#i have a strict always maintag rule

[thetomorrowshow]

tiger

empires superpowers au masterlist

this is a dark one sorry :( it hearkens back to the heavy angst of the main fic, so do what you will with that. i've put the entire fic under the cut just bc i'm a bit more nervous about this kind of thing atm.

cw: dehumanization, food, abuse, starvation tactics, treatment of a human as an animal (typical of the main fic)

this story takes place during jimmy's captivity.

~

The first time it happens, Jimmy’s still new to this whole thing.

He’s being good. He’s quietly kneeling under the table, his head pounding and a bad taste in his mouth. He’d been in the observation room for the past however-long, and even though he hates this meeting room, it’s nice to have a change of scenery.

Xornoth is there, of course, not touching him but instead eating something—dinner, probably, from the smell. Jimmy hates it when Xornoth eats in front of him. They know exactly what they’re doing, they know how little he’s fed. But he doesn’t say anything. He hasn’t spoken in so long, he’s not even sure he’d remember how.

He doesn’t need to speak, though, as his body takes care of that for him. It’s some type of steak or something, he can tell, and the smell of it is so mouthwatering that his stomach can’t help but cry out in a desperate attempt to get its owner’s attention. It gets more than just Jimmy’s attention, though.

Xornoth stills, looks down at him. Jimmy keeps his eyes on the ground, cheeks burning. He’s going to be in trouble now, isn’t he? It seems like everything he does is a death sentence these days. What’s it going to be today? The whip? The tentacles? Just a good old punch to the jaw?

Xornoth, however, doesn’t even seem all that perturbed. Their smile turns vicious and they dab at their blackened lips with a napkin before speaking.

“Are you wanting to be fed?”

He doesn’t nod. He won’t give his captor the satisfaction. Xornoth only sighs, then with one gloved hand, plucks a bite-sized piece of steak from their plate. They wave it slowly in front of Jimmy.

And Jimmy really wants that steak. He’s not sure how long he’s been here—he was kidnapped in August, he knows October has passed, too long too long too long—but the best thing that he’s eaten in all those months has been an orange. He’s mostly been surviving off of peanut butter sandwiches with the occasional bruised apple thrown in. Perfectly cooked and seasoned steak, tantalizingly held in front of him, ready for him to take? It’s the first glimpse of proper food after forty years of manna.

“Beg for it,” Xornoth tells him, and all his hope flies out the window.

He’s not going to beg. He hasn’t sunk that low. He’s not going to die of starvation, so he’s fine with what he’s got. He gives a little shake of his head, turns his eyes to the floor.

Luckily, Xornoth doesn’t argue. They tsk, but turn back to their meal.

He doesn’t really have anything to be angry about (he has lots to be angry about, he reminds himself, he can’t forget that), but it irks him anyways. He’d somehow held onto the hope that even through refusal, Xornoth would allow him at least a taste of the food.

But soon enough, Xornoth is done, knife and fork clinking against the plate as they set them down. They pat Jimmy on the head one more time, then rise and leave the room.

That’s usually when a handful of guards arrive to unchain him and take him back to his cell, but as Jimmy waits, nothing happens. After hours of kneeling on the floor alone, he finally dares to move, shifting his legs so that he can stretch out a little bit.

Xornoth doesn’t return.

Xornoth doesn’t return for a long time.

-

When they’re back, Jimmy’s started shaking so badly he can’t make himself stop. He hasn’t had food or water in too long—his internal clock is so screwed that it could have been one day or three and he wouldn’t have any clue—but it’s too long and he can hardly see straight.

Xornoth doesn’t acknowledge it, just sits in their chair and works quietly, not even petting Jimmy’s hair. Not that he doesn’t appreciate the lack of the awful touch, but it’s as if Xornoth hasn’t taken any notice of his condition and he needs food. Xornoth is his best chance at getting it and they won’t even look at him.

Time is hazy in its passing, so Jimmy’s not sure how long it’s been before someone brings in a meal for Xornoth. It smells sickeningly heavenly, entirely indiscernible but desirable, and Jimmy can’t help that his dry mouth attempts to produce saliva. He hates this. He just wants to go home.

There’s a couple of minutes of the sound of silverware against a plate, then there’s a hand in his face. A hand with, pinched between its fingers, a chunk of seasoned potato.

“So hungry, aren’t you?” Xornoth murmurs. “Beg for it, pet.”

Jimmy’s cheeks burn. This is another one of their games, isn’t it? Starve him until he can’t help but obey. He hates it. He hates Xornoth, he hates everything about this place. He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to!

His body is starving, though. He needs to try and get his strength up. He can cause accidents on purpose, now. He can escape. When he’s out of here, this moment of humiliation will be buried and forgotten.

Slowly, haltingly, he bows his head, further and further until he’s almost lying prostrate. He nudges his nose up against Xornoth’s boot, hoping to convey his . . . submission, he supposes, as bad a taste as the word leaves in his mouth.

A click of their tongue. “Come now, darling. Beg.”

He can’t talk. Xornoth knows he can’t talk. 

It’s even more mortifying than anything else so far, but Jimmy is desperate for food. He needs something, anything. He can feel that he’s going to collapse soon. He just has to survive, and survive by any means necessary.

He can’t speak, but he lets out a whine. He whines, nudges at Xornoth’s leg, gives them the most pleading look he can muster without vomiting out of disgust.

Xornoth smiles, a cruel, sharp thing. “Close, pet. We’ll work on it. Here.”

With that, they drop the chunk of potato on the floor.

It could be a trick. He could go to eat it, only to have his fingers stomped on. But he’s just too hungry to care.

He scoops it up with both hands, fingers shaking too badly to properly pick it up, and, with one more glance at Xornoth, shoves it into his mouth.

It’s so very salty that he nearly chokes, but it’s too good to lose—the rest of the seasonings are so good they make his stomach turn, he’s so hungry, so he swallows it quickly without savoring to try and fill that hole in his stomach a little bit quicker.

Then he waits, licking his lips to catch any last vestiges of flavor, to see if Xornoth will offer him any more.

They drop a small piece of pork eventually, which Jimmy again grabs and shoves into his mouth. He freezes, mid-chewing, as Xornoth takes his hands and examines his fingers. Their face settles into a frown.

“We’ll work on that, as well,” they say, dropping his hands. “In the future, you are to only pick up the food I give you with your mouth.”

Well, if that isn’t just the cherry on top?

There’s nothing he can do to change their mind, though. He’s here to survive, not to be comfortable.

He needs to get out of here, and soon. He’s not sure how long he’ll be able to take eating food off the floor like an animal.

Hopefully, he’ll be out before it comes to that.

-

Graceffa finds it strange, they can tell.

Xornoth cuts the gristle from their meat, holds it at their lap. Their pet eats it from their fingers, lips brushing their gloved hand briefly.

He’s becoming so well trained.

“Why do you do that?” Graceffa asks suddenly. “I mean, it’s kinky, but I thought he wasn’t part of that?”

They don’t answer immediately, taking a moment to wipe the grease from their leather glove onto their pet’s cheek. “Tell me, Graceffa, have you ever known anyone who privately owns a tiger?” they ask once their glove is clean.

Graceffa nods.

“Those owners often use the dangerous beasts as a spectacle,” Xornoth continues, still gazing down at their pet. “They swim with them, hand-feed them, beat them—all to show that they’ve become master of one of the most formidable animals in the world.”

Their little bird isn’t listening—or if he is, he isn’t comprehending. The look in his eyes is far away, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shorts.

“Pet,” they say softly, and their pet’s attention snaps to them. They jerk their head to the side. “Beg our guest for scraps.”

He nods and crawls under the table until he reaches Graceffa’s leg, nudges against his knee. “Please, sir,” he rasps, voice almost a whisper. “May I have your scraps?”

Graceffa meets their eyes, lips spreading into a slow smile. “I see,” he says lowly, picking a string of fat from the pork on his plate. Under the table, their pet licks it from his fingers, swallowing without even chewing first. He starts to shuffle back, only for Xornoth to kick him sharply in the bony thigh. Their pet cowers.

“Thank him,” they admonish. Their pet swallows several more times.

“Thank you, sir,” he manages. Graceffa laughs shrilly; their pet starts at the sound and scoots back toward Xornoth, pressing himself close to their legs.

Coming back to them for comfort and safety. Exactly as they want it.

Their hand comes to rest in his hair, and they feel him relax slightly under their touch. Graceffa continues speaking, but they don’t pay much attention. They have plans for their pet after this.

There will be blood on this table tonight.

#empires smp #esmp #empires smp fanfic #jimmy solidarity #empires superpowers au #esh au #mas writes #for the first time ever i feel kinda nervous about maintagging #i have a strict always maintag rule #mostly for filtering on my own blog #or so my followers not interested in x smp or x character can block the tag and properly block my stuff #but with all the twitter drama atm. idk i feel a bit cautious #if this is the first fic you've seen from me: hi! #this au atm is mostly about superpowered flower husbands as they recover from trauma #this part in particular is just a brief flashback in time to jimmy's abuse #if you want one of my more palatable series i can recommend 'trust au' or 'hubris killed the god' #or just about any of my standalone one-shots are fairly chill #i tag all my writing with 'mas writes' if you're interested in something not. this. #anyway to my usual readers: sorry abt this one besties. i SWEAR there's fluffy ones in there somewhere #lmk what you think! #love you guys

[ranboo5]

Some thoughts on kayfabe, bootwt/Ranboo enjoyers, being a h8r, and how I come off 

Okay so yeah, we’ve all been on the whole “every face is a mask” thing, etc etc, but like this blog is much more kayfabe and ‘sona’d than like, my main 

Like I have an actual like, narrative and persona I project on here (like I straight up have a sona, and she’s literally discourse personified), and I’m not. Sure how I end up feeling about that? It’s interesting 

Like I think it definitely comes from in part where this... is. Like I’ve mentioned I got into DSMP despite it being MCYT, etc., and while my opinion on MCYT as a whole has mellowed, I still don’t hold it in very high regard. It isn’t even cringe, it’s like, I have inherent moral reservations about the streamer complex overall, the complicity inherent in it, fundamental things about how it exists, and from that and also from like, some of the stuff I’ve seen both from streamers and especially from community, I do not feel like. Idk fully safe. The whole thing abt I Do Not Know You is like. Actually real; there are people in thsi community who look like Another Fan and would recognize myself as One Of Them and harbor attitudes I don’t want to associate with or genuinely feel unsafe around. It’s rare they’re actually malicious, but idk, the fear is very much there, and ig a lot of the more hostile points in my DNI and my loud disdain are. I’ve described it as poison dart frog coloration; they’re an attempt to curate my experience for me 

But also it makes Poe’s Law really difficult to deal with. Like, the image I project is intentionally abrasive and harsh, but I don’t want to. Actually be mean, and I hope that comes through in things like how I partake in rbing art, how I respond to asks, how my more thought out content is formatted and toned, but at the same time that requires, yk, looking past that abrasive image, and I don’t know how harsh it is fair to be so that it keeps myself safe without actually hurting anyone 

Like take just the Ranboo enjoyers joke. I have this running gag abt how like, I’m a Ranboo enjoyer against Ranboo enjoyers, and I try to make sure it isn’t. Too serious by being really exaggerated, stuff like “I’m the only one allowed to talk about Ranboo (character)” etc that lampshades how pretentious and elitist that is, calling myself out on it, etc., but I also like. Legitimately do distrust people depending on what their takes on Ranboo (character) are, and I’ve seen some deeply concerning shit out of the community irt how it treats its streamer sometimes, and I have genuinely no clue how to judge that accurately. I’m on the very cynical side, but I’m pretty sure I’m just overjudging how many people here are actually uncritically yikes, and like,,, in my attempts to scare people who I actually don’t want to talk to off, how much has Poe’s Law come to smack me? How much have I unintentionally contributed to like, legit cringe culture, and making fun of Bootwt etc for just enthusiastically liking our streamer? Because I don’t. Want to actually do that?? The ardent devotion his following’s always had is a huge reason for his growth and success as a streamer anyway and is basically a natural consequence of the nature of his appeal, and anyway, there’s nothing wrong inherently with that as long as it doesn’t get out of control 

But it does get out of control, a lot, and I’ve seen it happen, and it’s Not Great, and idk where that line goes 

There’s also the issue of. Idk Drama. Like I’m an argumentative and opinionated person but I’ve gone by strict rules here: I don’t go trawling for opinions, I don’t participate in dogpiles (I came close once and. Never again), I don’t message people, I don’t argue or reply unless they’re in the maintag, I try to give due credit, I always make sure I have a reason and goal before I reply other than “hmmm angy,” things like that. I am. Far from perfect in that regard but I try yk? And I don’t try to argue pointlessly or For The Sake Of Arguing, even though I certainly Like to argue, just straight up, I like discussion and debate for fun and for truthseeking and for horizon-broadening, but I still. Definitely think I am confrontational and potentially even the act of responding, even if I’m polite, can read as hostile. And then because I compound that and want to make that like, a warning so people who don’t want to see discourse threads don’t have to, I end up making a lot of frustrationposts -- and it’s not, like, fake or staged frustration, but it’s definitely a choice to post it as I do, and idk. Like, again, as much as I want to come off as harsh, I don’t want to actually be mean, and I know I have definitely effectually done so at least sometimes. How much defensive negativity is okay until it straight up contributes to real negativity? How much positivity does it take to put out and highlight to cut that effectively? Can that even be done? 

There’s also ofc the issue that Mr Live the streamer himself has said that accts branded around him shouldn’t get into drama, bc he doesn’t want his name attached to that; I’m 80% he was thinking of like, twt #cancellation drama, and I try... not to crit unproductively, but again, I definitely frustrationpost! And I try not to maintag it for that exact reason. Like. Takes I don’t stand by yk. But bc of what he’s said and also that like, I’ve seen my untagged posts get spread, and I’m weirdly rapidly climbing followers, idk, maybe it’s time to start watching my phrasing in those more? I don’t know, man, and I don’t want to just. Be negative unproductively. I don’t plan to be less outspoken abt stuff I legit think is an issue, nor do I plan to be like, more permissive, but just,,, idk

Man all of this is just. Graphite too comes to term with its responsibility irt the Eldritch deity of the online audience

So. As conclusion, if you’ve gotten to the end of this for some reason: Thank you for bearin w/ me for the post, and the blog. And know too that as much posturing as I do I do like it here as genuinely as I hate it here sometimes 

#tbh I don't bash characters but I have gotten mad at streamers largely bc they. Make me more mad but they are real people (reason they do) #and idk. Maybe I shouldn't do that #under readmore bc it's long and introspective and angsty and comes to no conclusion. Basically a R4nboo lore monologue lmao #Mr Live will talk about online and I'll be like. I respect your infinite patience very much but I simply do not share it