to be executed.” Remember, Hitler convinced the German people that Jews were the oppressive class... It’s where modern antisemistism created the conspiracy theory that a cabal of powerful, wealthy, Jewish people secretly rule the world. This isn't anti-classism, it was a dog whistled anti-Semitism.
https://www.ajc.org/translatehate/conspiracy-theory
https://www.ajc.org/sites/default/files/pdf/2021-10/AJC_TranslateHate-Glossary-October2021.pdf
This person was trying to talk about the French revolution and oppressive classes but accidentally paraphrased Hitler, who tricked a lot of Germans into thinking Jewish people were their oppressors. Ironic that they think I’m the one who doesn’t know world history.
https://www.britannica.com/topic/Mein-Kampf
Once you accidentally paraphrase Hitler to justify child murder you lose ALL footing with me.
If people like the above think I’m stupid than I shall happily be their idiot.
“You can’t have grown up poor if you are not pro-murdering the babies of the oppressors!” is a hot take I want nothing to do with.
I’m not okay with killing ANY children!
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Heyoo, im just a lil curious as to what you have against twt ppl. I'm starting to realize that u guys just don't want us here and I have no clue what our app usage means to you. I was directed here after expressing my anger at being told to fuck off and that I was shit for having been in the twt community. Just want your thoughts since you've proclaimed yourself the be the officiant for chasing us away.
To be clear I'm the "officiant of chasing people away" because within the past few days I have have made some truly enlightening posts that all Twitter people should see. And that should make them be so disgusted by this site that they never come back. This is to say I am jokingly the officiant of chasing people away.
But if you want an actual answer, nobody here actually like DESPISES twt users. If that were the case we wouldn't be creating posts that welcome new users and explain the site to them or greeting new users in their asks!! It's hard to word but we don't take issue with the people, just the environment of the jrwitwt community. Basically, just a difference in vibe.
It's very hard to explain but. Honestly? It's stuff like your reblog that makes it hard for us not to be a LITTLE taunting towards jrwitwt. You barely interacted with this community AT ALL and picked out a take, that wasn't even really a take about twitter in a way that matters, and decided to make a rant 10x longer than the original post complaining about how we hate twitter. Whereas if you'd just held off on that opinion then you might have gotten FAR more context on our situation. Or you could have easily gotten an answer if you'd just sent a polite ask in the FIRST place, opening yourself up to an actual discussion rather than jumping to such an aggressive conclusion.
When you typed, "just calm down bro," it was LAUGHABLE to read for the sheer fact you produced a problem where there didn't have to be any. You made a member of our community anxious and upset and for what? And for what?
I would talk more abt this but I think this is the main point that matters right now. And I would apologise for my less sympathic wording, but I think you're mature enough to understand why that's difficult for me to do with the current context.
If you still want to give jrwiblr a chance, then feel free to lurk and maybe get to know it better before you start to chit chat again. But if you're this attached to the jrwitwt community then you can easily just. Stay there? Like. You don't have to move here. If you don't like our takes then stay on twitter. You don't have to make a fuss abt it. Just say, "this community isn't for me" and move on.
Edit: checked your posts. sorry if this seems like another pile on, you must be getting overwhelmed. take some time away from the platform: drink, rest, eat. so long as you understand what's going on in this community now and promise not to make a take like that again, send any person that bothers you from now on to me. there no reason for this to drag on if you understand what you've done and are aiming to improve.
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I don't want to bring negativity into anyone's life with my posts. I sometimes just feel the need to share things about myself that are not so positive, just so that I can still have the routine of maintaining my blog despite everything happening outside of it.
I have been experiencing some things that had me log onto RAINN a couple times, not gonna lie. I'm not going to be so specific about what happened. I just wanna say that I haven't felt so...disgusted or horrified like this in awhile. It's like...imagine having a regular day and then BOOM! It's like...a new trauma. I can't take it anymore, lol!
I got some help on RAINN. That's when I realize that I was actually going crazy about the situation because I couldn't let the girl go, lmfao. I kept trying to make her understand me, even though she completely understood, mostly because I was trying to get myself to understand the situation.
"It lasted for hours!"
"I had to wait until they tired themselves out!"
"What happened? Why did they do that to me?"
I couldn't wrap my head around it, and I kind of projected that inability to understand onto other people.
"Are y'all getting this?"
Am I? Like???
I had to make everything go away so that I could function. I have been feeling like a normal person, but yet I have not been feeling like myself. There's a good reason for that, which I am of course also forcing to disappear, but still. I feel that something is totally missing that wasn't missing before.
I ended up contacting 988.
It wasn't so funny when I was crying and stuff, but I just wanna say that it wasn't really "them" that made me want to kill myself. It was me missing the last bus to go to Little Caesars and also...I didn't have a fork! 🤣🤣🤣
That shit had me wanting to end it all...
I was helped by this person on the site. After I was done freaking out in public (only five people saw me like this), I basically realized that I couldn't kill myself. I told the person that even if I really wanted to commit suicide, it would be a waste of time because I'm definitely gonna survive. There is so much shit I have survived, like my dad beating me for hours and hours and hours, doing that weird physical stuff with those weights for over six hours, and also plenty of other suicide attempts.
I can't be killed. And that's great because I actually some goals in my mind. I really, really love to direct and animate Spider-Man: Blue. When Peter Parker was crying in the attic as he recorded his messages to Gwen...that's when I knew that I had to get my art skills together, my writing skills together, etc. I need to make that movie!
This is a good reason to stay alive.
It's not fair that I die (from suicide) because of what some guys did to me. I didn't do anything to them. They just hurt me because they wanted to and I can't...do anything about that.
I hope that you never experience a man or a group of men raping you, and then having to lay there, in all that vileness, until he or they are asleep and you can escape. I hope that you never have the experience of having one of them chase after you and follow you from one place to another, to the point that you've got to literally hide in buildings and shit. I hope that you never experience so much abandonment and so much neglect that you feel like you can't tell anyone with power about what happened, when you really should. Please! I hope you never go through these things!
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Not you saying there's nothing about you being negative when you search your name as if posts about you dismissing male victims of abuse just to support a problematic white woman and other users calling you out pls 💀
Listen, this was really fun for a while, but you're making me have to be serious, which obviously isn't fun. So let me read you a bit.
First off, you're lying. Your "posts about you dismissing male victims of abuse" claim isn't a thing at all. The closest thing to a call out post re: me that you'll be able to find in my tag is someone putting me on a block list with random people and ZERO explanation of why. On top of that, that very person has a reputation of making random blocklists for people, and putting them on there despite them being generally left-leaning social liberals who would agree with them on anything. Searching that person's url will bring that up in two seconds. These posts you're pretending to say exist literally don't.
I also know you're lying because never have I ever on my page "dismissed male victims of abuse." If you're trying to reference how I speak out against how Amber Heard was publicly harassed by her abusive ex-husband last year, I don't know what to tell you. I mean, you're trying to defend a loser drunk who has a long history of preying on young and vulnerable women/girls, as well as abuse and violence, who literally texted his friend how he wanted to violently murder her for giggles. I've seen abuse victims deal with that trauma in a lot of ways, and never have I seen one do something like that. Seen plenty of abusers do that, though.
Whether or not Amber Heard is "problematic," it doesn't mean she is incapable of being a victim of abuse and/or misogyny. Implying her being "problematic" immediately means she can't be a victim of these things plays into the perfect victim mindset that literally kills women because, remember, a perfect victim is a dead victim. If a cop racially profiled Kanye West tomorrow and shot and killed him, we would still be upset over the racism of that action despite Kanye being...like that. Someone can hold disgusting views and you can still be disgusted with the way they are oppressed. If Amber not being a perfect victim means she can't be a victim of abuse to you, then that really shows how immature and unintelligent you are. Someone can harbor disgusting views and still be part of a marginalized identity and be a victim to being marginalized. The only way you can say that's not the case is if you believe women are not oppressed. And if we can't even agree on that, then please leave my page because I don't deal with anti-feminists in any capacity.
And to my last point, I really want you to think long and hard about why you decided to take this here over a tag on a fucking gifset. I didn't add to the post, I didn't find the man (whoever he is) to harass him, I didn't go on twitter or online sites where he'd likely see these comments to say this; it was just a random thought I had and wanted to share. The man obviously had work done, at least botox. That's just straight facts. If that annoyed you, a simple unfollow or block would do. If you wanted to send one "hey, that was shitty of you" ask on your way out, then fine.
But you spent all day basically going through my blog looking for things to criticize. You talked about wanting to see what I looked like, obviously so you mock me. You're in my inbox lying about what is being said about me in order to make it seem like I'm some monster. I'm just a random person on tumblr, the least influential social media site, shitposting in my spare time. That's it. There was no reason to take this to this point.
And this is what I mean about the way kpoppies make this not fun. I couldn't reblog something and add something cheeky in the tags without being harassed? All of this over "#idk who this man is but his plastic surgery is very distracting and ugly looking#you get work done then wanna load up on Botox why?" Really? I said a man's botox looked ugly and that warrants you trying to make me look like some horrible person who hates abuse victims or something? Does that even make sense? "Oh, this person dunked on my bias' botox: SHE MUST HATE AND DISMISS ABUSE VICTIMS!"
Like, hello? It's just kpop. It's a billion dollar industry that fuels overworking, eating disorders, body dysmorphia, depression and anxiety, capitalism and consumerism, racism, and misogyny. It doesn't need your defending. And if you decided you didn't like me just for insulting him, that's fine too. You don't need to do that thing where you try to make me "problematic" (I'm not lol) so you can justify it; it's okay to just not like people sometimes. My feelings are not hurt. You are not the first to dislike me, nor will you be the last.
I get that it's the internet and it's easy to not consider the problematic thinking and action patterns that you're engaging in, but when you find yourself rabidly going through someone's page to find "dirt," making up lies about people talking about/calling them out, and sending out hate messages after hate messages, then it's time to log off and take a step back. If you believe yourself to be a good person, and I'm sure you do, then now is a time for self reflection. Be a little self aware. Is this what good people who wish to spread positivity do? Do they send hate anons to strangers all over someone wanting to be a hater for a minute?
So I'm going to turn off anonymous messaging and put you in a bit of a time out so you can calm down and think about how inappropriate you're being. I don't take abuse lightly as I am very familiar with it, and so I will not tolerate you trying to use it as a gotcha all over a fucking gifset of a few kpop idols. One day, I hope you remember your actions today and cringe at how ridiculous you were being. And I really hope you're currently at an age where you'd be able to laugh and think "what a dumb child I was."
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Okay, so...I need to be serious for a minute here and talk about some really personal stuff. I put a mature label on because I'm trying to be at least a little discreet here and filter out the entire world from seeing this. But I trust this site over anywhere else and I have to get this out of me somehow.
So back in August I made the decision to break the lease on my apartment after being continually harassed by the property managers and because I knew I wouldn't be able to afford it anymore once the lease ran out anyway. So I was led by a member of my husband's family (J) to believe that, if I moved into their house, we'd only have to pay one set price for the room we'd be renting and we'd be able to stay for at least a year while we saved our money for a car. I was extremely misled by this person.
After about a week or two of living here, J announced that they were selling the house and that we'd have about two or three months to move out. Even with this I still focused on getting a job - which I did - and saving money. Well the latter proved to be impossible. I was demanded to pay 20 dollars a day in gas to get me to and from work - roughly 400 dollars a month. I don't expect free rides but this and a plethora of other "unforseen expenses" on behalf of J has drained my finances.
Last Sunday I woke up to J yelling right outside my door about how my animals were making their house smell, how they was disgusted by how the room looked (it's cleaner than theirs even at its messiest). I went out to the kitchen to confront them and try to diffuse the situation and it quickly turned into a yelling match. J called my animals vermin, they said we didn't mean anything to them and they didn't care if we ended up homesless. My husband basically broke down and begged my own family for help, which they did, but now the damage done to what I thought had been my continually repairing relationship with my family is probably irreversible.
Add to that I've never owned a credit card out of fear of having bad credit, so I have no credit, no cosigner for a new apartment. And now I have around two weeks (hopefully more but I'm not counting on it) to move out. I have no idea where I'm going to go. I have animals to think about, and I'm probably going to have to quit my current job and get a new one due to being forced to move.
In short, I'm fucked. Completely fucked. And it's my fault. I was too trusting. I let people take advantage of me and use me and throw me away when they're done with me. Which in turn makes me look like a fool and a bad person and I guess I kind of am, because I'm in such a desperate situation right now where I need help because I'm losing everything, so it looks like I'm the one taking advantage. This is the lowest point I've ever been in my life, even worse than back in my early 20's when I first got kicked out of my parents' house for even being in the relationship that would lead me to this.
I'm going to do what I can in the next couple weeks but I can honestly say that I have no idea what's going to happen to us and I'm terrified. I'm not asking for help. I just have to get my feelings out because no one else really cares. So if you read this whole thing, thank you. And please everyone, be kind to each other. If reading about my or someone else's misfortune compels you to help someone or reach out somehow, then at least something good might come out of all this.
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I’ve given up with Tumblr
Jon-tron got fed up with the Fem-nazis and Radical left and made comments on what he felt and believed in on a stream, which if you actually listen to what he says is isn’t actually racist, sexist or what ever kind of ist you call him.
Jon-tron isn’t against immigration, he’s against MASS immigration. But to radical left and more it’s just the same as him holding up a giant ‘I’m racist’ sign. Jon said he had grown tired of the Radical left and the way it behaves, which to the Radical left is just the same as him saying ‘I’m sexist’.
This whole thing with Jon-Tron pushed me over the edge with tumblr. I can over look people blaming memes for Trumps election instead of people getting tiered of the Radical Left. I can turn a blind eye to people not listening what criticisms people have of their beliefs. Hell, I can ignore people making gender issues out of non gender issues.
I’m going to finish this post off by saying this, the left and the right are one and the same. The right will censor because it is indecent while the left censors because it’s offensive. The right will call you un-patriotic, while the left will call you racist and sexist. The difference is the left get’s away with it.
#Freshpost#rant#jon tron#radical feminism#leftism#Right#Basically I'm done with this disgusting site
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Bunny Boy: Timeskip.
In which as time has passed, Jungkooks sick mind might have finally infected yours as well- tainting his angel to one day go down to hell with him.
Tags/Warnings: graphic description of murder, touching without permission, graphic descriptions of disgust? dunno what to call it, Bunny Boy Jungkook being himself, we all missed his psycho ass lets be real, arson, someone falls down a construction site, oopsie, graphic descriptions of murder pt2, gore, blood, lack of remorse, psychosis, very twisted view of the world, you know me by now, smut, protected smut of course, the usual shabang, kids pls don't read, you'll do it anyways won't you
----
Jungkook has somehow lied himself to the top of the foodchain.
There's still a lot of things he can't afford, but then again, considering he's basically lived in a rat's nest with you a year ago makes his new home in the high top apartment complex in the middle of Seoul feel as luxurious as the most expensive suite available for rent in the entire country. He can sometimes even sneak in a bottle of champagne at the end of the month- a treat he loves to share with you at night, always amused by the way you turn bold the more your alcohol level rises. He enjoys seeing you so out of it, weirdly enough, but then again; you're at his mercy every second of the time you're sober as well.
You're allowed to exist, because he want's you to, after all.
But you've come to feel very much a sense of comfort with every controlling touch of his- a reassurance if you will, that no matter the case, you're still wanted at his side, still allowed to live and spend your life with him. It gives you confidence to have him show you off to his coworkers; his fond gaze and words dipped in honey enough to make you fall to his very feet- but then again, at least in the public eye, you have to uphold a certain sense of common courtesy.
Although you know, he wouldn't mind it either way.
Right now however, you know he'd be fuming, the hand of his coworker feeling heavy like led on your shoulder, not at all wanted there at all. You don't even know why he's here, why he's invaded your home like this, bottle of wine in hand as if that would somehow make it any better. You've tried to tell him he's not wanted here in the nicest way's you could think of, getting desperate as you realize you're not at all as good at talking as Jungkook is- because he's still here, still in your kitchen, still touching you and infecting you with whatever germs living on his skin, and you feel the need to vomit. No one is ever allowed to touch you but Jungkook, he always makes sure to keep you at a distance with people, hell, you don't even shake hands with anyone you meet-
"Listen, I know this may seem bold-" He starts, voice nowhere near as silky smooth as Jungkook's always was. It has a rough undertone like sandpaper, scratching and making your grit your teeth as you force your brows to stay where they are, not allowed to give away your disgust of the entire situation. Somehow everything about this man is absolutely vile to you, from the overbearing cologne he's wearing, to the tie that's horribly done- you always tie Jungkook's, you always make sure its nice and this man just seems so out of place here. He's too tall, too broad, too bold, too close. "But I've seen the way that Jungkook acts around you. Bosses you around." He says, and you can't help the way your expression changes slightly. "You don't deserve this. A woman should be treated nice- I could treat you nice." He offers, and you swallow down the bile rising as you realize what he's saying. He takes a step closer- and you take two back, until your back meets the kitchen counter. "You know I'm right." He says, and you decide to flee.
"I- I'm gonna uhm, heat up some f-food.." You say, escaping his presence by running behind the counter, occupying yourself with whatever you can find there. He walks past you with a sickening smile, something that makes you feel even worse in your skin, as you have to realize how he's tainting your home with his presence. He's touching things, leaving his traces everywhere, as he walks into the bathroom to relieve himself.
Jungkook won't be back home until the next four hours pass.
You have to protect your home.
You have to act this time.
--
He's horribly drunk- and he won't leave your house.
Your patience is wearing thin, having thought that once he was intoxicated you could get rid of him by talking him into taking a cab home- but you soon come to the conclusion that this was just the easy way out.
Was the world testing you? Were the gods testing if you had what it took to be worthy of staying at Jungkooks side? He has killed for you before, you remember.
Maybe you had to even it out.
The man on the couch is snoring, by now asleep as you remember his name. Yamato was his name- a former classmate of yours from long ago, a young man who never really gave you any attention at all. Not like he could compare to Jungkook ever- no one could, you remind yourself. Jungkook was your soulmate, your everything. And this house was now tainted in another man's presence. You shuddered at the thought, suddenly snapping.
The oven is quick to heat up as you stuff it with all the backing sheets you can find, almost burning your hand in the process as you become frantic. There's no use in caring for this house anymore, you didn't need any physical possessions anyways as long as you had Jungkook. He would make it better, he would figure things out. As soon as he was with you again, you could breathe- and for now, you had to try and not suffocate.
Smoke blurrs your vision, dipping everything in a faded hue as the fire alarm doesn't go off. Its not supposed to- Jungkook had forgotten to change the batteries in it, never really having gotten around to change them after taking them out and realizing he didn't have the right one's at hand. It was a silly mistake on his side really; or maybe a higher power setting the right scene for you to act on your love for him. You finally realized why Jungkook in the past had done the things he did. You only did them out of love as well- you only did this because it was necessary. It needed to be done.
The flames are now licking his up the walls, eager to eat up the wallpaper you both had chosen when you had moved into this place half a year ago. You can't be bothered with them turning black and peeling off the walls, rather fixated by the sight as Yamato on the couch suddenly coughs, falling to the ground from the lack of oxygen in his lungs. Your own burn as well, but you can't move, having to watch him as he looks at you in horror. "What're you doing?!" He rasps out, coughing. "Don't stand there-!" He yells.
Jungkook never yells at you, you think.
"My mom always said that we all get what we deserve in life." You say, as Yamato struggles to breathe. "But she always called her marriage a disappointment she had to settle for." You explain, sitting on the floor now as to not fall over from the dizziness in your head. "I've always been a good kid." You say, unsure who you're even telling this by now, since the man in front of you had stopped moving while the flames start to lick on his clothes, hungry as they devour the black slacks he's wearing. "And you're right." You say, smiling as you crawl over to him before you scoot back then the fire burns your arm. "I deserve better." You say, coughing before getting up. "While you all continue to be dissapointed." You say, finally grabbing your phone, and calling Jungkook- knowing by the sound of the faint firetruck somewhere in the distance, you don't need to call for them no more. As soon as he picks up, you're grinning from ear to ear. "Jungkookie.." You drawl, before laying on your back, coughing violently, phone falling out of your hands.
"Angel?" Jungkook asks, before he hears you coughing. "Angel-"
"Jungkook, isn't that your apartment?" Min Yoongi asks, a coworker and higher up of his, who's standing at the window that has a large view over the city- and he's right. The bright orange light, shining way too saturated to just be the living room light, was exactly your apartment you shared with him. He'd chosen is because of this specific reason- he can see it from his own office downtown. "Go." Yoongi says, and Jungkook can't even bother to put on a jacket as he runs down the stairs instead of taking the elevator, people staring as he runs past them as quickly as his feet can carry him. There's an ambulance, then two, then an array of firetrucks dashing past him, way faster than he is, and for a moment he thinks about jumping up on one of the ladders the cars carry- but they're too fast for him, so he just ignores all the red lights, almost getting run over on his way.
His mind is empty, no thoughts can make their presence known inside his head.
He can taste iron on his breath as he finally makes it to the scene, police holding him back as he watches the flames reach out of your shattered living room window. "Sir-"
"That's MY fucking Apartment burning, with MY fucking fiancé in it-!" He barks at them, unknowingly having started to cry already at the realization of your body still inside. What if you're dead? What if you're already gone? He already has the plan inside of his head to go after you, to reach you, when theres a stretcher carried out, a body on it. "Please- Angel! Let me through, I need to-" He barks, before the police nods to one another, letting him through so he can finally reach you inside the ambulance.
"Sir-" The paramedic asks, but Jungkook shuts her off instantly, sitting down on the small seat at the side, eyes wide open as they stare at the burns on your skin, and closed eyes- an oxygen mask on your face.
"Fiancé." He simply breathes out. "I'm.. her fiancé. We're supposed to get married in December this year.." He says almost without any sound, whispering it like the words were too delicate to say out loud.
"And you will, we'll make sure she come's through all fine." The paramedic hits the small window to the front of the car, signalling to start driving. "We've given her some drugs, that's why she's unconscious. Its safer this way until we know the extend of injuries." The paramedic tells Jungkook. "But I'm confident she'll be just fine." The lady smiles, as Jungkook can't help but reach out and hold your hand, softly, as if you'll break if he touches too hard.
---
At the hospital, he doesn't sleep. And when he does, it's always the same dream.
A memory he cherishes.
"It's so high up." You wonder as you stand on the balcony, dressed in a large white shirt and some shorts, ready for bed. Your hair is a bit unruled, but your face is bare of any makeup- relaxed, cheeks a bit red from the slight wind blowing. He liks you most like this, raw and unpolished, just for his eyes to see. He knows that his next action is the right one, as he looks at you like this. Walking up behind you, he wraps his arms around your smaller form, relishing in the feeling of you almost captured by him like this, with his head on your back, before he kisses the back of your neck.
"I know." He answers your statement a bit later. "It's nice, isn't it?" He asks.
You nod. "Like we're angels in heaven, looking down onto earth." You say, and he smiles, amused by your still so innocent way of looking at the world around you. You were his angel, after all. Untainted. Pure.
And all his.
"Oh?" You wonder, looking at a small black box he holds in front of you now, his head next to yours as his chin was placed on your shoulder. He's not asking you, after all. He's simply informing you.
"I finally managed to buy it." He says, as he opens the box, a small ring inside, that he pulls out, to put onto your finger. As he does this, you notice a similar one on his hand as well. "Now I can do this right." He hums warmly against your back, and you feel mesmerized by the sight of the small stone reflecting the city lights around you.
"Jungkook.." You start, unsure what to say.
"Just say yes." He mumbles against the shell of your ear, as you giggle.
"Of course I say yes. What else could I say to you?" You say, and he chuckles along, holding you a bit tighter.
"Smart girl." He simply says.
But right now, all he can really see is you in that hospital bed.
He's unsure what to think, considering he's by now been informed that there was another person in your apartment, another man at that, and he knows you'd never betray him like this. The only thing he can now think of is, why. Why was he there, and why did the fire start?
As you open your eyes, he leans over you, eyes locked with yours as you can't even manage to look around before he speaks. "What happened?" He asks, voice calm and neutral as he asks you that question, hands pressed against the mattress on either side of your head where he leans. "Why was Yamato at our house? While I wasn't home?" He questions, and your voice is raspy as you answer, able to hold his gaze.
"He came.." You start, clearing your throat a little. "Over with a bottle of wine. Said he.. didn't know you weren't home." You explain, and Jungkooks skin grows cold as you suddenly tear up. "I'm sorry Jungkook, I didn't know what else to do-" You start, as he shakes his head, holding your face as he forces you to focus.
"No no no, no freaking out yet. What. Happened." He asks, presses on, as you hiccup your way through the entire situation.
"He kept- kept touching me, Jungkook he- he used the bathroom, he talked bad about you, he kept looking at me-" You say, and Jungkook grows more restless. You wouldn't.. would you? "I had to." You say, suddenly calm again, as you close your eyes, evening your breathing. "He ruined it, Jungkook. He ruined our home, he should've never been there, I couldn't live there no longer, not after he was in there." You say. "I'm so sorry." You mumble.
"You set the fire?" Jungkook asks, now eerily soft-spoken as his hand caresses your cheek. "For what angel? Hm? What did he say?" He wonders.
"That you.. boss me around. That he could do better. Treat me better." You say, growing tired again. "You've done so much for me, I had to.." You mumble, not really fully there yet. "Jungkook, do you still love me?" You ask, and Jungkook connects the dots himself.
"Of course." He says, smiling down on you before he presses a kiss to your lips. "Now more then ever before."
---
It should've all ended there.
But now its Jungkook, who's got himself dug knee-deep into trouble. "So, all you gotta do is write a nice little amount to my bank account, and we're good." The man says, waving his phone around as if to taunt Jungkook. "After all, you wanna keep being able to spoil your soon-to-be wife, no?" He chuckles, and that's when Jungkook snaps, walking forwards.
Technically, to his own defense, he only wanted to intimidate the man.
Somehow, it felt weird to him, how he could basically re-imagine the way the guy must have popped open like the grape he'd stepped on this morning when he'd hit the concrete below, even though he hadn't seen it himself. But he had it coming, Jungkook assures himself, it was an accident, he chants in his head, as he feels his heart rate slow down, the phone equally destroyed next to the man on the ground- and the security cameras only capturing video, not sound.
Yoongi down below gasps as he opens the door and spots the pile of guts and bones on the ground, having been alerted by the loud crash. A look upwards was all he needs to connect 2 and 2. "Call an ambulance. Police too." He calls up calmly. "Lets hope you're good at acting." He mumbles, holding a hand to his mouth as he averts his gaze, before ushering the other curious office workers back inside, but not before falling forwards, stumbling so to say over the step into the office building.
Sneaking the SD card into his pocket.
#bts imagine#bts#bts fanfic#bts fic#jungkook imagine#bts smut#jeon jungkook#jungkook#bts jungkook#bunny boy asks#bunny boy kook
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One-Shot: Sev + Motto
Sev x gn!reader fic, features the rest of Delta Squad as supporting characters.
Word Count: 1400 or so
Warnings: reader receives minor injuries (burns) on a mission
---
"Play di’kutla games, win di’kutla prizes."
If you had heard Sev say it once, you had heard him say it a thousand times.
Working with Delta Squad was normally fine. Honestly, it was outright entertaining on a regular basis. As an expert in untraceable comms, you were often partnered with commando squads. Infiltrating enemy planets was a norm in your job, and you made sure the squads could communicate with each other and nearby GAR ships regardless of which side controlled the planetside communications systems.
Delta was one of your favorite groups. Fixer was direct and to-the-point, efficient beyond all else. Scorch was side-splittingly funny, even in the middle of an intense battle. Sev was funny as well, though his humor was darker and full of wickedly clever observations. Boss was a natural leader, and he never felt the need to throw his authority around to make a point. More importantly, Delta Squad accepted you as one of their own, and your work with them was seamless in a way it wasn’t among other commando squads.
Of course, that also meant that you were subject to the same treatment as any other member of Delta Squad.
“Watch your fingers!” Fixer warned. “Heat gloves are standard issue for a reason.”
“Does it look like I have time to put on gloves?” you demanded. “Focus on covering me, and I’ll get this done.”
Two minutes, forty-seven seconds later, you had finished setting up the tower and taken a major step toward establishing communications on the Separatist-controlled planet. You would never admit it to Fixer, but you had thoroughly burnt several of your fingers on the superheated durasteel of the communication diverter’s inner core.
Crawling back through the brush to avoid enemy detection was awful. It may not have been so bad, but the burns were scattered across both of your hands and they were already beginning to blister.
You made it back in good time, despite the injuries you were trying to hide. Boss and Scorch had been the other team, going to plant detonators in the appropriate spots. Despite the comparative complexity of your task, you and Fixer were the first ones back. Sev was there to greet you, scowling at the pair of you.
“Took you long enough,” he grumbled.
“Excuse me, are we not the first team to finish?” you asked, satisfaction clear in your voice.
“Yeah, but if you had been faster, we would have an update on Boss and Scorch by now,” Sev countered. “You know how Scorch gets around too many thermal dets. He may have blown himself up by now and we missed it.”
“Considering how many detonators he had, I’m sure we would have seen the explosion from here,” Fixer told him.
You laughed at the solid point - half because Fixer was funny when he wanted to be and half to release the anxiety and adrenaline of a successfully completed stealth mission.
Fixer leveled an unimpressed look at you. “Besides, some of us could spend this time treating the injuries we’re trying to hide.”
“You got hurt?” Sev asked, frowning at you. From any other squad, it might have sounded like concern, but you immediately spotted it for what it was: a vague irritated belief that you would slow them down.
"Barely," you snorted. "Minor burns, nothing to worry about."
"Until the blisters pop and leave you open to infection," Fixed countered, already taking over the observation post Sev had been manning. "Oh-Seven, take care of it, please? I'm not up to playing medic right now."
"Oh, so I have to?" Sev griped.
You stood up, throwing a look of disgust at the pair. "I think I'll patch myself up, thanks."
You had barely cracked open Delta Squad's first aid kit when heavy footsteps warned that someone had followed you. You ignored Sev's red-streaked armor as he stepped up behind you, focusing instead on spreading bacta gel across the tender burns on your hands.
"Here, just- Would you let me do that?" Sev asked impatiently, taking the gel from your hands.
"I could do it myself," you told him, a little pointlessly, since he had already taken over.
"I know you could, but it'll be faster if you let me."
Sev had removed his helmet, and he had the stubborn set to his jaw that warned that he wasn't going to let this go. Rather than waste both of your time, you rolled your eyes and stuck out your hands. He knelt in front of you, the kit open beside him, and started to apply the bacta gel.
He worked in silence for a few minutes, callused fingers oddly gentle against your skin, until you couldn't take it anymore. "Go ahead, say it."
"Say what?" Sev asked, looking up at you with a frown on his scarred face.
"What you always say," you explained with a frown of your own. "Come on, it's basically your motto."
"I don't have a motto," Sev told you slowly. "I'm not some idiot with a motto. I'm not Scorch."
"Okay, but you can't think of a single phrase you repeat often?" You pressed. "Especially when someone gets hurt doing something you think is stupid?"
"Not really," Sev denied, clearly puzzling it over.
You watched him, aghast at the idea that you had been making up his insulting phrase. As he turned his attention back to your burns, you caught a glimmer in his eye and you nudged him with your foot.
"That's not funny, Sev!" you tried your best to sound furious, but the way you were laughing detracted from the effect. Sev chuckled along with you. "I thought I was going insane!"
"I wouldn't say it to you," Sev said, finishing the last bandage.
You stared at him. "Yeah, of course not. It isn't like you've said it to me multiple times in past missions."
"Well, those, you actually had done something stupid and you got what you deserved," he told you mercilessly. "But this time, you got hurt trying to complete a mission."
"Yeah, but I wasn't wearing the proper gear," you countered.
Sev didn't look impressed, picking up one of your carefully bandaged hands as he spoke. "I know burns, and heat gloves wouldn't have saved you here. Maybe the burns would have been less intense, but we would also be picking melted synthweave out of your hands."
You squeezed Sev's hand since it was still wrapped around your own. "Thanks for making me feel better, Sev, and for taking care of my hands."
"Well, I have to make sure my favorite comm specialist is willing to work with us again," Sev told you, helping you to your feet.
You had never taken a step away, and from your position standing close to Sev, you stared up with a dumb grin spreading across your face. "I'm your favorite comm specialist?"
"You're my favorite anything specialist," he told you and you beamed at him. To your complete shock, he returned your smile, his handsome face glowing with the quiet happiness of the moment.
You began to speak, though you had no idea what you planned to say. Unfortunately - or fortunately - you were interrupted by the arrival of Sergeant Boss and Scorch. Delta Squad's leader was supporting Scorch, who limped along making exaggerated noises of pain.
"Scorch, what happened? Are you okay?" you asked, horrified that he had been hurt.
"I didn't bring enough fuse," Scorch answered, immediately dropping his pained attitude - though his limp didn't change a bit. "Had to run from the site and I twisted my ankle."
"Well, play di'kutla games, win di'kutla prizes," Sev told him sourly as you shot him a disbelieving grin.
"Yeah, yeah," Scorch muttered. "This team doesn't appreciate my talents."
"Talents," Fixed scoffed.
"Of course!" Scorch replied, sounding offended. "It takes talent to get hurt this often and not die."
"The Kaminoans may have bred us for tenacity, but I don't think that's what they had in mind," Boss told him. "There's something to be said for learning from your mistakes."
"Isn't anyone on my side?" Scorch complained, eyeing you pointedly.
You sighed, but threw him some sympathy anyway. "I'm on your side, Scorch. I'm glad you're okay."
Fixer cut short Scorch's gloating. "That's only because you weren't the only one who was injured doing something stupid today."
Scorch gave you a commiserating nod. "Did Sev give you the speech, too?"
You glanced up at Sev. The scarred commando was watching you as he tried to bite back a smile. You shot him a subtle wink and said, "Yeah, something like that."
---
A/N - dedicated to myself, because I say "Play stupid games, win stupid prizes" way too often for someone who is usually the one playing the stupid game. Feel free to visit my masterlist for other one-shots and series, or make a request!
#star wars#star wars fic#star wars prequels#star wars republic commando#star wars the clone wars#prequel era#sw fic#sw fanfic#republic commando sev#clone commando sev#sev x reader#sev x you#republic commando fixer#fixer#republic commando boss#sergeant boss#boss#clone commando scorch#republic commando scorch#scorch
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Requested by: @80s4life
I hope you like this!😊💛
What I Did To You.
Snake Plissken (Escape From New York/LA) x reader
Warnings: violence, injury, swearing, gun use
Masterlist
I have my gun levelled at his head before I've even closed the door properly, my face drawn into a fierce scowl, eyes blazing with anger. Every muscle in my body goes tense, my hand unwavering as I hold the weapon up, my leg throbbing in memory pain. Across from me, the intruder remains stood silently, his eye fixed on mine, his own hand still resting at his hip, ready to draw his pistol at any point.
"Hello to you, too." He greets me in the quiet way he always used to, his lips barely moving.
Frown deepening, I push the door behind me closed without looking at it, keeping my gun aimed at his head as I look him over. Not for the first time, he's covered in a light layer of grime, his brown leather jacket darkened in places by the dirt and lightened in others by the fraying, his boots caked in dust from the wasteland outside. His golden mane of hair is slightly dulled from exposure to the unforgiving sun outside and falls into his eyepatch, flicked out of the way every so often by a jerk of the head. A shadow of a stubble covers his chin, as it always has, disguising a few new scars I've not seen before...as well as one I know very well. Other than that, Snake Plissken has not changed at all.
My eyes narrow, grip on the gun tightening.
"Leave." Is all I say, shifting my weight onto my other foot.
"You used to have such nice manners." Snake's lip curls, the soldier taking a step towards me.
Instantly, I flick my thumb over the flintlock.
"Leave." I repeat, pulling the hammer down as the gun makes a dull clicking sound.
"No." He moves closer, standing so the gun is inches from his chest.
"You've got a lot of nerve coming here." I growl, oh so tempted to pull the trigger, "I don't know why you don't keep your distance."
A cruel smirk creeps onto his lips, eye narrowing as his head tilts to the side.
"Trust me, I didn't want to come here, either." He reassures me, "But I have no choice."
"I'm giving you a choice. Leave, or I'll introduce some lead into your diet." I retort, ignoring the burn in my arm from holding it outstretched. At this point, it's the only thing keeping us separated.
"I'll pass on both." Snake snorts, shooting a dismissive glance at the handgun pointed at his throat - now that he's standing closer, my aim only really comes up to his chest and neck, "Put the gun away."
I nearly laugh at him then, another surge of anger going through me.
"You're in no position to order me around. Not anymore." I practically snarl at him, keeping the gun where it is.
"Suit yourself. I came to ask for your help, the least you could do is be civil." He replies coldly, glaring at me now.
Again, the urge to laugh in his face goes through me.
"You came here to ask for my help?" I repeat, cocking my head in disbelief at the sheer balls of the man, "You really need to leave before I pull this trigger."
"(Y/n), we both know if you wanted me dead, I'd be bleeding out on the floor already." He points out, unimpressed.
"Maybe I'm waiting for an apology first."
This seems to catch him off guard.
"An apology?" He repeats, frowning in confusion, "For what?"
It takes all I have not to lunge at him and throttle the handsome bastard's neck in my hands, my leg flaring up in pain at the reminder.
"You know damn well what for." I growl at him, shifting off of my leg again, rubbing at it unconsciously.
Snake's eyes follow my movement, realisation dawning on him.
"I already apologised for that." He says quietly, clearly remembering back to the time I'm referring to.
It still plagues me, that one last operation we'd had to do together. Three years ago, back when we were still working together on jobs, good at what we did, the perfect partnership...except for Snake's tendency to protect his ego. It had been horrible that night, rain pelting the ground as we moved on the abandoned construction site, mud slicking our boots and trousers, foggy air making it impossible to see anywhere. I had told Snake we shouldn't go that day, that it would be better to wait until another, clearer night, but he insisted on the raid. He'd told me that he'd "been in worse" and that this was nothing, so we took our guns, knives and other equipment, and headed out into the wastelands to deal with the threat.
At first, everything had been fine: we'd managed to get in with no problem, creeping around the perimeter, taking out guards as we went, bodies sodden and filthy now, freezing under our light jackets. It was only as we moved to go further into the site that disaster had struck. Suddenly, gunfire was tearing into the ground inches away from us, driving us back behind an old container box, flashes of light appearing in the milky fog around us, our vision obscured by the sheeting rain, the mud making it hard to retreat. We later found out we'd been ratted out to the terrorists occupying the site, and they'd set up a trap for us, hounding us from the place with rifles spewing bullets at us the entire way. We had been close to escaping.
Then I slipped on a landmine.
All of a sudden, I was flying forwards through the air, agony erupting in my left leg as the flash of light and flames exploded behind me, my body crashing to the floor seconds later. Winded and incapable of moving thanks to the pain lancing through me from my leg, I had screamed out to Snake, hoping for him to return to me, the smell of burning flesh soon flooding my nostrils as my foot caught in the blaze. Howling in agony, I had tried to pull myself out, my fingers scrabbling at the slick mud in desperation, only for the pain to become too overbearing. I had looked for Snake, only to see the back of his head disappearing towards our getaway vehicle, paying no mind to me. It was then that I blacked out, my heart drowning in betrayal and hurt.
For a week or so, I'd been held captive by the terrorists, tortured sometimes, my wounds left to fester, bones shattered and out of place, burns turning ugly over the time. Eventually, another team had been sent in to rescue me, the group getting me out before it got too far. Taken to a hospital, it took me weeks to recover, every muscle and bone in my left leg needing to be reformed almost completely, surgeries being done near-daily to realign them all, the skin basically unsalvageable. I'd had four different skin grafts from various parts of my body, only to leave the limb looking twisted and mangled, basically useless to me until I was encouraged to learn how to use it again. That entailed another half a year of time spent working on getting it to full use again, and even now I can't go nearly as far as I used to. Every so often, the leg throbs, memory pain still hounding me since the day I got the wounds themselves, but I suppose I got off lucky: the surgeons hadn't expected me to make it through.
All of that because of Snake's ego.
His apology? A note sent to me whilst I was unconscious in the hospital.
"You and I have a very idea of what an apology is. Especially for something that kept me bedridden for months." I bite out, heart aching now at the memory, "Especially for someone who left me to die."
Snake purses his lips, swallowing tightly.
"I thought you did die." He says, much quieter now, eye roaming my body guiltily.
"You heard my screams. There's no way you didn't." I reply harshly, reminded again of the raw-throated shrieks for help.
He winces, looking down at his feet now, his fists clenched at his sides.
"I didn't think you'd make it. If I went back, I wouldn't have gotten out." He murmurs, sounding somewhat saddened by what he's saying.
"You wanna know how long it took those fuckers to get to me? Fifteen minutes. Fifteen! There was more than enough time!" I spit at him, face twisted in anger.
Once again, he winces at my words, only now realising the extent of what he did.
"And even when you knew I was alive, when I was in hospital, you couldn't even be asked to come and apologise in person. You sent a damn note." I shake my head, looking at him in disgust, "You're a coward. A spineless coward. Why didn't you at least show your face? Why? Why did you leave me to face the pain on my own?"
"Because I couldn't face it! I couldn't face seeing you there, lying in a hospital bed, all doped up, cut-up and bruised because of me! I couldn't face seeing you nearly crippled because of my stupid fucking pride!" Snake finally snaps, voice strained as his eye returns to my face, pain clouding the blue depth, "I thought I got you killed, (Y/n)! I could barely live with myself because of it!"
"Then why wait until now to find me? Why not come sooner?" I question, voice tense.
"I didn't think I'd be able to face you so angry and upset. I cared - care - so much about you, (Y/n), you have no idea how hard this is for me. I've lived with this guilt for so long." He fumbles for words, unable to voice his feelings as he always has been.
"How hard this is for you? Do you have any- argh!" I cut off in pain. As I was speaking, I'd stepped forwards, my leg sending a shock of agony through me as I'd done so, making me stumble forwards.
Snake moves closer, catching me before I can connect with the floor, his arms secure around me as my hands come to rest on his muscular chest. Blushing at the proximity, I try to ignore the butterflies in my stomach, pushing off of him to sit on a nearby chair, dropping the gun to the floor. Stretching out the affected leg, I sigh in frustration, the anger residing into the same loneliness I've always felt since I got the wounds that have left me like this.
Snake watches me silently, expression pained as he finally speaks.
"Can I...can I see? Please, I want to know what I did to you."
Surprised, I give him a sceptical look, before I hesitantly start to pull my trousers down over my legs. His eye widens at the sight of the limb, lips parting slightly.
Gnarled scar tissue crawls up my leg, discoloured and tight, appearing somewhat ghostly in the light of the room. Snake stares at it in horror, grief swiftly clouding his eye now as he falls to his knees in front of me, hands lifting to hover over it. He flicks his eye up to me, asking for permission, to which I nod, gasping as he removes his gloves and gently places his hands on the sensitive skin, a shiver going up my spine. Ever so carefully, Snake runs his palms over the scars, feeling them over with hesitant fingers, his expression becoming more and more open.
After a while, he looks up, pained eye meeting mine.
"God, (Y/n), I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry..." He grasps my hips, pushing his head into my abdomen as he wraps me into an awkward embrace, murmuring apologies over and over. Shocked, I hesitantly place my hands on his head, threading my fingers through his soft hair. An old tenderness springs into life within me, reminding me of why I used to stay with him, and what his riendship used to mean to me. Over the years, I had tried to forget it, but it's impossible - as he holds me close now, I realise I've missed him more than I'd ever let myself admit.
Snake pulls away after a few more minutes, caressing my hip as he looks up at me, thoughtful now.
"What job was it you needed help with?" I ask him quietly, twisting a strand of his hair between my fingers, "I'll work with you, if you drop the ego act."
He looks surprised and glad, a smallsile pulling at his lips.
"Of course." He promises, looking away again bashfully, "I only kept it up to impress you."
I blink in surprise.
"To impress me?" I repeat dumbly.
"Yeah, I, err, I've always felt the need to. Wanted to impress you so you'd consider going out with me." He admits, blushing furiously.
I blink again, head tilting in curiosity.
"Wait, what?"
"I always wanted to go out with you. Always." He chuckles, swallowing, "I've always loved you."
"You...you love me?!"
"Yeah, I do." Snake nods, biting his lip.
"Wow..." My voice trails off in surprise, unable to compute what he's saying, "I wish you'd told me sooner."
He frowns.
"What do you mean?"
I smile sheepishly at him.
"I've always had a thing for you, too. I just never thought you even liked me full stop."
"Really?!" He looks astonished.
"Yeah, really."
He's quiet for a moment, until a cunning smirk crosses his lips.
"In that case..." Snake leans up and connects our lips, kissing me softly but passionately.
A quiet moan escapes me, my lips moving instinctively against his, kissing him back in relief. His lips are chapped, but I can't find it in me to care as I pull his head closer to me, smiling as he pulls my body into him, his chest pressed firmly against my abdomen. In his arms, I can feel the pain of the last few years starting to slip away, still hooked deeply into me but starting to lessen, my eyes falling closed with the movement of his lips.
He finally pulls away, a content smile on his face, eye taking my expression in.
"So what's this job?" I breathe out, stroking his hair.
He grins lazily.
"Ever thought about going to LA?"
#escape from la#escape from new york#snake plissken#snake plissken x reader#snake plissken imagine#kurt russell#break writes
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