#some situations are simply not conducive to that
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companion to “they would not say that” “they would not have kids” etc etc: “they would not be in a healthy stable relationship”
#some situations are simply not conducive to that#which isn’t a bad thing but like. let’s be realistic about characters and their relationships with each other#we need to embrace unhealthy unhinged fictional relationships
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— pornofilm.
summary: the desire to become more for him than you are now has finally corroded you from the inside.
content: simon ghost riley x fem! reader
tags: nsfw, angst, smut, comfort/hurt, confused relationship, sex partners without relationship, receiving fingering, receiving-giving oral, unprotected p in v, marking.
(let me know if i forgot something)
authors note: this is my first time writing an intimate work and i hope you enjoy it, even though i'm not very familiar with tags regarding this topic!
please enjoy your reading) 🍷
(18+ warning)
« you said that you wanna be my girl / just gonna get me now / i take my coat and go away »
you tried to keep your secret desires to yourself and they always silently stretched between you like a black thread, a thread that deftly wraps around your fingers and pulls you to each other to plunge into the viscous darkness together and surrender to its cold with your head.
you never thought that meeting a person who will look like a ghost incarnate will lead you to something infinitely good and warm, maybe even bright, just like the picture of the future that you let pop up in your head from time to time.
and it’s not that the situation and the place in which you both found yourself conducive to something long lasting, just like the answers to your questions that he deftly parried and hid in the viscous pitch darkness somewhere deep in himself — he didn’t want to give all the details about his life to you on a pretty saucer with a golden border, you simply didn’t have the right to know anything, because your joint meetings didn’t consist of that, which crossed the line of awkward acquaintance at some bar counter unknown to you in something more, something more reassuring to your naive head.
Simon.
the first glimpse into the personality of a man who seemed to you colder than a winter storm and darker than the unknown, the first and last of his personality that you will recognize while his cold, truly alien palm wraps around your warm one, and fingers are intertwined with each other.
all the touches of a man are surprisingly gentle and light, as if you appear before him as a small fragile figurine, which he is afraid to break.
he carefully places his palm dangerously close to your pubic tubercle, touching with his fingers the most intimate place of your girlish body — a small pea, starting to draw ornate patterns, looking through a fan of his light eyelashes at how your body shudders with a small shiver, causing your head to tip back and rest against the leather car seat.
feeling the moisture, he leans lower, helping himself — pushes your labia minora apart and broadly smears your clit with his tongue, lifting his dark mask to the level of his nose bridge.
tenderness slowly begins to give way to passion, and his movements become more sweeping and faster, because the main task facing him now is to please you and save himself from unnecessary questions, allowing your arousal to fill the narrow space of the car and stain his chin.
this was your first acquaintance with him, and which gradually dragged you into the abyss of the unknown and the desire for more.
most erratic and unrestrained encounters with him ended in sex and began with nothing more than alcohol.
you spent most of your evenings at the bar, tapping your foot on the iron legs of a high bar stool and enjoying the oblong glass of bright liquid that was handed to you, gracefully grasping the pipe with long fingers with a pair of gold jewelry, and adjoining it with your lips, taking the first sip of the evening.
a tart relish is immediately felt on the tongue, which indicates the presence of alcohol in the cocktail, and you again take a few sips, closing your eyes and enjoying the taste that warms your throat, as well as the warmth that viscous lava spreads throughout the body.
but the sharp feeling of a heavy hand on your shoulder is more intoxicating than alcohol, because you know what your meeting with him leads to.
the car smelling of his perfume and tobacco already seemed to you as a familiar place in which your weekend's ended, while your bare knees rested on the uncomfortable rug near the car seat, and your palms fit on Simon's tense hips, squeezing them tightly and massaging the clogged muscles with fingertips.
you kissed an already raised cock through the fabric of his underwear, and without stopping, lowered the elastic of his boxers enough to open yourself up to a bright pink head, covering it with your lips, at first only playing with it, treacherously slowly running your tongue along the urethra and circling each protruding wreath, feeling the saltiness of the pre-eculate, causing the muscles on his thighs under your fingers to tense more noticeably again, and an impatient growl slipped from the male lips under the mask.
you skillfully absorbed his cock deeper and deeper, with the fingers of one hand making your way to the scrotum, massaging the rough skin in circular motions, in order to then swallow his cock to the very foundation, squeezing your lips to blue and letting out a small vibration.
you innocently look at him from under your eyelashes, watching his eyes roll back in excitement, and the veins on his hands swell slightly from the firm grip on the leather seat.
squirming in place several times, trying not to pay attention to your own surge of arousal, you diligently, as far as possible, planted your throat even deeper on the pulsating organ, while your head movements became more confident and faster, and tears immediately came to your eyes from such pressure.
the only thing that now filled your head were only the sounds of wet pleasure and hoarse deep moans from above
— «F..fuck, dove, you driving me cr-razy»
as you changed the pace of your movements in an attempt to bring him to a note of orgasm, you felt his fingers intertwine with strands of your hair at the back of your head, trying to pull you away, while his bottomless eyes look at you half closed, before they roll back and you feel how his cock shudders, warm jets of sperm fill your mouth and paint your throat white, forcing you to obediently swallow and release his limp cock from your mouth, watching his chest heave heavily and brown eyes are again directed in your direction, because of what you don't even notice the gentle touch of his thumb on the soft skin of your cheek, because you are focused on how wrinkles appear around his eyes in the dark, referring to the fact that he smiled.
and this was your last meeting, which was nothing new for you, because you both always encountered in absolutely strange coincidences without plans in advance, even if it was a meeting in your apartment.
but for some reason, this time, another pause made your mind reach a strange point and freeze on it, provoking thoughts and ideas about what would happen if this mysterious man were with you, and how different would your life be after that?
and these thoughts dragged on for weeks, not leaving your head even until today, when you sat on the sofa in the middle of a living room dimly lit thanks to the TV screen, for the first time in a long time spending your weekends not in some disgusting bar or any other party place, but at home.
the hopelessness of being alone in silence gave access to unpleasant feelings and thoughts to grab onto your head, while you just stared blankly out the window, beyond which it was impossible not to notice huge gray clouds somewhere in the distance, which began to cloud the sky very actively.
the sun disappeared behind them, a light breeze rose, and suddenly timid drops of rain suddenly began to rush down from the sky, soon to turn from a timid downpour into a terrible one.
and while your unvoiced thoughts and desires were eating away at you from the inside painfully slowly, forcing your whole body to tense up from something uncertainty and unpleasant, restless tangle of feelings inside, a loud knock sounded through the apartment.
you slowly take your attention away from the window, your head turns to follow the movement of your eyes that are looking around the apartment, and your ears catch another loud thud.
Front door.
someone knocks on your front door in the late evening in the downpour, and you have no idea who it is, but something inside you is tearing and tossing with strange feelings.
and legs on their own to reach for the floor to feel its cold in contrast to your warm enough body, and they intuitively find their way to the front door as you reach for the handle and pull it open and shudder from contact with the cold street wind to see him on the threshold, the one who makes the voice slip from your lips in some uncertainly hoarse
— «Simon?»
bottomless brown eyes darting into yours, and something in them makes you flinch before opening your eyes at the sharp feel of his warm lips on yours, feeling him shamelessly pushing his nimble tongue into your hot lips.
blurred movements, fluttering lush eyelashes, wrinkled eyebrows and warm breath — all this makes every kiss special.
and you no longer remember how quickly he was inside, while shoes and layers of clothes flew off him, and your body was felt helplessly in his strong hands as he explored every corner of your mouth with his tongue.
your body falls on the black sheets of the big bed, the extra thin fabric of the pajam outfit is forgotten somewhere in the corner of the gloomy room, while he moves away from your lips with a quiet smack, and your hands ring the strong male neck, briefly clinging to each other and breathing heavily.
— «Wanted you so bad»
his voice is like a velveteen, caressing at the same time both your hearing and those thoughts that previously filled your head, allowing a small prick of selfishness to be born in the depths of you and paint a picture of your unfulfilled dreams.
Simon sweeps his tongue across your striped lips, weaving his fingers into the strands of hair at the back of your head, squeezing them hard.
he adjoins your lips, wet from constant licking, shamelessly pushing his tongue into your mouth, running it over an even row of white teeth.
his free hand slides smoothly over the bare flesh of your skin along your belly, outlining your hip bone, and finally stopping perilously close to your underwear.
his long fingers with a certain haste move away the thin line of panties, revealing a view of the innermost place of your girlish body.
it only takes him a few seconds to take the following actions — he covers your womb with the back of his hand, deliberately touching the inconspicuous pea of the clit.
fingers spread labia in the manner of scissors, draw various ornate patterns on delicate skin, and then in an instant plunge into your aching crotch, brazenly pulling out demanding whining from your lips
— «Simon, p-please!»
you can hear a slight chuckle from him as he starts fictitious movements with the utmost care, freeing his free hand from your strands to aggressively begin to explore your body.
for a moment, his gaze rests on your face, closely watching your reaction, how quiet sobs of satisfaction pour from your trembling lips, he teasingly picked up the pace with his fingers and slowed it down until you begin to feel how near the pubic tubercle everything blooms with a beautiful bud, endowing the body with a pleasant firework of mixed feelings.
ragged moans escape your lips, to be drowned out by a deft touch of his tongue to the back of your mouth, swallowing everything you were about to say before you squeezed out hoarsely
— «Need you, Simon.. need your cock..»
and another chuckle, you glimpse a satisfied grin on his lips through a thin veil before his velveteen voice touches the shell of your ear in a whisper
— «I know, dove, i know.. you will take everything that i'm willing to give, aren't you?»
the words gather in your throat and your head makes one slight nod, and it doesn't require words because you both know that's not what he's here for — and for the first time, that realization makes you cringe inside.
he hangs over your fragile body and does not plan to hesitate, so in one movement he turns you on your stomach, and he rests one hand on your lower back, forcing you to bend slightly and stick out your magnificent ass, resting your face on the pillow.
he runs his finger over his bare cock, smearing pre-cum on his urethra before lightly brushing his cock against your skin, allowing himself to slide inside your already throbbing hole.
he pushes further, enters completely, pressing his hips against your rounded buttocks and watching as marks form on your skin under the pads of his fingers.
his movements become bolder, he removes his hand from your lower back and completely leans on your body, pressing it with all his weight into the mattress.
the thrusts are sweeping, fast and rough, causing the whole room to fill with hysterical groans and erratic sounds that mix with his low growls
— «Fuck, just like that, so fucking good and so fucking tight!»
you bite your lips almost to the blood, laying your head sideways on the pillow, demonstrating your neck, on which scarlet buds will eventually bloom, while whining is endlessly heard from your lips
— «S-simon..»
Simon is sensually and passionately attached to your neck, his hot lips collide with delicate skin, leaving several crimson hickeys on it, bright watercolor stains immediately spread all over your neck, and even the most ruby roses are not able to convey the shade of blossoming traces under his lips.
your body writhed restlessly like a snake, thereby forcing the sheets to flow under your naked body, and the very fact of closeness and heat in the lower abdomen drove you crazy.
he sucked and nibbled at the skin of your neck, watching with tremulous pleasure as patterns and marks gradually formed and unfolded on your once pure flesh, and your head was spinning and your legs were becoming cottony, the tension in the lower abdomen became unbearable, while a wave of ecstasy enveloped the two of you, and eyes intuitively rolled in pleasure, provoking indistinct muttering
— «G-going to.. f-fuckgh, c-cum!»
— «Good, go on, love»
fictitious movements became more and more lethargic and uncontrollable, a few last pushes on a sensitive ball of nerves become the last for you, and you immediately shrink, freezing in a silent moan, while your knees tremble uncontrollably in time with a strong orgasm, feelings sharply aggravate and you feel how Simon is pushing into the hot insides for the last time before filling you with warm jets of sperm and falling exhausted onto the soft covers, pulling your limp body to his.
— «Simon?..»
— «Hm?»
the silence was interrupted by your quiet voice, to which a hum was heard in response, while your finger slowly led the strip along his wide chest, because otherwise you would now nervously intertwine your fingers with each other, anxiously trying to collect yourself in order to raise the topic that torments your thoughts
— «You know..»
for some reason it seemed to you that now you sounded noticeably insecure, like a squeak, and a lump gathered in your throat again, which shook even more because his bottomless gaze again turned in your direction, but you still found the strength to weakly squeeze out
— «I just thought.. about our..relationship, yeah»
your voice trembled treacherously, and he hummed again, hoarsely pronouncing
— «Continue»
maybe it would be easier for you if he interrupted your attempts to speak from the very beginning, but he only untied your tongue for a continuation, so your eyelashes trembled after you closed your eyes to gradually open them and monotonously utter something that still makes you not times to regret
— «What if we could be more than we are right now to each other?»
you fall silent waiting for an answer, and for the first time you are frightened by the silence and the night darkness of the room, which seems to wrap its arms around you and pull you into a secluded corner, causing your chest to tighten before realizing that simon removed his hands from your body and left the warmth of your bed, and with this time you truly tremblingly whisper
— «Simon?»
he is silent, silently pulls on his clothes and the sound of his iron belt buckle painfully rings in your ears, and you no longer wait, you begin to demand an answer, because you do not like the pressing sensation formed on your neck, making you almost suffocate
— «Simon, what happeni..»
— «You shouldn't bring this up»
you do not finish, because the next second you are left without words and air in your lungs, the only thing you can do is let your eyes follow his dark figure, which hastily leaves your room towards the corridor of your apartment.
and you, as if in a dream, rise from the black sheet, hiding your naked flesh under the first layers of clothing that came to hand to jump out the door into the corridor, stopping in your steps and silently looking at how he pulls his coat from the hanger in order to throw it over himself in the next second and leave your apartment out.
he didn't look into your eyes, he didn't say a word.
he just disappeared from your life as if he was originally a ghost, leaving you in the pitch darkness of the corridor, which gradually ate your figure in its tones and painful silence, forcing your knees to treacherously bend to touch the icy floor with a blow of the kneecaps, and now the only sound around you — the sound of your own sobs and hopeless attempts to stop the hysteria pulling you deeper and deeper.
© dmitriene - my masterlist
please, don't copy my works as your own, and if you want to post them somewhere else - contact me.
reblogs, likes and comments are very much appreciated, thank you for reading! ♡
#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost riley#ghost x reader#simon riley#ghost x you#ghost x female reader#ghost x f!reader#call of duty#call of duty smut#call of duty angst#simon riley angst#ghost angst#ghost smut#[ ✒️july writing ]
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some of the things that make me really think this doc has to be more than just concert clips and audience interviews is that gerard is a genuine chatterbox. they hate interviews and social media because of the way it pushes an agenda usually not focused on art or community, and gerard has always been a community guy when they’re feeling social, but when they’re allowed to rant about what they’re passionate about, they’re literally impossible to shut up. i think people have forgotten that they’re sooo chatty and passionate when in a conducive situation simply because they’ve spent the last few years offline (and assumedly having a hard lockdown), but that doesn’t mean they haven’t been talking up a storm in their personal life. and by the sheer amount of creativity and media literacy we’ve seen from them in the past month alone, i’m positive they’ve been infodumping joan-and-squid style whenever they get the chance.
gerard’s also very aware that they won’t be able to just not talk about this for the rest of their life. this tour has been one of the biggest rock phenomenons in years, and has generated incredible media and public attention. gerard was already hounded with questions about mcr in unrelated interviews before they ever even got back together. they’re very aware they’re going to get asked about it. because they hate interviews, because they’re so careful about the way their art is received, because they have such specific intentions they don’t like to have misconstrued by an uncaring or outright malicious interviewer, i really feel like they’re going to talk in this doc. not explain everything; they’re certainly going to leave a lot of room for interpretation, they’ve said they love shit like that. but they’re going to talk.
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I was thinking about my ask about Matt and Trey hugging and it kinda does seem like Matt is deliberately avoiding hugging Trey. This is just a guess, I don't really have any info to support this hypothesis. But maybe Trey doesn't like hugging people in general?? Has he hugged someone else before?? I really don't know.
There's a huge chance I'm wrong but maybe Trey doesn't like being hugged so Matt is just respecting his personal space?? It would honestly give more context why Matt gave Trey an air hug instead of walking up to him and hugging him. The hug from Baseketball could be an exception and just him acting. But in social situations he doesn't like it.
I donno do you think this theory has any truth to it?
Ooh, hello again 😊 That’s an interesting theory, and it’s had me pondering all morning! (No worries RE: guessing, providing evidence. It’s fun to think about these things, and look for patterns, especially when we recognise that it’s all speculation.)
First, I’m not sure if Matt’s deliberately avoiding hugging Trey, though I must admit it does appear that way, and if the reason is he’s respecting Trey’s boundaries, I’m totally on board with that. However, there may not have been many opportunities for a genuine hug between them to be captured on film.
A few things come to mind that might contribute to not having visuals of M&T hugs:
Men often aren’t huggers 🤷♀️ That could be a sweeping statement, skewed through my cultural lens as a Brit, but at least in my experience, guys don’t hug that much.
The times we get to see M&T are often red carpets, appearances, interviews, documentaries, etc., and those aren’t really conducive to hugging. They wouldn’t hug in greeting, for example, if they’d already hung out backstage or spent the whole day together already. Those types of hugs all probably occur “off camera.”
We’ve got pics of them (most likely) drunk hugging/grabbing each other, so it’s not something they won’t do, but that could further support that hugging doesn’t really come up that often for them in their public appearances.
That being said, other forms of physical touch don’t seem to be off the table for them. As I mentioned in the hug post, they often rest their head on or put their arms around each other, which might contradict the theory that Trey doesn't like being touched.
Related: @behind-the-blow pointed out a moment (that I can't find right now, argh!!) in which Matt touches Trey’s arm as they’re walking onstage to accept an award. It might've been awkward if they’d walked up there and just hugged each other, but Matt's touch conveyed so much while also taking into account that they’re stood before a massive audience.
I feel it’s worth considering too how M&T get physically close with others (besides their partners and children, where hugs are probably a given.) John Stamos immediately comes to mind! I know next to nothing about this man, but he seems to exhibit some sort of gravitational pull that makes Matt and Trey more open to physical proximity. Perhaps that’s just how John is, so it rubs off on those around him. That gives weight to your theory that Trey might not like hugging in general, if it takes someone who's openly tactile to get him into that mindset.
I mean, look at this guy’s power!
There’s also this lovely pic of Trey with Andrew Rannells that lives in my head rent free.
It reminds me so much of how Trey cuddles up to Matt in some pictures. It’s physically quite intimate, but again, perhaps not as much as a hug is.
Again, I’ve rambled on 😅, but I definitely think there could be truth in your theory. I could also believe Matt isn’t into hugging, Trey isn’t, or neither of them are, or it's simply not something they’re comfortable doing in public, or it just doesn't come up very often. Either way, it'd make my life if we did get footage of them hugging!!! I've got my fingers crossed we'll get something like that in the upcoming Casa Bonita documentary!! 🕯️🕯️🕯️
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also a problem i think marks a lot of 'alternative medicine' in a specific way is the heavy reliance on mechanistic theories of disease and the deriving of treatment protocols from the practitioner's knowledge of physiology / anatomy / organic chemistry. it creates a situation where you go and you look at these people's theories and it's like well sure i can understand the argument you're making and if your premises are all correct and comprehensive, then it does seem like this treatment would work to solve the problem you describe. however it usually turns out the human body is more complicated or variable than a diagram in an anatomy textbook and these people back themselves into corners where they don't want to admit their idea didn't pan out in practice because they often have few and weak institutional links as a result of having marketed themselves as daring, heterodox, and counter-hegemonic, and now their livelihood is staked on what can best be described as "overpromising" and is often more accurately described as "lying".
orthodox medicine does ofc have the same fundamental problem with mechanistic theory failing to produce actual results (something like 1 in 27 drugs that ever gain any clinical trial will be approved for use in humans, and some of those really shouldn't even be, and that figure excludes everything that didn't even make it past the earliest stages of exploration) but there is a marginal degree of protection that is sometimes generated when dealing with pharmacological interventions approved by regulatory agencies (ie, not 'supplements'), plus prestigious medical institutions and practitioner groups tend to be sclerotic in a way not conducive to claims marketing themselves as radical and new, and instead generally favourable to treatment modalities the state likes, such as gaslighting patients and funnelling them into cbt over investigating biomarkers or pathological anatomy. noticeably different though equally insidious issues imo.
anyway i think this dynamic with alternative practices is particularly infuriating in that it drives a lot of people to dedicate significant amounts of time and energy to these particular mechanistic theories, like you will see people very admirably getting deep into the weeds on specific cellular pathways or metabolic processes or whatever else, and there's little check or context provided that would make clear the extent to which most of these ideas simply will never pan out in any appreciable way for people's quality of life. like you're told you need to, basically, become an expert in your own disease, you can solve it and fix your life if only you can gain the skills to wade through this 9999th paper on whatever it is! only what happens when it turns out the published research does not have a full grasp of whatever biological processes you're trying to understand?
in a certain way this whole dynamic just serves the interests of the medical establishment anyway: the promise is always that the knowledge is out there (or, it will be any day now) and it leaves little room for political or philosophical critique of WHAT knowledge, exactly, is out there and how it's produced and what these methods accomplish and whom they serve. yknow, you just need to find the next dizzyingly complicated overlabelled chemical flowchart made by a maligned secret genius doctor that will explain exactly how it all works. and then the body will for sure obey that. because THIS person is the one who has finally learned all the rules, and THIS time they'll work in practice exactly like they do on paper. we prommy
#i call this the ray peat problem because those forums are so chock full of it#but really it's sort of the same issue people used to have with like the physiocrats. many of whom also dabbled in medicine & physiology lol
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how to write simply for the purpose of getting more words in? I’m pantsing nano this year so I don’t get caught up in anxious over planning, but after 7k words I just. don’t know what to write next. I know it’s not a perfectionism thing, because I’ve been doing it all in a bullet point system where I count me making notes to myself to make it easier to write.
first, i love the idea of your bullet point system! that sounds very conducive to drafting.
what i would do to keep up word generation is
open a new document
make a numbered list of prompts for yourself (i would aim for 20 but more is good)
whenever you're stuck, either roll a d20 or use a random number generator to pick something from the list
your prompts can be anything. i would put something like "i remember" on there, which is a writing exercise where you begin every sentence with "i remember," but in this case you would do it in the POV of your main character. what do they remember and why? what's important to them?
honestly this exercise is just good to do for character development regardless of whether or not you're stuck.
you can also do things like "a day in the life" which would be a breakdown of your character's day from waking up to going to bed. and you can pose situations like "[MC's] faces their greatest fear." i would put hard ones and easy ones, specific and general on the list, to give yourself a lot of potential variation.
and there are always wild cards you can throw in to make things exciting, like random words (truth, pink, saturn, whatever) and you have to write a scene around that word.
there's an alternate version of this exercise where you only have a list of random words and pick 3 of them, and you have to write a scene with all 3 words in them. it may seem silly but i've had good and weird things come out of that prompt.
just making this list and having it on hand can be a worthwhile endeavor. if you keep your prompts general enough, you can use it on just about anything.
these exercises may not move your story forward, but they'll generate some discovery-based prose to help give you insight into where you might want to go next.
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It's hard for me to tell at the moment whether I can't see anything in the Build tag because of the massive amounts of spam or if it's just that people aren't saying anything, but I guess that is neither here nor there, other than that if nobody is saying anything after the last week it leaves me a bit ??
I last posted about this whole topic back in July - if I remember it was right at the start of the July 17th leaks, though at this point I'll admit that it's all become a bit of a blur. We've had what, now, five leaks since May? Yeah.
I've thought a lot about whether or not to post again since then. I had a friend visiting from out of the country at the time, and between that and the insanity that is my workplace at the moment, I quite frankly did not have the time or the brain space to actually work through my thoughts and put them down on paper, so to speak. When I did have some more time things had quieted down again, and I thought - well, no use dredging it up again, since I'd already laid out a lot of my thoughts here and then on twitter, too. There was also the unspoken fact that I didn't know whether or not there would be another leak, of course.
So here we are a month later coming off of another round, and after the last week I feel the need to finally get some things off my chest.
First of all, I've done some poking around and I'm disappointed but unsurprised to see that as usual, there is very little discussion outside of pro-Build spaces about how disturbing and obsessive all this is. The campaign of hate, bullying, harassment, coercion and blackmail continues and by and large people are happy to participate in it because apparently those things become okay when they are dealing with someone they view as a bad person as long as they pay lip service to 'well they're both bad people', which does not even come close to being an actual criticism of what she's doing. As always, there's also little discussion of the clear fact that she obviously doesn't care who she hurts during this process, even if it's the faves of the same fans participating in the hate campaign.
None of this aligns with my moral code. It never will. I think it's disgusting and I think that the people participating in it should be ashamed of themselves, though I know that they never will be.
I've gone into detail on all of this before, however, so I don't see the point in going into it again. I will simply state that yes, I do still believe in second chances and opportunities for redemption for anyone, regardless of what they have done. So I will always say that people should give Build the chance to try and be a better person, and that they shouldn't try to dictate to others whether or not they support him.
However (you knew that was coming, right?) - what's in those messages doesn't align with my moral code either. And yeah, I do feel like I need to say it, partly because I feel like the bubble/byl fandom at large is being a bit too dismissive of it.
I get it. I laid out up above why I think what is being done to Build is wrong. I haven't changed my mind on that. People feel so strongly that what is being done to him is wrong that it makes them extremely defensive of him.
But this situation isn't black and white and never has been, and multiple things can be true.
Example A: Some people who hate Build are guilty of behaving extremely badly and contributing to the harassment and bullying and blackmail.
On the flip side: some people who support him are guilty of hating on the other cast members in spite of the fact that there's no evidence of them doing anything. Some are also guilty of willfully turning a blind eye to the fact that he has admitted the messages are his and has apologized for them - which means that as of today the current evidence we have says that they are his, they're not fake, and he is taking responsibility for them.
Example B: His ex is clearly mentally unwell, a narcissist who is obsessed with revenge and is conducting a hate campaign to turpedo his life and career while benefiting her own.
On the flip side: it seems clear that Build is guilty of awful behaviour, of saying horrible things about people who were seemingly nothing but kind to him, of being homophobic, racist and sexist. (I'm not going to touch on the abuse allegations here because I've discussed those previously.)
Again: yes, I do think he should be given the chance to start over and redeem himself and I like to think he's capable of it, but fans really should be acknowledging what he's redeeming himself FROM.
From what I've witnessed in a lot of spaces - that's not happening. I've seen a lot of denial, I've seen a lot of handwaving and glossing over the situation. I've seen some insane claims, too. Some fans are going so far as to say that they think that his show was never going to happen, that the messages are all doctored and this is all a plot between the company, his ex and his former co-stars. (Which is just - ??? I don't even know where to start.)
Some are simply refusing to read the messages (how can a person defend him if they don't know what they're defending? I don't quite understand) while others simultaneously claim that the translations out there are misleading - but refuse to share 'acceptable' translations because that's privacy invasion. Again - ???
It's insane and downright exhausting and I am just... done. I speak up for what I think is right and call out what I think is wrong, and I while I think the handling of this is horrendous and has been from the start, I also think it's wrong to minimize and downplay what he's done. In his apology he's holding himself accountable for what he did, why won't some of his fandom? How can people argue for him to get a second chance if they won't even admit what he did that he needs a second chance for? Technically this is a third chance, I might add, because some of those messages are from after his scandal last summer.
I want to reiterate here that I don't hate Build. It seems like so often any criticism of his behaviour at all means that suddenly you're an anti or that you hate him or you're against him. I'm not going to suddenly go on diatribes about how he's a horrible person. I think it's likely that there's a lot more going on here than what meets the eye, particularly since there are people who are still well liked by most of the fandom who have stood by him until July (a certain picture that was posted with a filter comes to mind, as does someone who liked every single one of his posts since his return until they were mentioned in one of the leaked messages).
What I mean here is simply this: I don't think Build is a cartoon villain, I think he's a whole person capable of a variety of things, both good and bad.
I also want to make it clear here that I'm not here to hate on people in the fandom. I mean - glass house, stones, all that. But also I think we've had enough of that. This fandom is one of the most polarized I've ever been in and the vitriol is off the charts, I'm not going to contribute to it.
I guess my hope is just that people will think about why and how they're choosing to come to his defense, if for no other reason than the fact that in my opinon and experience, the more extreme fan claims are making it worse for him, not better. I've said this on twitter and I'll say it here - when people are confronted with attempts to downplay things, it makes them more intent on proving the opposite. If you acknowledge them then you change the footing and the conversation can move on to other things.
As I said, this is a complex situation. It's okay to acknowledge that. Things don't have to be black and white. A lot of fans are in echo chambers right now on both sides of the aisle.
Anyway. I truly hope that this will be the last post that I ever have to make on this subject. For now, at least, I've said my piece and addressed what I need to in order to feel comfortable and not just like I'm avoiding talking about the topic.
In the meantime I've turned my attention to Bible and the rest of the cast because I always have and continue to adore them and I feel like I've neglected them over the last six months (as much as a fan can neglect celebrities, of course). For all my issues with the company, I've always loved the cast.
I'm more active on Twitter than here, but I do go back and forth between the two sites.
Take care. 💗
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One of my favorite things about talking to Pokémon is coming to understand how they parse human language. This is, funny enough, best exemplified by how my Pokémon respond to being called a "little jerk" (affectionately)--minus Dolly. I'm not skilled enough at sign to convey the feeling of "I love you but you're being a real pain" without hurting her feelings, and hurting Dolly's feelings would make me very very sad. (Write-up of the rest of them under the cut!)
Momo, Wingman, and Maamaa are in the "sweet little creature" category. They can read my tone of voice, but they don't get that "little jerk" is a complaint. They are blissfully unaware and for all they care, I could be calling them a saint or cursing them out as long as it's in that tone of voice and isn't directly tied to a command or something rewarding. Words don't matter, just tone.
Fruit Rollup and Soda fall into what I call the "don't care, didn't ask" coalition. They're pretty solitary creatures, and they don't really care for my praise either way. (Or at least, verbal praise. Fruit Rollup loves pets so she can poison me like an evil little bug, and Soda just wants fruit.) Thus, reading their understanding of tone is tough, though they do respond to a stern tone when needed!
Shuu and Amadeus fall into the "word prioritization" category. They both listen carefully to what I say, and as lovingly as I say it, they don't like being called little jerks. Even when it's true. </3 Cue the teenage angst. (I expect them to grow out of this at least a little, since they are capable of understanding both language and tone!)
Wolfgang, Chiru, and Ringogo fall under my "full understanding" category. This makes sense, considering they're my three longest-standing battling partners, and understanding each other well is pretty conducive to that. (Also one of them's quite literally my brother.) They've all developed their own, unique, loving reactions to my teasing, including: rolling their eyes (Wolfy), singing even louder to annoy me further (Chiru), or simply laying their head in my lap and calming down (Ringogo).
Now, my Vanillite also falls under the "full understanding" category. Just with a new caveat. "Full understanding, no remorse". In other words, he's perfectly aware that I am calling him a jerk. He is also perfectly aware that I am trying to gently redirect him from the situation. Neither of these facts faze him in his continued quest to bowl over the entire Unova region by the time I'm done my holiday festivities. I should probably check his level again, to make sure he didn't get out some other way... little guy knows how to break out of Pokéballs, too.
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came up with some nice new character facts for Caspian today while RPing him so here they are in a conducive list:
he's bisexual but is demiromantic, possibly aromantic. It takes him a really long time of knowing someone before he even considers the relationship to be possibly romantic. In the few romantic relationships he's had, he's know the partner for literal years (and those relationships never lasted long in the romance department because Caspian simply Does Not have the experience to keep something like that alive and usually self-sabotaged the relationship)
he enjoys toying with people, being very good at reading faces and situations and body languages -- even if he plays into being a clueless sylvari, he knows exactly what is going on
he will call absolutely anyone dear/darling/dearheart, especially if he cannot remember your name
he will refer to fellow sylvari as little brother/little sister/little sibling regardless of whether or not said sylvari is actually younger than him
he's dyslexic as fuck and thus has a love-hate relationship with books
he's easily squicked by body horror, and may now have a newfound fear of moths (thanks Finnegan)
bitch is dramatic as fuck with his mesmer magic (which is a deep magenta that bursts into flower petals when disrupted)
#rook rambles#caspian primrose#he's also absolutely useless in a fight#but that's a given since he's an actor and has only ever been in choreographed fights
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Dragon Ball Z: Abridged Episode 36 Review
Originally posted January 15th, 2016
Goku is benched, and Vegeta takes his place.
So far, Dragonball Z: Abridged has worked its way through two arcs of the original story, and in the new arc as well as the previous two, there have been plot contrivances designed to keep Goku out of the battlefield for as long as possible, given how powerful he is. I didn’t mind it in the Saiyan Saga, since he literally died and spent most of that time training, and I didn’t mind it in the Freeza Saga, because the “contrivance” was a mixed body situation that led to him experiencing some pretty severe injuries.
Now, however, “heart problems” being what takes Goku off the battlefield feels frustrating more than anything else, because as much as I understand that there isn’t a story if he’s just wailing on the bad guys until he wins, I feel like it should be something more significant than basic medical issues that prevent him from fighting (though a potential thematic significance might undercut that critique1).
None of that is to critique Team Four Star, oddly enough, even if the specifics of Goku’s illness are their invention (I think it is, but feel free to let me know). They handle Goku’s third “benching” pretty cleverly, with his heart attack coming right after (Yamcha lets him make) a mistake that give Android 19 a lot of his energy, and his reasoning for not taking his medicine being that “it was grape flavored.” Despite the bullshit that is exiling the main protagonist, they pull it off with humor and grace, making his departure feel mostly natural and driven entirely by his character.
The rest of the episode is all about Vegeta, and more importantly, all about making “Super Saiyan Swagger” the perfect title for the episode. Vegeta’s arrival and subsequent transformation into a Super Saiyan removes all of the tension surrounding Gero and 19, and what follows is one of the most satisfying beatdowns of a robot that I have ever seen
As Vegeta meticulously counts down from five the number of blows to deliver to 19, we’re left with the thrill of waiting to see just how Vegeta is going to destroy this machine as well as whether or not it will feel fear at its upcoming destruction. It’s one of the best scenes Team Four Star has made, and it’s ultimately sold by the confluence of music and editing with Lanipator’s unshakeable confidence as the Prince of all Saiyans.
Rating: 4/5
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Stray Observations
1To put it simply, it could be read as signifying the banal, ordinary things affecting us the most, with a Legendary Warrior’s greatest flaw being that he didn’t take his cholesterol medicine. But I don’t think that Toriyama or Team Four Star are interested in actually exploring this, which is unfortunate for Toriyama but probably a good call on Team Four Star’s part. (Yet again, I feel it’s necessary to mention that I haven’t read the manga or seen the original anime.)
Gero: “Why is dodging a subroutine!? It’s not that complex!”
*Piccolo looks at Gohan*
Gero: “But enough about hypothetical erections. 19! Suck! Him! Dry!”
Gohan: “I thought you had to have a pure heart to become a Super Saiyan?”
Vegeta: “My heart is pure. Pure, unadulterated, badass.”
Krillin: “Senzu bean!”
I always feel somewhat bad when I don’t include many plot details, but with this series, it’s kind of common, since episodes are short and often don’t consist of more plot than “Character A fights Character B.” Hopefully next episode is more conducive to detailed analysis.
#dragon ball z abridged#dragon ball z#team four star#tfs#dbza#film criticism#dbza ep36#lol at past me complaining there isn't enough plot to summarize#i hate summarizing stories#and it's especially not conducive to reviews like these#where you can easily just go and watch the episode before reading it to refresh your memory#i do like having more to analyze#but given the short form nature of dbza#it makes sense that some episodes just wouldn't warrant many words
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Ah, a perfect illustration for me to muse about KL.
- For some reason I expected KL to follow a similar flow; after all, I was also going back after ten years (and thereby redoing a somewhat malcontent experience with the ex). However, I made many tactical errors here. I did not make solid plans, I waffled and faffed about, unable to decide if I was staying here or going there (inevitably, I stayed as it required the least effort), I had no real meaningful social interaction, I stayed in a hotel with no breakfast, I was bereft when faced with description-less menus in down-to-earth local establishments ("what do you recommend?" or "which is your favourite?" to the server is a very dangerous question indeed). I feel somewhat remorseful that I did not commit to a bit, either complete sloth and hipster cafes, or truly dedicated tourist-ing. I also stayed directly on Jalan Petaling, and found in a strange way (okay maybe I'm really stretching for a complaint here) it detracted from the fun of going in search of the place to be if you're staying smack in the middle of it.
- When I went to Seoul I did research. I had plans. Things to see! Places to go! I stayed at a guesthouse and had some friendly interaction with the host, and daily provided breakfast. Most places I ate at had picture menus for wayward foreigners, or at least I was familiar enough with Korean food and Hangul to figure things out. It was suitable weather for rambling around. I was having a bittersweet life transition ending Chinese class, and revisiting Korea after ten years!
It was also not the weather for extended trotting about outside (I did eventually partake in the time-honoured tropical tradition of walking around the giant multi-storey AC'd mall though).
- This is not to say I didn't enjoy the hipster cafes and art spaces (once I actually got out of bed). Or staying in a hotel room bigger than my own apartment, with nice bedding (even if I never figured out how to turn on the hot water in the shower). But in hindsight it feels kind of a coagulated blur. When I was there, it was an elastic eternity, and now that I'm back, almost as if I never left. Perhaps I simply wasn't in the right frame of mind, or perhaps I was just somewhat brainwashed by the blaring music from the bars across the street until 3 or 4 AM my first few nights there.
- I will say though, I had a very heartening experience being gendered unequivocally correctly around 99% of the time. One thing about Chinese is that with no spoken gendered pronouns and a formal "you", it is very hard to tell how people are perceiving me in Taiwan until they are trying to redirect me to a different bathroom, which is really not the optimal situation in which to find this out. Malaysia is very into the sir/ma'am honorifics. I suspect there is also some effect had by a more conservative, illegal-homosexuality sort of culture where clothes and styling are great determiners of which box one gets sorted into, vs Taipei where it's fair game to assume that maybe you look like that cause you're just really, really gay?
- The metro escalators in KL go much faster than I'm used to an escalator going (I'm not complaining). The metro in KL is also disjointed and confusing and the ticket machines are uncooperative for wrangling.
- I don't want to judge a group of people on a whole based on their hospitality personas, so I'll just say at the least, Malay Malaysians working in customer service are very charming and friendly.
- I really intended to eat a ton of fruit and then I just...didn't, maybe because I am used to buying fruit whole in multi-kilo volumes and eating it at home, but the hotel was not conducive to that at all (no mini fridge, no knives).
- Every time I go to Singapore/Indonesia/Malaysia I come away wanting to learn Malay/Indonesian because it is just so delightful to look at the stack of languages in one piece of signage and have no real idea which word matches up to which in English. (Well, that's not entirely correct, I can recognise some basic things à la "saya suka makan pisang" after those two weeks couchsurfing in Sumatera some years ago. But then, I'm always torn because if I want to learn an Austronesian language I should really just go for Filipino so I can actually understand half my tumblr dash- I cracked open a teach-yourself sort of book at a hostel in Cebu once and my brain simply refused to unlatch its death grip on Chinese at the time, but maybe there's room for another grammar system in there now?)
- On the plane back there were (or so it sounded) at least two children who threw a fit and screamed bloody murder at full lung capacity (I am really not exaggerating here, it was impressive) when we experienced turbulence during takeoff and landing, but I had already put in my hotel earplugs, and simply smiled to myself thinking of how I'd learned, through a visit to Teotihuacán one year, that when the Aztecs sacrificed children to the rain god, the more they cried the better the rains were expected to be.
- For the first time ever at Taoyuan Airport the immigration officer examined my passport in minute detail (even some kind of little magnifying glass thing?) and asked how long I was staying, which reminded me a) I forgot to make myself look presentable and b) I claim to live here but I actually have zero guaranteed right to it at the moment (sleep deprived and not having eaten since breakfast, this threatened to send me into an emotional spiral until I reminded myself of those compounding factors and decided to save that thought for after dinner). I said I was leaving on the 19th (because that is the date for which I still have an unused exit flight). The officer seemed pacified and stamped me in for another 90 days. But maybe it is time to finally put some effort into reestablishing my formal alien residency.
- Last but not least, maybe I should have stayed in KL cause apparently Taiwan is having a heatwave and it's gonna be 39C tomorrow, and KL will be a chilly 31 or so.
#no i don't support human sacrifice but it amuses me to think one man's pain is another man's precipitation#i will say i am slowly learning how to get around my restaurant anxiety#even if it involves hours of online investigation and multiple backup plans#i can and will voluntarily go into and sit down in one alone#sometimes i even have a good time at it too!
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Should You Tip Your House Cleaner
If you have a house cleaner, it can be difficult to decide whether you should tip them. Even if the job they do is exceptional and you feel like they deserve extra recognition for their hard work, is tipping really necessary? This blog post aims to answer your questions about etiquette when it comes to giving tips to your housekeeper; outlining situations where it's appropriate or not required, as well as the potential benefits of doing so. Read on for more information about how much and when you should tip your house cleaner!
What is a house cleaner and why do people hire them
A house cleaner is a professional who is responsible for cleaning and maintaining houses and other living spaces. People hire them for various reasons such as lack of time, disability, or illness, or simply because they want a clean and organized home. House cleaners are trained to clean and sanitize every nook and cranny of a house, making sure it is free from dirt, dust, and other impurities. With their expertise, they can remove even the toughest stains and grime. Additionally, many house cleaners nowadays use eco-friendly products that are safer for both the environment and the inhabitants of the house. Hiring a house cleaner will not only help you maintain a healthy and clean living environment but also give you more free time to focus on other important things in your life.
What tasks do they generally perform?
A home cleaning service typically performs a wide array of tasks to ensure a clean, hygienic, and organized living space. The tasks can vary based on the specific needs and preferences of the homeowner, but generally include dusting furniture, vacuuming and mopping floors, wiping down surfaces, and cleaning bathrooms, including toilets, sinks, and mirrors. Kitchen cleaning is another crucial task, which often involves washing dishes, cleaning appliances, and wiping down countertops. Some services may also include making beds, washing windows, and laundry. Additionally, deep cleaning tasks, such as carpet cleaning and oven cleaning, may be performed on a less frequent basis or upon request. The goal of these tasks is to provide a thoroughly clean and comfortable environment for the residents.
Pros and cons of tipping your house cleaner
Tipping your house cleaner is a practice that's often debated. On one hand, leaving a little extra cash as a thank you for a job well done is a kind gesture that can help boost morale and show appreciation for their hard work. However, tipping can also create an expectation of extra compensation and may cause the cleaner to feel undervalued if they don't receive a tip. Additionally, if you're constantly tipping your cleaner, it could end up costing you more in the long run. Ultimately, the decision to tip your house cleaner is a personal one. It's important to consider your own budget and the level of service you're receiving before deciding what's right for you.
How much should you tip your house cleaner
When it comes to tipping your house cleaner, there are a few things to consider. While tipping is not always expected, it can be a great way to show appreciation for their hard work and dedication to keeping your home clean. Most experts recommend a tip of 15-20% of the total cleaning fee. However, this can vary depending on the level of service provided, the size of your home, and the frequency of cleanings. Ultimately, the decision to tip is up to you and what you feel comfortable with. Just remember, a little gesture of gratitude can go a long way in making your house cleaner feel valued and appreciated.
How to find and hire a reliable house cleaner
Keeping a clean home can be conducive to your overall well-being. But finding the time to maintain it on top of the responsibilities of modern-day living can be quite daunting. So, the option of hiring a house cleaner might be the next best thing. However, it can be tricky to find one who is trustworthy and efficient. Here are some pointers on how to locate a reliable cleaner. First and foremost, ask for referrals from family, friends, or even neighbors who use a cleaning service. Make sure to read reviews and check ratings online before you hire. Inquiring about the cleaner's experience, what cleaning products they use, and if they are bonded and insured are additional measures to consider. These precautions should help guide you in your search for the right cleaning professional.
Tips for finding the right cleaning products to use in your home
Keeping a clean and tidy home is essential for both the aesthetics and health of your living space. However, with so many cleaning products on the market, it can be difficult to find the right products for your needs. One important factor to consider is the type of surface you will be cleaning, as different surfaces require specific cleaning ingredients. Also, take into account any allergies or sensitivities you or someone in your household may have, which could limit the range of products you can use. Another tip is to read product labels carefully to ensure the ingredients are safe for your home and the environment. With a little research and consideration, you can find the right cleaning products that will keep your home looking and feeling fresh.
Hiring a house cleaner can be as simple or complex as you want to make it. With the right research, you can find and hire a reliable and trustworthy person who will help keep your home clean. Consider what tasks you need to complete and the pros and cons of tipping them depending on the level of satisfaction with their work. Make sure to spend time researching cleaning products that are not only right for your budget but also safe to use in your home. Lastly, take advantage of any coupons or discounts when hiring a house cleaner as this may help save money in the long run. Are you ready to bring in professional help, get organized, and create the perfect living space? Take action today and let the professionals do all of the hard work for you!
Author Description: EcoGlow Cleaning is an experienced and professional cleaning service in Charlotte, NC focusing on both residential and commercial cleaning.
Learn more about ecoGlow Cleaning at https://maps.app.goo.gl/RcrYY4AU57SbCKKp9
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Day 0
Day 9 (Evening)
Day 10:
They had woken early, intending to leave before most of the villagers woke. The fewer people who saw them on the rich man’s property, the better. Ryou had been more than a little surprised and a bit confused when he realized that the King of Thieves was leaving everything that could be considered treasure in the wealthy man’s house, but he wasn’t about to question it. They did however, raid the food stores, loading the horse with the wine the now dead man had in addition to their own food.
"What are you doing?!" Ryou stepped away from the hands that were reaching for his waist.
"Putting you on the horse." Bakura replied like it was the stupidest question he had ever heard.
The boy frowned at him. "You shouldn’t be lifting anything! You’re going to start bleeding again!"
"Do you intend to walk all the way home?"
"No, but -"
"Where the hell are you going?"
"To find something to stand on."
The trek back to the deserted village was quiet, broken periodically by Ryou yawning; even though the room he had been in was otherwise empty, knowing that the house was littered with fresh corpses had been anything but conducive to him sleeping.
"You're just a brute!"
Ryou had insisted that the thief's bandages needed to be changed after they had gotten home and unloaded the horse, which Bakura simply didn’t appreciate since it made him feel vulnerable and dependent. Not enjoying being fussed over, but unable to deter the pale boy, he took to berating him instead, scolding him for not defending himself against the wealthy man.
And when Ryou brought up the fact that the only reason he had even been in that situation was because Bakura had gotten drunk and gotten into a bar fight; it, unsurprisingly, had turned into an argument.
Bakura grabbed his neck and shoved him against the wall, snarling. "I could snap you like a twig!"
"Go ahead! I'm nothing but an inconvenience to you!"
The thief’s hand dropped from the slender throat as he turned away. "Go take care of the horse." They both knew it was an empty command; Bakura sounded, not guilty, but tired, and Ryou left without another word.
The sun was setting when Ryou finally decided to go inside and fix dinner, he didn't want to give the Thief King another reason to be angry. He stopped in surprise just outside the door where Bakura had drawn the crude map for him; there were new symbols scratched in the dirt. The meanings were obvious - his parents house was a day and a half away with two villages in between on this side of the Nile. There were also strange tracks in the dirt leading into the house. Cautiously, he peered through the doorway, seeing that the table had been moved and the tracks continued into the bedroom. The boy knew that the village was deserted so the source of the tracks had to be Bakura. He took a deep breath and nervously followed the tracks, hoping that it wasn't some kind of trap.
He nearly fell to his knees as he looked into the bedroom. Despite his injuries and their earlier argument, Bakura had gotten a bed for him. He had the information he needed to go home. He could leave the next morning after breakfast, if he left the food, Bakura would have about three days before it went bad.
Except he couldn't. Leaving meant taking the horse, and it was unlikely that the thief would be recovered enough to walk to the other village when he needed more food, Ryou still wasn’t sure how he had managed to get there the day before. Not only that, but Bakura needed him, even if just to change his bandages. And Bakura, in his own way, was asking him to stay.
They ate in relative silence, the thief in enough pain that he didn't really want to talk, and Ryou was still thinking about the events of the past two days, and neither of them wanted to start another fight.
On his way back to bed, Bakura paused, letting the wall support him while he spoke, "Ryou, if there's anything you want, all you have to do is tell me. Gold, jewels, clothing, anything; I'll get it for you."
Ryou didn’t answer, knowing if he opened his mouth or even looked at the man, he was going to start crying. Only after he heard the faint creak of the bed did he go outside, running all the way to the end of a nearby lane, hoping that Bakura wouldn’t hear his sobs from that distance. He was having the worst time trying to make sense of everything that had happened in such a short time.
Bakura, the violent, merciless, ruthless King of Thieves had taken him from his parents after threatening to kill them. Bakura had killed a man just for identifying him. Bakura had bought Ryou beautiful new clothes and shoes, not just sandals, but actual shoes. Bakura had somehow walked all the way through the desert to the other village while seriously injured because he was worried about Ryou. Bakura had, with his bare hands, brutally murdered, nearly dismembering the man intending to rape Ryou. Bakura, even injured to the point he could barely stand, had gotten Ryou his own bed.
Bakura cared about him.
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tkb showing affection the only way he knows how and ryou having an emotional breakdown (mostly because of it) (poor sheltered boy)
next -> idefk (ivent abandoned these, even if i am distracted and tired)
#star in the sand#Gemshipping#Bakura#Ryou Bakura#Bakura Ryou#TKB#Touzoku Bakura#Thief King Bakura#Ancient Egypt AU#yugioh#Yu-Gi-Oh#ygo#fanfiction#ygo fanfiction#yugioh fanfiction#writing#wip
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Thoughts On A Guillotine
Summary: Freed would do anything to complete a mission, including letting himself be captured and tortured if it could get him the intel he needed. But that doesn't mean he has no limits. When pushed to them by a group of slave traders, Freed reveals just how twisted his own mind can be.
Notes: Hi all, this was written for Freed Justine Day hosted by @freedjustineappreciation, and I decided to focus on his dark side in a way I normally don't in my writing. Please heed the tags on the Ao3 link, as this has some violent imagery that might not be to everyone's tastes.
Links: Ao3
Thoughts on a Guillotine
It had been about three days since his 'capture' had happened. The situation didn't lend itself to good timekeeping, so he couldn't be sure, but he'd quickly realised that his tormentors took regular shifts and had managed to clock the time based on what was being done to him. They each had their own style of torture to use against him, so when a change in shift occurred, he could tell. They all took three hours, and at night he was simply guarded rather than harmed, which had allowed him to establish a sort of schedule to map out the days.
Should he be right, the evening had just begun, and his most sadistic tormentor had just begun his shift. It should be time for a reprieve and allow him to rest, but he's given up on that. Rings of metal encased his arms at multiple points, keeping him suspended with his toes barely touching the ground. He was gagged with a metal contraption and had something covering his eyes. Hardly conducive to sleep.
"Hey there," A taunting voice filled the echoey room. "You're still here," a patronising sigh, "that's sad. For you, obviously."
Freed didn't rise to the bait. He looked to where the voice had come from, a sign of defiance that he thought dignified. This man, number five as Freed had taken to calling him, was the worst of the group. He wasn't content to simply hurt Freed - though he did a lot of that, to be sure - but he taunted him too. He had taken to the narrative that Freed had previously been an unstoppable force, and he was the man to take him down.
He was right on one of those points, at least.
"I've got a new toy, actually," Five said, stepping towards Freed. The floor to this room was creaky, which served Freed well. He could always tell where everyone was, taking away the element of surprise they had. "Maybe you'll recognise it."
Something pushed up against his ribs, and for a moment Freed wondered what point was being made, before pain erupted from the object. It was burning through him, sharp and cruel and his body tried to push back away from it. The metal belt that tethered him to the wall wouldn't allow it, and he could do nothing but thrash and writhe against the torment as it continued. His limbs tried to seize up, his control slipping, and all he could do was tighten his fists and struggle for control.
"He ever do this to ya?" Five taunted. "You're getting stiff over it, I bet."
The feeling was lightning, then. Laxus was another way Five thought he could get under Freed's skin. If he weren't trying to catch his breath and will the pain out of his body, Freed would have been angry. Not because Five thought Freed had a lightning kink, but that Five thought the mere mention of his partner would be enough to make him crumble. If Five thought Freed was unable to separate work and personal feelings, then he had misjudged the situation entirely.
Though, that was already obvious. He thought he had Freed trapped; he was wrong. Freed was just waiting.
His capture had been deliberate. The Brotherhood, as they so uncreatively called themselves, were known to be people smugglers, taking vulnerable people from other nations and bringing them to Fiore, only to sell them off into slavery. With cases like this, the victims also acted as hostages, and as such Fairy Tail's normal 'punch first ask questions later' tactic wouldn't work. Freed was on an intel mission, and who better to get information from than the man who thinks he has defeated you. Freed suspected he had about two more days left before he would be told where the victims were being held.
"Not talking, huh?" Five mused, grazing the device over Freed's bare stomach but not switching it on. "Maybe this'll get you chatting. Some of your guildmates came close to town today."
It was a lie, so Freed didn't react. The sensitive nature of this mission meant an agreement had to be put in place. Freed had one week where nobody would be allowed anywhere near the town that this smuggling ring had been found in. That week had not yet expired, and he knew that Makarov would keep true to his word of not letting anyone else interfere. Once the week was over, if no word had been sent, the guild would arrive en masse, but not before.
"There was a kid, blue hair, innocent face," Five continued on. "Bet she'd fetch a pretty price, huh? Wonder what'd happen to her if she was in your place. You think she'd hold up?"
Wendy, like every other guild member, was not here. It was commonly known that she was a member of Fairy Tail, and she was the obvious choice to be cruel about. She was young and, to an uninformed person anyway, seemed unable to defend herself. This was a lie to get under Freed's skin. Nothing more.
"You've gotta wonder, who'd buy her," Five continued, "and what would they do. Nothing good, I bet. Maybe they'd just kick the shit outta her, that'd be a pretty nice outcome, I think. But what if she got stuck with someone a little more, how should I put it… morally questionable-"
The curse flew from Freed's eye before he could stop himself.
Silence filled the room, the man's body sieving into a paralysed state. The implicit threat against Wendy lingered in Freed's mind, anger roiling despite knowing that it would never come true. Even such a thought was too revolting to go untested - too despicable to not face consequences - and Freed wasn't going to allow it. His eye flared with magic, a quick teleportation spell was cast, and he was taken from his bounds and now stood in front of Five. He took the unmoving man's chin in his hand, forced him to look at him, and spoke in a low, hoarse voice.
"I had been considering doing this all day, to give myself some sort of entertainment, but I was undecided if it was wise," he smiled. "Thank you for making that decision for me."
While he didn't have the information yet and would need to remain their victim so that he could gather it, that didn't mean he had to be inactive. When he had taken this mission, he had prepared himself for all eventualities, anything from immediate escape to total decimation of The Brotherhood. This particular situation called for a point to be made; they had taken things too far, and as such needed to be told who was in charge of the situation.
As he had surmised, he was in an abandoned manor house, kept in the attic. It was large and dusty, with the toys of their torment scattered around. Freed moved slowly, assessing everything before gesturing to Five, whose body was encased with blurring runes. The runes moved, shifting him with them in jerky actions. He was forced to follow Freed, who didn't spare him a second look.
"The town you've decided to set your base in, I researched it before I came," Freed said conversationally as he walked. "Fascinating history, particularly with local gentry. They had a lord, or a mayor, who treated them like dirt. Stole from them, beat them, made life hell for them. Do you know what they did?"
Freed waited, but the man couldn't respond.
"They erected a guillotine and beheaded him. That was centuries ago, of course, but the guillotine remains. You've probably seen it in the town square. It's protected by runes so nobody can get to it, but to me that suggests it's as functional as it was the day it was made. Why protect people from it if it doesn't work?" Freed smiled as he walked down the spiral staircase from the attic. "You're likely wondering why I'm mentioning this. I'll explain, but later. I have other work to do."
The moment he was off the staircase and standing in a long hallway, he was face to face with another of his tormentors. The man was part way through speaking - asking Five what he was doing - before he faltered. Freed recognised the man by his voice. Two: the man with a penchant for waterboarding.
With a raised hand, runes flew out of Freed's fingers and plastered onto the man's forehead, sinking into his head. He went slack, eyes vacant. Waiting for instructions. "You will, until I say otherwise, experience overwhelming thirst. You will feel your body drying up inside, and no matter what the reality of your body is, you will never be able to settle your need for water. It will be the only thing you can think of the only thing you can work toward, the only thing you can do. Thirst will be your life."
Life came back to the man's eyes, and the moment it did, his hands went to his throat. He breathed hoarse and dryly, before running to a nearby room. Freed followed in a saunter, making a beckoning motion towards Five to make him follow.
The room Two had walked into was a bathroom, and he had his face under a faucet, which was pumping water into his mouth. It all looked perfectly normal, and Freed took his time to sit on the edge of the bathtub so he could watch. He made sure Five was standing in a position where he could see Two, and could watch what was going to happen. He released the paralysis spell slightly, just enough for Five to have control over the movement of his eyes. They were scared.
Two kept drinking. He didn't move. He kept swallowing and swallowing, never able to quench his thirst. The power of the faucet was too much for any man to contend with, and water was spluttering and gagging out of Two's mouth, and still he tried to swallow. He was trapped, thinking he needed water when in reality it was drowning him.
"I assume the irony isn't lost on anybody," Freed said to the two men, both of whom were unable to reply. "He used water against me, I used it right back. That will be an ongoing theme for today."
Spluttering, gargling and choking was the only response, and Freed stood up from the bathtub. He gave Two one last look before leaving, dragging Five with him as they left the room, door open as Two began to drown in the faucet's water. The gurgling got quieter and quieter with each step they took.
"Who the hell is making that-" Four's voice rang through the corridor, halting when he saw Freed. Freed smirked, glad to see him. Other than Five, he was the worst, with his fondness for knives and cutting up Freed's body. "What the hell are-"
Hypnosis runes flew from Freed yet again, different this time as they encased the man's right arm. They coiled around him, then did the same around Freed's won right arm. Four went to speak, but Freed slowly raised his right arm and brought it to his lips in a shushing gesture. Four's right arm did exactly the same, completely out of his control, and he looked down at it with fear in his eyes.
Freed slowly brought his hand to his waist, tightening his grasp on nothing. Again, Four's arm mirrored Freed's, grasping the hilt of a knife. Four looked down at his arm, and Freed could feel him trying to fight against his control, but it would be all for naught.
Four was helpless as Freed casually, slowly raised his hand in front of his face, about a foot away. Four now was looking down the blade of his own knife, and Freed expanded the spell so that Four was forced to keep his head still. With a sickeningly slow action, Freed moved his clenched fist so that it gently rested against his right eye. A moment later, Four did exactly the same thing, the squelch of a bursting eyeball filling the silence.
Screams of pain echoed through the house, and Freed relinquished his spell on Four. He stumbled to the floor and yelled in agony, hands going to the hilt of the knife that poked from him ruptured eyeball. Freed watched him for a moment - relishing while also feeling the cuts across his own chest from that same dagger - before turning and walking away, Five trailing behind him.
Gods, this felt good. The demon inside of him preened at the sounds of screaming.
They came across the next member of The Brotherhood, One, in the hallway of the building. He was running up the stairs, likely to see what Four was screaming four, but faltered when he saw Freed and Five. One was the youngest and least cruel of them all, but was a sadistic torturer nonetheless. He was simple in his tormenting style; punching the hell out of Freed until his muscles gave up. Almost all of the bruises that covered Freed's body - purple, blotchy and unsightly as they were - came from One's assaults. He had exactly the right form of revenge for the bludgeoning that One had delivered him.
Again, runes flew and encased the man's body. Similar to what he had done to Five, Freed made One move to his whims. The man walked to the top of the stairs in stumbling and stilted movements, his head the only thing he had control over. He yelled and looked around for help, eyes falling onto Four, who was now slumped unconscious from the pain. He couldn't look at Four for too long, as he climbed onto the banister, well balanced and looking over the drop from the top floor to the bottom.
"Release," Freed whispered, and One's body fell limp, dropping off the banister and onto the floor below with a clatter and a crack from his bones.
Looking over the banister, Freed saw the man in a heap, but moving. One looked up at Freed and raised a hand, magic crackling around his fist in preparation for a spell. He had to admit that he was impressed; out of all of them, One had been the only person to even try and fight back against Freed. Not that it would work, of course. The hypnosis runes planted on the man's eyes, and Freed spoke his demand clearly.
"Smash your head against the floor until your body can take no more."
Both Freed and Five left One to his eternal torment, Freed knowing exactly where the last of The Brotherhood would be. He strolled to the kitchen to see Three standing in front of the industrial over, with an array of ring burners flaring and lit. That was rather convenient; Three had always had a thing for using fire against Freed.
"What's all that- how the hell are you out?"
"You don't need to know that," Freed smiled, looking Three up and down. The man was rather weedy, easily overpowered. Perhaps it was time he got his hands dirty.
A pulse of magic rippled up Freed's arm, a partial transformation to his demon form. He Walked towards Three with a grin, black claws glinting in the fire. Three, without his fire and without the protection of Freed's binds, looked scared. He at least had some good sense, not that it would protect him from Freed.
He cupped the man's cheek almost gently, if it weren't for the claws that dug into him. Freed held him there for a moment, relishing in the fear in the man's eyes. They were in deadlock, with Three scared to even blink and Freed drinking in the feeling of savage revenge. The moment of silence lasted an eternity, with the beating of their hearts thumping through the quietness of the room.
Without warning nor preamble, Freed slammed the man's face against the oven top, pushing him down and holding him against the rings of fire. He screamed and thrashed, but Freed held him down without difficulty. The struggling and pushing was cathartic, almost orgasmic after how much pain these bastards had put him through over the past week.
Gods, this had been deserved.
The push of the man was euphoria, and the burn of his own muscle as he held Three down was the best kind of burning. The thrill of domination and the knowledge of the man's helplessness burned inside of Freed's very soul, a righteous fire stoked by the pain inflicted onto all of their previous victims.
But it couldn't go on forever. Freed released him, grinned at the melting of Three's skin, then punched him hard enough to knock him out.
"So," Freed purred, voice warped slightly as he turned back to Five. "Just you and me. Any thoughts on what you just saw?"
Freed released some of the spell, allowing him to speak. When he did, Five's voice was hollow. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Oh I'm sorry, is that moral judgement from the slave trader?" Freed laughed, walking up so he was nose to nose with Five. "You remember I mentioned the guillotine in the town, don't you. Well, I think it's time I explain its usefulness in this situation," He left a pause, enough time for Five to think. "It's a rather barbaric piece of equipment, and a painful way to go, which is the point I suspect. But, when considering how barbaric and cruel and disgraceful it would be, you have to wonder why you'll be begging for it. Which you will."
"What do you mean?"
"Mind games were always your thing with me, weren't they?" Freed ignored the question. "And, as I suspect you've noticed, my punishments for all of you have been ironically fitting. So, mind games will be a part of what I do to you; a cathartic end for your pitiful life."
"What the hell are you gonna do to me?"
"You see, for the other four of you, I think the rune knights will be a fitting punishment. The family and friends of your victims need to see it. They need to see your ilk getting dragged and destroyed by society, to see what happens as your freedoms and hopes are taken away day by day," Freed laughed a little. "But I think they could forgive me for killing one of you. The nastiest one. You."
Five looked terrified. Freed relished it.
"So, mind games. This exercise has been a release for me; emotional revenge that I needed to remain sane. I'll reverse it, and they won't remember. Not outside of their dreams, at least," Freed grinned. "But you will. You're going to have to know exactly what I can do, how powerful I am and how much danger you're in. You'll never forget that I could kill, torment, and destroy you without breaking a sweat. Because I can, can't I?"
Five nodded weakly. "Why?"
"Because it's funny," Freed laughed. "Because I know how this organisation works. You can't run away; once you're in, you're here forever. There's magical poison laced in your mind, dormant until you try to flee. That means you have to keep doing what you're told. You have to keep torturing me, day in and day out. You have to hurt me, torture me, all while knowing that I can get out and that I can be incredibly creative when angered. It's a sword of Damocles type situation. You know it'll drop and strike you eventually. The fun for me is to see the fear behind your eyes."
"You're insane."
"Again, the kidnapping and slavery weakens your moral standing," Freed chuckled. "So, back to the guillotine. Once I'm done here, and I have all I need, I'm going to hurt you. Badly. In ways that you could never imagine and will haunt you for as long as I allow you to survive. You'll be begging for that guillotine, for the release of death. A release I may eventually give you. But I wouldn't bet on that."
"You think your stupid guild will take you back after that?" Five began, a type of begging that Freed had anticipated.
"They won't know. Fairy Tail is good at many things, including looking the other way when it's for the greater good," Freed laughed. "I think it's time I return to your bondage, isn't it. I look forward to the beating. I do hope that, with every hit you're forced to strike me with, the fear of what I'll do to you doesn't get too intense. That it doesn't drive you mad. That would be truly awful."
Freed laughed and saw unbridled fear in Five's eyes. He cast the spell. The last ten minutes were repealed, and he was placed back into the binds, Five standing in front of him, his body released, pupils wide, and tears falling down his cheeks.
#Freed Justine Day 2022#Freed Justine Day#Freed Justine#Fairy Tail#Fanfic#Writing#One Shot#Word Count: 3.5k
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Pt 2 of the Dr. Livesey fanfic
refer to prior post for explanation
The sun beat down on your back and the top of your head, almost unbearable. The beach of bodies was far enough behind that if you looked back, the island would curve before you could see them, but you still couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling.
A feeling not helped in the slightest by the presence of your companion. He swaggered along beside you, seemingly quite unbothered, just quick enough that you had to stumble to keep up.
To your right lay the endless expanse of the sea, glimmering in the sunlight and barren of any type of rescue. You’d kept your eyes on the shoreline for any sign of a crash, but not a single plant of wood littered the sand. To the left, the beach slowly seceded to a forest. You may have been inclined to walk under the treeline for the shade, but something about it made you appreciate the open expanse of the beach more than you would otherwise. Who knew what lay inside of the tangle of trees?
Besides that terror, an all-more-pressing need slowly crept up on you. The stores of food and water that had been on the ship were - much like the ship - nowhere to be found, and under this heat, thirst was already creeping up your throat.
Well, you had to break the silence sometime, didn’t you?
“Do you have water?”
He paused and immediately reached into one of the pockets of his overcoat. A moment later, it came out holding a leather flask. “Ah, I keep it on me at all times. Better than rum, yes it is, no need for that…”
He grinned at you. The flask was warm, and so was the water inside, and it was all you had to only take one sip before handing it back.
“Thank you.” It went back into his coat.
Don’t stare at it longingly. When you’re thirsty again… when it runs out… what then…?
Maybe staring longingly would’ve been conducive after all, but by now, you were simply staring at the expanse of his chest and not anything you could drink.
And so, the day dragged on under the weight of the sun, trudging through piles of sand. Eventually, it began to dip below the horizon, flaring the sky into a quilt of colors.
“I think we’re alone.” Truly, you hadn’t ever really thought you’d find another ship. Maybe it was simply denial, but something about the island made you feel distinctly… isolated.
“Maybe, maybe.” The man beside you looked out over the sea. There was a peculiar smile on his face as he regarded the sunset - a smile very out of place in this situation. Still, you looked towards it as well, suddenly unwilling to let the sun go, despite how much you’d been cursing it only an hour ago. Heat and light were infinitely better than the darkness.
“What should we do now?” The logical course, in your opinion, was to set up a fire. A chill was already creeping into the air and under your clothes. But fire meant wood and wood meant entering the forest, and in this half-light it appeared as a smudge of black and gray.
“Why, we sleep, of course. A very advantageous thing. We will need to be well-rested to make it around the island.”
“...Around? Are we still going?” There had been nothing to find but sand and sea and what there was to find, bodies with no ships, was less appealing than even that.
“What else are we to do?” He let out a long laugh. It definitely didn’t fit the situation you were in. “How foolish.”
You didn’t respond, mostly because you couldn’t think of an adequate one. As a cold breeze rustled past the island, finding its way under your already-light clothes, you couldn’t help but shiver.
Your companion’s brow furrowed in concern. “Ah, yes, the chill is coming. That won’t do. Cold begets illness, you know, so we must keep you warm…”
Whatever he was thinking was rather inscrutable - at least, until he began to shuck off of his overcoat. It was made of some thick, green fabric, clean and finely woven. Perhaps his ship was richer than usual, or it was just his own fortune. In any case, you shied away.
“I can’t. What about you?”
He stepped forwards to thrust it upon you. “I would not be felled by some lowly cold.” Another laugh. It was starting to get vaguely unsettling. “I am in superb health, you know! My body is finely honed.”
With the coat off, his clothes underneath were much like yours - thin linen, vaguely white and unfitting. Yours were too large; his were on the other side of the spectrum. It creased where his arms, his chest, were too large to contain, the faint definition of muscles below. Finely honed indeed - if physical prowess was a contest, he would win. Strength of mind, on the other hand…
You grabbed the overcoat. It was rough, but not overtly uncomfortable, and smelled of herbs, something faintly bitter. Medicine, most likely, given his profession.
Far too large for you, as could be expected. But warm, enough so that it felt almost like you were standing in the embrace of someone else. The shivers subsided quickly enough, and sure as he’d said, he showed no sign of vulnerability to the wind.
“Thank you.”
“Nothing of it.”
Without anything more to do, you gingerly sat down on the beach. For a moment, he stood above you, a monolith stretching high beyond your comprehension- but then, he sat, and was once again reduced to a mortal.
“What’s your name?” You asked, suddenly realizing that, over the course of the entire day, you’d never learned it. Strange.
“You may call me Doctor,” He responded. As close as he sat - perhaps it was simply the lingering qualities of his coat, but you could almost feel the warmth of his body. “Doctor Livesey.”
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Time to debunk and pick apart some more bad mental health advice!
The doozy I've come across today asserts the following: "Anxiety makes you self centered."
The idea was that even 'nice' acts done in a state of anxiety would be done in a spirit of selfish and unhealthy control. This was not truly a post about coping with anxiety, though it certainly presented itself that way. It was, as far as I can tell, advising on how to control or at least mask some kind of fundamental bent towards less than pure or moral motives that anxious states create in a person so as to be more convenient for others to be around.
Just off the top off my head, there are numerous problems with this line of thinking--
It's ableist as all hell, reinforcing the stigma that certain kinds of mentally ill people are to be assumed deficient or 'bad' in some way.
It plays into the gas-lighting flavored notion that anxiety makes you incapable of perceiving and reacting to reality correctly. One of the things the post stated specifically was that anxiety blinds a person to their own self-centeredness on a neurological level. In other words, it implicitly insisted that an anxious person can't possibly be self aware.
It ignores the necessary context of what the anxiety is about. Anxiety tends to have a source, trigger, or a topic that sets it off, whether consciously or subconsciously. Those topics are often far from self centered. Most anxiety about another person's welfare, for instance, can hardly be said to be truly selfish without some serious mental gymnastics.
It enforces shame and degrades the little confidence that an anxiety sufferer often has to work with. Remember: One of the major goals in a therapeutic setting is often to build an anxious person's confidence in order to reduce the anxiety. The more an anxious person sees themselves as this 'thing to be managed' and less as someone who has a right to take up space, the less possible this end goal becomes.
It enforces a flavor of purity culture that suggests that your thoughts are equal to deeds that can be shamed, punished, etc. if they are not 'good enough'.
Consider for a minute how this line of thinking and framing might work in an abuser's favor. That alone probably deserves its own write-up.
There is something to be said about reducing reactivity and increasing good communication, of course. Sometimes high reactivity to anxiety can result in actions that are inconsiderately control-freakish, it's true. But dunking on anxious persons by framing them as typically having shitty self awareness and selfish motives that they can't therefore even tell are selfish is NOT the way to address those things.
As a person who operates nearly 24/7 in some degree of heightened anxiety myself, the one thing that has helped pump the breaks on any excessive 'control-freakish' tendencies is simply to communicate, quite bluntly, what exactly my anxieties and needs are. This requires an audience ready and willing to receive those concerns in good faith, of course. It requires being seen as someone who means well, and this idea that anxiety produces nothing but self centered or selfish motives and actions is not conducive toward that end.
And last but not least--and this one might be an unpopular opinion for some: With a small and context-laden exception for those who have children, the person you're supposed to take care of and respect first and foremost is YOURSELF. This does not mean you get to bulldoze others' needs or not take them into consideration; it means that interaction with those people and situations which frequently or consistently cause you to feel like you have to neglect your own needs and/ or reduces your capacity to be honest with them are probably best reduced if not outright avoided.
#mental health things#musings#bitching and complaining#mental health#anxiety#There's a lot of YMMV here of course--but framing anxious people as highly prone to being selfish across the board is not great. Not at all
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