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misfit-fics · 3 years

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Demon Rehab For Dummies

Summary: (Y/N) started seeing seven demons when she was 10. Through the years they all disappeared, all but one. Namjoon. A demon who has not so creepily, creepily, very creepily been in love with her for years.

Genre: fluff, crack, extremely minimal angst, idiots to lovers, romantic-comedy

Word count: 7384

Rating: Teen

Warnings: mentions of suggestive & kinky themes, a handful of cursing, a story with a plot but not doesn’t exactly have a plot, a stubborn (Y/N) who dismisses love confessions & genuine flirting, an unspoken confession

A/N: Hey! we're back, it's been a while. We're starting school in a while but it will be gamble if we'll be more active or not. Well... we ARE active but just not posting? Yeah, you know what I mean. This has been sitting in our drafts for a while now and we're posting it now... although it's pretty unedited, feel free to address any oopsies. Hope who ever finds this enjoys reading!

At the ripe young age of ten (Y/N) began seeing seven men. Which- would’ve (should’ve) freaked any kid out but you know (Y/N) is just kinda quirky like that so she didn't really mind much. The men were nice and played with her anyway, and the only weird thing was that sometimes they would bring her dead birds.

At age eleven (Y/N) noticed that one of the men was missing.It didn’t affect her much except for the fact that this particular one would help her find things and she’d lost almost all of her socks since he disappeared. Not to mention the increase of bug bites after he left. The darn things seemed like they multiplied exponentially after a month.

By twelve only two of the men had disappeared, at this point (Y/N) not only lived in sandals (she still couldn’t find her socks) but she also couldn’t explain why her hair was burning off every time she tried to straighten it (her lil demon friends didn’t want her to, you’d think after almost 3 years of having men following her around and telling her what to do she’d get with the program already.) Her dog her parents had given her when she was 9 started disappearing quite often after he left. He always came back with a single sock that would disappear the next morning.

By thirteen (Y/N) had developed a crush (more like unhealthy obsession) on one of the men, Namjoon. The third year was also the year when Jimin disappeared, taking all of her favorite shoes with him. That year she had prayed to whoever was listening because her parents really couldn’t afford to keep buying her socks and shoes, and because she definitely couldn’t afford to shave her head.

By fourteen, Hoseok, the man who had cheered her up whenever she needed it, had gone, leaving a tidal wave of bad luck in his wake. He had a great deal in keeping (Y/N) happy, although some of his antics made her want to punch him, it never turned out that way.

When she was fifteen no one left… except for the dog. Aside from that, the only thing that left was her social life (It wasn’t like she had one before but you know it was still a little rough). (Y/N) began to depend more and more on her demons. She had become great friends with the oldest, Seokjin, who cooked for her when her parents went on trips.

At sixteen Yoongi left and the nightmares began. And with the nightmares came the growth of (Y/N)’s relationship with Namjoon. Namjoon became her protector, along with sometimes Seokjin, who still cooked for her and cared for her altogether when she couldn’t.

At seventeen, (Y/N) was informed that when she turned eighteen Seokjin would be leaving, on account that they didn’t need each other anymore. (Y/N) had been torn up when he told her and even more when he left. He didn’t take anything when he left other than a piece of (Y/N)’s heart.

At eighteen, (Y/N) moved away from her parents house with Namjoon trailing behind her (He even had lil demon suitcases and everything,) following her every move.

“I really don’t understand why you had to follow me out of my parents house. I thought spirits are supposed to be attached to a general area…” (Y/N) took to unpacking a box in the small apartment she now lived in.

“(Y/N) how many times do we have to go over this, I'm a demon, DE-MON.” Namjoon clapped his hands with each syllable. (Y/N) rolled her eyes and flicked her wrist at the self-proclaimed demon.

“Demon, ghost, same thing.” She shrugged her shoulders, “same thing as to-may-to, to-mah-to.”

“It is not the same thing!” Namjoon looked at (Y/N) like it was obvious.

(Y/N) snorted, “Okay Casper.” She continued pulling out the items in the box.

Namjoon looked flabbergasted, “CASPER!?” Namjoon put a hand over his chest and widened his eyes. (Y/N) looked up at the demon with a raised brow,

“Geez Casper, why are you so offended? I’ve called you Casper before, Casper.” (Y/N) struggled to keep in her laughter, trying to keep a straight face as she looked at Namjoon.

Namjoon looked at (Y/N), “I think I shall simply cease to exist in your realm.”

(Y/N) looked back down at the almost empty box, “You wouldn’t do that, you love me too much, my dearest Casper.” She said in a singsong voice, “Oh hey I found a sock.” She pulled out said sock from the box, it had yellow stripes. :]

“I think Jungkook took the mate to that when he left.” (Y/N) threw the sock at Namjoon with a loud ‘FUCK!’

“I mean we could try and summon him to see if he’ll return your socks.” Namjoon shrugged.

“I wouldn’t even try.” She started putting the random items in their new places.

“You should put Juno on the window sill rather than the coffee table, I mean cacti do need sun.” Namjoon looked at the little green prickle plant.

“I’m sure if i didn’t tell you how to parent your child, it would’ve been confiscated by child protective services.” Namjoon crossed his arms and looked at Juno who had been (rightfully so) moved to the window sill.

“Casper- Juno is a cactus. There is no CPS (Cactus Protective Services).” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon with her own arms crossed over her chest and an eyebrow raised, “Now if you could- Can you please go unpack a few boxes?” (Y/N) shooed Namjoon away before her eyes widened and she added in, “NOTHING LABELED FRAGILE!”

“You know if we painted a wall or two in here, it would liven up the place so much…” Namjoon looked around the bland apartment, “Maybe an accent wall over here. A floor lamp over there. A new plant in the kitchen. It wouldn’t hurt you to give Juno some siblings.”

(Y/N) looked flabbergasted, “You want me to pop out another child?!”

“No I mean-” Namjoon’s eyes widened.

“-OUT OF MY WALLET?!? MY BARELY 21 DOLLARS!?” (Y/N) got her wallet out and zipped it open. She shook it in the demon’s face, about 26 pennies, 2 nickels, 1 dime, and a quarter fell out. It was followed by a single, folded, 5 dollar bill.

“I don’t think that’s 21 dollars, (Y/N)” Namjoon looked down at the floor, where one or more of the coins had caught onto his feet.

“I have a gift card.” She pulled out the cheap plastic, silver, $25 visa gift card (that didn’t have 25 dollars) with a bit of a struggle.

“How much exactly is on that gift card (Y/N)?” Namjoon eyed the flimsy silver object.

“You expect me to know- I mean probably more than 10 dollars!” Namjoon raised a brow at the statement. “Okay, maybe about 3.69.” Namjoon sighed, massaging his temples. (Y/N) bent down to put the money back into her wallet like a pigeon eating bread crumbs the old lady on the bench threw onto the floor.

Namjoon walked away from the pigeon-girl and grabbed a notepad and pen that was left on the kitchen counter. “We’re making you a to-do list.” He stated, clicking the pen.

“WE haven’t even unpacked all the boxes yet.” (Y/N) whined, pointing at the last large box in the middle of the hallway. Namjoon looked to where she pointed and shrugged.

“It says Christmas decorations.”

“EXACTLY! VERY. IMPORTANT.” she clapped her hands in between each word.

“It’s February.” He said.

“It’s still winter.” (Y/N) reasoned, finally done picking up the money. She plopped herself down onto the small brown couch.

“Okay so first off you need a job.” He wrote it down onto the notepad, the pen scratching being overlapped by a loud gasp from the human in the room.

“You dare ignore me?!” She yelled offendedly at the demon who glanced at her before looking back down at what he was writing.

“You also need to go to the supermarket.”

“I told you I barely have any money.”

“Your parents gave you some money.”

“Oh, you’re right.”

“And also, you should walk to the school and find a short route to get there.” Namjoon pulled out a literal map.

(Y/N) pouted, “I thought you were gonna walk me to all my classes to deter all the frat boys from coming my way…”

“I did say that,” he confirmed before continuing. “But I mean to get to the actual school grounds.”

“But we have a car.” She had drawnout the ‘but,’ trying to make her point that she didn’t need to walk.

“But you need exercise.” He reasoned, mimicking the way she had said her words.

“Are you calling me fat?”

“No.”

“Yes you are.”

“(Y/N) i’m not.”

“Yeah you ARE, Casper.”

“Would you PLEASE call me by my actual name for once?”

“Sure thing. Rap Monster.” She teased, the ground started shaking. (Y/N) let out a loud screech looking up at the demon who’s eyes were rolled back. “OH FUCK YOU!”

The shaking died down, Namjoon staring down at the girl who was now underneath the coffee table. “This is why you’re still here!” she cried.

“You want me gone?” Namjoon questioned, offendedly. (Y/N) army crawled her way from her ‘safe spot.’

“I DIDN’T SAY THAT!” She yelled, returning the offended tone.

“I’m out,” Namjoon pivoted on his heel, walking to the front door robotically.

“Noooo!”

“Will I ever see my socks again?” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon with hope, “I mean having shoes would be great too though.”

“What’s wrong with living in sandals? Birkenstocks are very comfortable.” Namjoon pivoted around with a candle in his hand.

“It’s winter.” (Y/N) frowned.

“You could always use mine?” He gestured to the shoes at the shoe rack at the front door. The ones that were closed toed…

“Your feet are too big.” (Y/N) looked over at the shoes, then looked down at her own feet, then at the demon.

“Size didn’t matter Last night with your sweaters?”

“That’s different, Namjoon.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes.

“Size.” Namjoon smirked.

“Different.” (Y/N) stood confidently.

“You know, you could always just go buy new socks?” Namjoon looked at her oddly.

“I usually wait to get them for Christmas, you should know this by now.”

“Independence.” He stated.

“You’re a hypocrite.” Namjoon let out a ‘huh?’ and (Y/N) continued, “You said independence when you’re dependent on me.”

“That isn’t my fault.” Namjoon raised his hands in defense.

“It kind of is though…” (Y/N) shrugged, Namjoon opened his mouth to retort but was quickly cut off, “I’m literally a rehab center for you.”

“Apparently you’re not a nicely rated one.” Namjoon shook his head.

“I’ve helped 6 other demons, Namjoon. You’re just being difficult.” (Y/N) poked his chest really hard before retracting her hand.

“Ouch,” he put his hand over his heart where she had poked him, “You shouldn’t be saying these things to your client.”

“I didn’t ask to get a client or even BE a rehab center.”

“The reason why you became a rehab center was because you decided that humans were ugly and disgusting.”

“The reason why you ended up with me was because you did something bad and you just now decided to be a good person and it’s not turning out well for you.”

“For your information, I could have left a long time ago.” Namjoon crossed his arms, with an audible exhale from his nose. He stared down at the rehab center.

“And why didn’t you, hm?” (Y/N) crossed her arms also with a raised brow. Namjoon kept quiet, debating how to answer, keeping eye contact as if it was an olympic staring contest.

“You.” He said. (Y/N) snorted, ready to insult the patient. “-would’ve starved to death by now if I hadn’t stayed with you until now.” He finished, (Y/N) gasped, reaching up and hitting Namjoon on the shoulder.

“You. Jerk. Get. Away. From. Me.” She hit him harder every word before waddling away into the hallway from the chuckling demon.

“No problem,” Namjoon disappeared with a veil of sparkles out of view.

(Y/N) thrusted open the door to her new bedroom. Continuing her waddle to the end of the full size bed. Facing the head board, she plopped the top half of her body onto the bed front first. Namjoon reappeared about 6 feet away from her with a loud poof and a burst of sparkles scattering around the room.

“Go away.” (Y/N)’s face was still shoved into the mattress, “Seriously shoo.” (Y/N) lifted her arm off the bed to wave him off.

“I won’t go. You can’t make me.” Namjoon walked towards the bed hesitantly, scared to get fucking murdered by his prison warden, “Move over. Give me some room.”

“Go sleep in my closet.” (Y/N) flipped the demon off.

“You’d prefer nightmares over your dearest Casper?”

“Yes.” Namjoon sat down on the bed, his knee almost hitting the girl’s head. “I thought I said in the closet.”

“And I prefer the bed.” Namjoon leaned forward and took (Y/N) by her hands and pulled her closer to himself with an annoyed groan from her. She was pulled until her head was laid on his chest, wrapping his arms around her.

“I hate you.” (Y/N) grumbled into her demon-pillow.

“I know.”

“You live because I allow it, and that is it to be my flesh pillow.”

“Okay, now sleep.”

“But why do you have to leave?” (Y/N) looked up at her bunk buddy, her chin was impaling the person’s chest.

“I have to. I'm ready to go.” Yoongi looked crestfallen, “They said I could have one more night. But then, when I leave, I can pass on my role.”

“Could you maybe not steal my socks?” (Y/N) pouted at Yoongi who chuckled in response. “This is a genuine request.” She said with slight seriousness in her tone.

“You don’t have any to steal anyways,” he rolled his eyes with an endearing smirk that replaced his dispirited look just seconds before.

“Ok just- don’t go stealing any of my clothing, I need it.” (Y/N) clicked her tongue, not denying the fact that she was sockless.

“I won’t. I don’t need your clothing.” Yoongi shrugged, “I might take your guinea pig though. Meatloaf is cute.”

“YOU wouldn’t DARE take Meatloaf from me.” She glared

“I can and I will.” Yoongi crossed his arms over his chest and looked towards the cage that housed Meatloaf. (Y/N) groaned, unlatching an arm that was sandwiched between the bed and Yoongi’s back. She planted her palm smack in the middle of the demon’s face, covering his view of the poor guinea pig.

“No.” She patted his face, Yoongi’s eyes now squeezed shut.

“I can lick your hand.” he threatened, his voice muffled and jumpy from the wacky hand.

“You’re gross,” she moved her hand up, now only covering his eyes and revealing a gummy smile from Yoongi.

“It’s sleep time,” he declared. (Y/N) whined in response, “I’ll be here in the morning to say goodbye one more time okay?”

“Promise?”

“Never said that,” he hummed.

“You jerk,” she groaned, laying her head sideways. Her ear over his heart, engraving the sound into her mind.

Like a cliche love story, (Y/N) woke up to no one but herself on the bed. Through groggy eyes, she could see that poor Meatloaf was gone too.

“I tried to stop him from taking Meatloaf I swear.” Namjoon uncrossed his arms from over his chest when he noticed that (Y/N) was awake.

“Did you really?” (Y/N) sat up in bed.

“I did, I swear,” he said immediately, “I have proof.”

“By proof, do you mean you broke something?” Namjoon took a deep breath figuring out whether or not to say yes or no.

“I… never said that.” He decided on dying, his words drifting off in nervousness.

“So… you did?” She concluded, Namjoon nodded slowly, his eyes down on the floor.

“Yea…” (Y/N) sighed, trying to find anger to cover up a tsunami of sadness that was approaching.

“It’ll be okay. We can summon him every once in a while. Maybe while we’re at it we can try to get your socks back.” Namjoon smiled and hoped it would make her feel better while the reality of things had begun to set in for him. All of the boys loved (Y/N) with all of their hearts but he was the only one willing to stay for the long run.

“I don’t think people want to go back to a rehab center, Namjoon.” (Y/N) let the tears begin to pour.

“(Y/N) it’ll be okay…” Namjoon went over to sit on the bed next to (Y/N), “Seriously we’ll get through this.” Namjoon put a hesitant hand onto (Y/N)’s shoulder and began trying to comfort her.

“I know- I know but-” (Y/N) sniffled, “Hold on, my mascara will run.”

“You’re not wearing any?-” Namjoon raised a brow and looked at (Y/N) like ‘bih-’

“Shush.” (Y/N) shushed Namjoon before shaking off his hand and placing her head on his shoulder.

“You know you can’t prevent me from getting a boyfriend forever.” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon before continuing to pack her bag for school.

“I can and I will.” Namjoon slung his own bag over his shoulder. He was definitely a professor.

“You can’t make me be single forever.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes and slung her backpack onto her shoulders.

“Your preferences in men are horrible (Y/N), I'm not trying to prevent you from getting a man.” Namjoon said in a matter of fact voice, moving and opening the front door, letting (Y/N) pass through before he walked out behind her.

She scoffed, “maybe you should hook me up with someone, maybe then you can leave rehab.”

“I miss Meatloaf,” Namjoon said solemnly, changing the subject.

“Why do you always change the subject when I bring up my love life?” (Y/N) complained, stomping her foot as they walked down the hallway of the apartment building toward the elevator.

“Do you think Yoongi will respond if we try to summon him?” He ignored the question.

“Hey Joon? Is your dick ribbed? I heard all the demon dicks were ribbed.”

Namjoon stopped in his tracks, putting his feet together and staring down at the human with a face screaming ‘what-the-fuck?’ (Y/N) had a boxy smile on her face, waiting for a response. “Who the fuck did you hear that from?”

“A fanfic I read, it was a group called DTS,” she shrugged. “Is it right though?” she leaned forward slightly in high expectations.

“Well-” Namjoon paused, “uhhh…” his eyes darted around. “Mine… isn’t.”

“Damn- that’s really disappointing,” (Y/N) frowned, throwing down an imaginary hat onto the ground and continuing walking with Namjoon following behind her.

“Why is it disappointing? You’re a virgin.” Namjoon raised an eyebrow.

“Why would you think I’m a virgin?” (Y/N) looked offended. They stopped in front of the closed silver elevator doors, Namjoon hit the down button before responding.

“You literally had no social life in middle and high school and depended on demons who were attached to you by force in order to not lose your ability to speak in English.” Namjoon raised a finger, “Plus I’ve known you since you were ten and unless it was before that… I would know.” He slipped into the elevator, turning around and walking backwards. A know-it-all smirk plastered on his face while (Y/N) had an annoyed look on her own.

“Can we just- stop before we start arguing about my sex life?” She marched forward into the elevator like a preteen going into their room after an argument with their parents.

“How did you even become a professor?” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon confused. “Couldn’t you have just you know… poofed yourself from people’s view when I go to school?”

“I need something to do while you’re in class. I might as well teach asshole frat boys how to do business math amiright.” Namjoon chuckled.

“I mean… you can just be the ghost you are and haunt me n’ stuff?” (Y/N) suggested, “I mean you already do that, Casper.”

“That’s Professor Casper to you.” Namjoon laughed too hard at his own joke.

“Ew,” (Y/N) cringed. “I’d rather call you Daddy Casper.”

“Only in the bedroom.” Namjoon looked at the human.

“Sex doesn’t always have to be private.” (Y/N) stared back at the demon, flipping her hair back. “Wait- are YOU a virgin then?” She asked, bringing back the topic from earlier, but this time about Namjoon.

“Classified.” Namjoon glared.

“So you ARE a virgin?” (Y/N) snorted a laugh, “And you call yourself a demon.”

“Not all demons are incubi or succubi, your demon-racist.” Namjoon accused.

“I am not demon-racist.” (Y/N) looked up at the tall demon, “I’m human.”

“You’re not a human, you’re the personification of the word ‘dumbass.’” He said, poking the proclaimed dumbass on the forehead.

“Rude of you to assume what I am, Casper.” (Y/N) smacked away his hand and pushed Namjoon not so gently on the shoulder.

“Now you’re the hypocrite,” Namjoon glared, “Professor Casper.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes, “Daddy Casper.”

Namjoon frowned, “If you’re so persistent on not calling me Professor, then just Daddy works fine.”

The girl shrugged, “I’d prefer to just call you Daddy Casper, but without the Daddy part.”

“But what if I want to be called Daddy Casper.” Namjoon wiggled his eyebrows suggestively as they walked through the gates of the school, the walk soon enough would be coming to an end.

“Woahhhh down bessie.” (Y/N) lifted her hands and moved them in a downward motion, “Save it for the student who’s gonna try to fuck you for their grade.”

Namjoon laughed again, “You say it as if it won’t be you trying to fuck for an A.”

“I don’t get how an idiot like you got a job as a professor.” (Y/N) punched Professor Namjoon on the shoulder who was still laughing at the insult he pulled out his ass against the girl.

“I don’t know how an idiot like you got into college.” Namjoon rubbed his shoulder and then pushed (Y/N) back with a grin on his face. The bell conveniently rang, ending the conversation and forcing the pair to speed their way over to the classrooms.

“You know I saw one of the sorority girls eyeing you, I think we’ve found our fuck-for-a-grade person.” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon, “You wouldn’t fuck her right?”

“I would never fuck one of my students.” Namjoon looked at (Y/N), “Plus I don’t like cheerleaders, I like depressed freshmen who can see demons and that double time as rehab facilities.”

“I am not a rehab facility. I am a struggling freshman.” (Y/N) clapped at Namjoon.

“No you’re not a rehab facility, you’re my rehab facility.” Namjoon smiled cheekily, “And the way I see it you are not a struggling freshman, you live with a professor that helps you with most of your homework.”

“Eh- The one thing you don’t help with is stress relief.” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon, “The least you could do is let me go out and find a boyfriend.”

“You HAVE a boyfriend.” Namjoon looked at (Y/N) seriously.

“WHERE? WHO?” (Y/N)’s eyes frantically searched the room.

“HERE! ME!” Namjoon pointed at himself and then widened his eyes.(Y/N) looked at Namjoon with a raised brow, her frantic eyes stopping and looking the demon up and down.

“I didn’t know you had a rental-boyfriend service?” (Y/N) said in genuine shock, “I don’t have any money though so-“

“You don’t have to rent me.” Namjoon scoffed, “I’m right here and I cost no money.”

“I don’t take charity work, sorry.” Namjoon groaned and covered his face with a hand.

“You’re literally the most stubborn person I know.”

“I’m trying to keep my single streak here, thank you very much.”

“Wait so we aren’t dating?”

“You thought we were dating?”

“You didn’t think that?”

“You like me?”

“You didn’t know?”

“I mean- you never said it-”

“I literally said it seconds ago, (Y/N).”

“Well yeah, seconds ago I guess but I mean before?”

“I literally confessed to you when we were looking for apartments to move out of your parents house.”

“When?-”

“What about this place then?”

“I like it.”

“More than you like me?”

“No.”

“Good.”

“Are you questioning my love for you?”

“Bitch, maybe I am.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Why shouldn’t I be questioning it then, hmm?”

“I’m literally helping you look for a home that we both will move into.”

“That proves nothing.”

“Bitch- If that doesn’t say ‘I LOVE YOU’ I don’t know what does.”

“Oh, I don't know. Maybe saying ‘I love you’ straight up?”

“Fine.”

“I love you.”

“Nice.”

“Ohhhhhh.” (Y/N) smiled, “You meant that?”

Namjoon looked at her with a blank face. She stared back waiting for an answer that didn’t come.

“So… you do mean it?” She confirmed it herself. The demon nodded slowly, waiting for her to process it.

“(Y/N)? You good?” Namjoon waved a hand in front of her face.

“You know,” she started, finally having rebooted her system. “There’s a lot of things wrong with this relationship. First of all, you’re a demon and I'm a human.”

“Not the first time I've heard of that type of relationship.”

“Secondly, you’re supposed to leave soon considering you’ve delayed it enough. Even using my personified dreamcatcher as compensation to stay longer.”

“I’m pretty sure at this point, they’ve given up on trying to get me back.”

“Third of all, it’s weird that you’ve literally known me since I was ten.” She held up ten fingers, “How old are you again?”

“Not that old for a demon,” he shrugged.

“Exactly. For a demon, thank you for proving my point.” Namjoon went to retort but (Y/N) continued. “Fourth, teacher and student relationships are weird.”

“People roleplay it in the bedroom?” Namjoon shrugged once again.

“Exactly,” she said again.

“It’s technically not weird since you’re not my student though. You’re definitely not a business major so…” Namjoon weighed the pros and cons of being caught with a student even if said student isn’t even one of his.

“I’m an English Major- BUT that’s besides the point. You’ve still known me since I was ten.” (Y/N) poked Namjoon’s chest.

“Hey it’s not like I was creeping on you when you were a kid…” Namjoon raised his hands in defense.

“No you just started creeping on me when I was around sixteen.”

“It’s more acceptable than pedophiles!”

“You’re like three hundred!” She exclaimed, she threw her hands above her head to

“Add about seven-hundred years to that.” Namjoon added with slight hesitation.

(Y/N) stood there, mouth agape, trying to do the mental math.

“You’re one-thousand?!”

“Give or take some.”

“I- I’m going to remove myself from this situation.” (Y/N) walked away.

[:] I ran out of image things, so we get text from now on. [:]

“Maybe I should start sleeping in the closet.” Namjoon voiced his thoughts as he was grading papers one night.

“You don’t have to sleep in the closet.” (Y/N) looked at the demon from across the kitchen table.

“The closet is comfortable.” Namjoon shrugged before voicing his concerns about the student’s work, “I’m pretty sure this student is gonna try to suck my dick for an A. This work sucks ass. How did she even get x=34? The answer is x=0!”

“I’m bad at math, don't look at me.” (Y/N) jotted a note down on her work before closing her notebook.

“But anyway- Back on track. Why do you want to start sleeping in the closet?” (Y/N) raised a questioning brow.

“Because the bed is awkward now.” Namjoon sighed before writing a bold ‘10/35’ down on the paper and circling it. (Y/N) glanced over at the paper that was marked red at every inch of it.

“You should put ‘see me after class’ on it. Maybe she’ll suck your non-ribbed demon dick.” (Y/N) suggests as she puts away her notebook. Namjoon’s fist hit the table in annoyance with a loud sigh that definitely said ‘i’m not getting some dumb bitch to suck my dick.’ The girl snorted, “Geez, no need to be so rough on the table.”

“Stop bringing up my non-ribbed demon dick.” Namjoon glared across the table.

“You admit that it’s not ribbed? That’s rough, man.” (Y/N) sighed sympathetically. “Some people are into that, you know.” Namjoon facepalmed, a bit too harshly, a loud smack echoing in the cramped apartment. “No need to be so rough, Casper.”

“You’d probably like it rough, and why the hell are you so bent on the fact that my dick isn’t ribbed?” Namjoon glared, moving onto the next student’s paper.

“We’ve taken the god damn BDSM test together, Casper. You KNOW I'd like it rough.” (Y/N) said in a smart-ass tone, knowing for a fact that they’ve done the test before.

“That shit lies,” Namjoon declared, “I’m not a bottom.”

“We know sweetie, we know. The test did you dirty.” (Y/N) weighed her options before ultimately deciding not to cross the room to comfort her demon. “But you know, the test DID have some direct questions-”

“You mean like the golden showers?”

“Ew, why would you even bring that up.”

“You said ‘direct questions.'” Namjoon shrugged.

“That question was traumatic.” (Y/N) shuddered, “But anyway, You can keep sleeping in the bed. It’s only awkward for you. Plus you can’t even be a demon dreamcatcher from a closet.”

“I can and I will. Now go get ready for bed. I'll join you in a bit. I have to email the kids' advisor.”

[:] Oh wow, another spliter [:]

“What’s awkward about this?” (Y/N) asked, ignorant to the fact that it was very awkward. Her legs were wrapped around the demon’s waist, who was laying down as straight as a log uncomfortably.

“Everything is uncomfortable.” Namjoon tried to push (Y/N) off of him.

“This is where you’re wrong,” (Y/N) states. “Your chesticles are very comfortable.” She furthered her point, by moving her head and weirdly nuzzling her cheek into his chest.

“(Y/N) get off of me.” Namjoon was now really uncomfortable.

“No.” (Y/N) pulled Namjoon’s log-body closer.

“Please?” Namjoon wiggled some more, “Seriously (Y/N) get off.”

“No…” (Y/N) held Namjoon tighter, “Imma go sleep now.”

“Ok (Y/N).” With that Namjoon pushed (Y/N) up and off of him and climbed out of bed and into the closet.

(Y/N) whined, “Nooooooo!” She looked at the closet through her eyebrows. “Are you hiding something from me?” She accused the demon.

“Excuse me?” Namjoon opened the closet door a bit.

“Oh my god- are you a closet gay?” She gasped loudly.

“WHAT?” Namjoon looked at (Y/N) from the crack in the doorway.

“It’s okay! You don’t need to use a fake confession to hide it from me.” She comforted the demon, “I will support you 1000 percent.”

“I’M NOT GAY!” Namjoon wiggled around in the closet before emerging from the space.

“Okay okay- but just so you know, there’s nothing wrong with being gay, Casper. Closeted or not.” She hummed, her words being muffled as she slowly put her face into the mattress.

“It’s been awkward since you basically called me a cradle robber, you stubborn piece of shit.” Namjoon blushed at his confession.

“I thought you didn’t care about that earlier.” (Y/N) looked back up, taking a deep breath of air after almost suffocating herself.

“Well I did.” Namjoon huffed out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Well that sucks,” (Y/N) said blandly, “I was thinking of saying I love you.”

“The fuck- wait,” Namjoon’s eyes widened.

“Night night.”

[:] Cockadoodle-Doo it's morning [:]

The next morning came around quickly for (Y/N), though I wouldn’t say the same for Namjoon. Having him overthinking the “postponed” love confession from (Y/N). Meanwhile, though the night was quick, the morning dragged the girl by the toilet paper stuck at the bottom of her shoe.

Frown plastered on her face, seemingly deep in thought. She was unmoving in her seat aside from her wrist moving to stir the half eaten cereal in front of her. Namjoon sat across from her, “You can stop thinking, you’re going to hurt your head.”

The insult snapped the girl out of her concentration, she looked up and clicked her tongue. “I was just thinking about you. You want me to stop doing that?”

Namjoon raised a brow, “Depends on what you were thinking about.”

“I was wondering if we could summon the boys,” (Y/N) smiled before continuing, “Maybe get my socks back…”

“Are you saying you’d enjoy the company of your socks more than you with me?” Namjoon asked rhetorically with a shocked expression. (Y/N) gagged and rolled her eyes.

“Namjoon…” she said with a honey coated tone. “Are you saying you don’t know that I know you’ve used MY socks before?” The accused had a shocked look on his face that looked like he was on the verge of throwing up.

(Y/N) started snickering, amused by the demon’s expression. “As if I'd use your cheap ass yellow striped socks,” Namjoon aimed his nose at the ceiling. The girl laughed harder, finding the insult to her socks a bit too amusing.

“Okay, back on topic,” she said in between giggles, “We’ll get back to this later.” Namjoon shook his head, unamused unlike the person across from him.

The offended sock insulter cleared his throat, “We should have enough time before we need to go to the school to summon one of them.” He said in a factual voice, (Y/N) nodded as she took a glance at the time that read 7:23 am.

“What did we need again?” She got up from the stool she sat on, abandoning the poor soggy cereal. Namjoon got up also with a hum of thought.

“Candles and a lighter are the main things, obviously,” He says. (Y/N) nodded going into one of the kitchen cabinets for the items. “And if we’re summoning all of them, we’d need offerings…” Namjoon drifted off.

(Y/N) put down the candles onto the marble counter and looked at Namjoon questionably, “So… we need another hamster and dog?” This made the demon pause before nodding slowly, the situation becoming a bit more difficult than it needed to be now.

“And then what about Hobi? What he took wasn’t exactly… a physical object?” She also put it into consideration and clicked her tongue. “I’m still mad at you for sacrificing my literal source of happiness and good luck for yourself.” Namjoon’s jaw dropped.

“I thought we were past this!” He threw his hands up in the air, (Y/N) flipping him off simultaneously.

“Maybe you were,” she sassed, pointing fingers with a half assed glare.

“Technically, it wasn’t a sacrifice, (Y/N).” He said, crossing his arms.

“Well-” She was cut off by the demon.

“Nuh uh, It was just him choosing to leave and wanting to stay,” he snapped, not in a harsh way though.

“But-”

“You know what, let’s just try and summon them another day. I don’t think it’d work anyways.” Namjoon said, dismissing the topic by waving his hand, taking a glance at the tree outside.

[:] Wooshy flash back time I guess [:]

“Why are you still here?” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon, “I mean weren’t you supposed to leave this year?”

“I was supposed to leave instead of Hobi last year. I asked to stay.” Namjoon was sitting nonchalantly in one of the lounge chairs in her parents' living room reading the book she was supposed to be reading for school.

“Why didn’t you leave when you were supposed to?” (Y/N) looked at the demon, a look of confusion evident on her features.

“Who else is supposed to write your book reports for school?” Namjoon smirked while holding up the book before going back to reading said book.

“Then why did Hobi leave? Did he not want to be attached anymore?” (Y/N) began to tear up.

“It’s not that. I asked to stay because I felt I wasn’t ready to leave yet and Hoseok felt he was ready to leave. Most of the time, we leave when our time comes (Y/N). Hobi and mine were at the same time and I wanted to stay so I stayed.” Namjoon smiled at (Y/N).

“But why didn’t Hobi want to stay?” (Y/N)’s tears were flowing freely at this point.

“(Y/N)! Are you crying?” (Y/N)’s mom came rushing downstairs to investigate why her only child was crying.

“I’m fine.” Even (Y/N) wasn’t convincing herself, “Really Mom, I’m just over exhausted. I’m gonna go up to my room.”

[:] And back to the present :) [:]

“Are you almost ready to go?” Namjoon popped his head into the bedroom, “We have to leave soon if you want to be on time for school.”

“I’m almost ready, relax. And don’t you have a class to teach and a non-ribbed dick to get sucked by that one bitch for an A?” (Y/N) scoffed from where she was printing an essay that Namjoon had written the night before.

Namjoon started counting down from five, “Five- You better fucking get your ass in gear or you’re gonna be late. Four- Seriously (Y/N). Three- Professor Howard can’t give you another pass just because he likes you. Two-” Namjoon got cut off by (Y/N).

“I’m ready, asshole.” (Y/N) looked at him, “You better not let that bitch Brianna suck your dick.”

“I won’t let her suck my dick!” Namjoon raised his hands in defense, “What about my toes though?” (Y/N) looked at the demon with a face of disgust and looked at him from head to toe.

“Are you Namjoon or Taehyung?” She squinted, looking at his face.

“It was a joke!” Namjoon smirked, “But I'm sure she’ll do it for an A anyway.”

“I’m done with this conversation Casper.” With that (Y/N) slung her bag over her shoulder and left.

“Hey wait!” Namjoon grabbed his own bag before speed walking after (Y/N).

[:] Professor Casper or Daddy Casper? [:]

“SO.” (Y/N) sat down across from Namjoon in his office, “Rumour has it that you’re dating a cute english-lit major and are up for evaluation. What say you in your defense?”

“I mean I am dating a cute english-lit major. But I’m not up for evaluation, I used my demon charms to get out the punishment.”

Namjoon looked at (Y/N) seriously.

“Did you actually?” (Y/N) gaped at Namjoon.

“No. I explained that dating you is punishment enough.” Namjoon smiled, his dimples popping.

“Bastard.” (Y/N)looked at Namjoon.

“Bitch.” Namjoon smirked at (Y/N) before leaning over the desk and kissing her on the forehead, “I love you.”

“Good.” (Y/N) blushed.

There, through the window of the office, there were 6 peeping toms watching the couple.

“Adadada-uda,” Taehyung stuttered, “THEY’RE SO CUTE!”

“This looks like it’d turn out like a straight porn video on the hub,” Yoongi says bluntly.

Jungkook looked at Yoongi, “Ew straight.”

“Moving on,” Seokjin cleared his throat, “Does anyone remember when (Y/N) said I love you back?”

A series of “No’s” could be heard.

“Maybe we weren’t watching!” Jimin raised his hands, “But when were we not watching?”

“Oh I know!” Hoseok interrupted, “When they split up because of classes earlier. We left Yoongi hyung in charge just in case something happened.”

“I took a nap and must've missed it.” The guilty demon shrugged.

“No, (Y/N) definitely isn’t someone who confesses straight up.” Seokjin said, stroking his chin. The rest nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, that's why she didn’t have a man when we were still there.” Jungkook snorted.

“No JK, we all know the reason why (Y/N) was always single. Was because she was pining after Namjoon.” Jimin stated the obvious.

[:] Damn. Imagine having someone to kiss in public. Or at all. [:]

“So how do you reckon the staff caught onto us… I mean PDA really isn’t our thing.” Namjoon looked at (Y/N), “Who have you told?”

“I haven’t told anyone!” (Y/N) frowned, “Maybe someone saw us go home together? I bet it was that bitch Brianna. She gives off the stalker vibes.”

“I’m not gonna let her suck my dick.” Namjoon looked at (Y/N), “And she’s already failing my class so even if I did let her suck my non-ribbed punisher, she still would probably only have a D-.”

“Hey- I thought we stopped referring to your dick as non-ribbed.” Namjoon raised a brow, making a face that said ‘you’re-the-one-who-started-it.’

Reading his expression (Y/N) glared at the demon, “Technically you’re the one who started it because you freely admitted it freely.”

“What makes you find out the hard way that my dick isn’t ribbed?” Namjoon looked at (Y/N) suggestively before flopping namtiddie first into the couch.

“I think I would've preferred finding out the hard way.” (Y/N) flopping onto Namjoon’s hard back.

“So I can’t even have the couch to myself?” Namjoon groaned before realizing what (Y/N) meant by ‘finding out the hard way,’ “Are you saying you rather had found out in the heat of the moment after having prepared yourself for a ribbed demon dick?” Namjoon leaned his head up to bump (Y/N) who still had her fat ass on his back, “I can’t breathe, get off.”

(Y/N) rolled off of Namjoon before plopping herself down in front of Namjoon, “That’s exactly what I am saying.”

[:] Smh stalkers at every moment [:]

“And I got a big fat ass!” (Y/N) shook her ass while singing off-key.

“Your ass is everything but big, baby.” Namjoon passed (Y/N) to reach for the garlic from the spice cabinet.

The girl turned and looked at Namjoon with an offended look, “You know. As my rental boyfriend, you’re supposed to be nice.”

Garlic forgot, Namjoon turned to (Y/n) and grabbed her waist, “I’m not your rental boyfriend and you know that.”

(Y/N) laughed, “Okay go off I guess, not my rental boyfriend.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes before pushing Namjoon away.

“Woman,” Namjoon placed a hand over his heart, “You wound me.”

(Y/N) turned around and smiled at her demon, “I could argue that you’re the one that wounds me.”

“I do not wound you.” Namjoon scoffs, “But I could very well wound you if you keep saying i’m a rental boyfriend, love.”

“Well we wouldn’t want you to wound me now would we,” (Y/N) smiled up at Namjoon before leaning in and placing a quick peck to his lips, “I love you.”

Namjoon smiled before returning (Y/N)’s peck with a chaste kiss, “I love you too, baby.”

*Meanwhile from the dining room 6 men were watching from not so afar*

“Hyung! Hyung! Did you see that!” Jungkook excitedly pointed towards the couple in the kitchen.

Yoongi groaned, “See what?”

“Le gasp! How could you have missed that!” Taehyung held a hand over his heart, “(Y/N) initiated affection for once!”

Jin smiled, “It really was adorable.”

[:] Oh look, you're at the end. [:]

“Every kiss begins with consent.” Namjoon wiggled his shoulders while grading papers at the table.

(Y/N) smirked before leaning over the table and planting a large whet kiss on Namjoon’s cheek.

“Rude.” Namjoon scoffed before pulling (Y/N) in for a proper kiss.

“You know that kiss didn’t have much of my consent in it.” (Y/N) smiled before leaning in for another kiss.

“I don’t think I consented to that either though.” Namjoon smiled.

“Get back to work baby.” (Y/N) nudged Namjoon towards his pile of papers.

“Yeah yeah.” Namjoon smiled before looking down and putting a big red ‘F’ on a paper clearly marked Brianna Simms.

“When will she just drop the class?” (Y/N) chuckled, “Dumbass.”

do not repost, translate, or claim as your own. :]

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canyouhearthelight · 3 years

Text

The Miys, Ch. 135

I think y’all are in for a treat with this one. I won’t spoil it, though, other than to say that @baelpenrose and @charlylimph-blog thought this chapter was hilarious.

Think about that, please. Charly and Arthur think this chapter is hilarious.

Eyeah. That’s all I’ve got to say about that. I do not take responsibility for any injuries sustained.

As always, please don’t forget to check out the podcast! I will plug it shamelessly, so you may as well.

“Where are they?” Alistair murmured while he searched our shared office thoroughly. Had it been anyone else, I would say he was being calm, but the fact that he was searching for anything, at all, tagged it in my head as a downright frantic pace.

“Where are what?”

“Nothing,” he dismissed, despite continuing his search.

I furrowed my brows. “You haven’t even had your tea yet. Or your breakfast?”

A pale hand waved me off. “I am aware.”

Shrugging, I gave it up as a lost cause and went back to the list of evacuees that Tyche and I had drafted up. After whipping up a preliminary list of who was assigned where, we were doing a more thorough second pass to ensure no conflicts of personality. Deep in thought, I paid Alistair no attention until Parvati and Hannah arrived fifteen minutes later.

“Alistair, they aren’t here, so you can stop looking,” Hannah grinned as she took her accustomed seat.

“I am sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“Surrrrre you don’t. Just like I’m sure you don’t know why several of the paint pens ran out of pigment,” Parvati assured him in the most sincere tone I had ever heard. My former therapist would have been proud.

I fought back a smile as he straightened and finally stopped his search, even going so far as to tug his shirt to get any wrinkles out. “I know no such thing.” With that, he turned his back to all three of our snickering faces, requesting his usual tea and scone from the food console.

Composing my face, I tried to be serious for a minute. “You should eat fast, because our appointment with Arthur Farro is in about fi - “

My door whooshed open. Speak of the devil.

“ - ve minutes early, apparently,” I finished.

Unperturbed as usual, the subject of my previous suggestion strolled in with his usual air of confidence. Just as he was going to take a seat beside Parvati, he leaned across the table. “Aww, no kiwi or pomegranate on your clotted cream this morning? Poor fing,” he said with a mocking pout.

“I am baffled why everyone believes such things of me,” Alistair grumbled into his tea with a scowl.

I sputtered. “You were using the pens on your breakfast?”

He didn’t even bother denying the chorus of confirmations from those around him, taking the higher road of sudden deafness. “Farro, I am still not entirely sure why a former warlord is necessary for discussions of an evacuation plan.”

“Warlords are generally just berserkers if they don’t have anyone to be ‘lord’ of.” Farro shot a dazzling smile as I supressed a groan. “But then again, being British, I’m sure you got confused, what with all the lords that were there in the last century without even land to their names.”

It really was easier sometimes to do things without either of them. Time to step in. “Gentlemen,” I purred in my most annoyingly ‘motivational’ tone possible, “the bathroom is right through that door, if you would like to continue your pissing contest. However, some of us have actual work to do, so whether you fuck it out or fight it out, please do so on your own time.”

Both mouths shut with an audible click, and both men looked away from me. But at least they were quiet. Sophia: 1, Whatever-the-hell-this-was: 0.

I forged ahead while I had the chance. “Arthur, thank you for taking time to meet with us regarding the plans for fortifying the safety points. I’m sorry that Tyche couldn’t be here, however she scheduled her stay-cation several months ago and frankly deserves it.” By which I meant I had bribed Derek with a nauseating amount of bao to disable any communications to or from this office from going to her data pad until the start of her first shift post-vacation, and threatened my entire family within an inch of their lives to keep them from bringing up work around her for the next week. “However, I do have her concerns and suggestions ready, I assure you.”

With a scowl, he glanced at me and stood, calling up the emitter-map of the Ark. Quickly, he sketch circles around each of the ‘bunkers’ we had designated. “Xiomara had very sound judgement in the locations she chose for safe-zones, and I honestly expected it. Between her and Evania, there is a frankly terrifying amount of strategic prowess in what is theoretically our Health and Safety office.”

“You can’t be healthy or safe if you’re dead,” Hannah pointed out.

He tossed her a wink and grin. “Touche. However, none of them are perfect. This location,” he leaned to tap and zoom on a mess hall, “is fortified, has access to food and drink, even if you have to furiously call up non-perishables and potable water, and only has one entrance/egress. A huge entry/egress, unfortunately: the door is ten meters wide.”

Parvati tapped a couple times on her datapad before chiming in. “It does close, however. And it locks.”

Arthur shook his head. “In two panels, each five meters wide. If even one is blown, the gap is indefensible. Both, everyone in there is free for the taking.”

“You are suggesting we ask Miys to narrow the aperture of the door?” I groaned when I heard Alistair leverage his overly-formal language.

It didn’t get any better when Arthur nodded. “Worst they can say is no, but the size of the door is simply for ease of access and to assuage anyone with proximity issues. Now that we all have these handy alerts - “ he tapped his temple for emphasis “ - it isn’t nearly as necessary. Noah? Bud? What do you think?”

The buzz from the ceiling was clearly amused. “I am amenable if this is a solution. As Arthur pointed out, the width of that door is no longer necessary.”

“Annnd there we go,” Arthur shrugged. “The boatwright said yes, if that’s what we want.”

My jaw nearly hit the floor when Alistair nodded firmly and stood. Swiftly, he highlighted three more areas. “These have the same potential concern. We should include those in the proposal.”

‘We’? ‘We’ whomst??? Since when were they on the same side?

“I agree,” Arthur continued enthusiastically, causing my head to start twinging in pain. “According to the engineers and the chemisists on board, the material of the Ark is remarkably fire-retardant despite it’s organic nature - let’s hear it for advanced civilizations - so there is no additional need for fire doors. There is however a possibility of concussive damage to the actual doors in any area, despite how thick the actual walls are.”

“Tyche recommended shock-absorbent material on the exteriors of each door, dropped via internal trigger and held taught by wires rather than any sort of scaffolding,” I suggested, recovering my focus. I flicked the concept at the emitter, where it was displayed alongside the schematic of the Ark. “Using wires would allow us to also store it in a roll at the top of the door, and allow pulleys to draw the wires embedded in the bulkhead down to cover the entire door.”

Hannah nodded thoughtfully. “The materials she suggests are a good idea - definitely maximizes shock absorption as much as possible. My only concern is that we can probably double the flame resistance of the materials for only a ten-percent loss of effectiveness.”

Calling up my datapad, I smiled as I quoted. “ ‘However, Hannah is a professional weaver and seamstress, and therefore I defer to her on any suggestions regarding materials used, provided there is no more than twenty-percent loss of efficacy’. Apparently she did the calculations and had Charly and Conor both check behind her - anything below twenty percent loss, and the blast would blow the doors.”

“And when did the more sensible Miss Reid learn engineering?” Alistair asked in what sounded like genuine curiosity.

“Tuesdays - I think?” I scrunched my face and searched my memory. “It was something very important when we were cosplaying.”

Arthur snorted, but gestured an apology when Alistair affixed him with a downright lethal glare.

Hannah ignored them both. “Wool… We should be able to synthesize raw wool, instead of the plant based materials here. Best of both worlds - fluffy, incredibly flame resistant, and disperses concussive force like nothing else. Line it with silk for shrapnel? We should be good.”

“Fortress defense via quilts. I like it,” Arthur grinned savagely.

“There is a reason tapestries were so important in the Middle Ages,” Alistair snarked at him. “Both flame resistant and insulating, both very good qualities when you see by torches and candles in a drafty residence that echoes like a cathedral.”

Arthur held his hands up in surrender. “Not arguing, no worries… Genuine respect, swear.”

“Better…”

“Annnnd forging on from whatever-the-fuck-that-was,” I interjected, trying to focus on the topic at hand rather than… well, whatever the fuck that was, “That’s overlarge entries and concussive force taken care of. What other concerns did you have, Arthur?”

“Frankly? Camouflage,” he told us sternly. “The best way to protect against an invading enemy is to make it so hard to find you that it isn’t worth the effort. All these defenses are good an all, but… they’ll stick out like a sore thumb and practically scream ‘Hey! We’re in HERE!’ “ I stifled a laugh when he hopped and waved his arms furiously.

“Very dignified, Farro,” Alistair sniffed as he stood to get more tea.

“I know, right? I’m so classy…”

Rolling my eyes and still regretting having them both in my office at the same time, “We actually have the camouflage solved for.” You could have heard a pin drop, all four of them frozen, mouths open. “It came through this morning from Zach.” I swiped the fortress-quilt specs down, and popped up the plans for the camouflage. “We’re thinking on the visible spectrum, since humans are sight animals. Zach went with a ‘most common denominator’ approach - scent, infrared, acoustic, everything but electromagnetic vision. The quilts cover the infrared and the majority of the acoustic issues: if any body-heat shows through fifteen inches of fluffed wool and a bulkhead door, we’re doomed no matter what.” I highlighted a line of data. “Scent, likewise: Zach is suggesting aeresolized, low concentration sulfur throughout the majority of the Ark, excluding the safe-zones. The safe-zones will also have one of Miys stationed in each one, acting essentially as an air scrubber. This will minimize acoustics from active air filtration, while also adhering to Miys being a non-participant: they will be present to ensure our comfort due to minimizing body odor, nothing more. This was already planned, the fact that it will protect us from being detected by scent is just a lagniappe.”

I waited for the thoughtful nods to pass and decided I did not see the glance that Arthur and Alistair exchanged. As long as they didn’t draw blood during the meeting, I would let it slide. “Where it gets sticky is neuroelectric. Zach, it seems, took a page out of Charly’s manual-of-mischief.” I zoomed in on the specific line of the prospectus and waited.

“He wants to what?” Hannah asked, incredulous. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh I like this,” came the ‘devil’ in ‘devil’s advocate’.

“How would it even work?” Parvati asked, genuinely curious.

I chose that one to respond to. “Just like the microfilament wires that will support the quilts, he wants to cover the walls inside several false locations with a mesh and electrify it to mimic human synaptic energy. Needle in a haystack theory.”

“Wait,” Alistair held up a hand to interrupt. “Are you also proposing that the doors to these false locations will be covered in the quilts?”

“Absolutely,” I confirmed. “Given how far from prospective entry points all of the safe-zones are located, they would run into several false locations before they encounter a real one.”

“And if they decide to tear into all the locations, even the false-positives?” Arthur poked, trying to find a hole in the idea. Which, I had to concede, was why he was even here instead of sending me messages for this.

“What if they decide to tear into every mess hall? Or every door? We can’t plan for everything.” I shook my head. “However, we can factor in a few things that seem pretty consistent despite species - Beings who don’t have legitimate work and take slaves are generally prone to laziness, despite somehow working harder to avoid work than I have ever actually worked a day in my life. Point being, give them enough false positives on the way, they won’t actually search everything no matter what they say.”

“Speculation and hearsay, not admissible in court.”

“Au contraire, mon frère. Charly did the sociological analysis on all the species most likely to be pirates in the region of the galaxy where we will exit relativistic space, and her estimates are that the plan has a sixty-to-eighty-percent chance of success in the event that all human combatants fail. And I, personally, agree.”

He conceded a low whistle. “Damn. If I didn’t like Evan so much, I would say Charly is being wasted with Huynh. Objection withdrawn.”

“Quite,” Alistair agreed smugly. “Miss Harper’s plan is a sound one. The Archives, however - “

I interrupted, still irritated about the topic. “You will be stationed immediately inside the doors to defend against any intruders who make it that far, while Tyche will be defending the y-junction between the speculative fiction and historical fiction categories to prevent intruders from reaching the actual people.”

“But the religious studies section - “

“Has already been scanned down to a molecular level to preserve the information, even if we can’t restore any actual artifacts,” Parvati advised in a profoundly bored tone. “You do realize that anyone who reaches that section will not be able to reach the actual people from there without doubling back, right?”

“Miss Fletcher, there is a Gutenberg Bible on this Ark, potentially the last one in existence.” The tone was icy enough to send a shiver down my spine.

“Phee,” Arthur threw out, guaranteeing my irate attention, “Is there any issue with moving the Gutenberg to the Speculative Fiction section until we meet with the Ekomari fleet?”

“Are you seri - “

“Not to placate the Monarchist, I swear. Just - that is a profoundly important historical artifact, even if I agree with nearly none of the contents. The start of the Information age! Literature in the hands of the vulgar masses! Your field of study would have never existed in the form it was without that achievement. Who cares if the first use was to print the frickin’ Bible?”

Before I could object, Parvati added her prodigious two cents. “I do not have to be Christian to appreciate the illuminations in a manuscript, any more than I have to be a Muslim to be brought to my knees by the beauty of a mosque. We can appreciate the significance of something regardless of whether we agree with it or not.”

“This is probably where Charly or Tyche would point out that I am a huge fan of laws against animal abuse, despite firmly believing that Hitler was evil incarnate,” I sighed. “Yeah, we can move the Gutenberg Bible, provided - hang on, stop cheering - PROVIDED - “ I paused to make sure they were all paying attention, “that any other works of significant cultural or historical significance are moved as well. Any first additions, significant religious texts - or in lack of ‘significant’ religious texts, just a copy of each that is agreed to be acceptable by all who follow that religion. A copy of Frankenstein, The Tale of Genji, et cetera.”

I knew my request brooked exactly zero argument from Alistair, as his eyes visibly shone when I added more books to the list. What I waited for were any objections from the other three.

Sure enough, Hannah tentatively raised her hand. When I nodded, she spoke up. “I think we should do a kind of Voyager-plate: a copy, even just digital, of all our texts around music, crafts, technology, mathematics… Art, fermentation, food preparation and the history of it. Not just for this scenario!” she insisted urgently, “For any worst-case scenario. Keep a copy, or several. And put those copies, along with all the relevant artifacts that we have on board, and keep them with the people in the Archives, in the safest part of the ship.”

“Where it would take a black hole to destroy it,” Parvati whispered.

Just as the tears were threatening my eyes, Arthur flopped back in his seat and kicked his boots up onto the table. “Jesus fuck, you guys are depressing. Right, but depressing. It’s doable, though. We just transcribe it into the most common language for each version of ‘language’ in the Galaxy…”

Alistair snorted. “You warlords and your short-sightedness. Clearly, the resolution is to transcribe it into the most common language in the Galaxy with instructions on how to translate it further down.”

“No, you limey-ass bastard,” Arthur growled. “Too much is lost in translation - there is a reason the Qur’an and the Sefer Torah should never be translated to be considered valid.”

Nope. I wasn’t dealing with it. We had covered all the necessary topics, I could message the rest. I twitch my head at both Vati and Hannah, at which point they both rose from their seats. Neither was noticed by the arguing men.

Arthur was mid-sentence when a quick strike from Vati to the top of his spinal cord rendered all his words gibberish. Rather than realizing this, he glanced down at his suddenly-tingling fingertips in confusion. Hannah simply hauled Alistair out of his seat and ignored his squawked objections, her shorter but sturdier frame more than a match for his tall, slender frame and brain that was very much against violence towards women but undecided about how to stop them from chauffeuring you out of a room.

With exactly zero ceremony, both men were deposited in the corridor, to the satisfaction of all three of us. I waggled my fingers in a farewell. “Fuck it out or fight it out, I don’t care. But not in my office. Ta!”

I could not hold back the smile anymore when both started pounding on the door for entry, not realizing I had disabled their permissions right after the first volley had been thrown. It was almost habit, at this point, to disable their permissions to my office when they started bickering, only to restore them when they decided to act like adults.

Clearly that wasn’t the case this time. Oh well, maybe in a couple hours. I would need to ask Xiomara to do a ‘sensor test’ of the gym and med bays to be sure.

<< Prev Masterlist Next >>

#the miys #found family #humans are weird #science fiction #aliens #apocalypse #humans are space orcs #humans are space fae #earth is space australia #post apocalypse #post post apocalypse #original science fiction #original sci fi #original writing

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rpbetter · 3 years

Text

Reblog Etiquette (and ships)

At this point, we all know about “reblog karma” and “reblogging from source.” Though, I say that...and am questioning it. You should fucking know this by now, but in the event you don’t, let me define that shit for you.

Reblog Karma: the RPC’s oldest attempt at keeping people from clogging notifications and using others as meme resources. Essentially, don’t reblog a meme from a mutual unless you are sending them something from that meme first. Not all blogs practice it, or practice it the same way, please see their rules.

Reblogging from Source: another effort to stop being used as a meme/aesthetics resource. Many RPers would like you to reblog quotes, aesthetics, and memes from their source (original post location or the meme/aesthetics/quotes resource blog they got it from), even if you are sending them a meme. This is especially applicable when not interacting with the RPer.

Okay, that’s out of the way.

There is more to Reblog Etiquette than this!

And, when that etiquette is nonexistent, it almost always deals with a RPer’s ship. Mentioning ship partners and/or tagging ships on a reblog from another RPer, not removing that RPer’s mentions or tags, and even dropping a mention or outright RPing in the comments of another RPer’s reblog.

Don’t reblog from another mun and tag your ship or mention (@) your ship partner(s).

Don’t reblog a post with someone else’s mention still stuck to it.

Don’t reblog a post and leave the previous mun’s tags still in the tags.

Don’t go into the comments on someone’s post and mention your ship partner(s).

Don’t roleplay in the comments of someone else’s post.

None of this is alright, I have no idea what would make anyone think this is appropriate reblog etiquette, but it very much is not. It’s incredibly rude and lazy. Because I know that many people have similar ship aesthetics and so on, I’m not saying you shouldn’t reblog something for your own ships that a mutual has for theirs. (That’s a whole other in depth conversation we’ll have later.)

I’m saying that this is how you should be going about it:

Reblog from the source.

-What if there is no source because it’s deactivated, or there is another reason why I can’t access it?

Go into the post’s notes. At some point, damn near every post that could be used as an aesthetic, quote, or prompt for a ship (and RP in general) has been reblogged by at least one source blog. Look for RP meme, aesthetic, help, and other resource blog urls. If you cannot find one of those, look for urls that are general resource-style blogs. Personal blogs reblog aesthetics etc. as well, and there are many such resource blogs out there. -If you’re uncomfortable reblogging from a personal, that’s tough shit; I hate to break it to you, but most of your resources came from personal blogs. Deal with it, or don’t reblog anything you can’t find filtered through a RP specific resource.

-- “But this takes time/effort lol I just want to use it for my ship.” Again, tough shit. Sometimes, it does take energy not to be rude and do the right the thing. In all honesty, it’s fairly rare that doing the right thing is effortless, even when it’s something as simple as RP. Grow up.

--- You went through the notes, but there’s no appropriate blog to reblog from, now what?

Just because it’s a rare occurrence doesn’t mean it’s impossible. I know this one isn’t, I’ve had it happen too! My choice was to not reblog it at all, I just sent the link to my ship partner privately instead. If you don’t have that kind of friendship, you really wanted it on the dash, or another reason, you are now left with one option, and you’re not going to like it. Message the mutual you want to reblog from. Politely, explain that you’d like to reblog the post for your ship, and ask if they’re comfortable with it. No guilting, begging, or general, weird ass rudeness. If they decline, accept it just as politely, thank them for their response. If they accept, thank them, and especially if this isn’t a mutual you interact with much, be sure you’re showing them continued support on the dash by reading and liking/commenting on their headcanon posts and other appropriate material. (You should be anyway.)

Remove any mentions present (@’s)

Seriously, this is incredibly rude! Yet, with the typical lack of self-reflection and awareness of others in the RPC here, I see it multiple times a day on my dash. Not just with RP-blog-to-RP-blog interaction either, I also see RPers reblogging from personals and leaving their mentions attached. (I see it the other way around too, but I’m not here to school personal blogs.) For all the excessive emphasis RPers put on appearance, you’d think they’d want to get rid of something that looks this sloppy, but no. Not if it takes one extra second of effort!

-I know that xkit’s editable reblogs tends to break whenever tumblr gives us a new, exciting, hideous, insulting, limitation, I mean update, but come the fuck on. It is also one of the quickest things to regain functionality, so, maybe you should save the reblog to drafts, be following xkit’s blog for updates, and edit it once there has been a patch. If it’s worth it to you, it’s worth a short wait. When it’s working, you can easily remove that mention with editable reblogs.

--If you’re going to use being mobile as an excuse, or if you don’t want to wait on it/don’t use xkit, again, go to the source. And, also again, if that isn’t an option, you can find where it has been reblogged by an appropriate blog at some point in its history, sans mentions. Reblog from there.

Do not reblog someone else’s tags (#)

Some people have their xkit set up to reblog automatically with the previous poster’s tags. While that can be useful in some situations, I can think of, very literally, no situation this is appropriate for an RPer to use. If you have this set up on your personal/resource blog/wtfe and your RP blog is a sideblog (or you are using certain methods of having your browser open to two separate blog accounts where your xkit settings are transferring over), it’s up to you to delete the tags on these posts.

-It takes maybe one full second to click in the tag field and hit your delete button a few times to clear it. Do that. It’s never, ever, appropriate to keep someone’s ship, muse, verse, or other personalized tags attached to a reblog.

--If you are a personal blog reading this somehow, maybe you’re wanting to get into RP, please take note of this. This is one of the many reasons why most RPers will not interact with personals. We don’t like you reblogging an aesthetic post and keeping our tags on it.

In the case of both situations, not only is it rude and lazy, it’s fucking with someone else’s tags and privacy. Most RPers don’t want their content showing up in generally searchable tags, it’s one of the reasons that personalizing tags came about. Furthermore, if I’m on my dash and click a mutual’s custom tag for aesthetics, verses, ships, and so on, it’s now going to come up with instances of those tags on someone else’s blog as well.

Delete the fucking tags if they auto-populate. Don’t use someone else’s custom tags of your own volition either.

“Subverting” reblogs to mention in comments is a hard no, too

-So, you don’t want to reblog the post, but do want to @ your ship partner(s) in it? There’s no way to do that without being rude and strange. To be honest, this is even worse than just reblogging and tagging your ship.

I may not be the OP, but you came onto a post on my blog, one very likely tagged for my ships and/or having my ship partners mentioned on it, and commented on it mentioning your ship partner. It’s every bit as offensive and more so than someone reblogging from me and using it for a ship I’m not a part of. I don’t know what’s worse, when that other mun is a ship partner, casual mutual who doesn’t interact, or a writing partner but not ship partner. It’s all deeply fucked up. No one’s RP blog is here for your use like this!

--You’re also not subverting anything. I think the idea is to be polite or go unnoticed. People seem to lack a basic grasp on how tumblr works; you get notifications on reblogged posts you are not the OP of when someone comments on them just like you get a notif when someone likes it. The only way to genuinely be secretive about this would be to comment on it from the source or a resource blog. They will get the notification.

If you are commenting on, liking, or reblogging a post you see on the dash, the person having reblogged it, putting it there for you to encounter, will be notified of your interaction with it.

---What I’m saying, just in case it isn’t abundantly clear, for the third time now: you’re not being slick. Your mutuals will see that you weirdly @’ed someone in a comment on their reblog. They know.

----The appropriate behavior is to do just as advised in the above points: GO TO THE SOURCE. If no source exists, find an appropriate resource blog in the notes. You may then, and only then, give that mention in a comment.

Frankly, it’s still weird, and I would recommend you just reblog it from the source to interact with it. There is always the option of sending it to the intended party by way of tumblr’s messenger or linking the post in an off tumblr messenger like discord.

I say this because it hasn’t escaped my attention that the only time I have this issue on my own RP blog is when the imagery or text is fucking filthy. As in, Other Mun didn’t want something that sexual, kinky, violent, and so on to be posted to their own blog. You need to grow up if that’s your deal. Like writing smut or violence, if you need to do it in private only, you’re obviously not adult enough to handle the topic.

Keep your roleplay where it belongs; in your inbox and threads

-It’s not appropriate to start up RP in the comments of another RPer’s reblogged ship aesthetic. (Or anything else, this just happens to be the most common.) It’s incredibly odd and offensive to look in your notifications and see that a mutual and their ship partner are flirting, or outright fucking, in the comments of a post you reblogged for your ship.

It’s just as awkward feeling and offensive when someone reblogs the post and begins full-blown RP on it. It’s one thing when it’s a post originating from an RP resource blog, or when it’s kept to something like a mention and a short line that your writing partner can start their original post in inspiration of. But...

--You know how I said above that auto-copying tags thing is one of the reasons why RPers are iffy about personal blogs? Well, this is one of the reasons why personal blogs think RPers are exceedingly weird members of fandom that need to be excluded and devalued. It’s odd, especially if you’ve never encountered RP, to see someone reblogging your quote, moodboard, or other original post and RPing on it.

Listen, we all need to RP some crack and commentary sometimes, but it’s best left in the tags or put into a new post.

---Instead of RPing (not sorry, especially if it is smut) on that post, link the image to show in a new post, and go from there.

Please remember to be polite about artists, including photographers and gifers, when you do this! Tumblr automatically gives the source of imagery when you use a link to display the picture, that’s why I recommended doing that instead of saving, then re-uploading the image as though it is your own. If you’re going to do that, even if it’s just silliness going on, give mention of the artist, photographer’s blog/site, or gifer’s blog in the tag or below the image.

Tumblr is deeply unfriendly to artists of all sorts, don’t be fuel that. When you upload artwork for the sake of RP, again, even if it’s just crack, that’s literally violating what artists ask people not to do; you’re reposting their art without permission and credit.

#rp better #reblog etiquette #rp advice #rp help #psa #rp psa #mun behavior #ships #tumblr rpc

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luvlyrv · 3 years

Text

Our Songs | pt. 5 | Wendy x f!Reader sm!au

Summary: You and Wendy are rising musicians who are garnering attention. As the both of you decide to begin working on writing songs together, will you catch each other's attention too?

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: This was the ONLY thing I have saved from when I lost all of my writing because I already transferred into my tumblr drafts! I just had to do some editing today, but yeah it was basically finished a month ago now... I’m so sorry it’s taken so long to update this series.

Date: 1/12/21 (written)

Series Masterlist

You're at Wendy's place like you promised and ring the doorbell. Quickly, you hear footsteps and watch as the door swings open to see an excited Wendy. She opens up her arms and you give each other a warm hug.

You enter her house, and it's a cozy sight. It was a modest house with warm colors on the wall and matching colored furniture. Then, you notice a sweet and chocolatey smell coming from what you assumed was the kitchen. You can't help but to begin cracking open a smile as you look at Wendy.

"Did you make something just for me?"

Wendy smiles back at you and gently pushes your shoulder.

"Of course I did, silly. I told you I'd pay you back properly."

Wendy takes your hand and you shyly follower her into her kitchen. There she had dinner laid out as well as some brownies and cookies that she had freshly baked. You could feel your mouth watering at the sight.

"Well I be damned, you might be a better chef than me."

Wendy laughs at your comment before trying to be modest.

"Hey, you probably do a lot more cooking than I do. I prefer baking over cooking proper meals."

"But seriously… this all looks so good. Let's take a picture together and post it! I want people to know!"

"Know what?" Wendy asks you while laughing a little bit at your bubbling excitement.

"That the great Wendy went through all of this effort just for me." You gush.

You pull Wendy close to you and grab your phone. The close proximity making Wendy panic just a bit. She calms herself down though as you position the both of you in front of the food, taking a picture and uploading it on Twitter. The both of you are smiling happily and you decided to just tweet a ":D" with the photo. Wendy retweets it before the both of you sit down and eat dinner together.

Occasionally though, the both of you check Twitter to see everyone's responses. Reading the replies aloud to each other, the both of you feel happy to see fans happy about your blossoming friendship.

"I'm really happy that Seulgi pushed me to do this collaboration with you." You confess to Wendy with a smile. She nods her head in agreement.

"I think I'm really lucky to meet a person as cool and genuine as you."

It was a heartfelt moment to be acknowledging the enjoyment the both of you received from each other's presence. The both of you continued reading replies, most of them spurring the two of you to continue complimenting each other. Although… there were some replies that warranted a different response. After laughing at a previous comment, Wendy began reading a different one.

"Oh look, this person says that you and I would… make a good couple." Wendy says, all of a sudden rubbing her neck and looking bashful. You watch her as she says this and feel equally as embarrassed. You tried to steer the conversation in a different direction.

"I mean, how would they know right? It's just been some banter and one picture of us together." Wow. Real smooth there.

The two of you decide to go about dinner without anymore Twitter, and time once again slips by as you're both engrossed in conversing with each other.

After you both finished dinner, Wendy began microwaving some popcorn and had you sit on the couch. She pulls up Netflix on the TV as sits with a large, warm bowl of popcorn in her lap and you reaching for popcorn to put in your mouth.

"What do you wanna watch?" She asks you.

"Anything you wanna watch, it's up to you." You shrug in response.

"You know, I really hate indecisive people." She teases you.

In the end though, Wendy chose a random and a bit unknown romcom to watch with you. To be honest though, it was kind of a bad movie, leading you to slowly drift away into sleep. Although you found the movie boring, Wendy was a sucker for romance, a sucker for comedy, and especially a sucker for what were seen as cheap and bad movies. She was totally engrossed.

When you first started watching the movie with Wendy, you guys were already sitting next to each other. By the time you fell asleep though, the already small gap between the two of you was completely closed. When Wendy stopped paying attention to the moving and turned her head over to gage your reaction. She was shocked to see that instead of sitting there, watching the movie with her, your head had found its way onto her shoulder.

She bit back a smile while looking down on you. Thoughts about how cute you looked began to creep into her mind, but she pushed them away. She sets the bowl of popcorn down and carefully moved out of your way. Quietly, she makes her way to her bedroom and picks out a blanket for you to use. She returns to your sleeping form and lays it across your body to keep you warm.

"Goodnight, Y/N." She whispers. She begins to walk out of the living room and back into her room.

As Wendy does this though, your eyes flutter open just a little bit. You watch as Wendy slowly leaves the room. You don't bother calling out to her or getting up. Your face heats up in embarrassment at the thought of you dozing off in front of Wendy so easily like that. You feel a strange fuzziness in your stomach as you bask in the smell of the blanket though. It smelled of Wendy, and something about it seemed so intoxicating to you. Quickly, you drift back to sleep again.

The sun has risen and so has your body. When your eyes opened you took in the sight of the living room, a sight much different from the bedroom you'd usually be greeted with. Conveniently, Wendy had begun waking up herself around the same time. You hear a soft click from her bedroom door as she opens it, walking into the living room. Rubbing her eyes she catches you awake and smiles. Before she can say anything though, you wanted to thank her.

"Thanks for the blanket, and sorry for falling asleep so suddenly… I'm sure the movie was great." You laugh towards the end, knowing the it most definitely wasn't if the beginning of the movie had anything to say.

"No problem. You know, hanging out with you is really fun." Wendy admits.

"I'm glad you think that." You said quietly.

The both of you decide to just have cereal for breakfast, and once again you find yourselves talking.

"Mmm," you begin saying while in a middle of a bite. You swallow first and then continue talking. "Hey, I just realized we haven't exchanged numbers at all!"

Wendy takes a second to think.

"I guess we really haven't."

"How about you give me your number?"

"Is this your way of hitting on me?"

"No no no, really I just want your number." You shake your head at her. Wendy giggles a bit and you exchange numbers.

"Besides giving me your number, you know what else we should do? We should make a video together to keep building up the hype for our EP." You tell Wendy, and her face seems to beam with intrigue at the idea.

"That sounds really cool, your place or my place?"

"How about we do one at both of our places and post it on our different YouTube channels?"

"Yeah, what would we do though?" Wendy asks for clarification.

"How about…" You think for a second. "How about we can do one where we sing a duet and then another were we just ask some prompt questions?"

Wendy agrees with your proposal. Soon enough though, you feel like it's time to go. Before you get to open Wendy's door to leave though, she hugs you from the back.

"Thanks for coming over, Y/N." Wendy speaks into your back.

She doesn't see it, but you feel your face heat up again.

"Anytime, like you said, hanging out with you is fun."

You say your goodbyes and head back home.

#wendy x reader #red velvet x reader #kpop x reader #gg imagines #gg scenarios #gg reactions #son seungwan x reader #son wendy x reader #kpop writing #kpop scenarios #kpop fics #red velvet kpop

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prettyflyshyguy · 3 years

Text

Oops I wrote more C virus stuff

I got super energised and spent all night drafting up a one-shot about what happens when Ashley reunites with Leon post RE6 in the C-Virus AU cannon. It’s unfinished and is very much a draft, but I’m excited so I wanted to post what I have so far. I intend on compiling a bunch of these together and putting them up as chapters on AO3 and Fanfic.net once they’re edited, featuring various different characters.

You came this far just to become a Monster - The Aftermath

A brief summary: Ashley visits Leon while he’s stuck in quarantine. It gets a bit emotional.

I’m assuming the President in RE6 was the same in RE4 despite the uh long time difference between the two games. It’s 9 years and I’m Australian so I know nothing about American politics but I think a president can only serve 8 years in one stint so uh maybe he’d just been elected in 4 and was just running out of time before he died in 6? I’m rolling with that for the sake of my head-cannon/AU storylines. It makes sense given Leon was described as being good friends with him, and we can assume the friendship started once he got Ashley back home safely after the events of 4.

Given Ashley was 19/20 during RE4 she should be 28/29 post RE6 depending on her birthday.

The conversation with Hunnigan echoed in her mind as she walked down the labs corridor.

“While pursuing Chief Security Advisor Simmons, Leon became infected with the C Virus. He’s OK, don’t worry. It’s just we’re still running tests to make sure he’ll stay ok.

I know the report I gave you didn’t have much to go on in it, I’m sorry. I wasn’t allowed to provide you with much more information. You’ll just have to wait until you can see him for yourself.

He’s happy to talk with you, you can go down to the labs today if you’d like.”

“He’s happy to talk? You mean I can’t see him?”

The warm smile was betrayed by the sorrow in Hunnigan’s eyes.

“He’s still adjusting to everything. He’s spoken to a couple of our doctors and he’s dealing with a lot of internal negative emotions right now, about what people think of him. I don’t think the tests are helping.”

Hunnigan reached out and gently held Ashley’s hand, squeezing it lightly.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll be happy to have you visit. It’s what he really needs right now. Trust me.”

Standing outside the viewing room door, holding her keycard at the ready, she steeled herself. The way the security staff described the setup, Leon had access to a shutter system on the viewing window, giving him control over how and when visitors can see him. It allowed him much needed privacy given his life since coming home was endless tests and scans and scientists.

Tapping her card against the reader, the light flicked green and she heard the lock release. Pressing down on the cold handle, she slipped inside. There was a small coffee table near the viewing window, the shutter was down. A few chairs were on the far wall, she pulled one up to the window and sat down. On the table there was a remote control, it looked custom made for the setup. It only had a handful of buttons, the most important of which was a ‘call’ button that she was told would alert Leon that someone was in the room, and a ‘mic on’ button. The room had an inbuilt microphone and speaker system to allow comfortable communication even if large groups were there.

It felt uncomfortably sterile. Worse than a hospital. She looked up to the top left corner of the room, where a security camera stared back. She was also told Leon had access to the feed. She wondered if he was watching now? Hunnigan said she’d call ahead. Was he waiting for her to do something first? Would he be upset that she was so hesitant?

Shaking off the feeling she hit both buttons on the controller and flashed a smile and a wave towards the security camera, for good measure.

A moment passed before she heard a light clicking sound on the intercom, before a voice emerged.

“Ashley, hey…”

She was surprised that he sounded so… Normal. She wasn't sure what she expected, no one had given her any information other than that he’d been infected but he hadn’t lost his mind. There was an extensive report written about the events that went down, she’d been able to convince the BSAA to let her read a copy of it but it was heavily redacted. Particularly the parts pertaining to Leon.

“It’s… good to see you.”

She was relieved to hear the sincerity in his voice, despite how slightly rough around the edges he sounded. He was Leon, that hadn’t changed. But she could tell he was different all the same.

“It’s good to, uh, hear you, haha..”

Her feet shuffled, she started bouncing one leg. Looking longfully at the window glass with the shutter still closed. She was fine with phone calls but this was making her nervous. It hadn’t been that long ago that they’d last spoke, that they’d last caught up in person.

“I’m sorry, about your dad. I’m sorry I couldn't make it to the funeral. I’m sorry for everything, Ashley.”

“It’s ok, Leon. You did everything you could.”

Despite the lack of contact, the uncomfortable fog in the room was palpable for both parties. Her leg bouncing rate increased. Shuffling could be heard over the intercom speaker. They each heard the pain in the other’s voice. The wound was still fresh and very deep.

Not wanting to have that conversation to a wall, Ashley attempted to change the subject.

“So how are you holding up? I mean with the tests and everything. Hunnigan said you shouldn't have to be in isolation much longer.”

“Uhh yeah… It’s fine. I’m doing fine.”

She let out a small sigh.

“You can’t bullshit me, Leon.”

Silence.

“You’ve been stuck inside that room for almost three months now. You must be tired of it, and lonely.”

She paused, before continuing.

“When I got back from Europe after you rescued me, they kept me in isolation for precautionary testing for two weeks. They were paranoid I guess. I know for you they didn’t need long to clear you of any issues. Those two weeks were the worst of my life.”

“Worse than being injected with a mind-controlling parasite?” he joked back.

“Much, much worse.” she playfully replied, “I didn’t have a strong, capable, and handsome government agent to save me from a bunch of creepy scientists in hazmat suits.”

She heard what sounded like a muffled laugh. A smile crossed her face.

“Unfortunately for me the only ‘strong, capable, and handsome’ government agent I know is limited to Visitors on Wednesdays only.”

This made Ashley giggle suddenly, the first time she’d properly and genuinely laughed since before the C-Virus incident even occurred.

“When I came home, Dad was so worried. He just wanted to make sure I was gonna be ok. He was always so busy and worked so hard. He just wanted to make sure he could change something for the positive. In the end you made sure that happened. You and Helena.”

A tear rolled down her cheek and gently dropped off her chin. Followed by another.

“I’d known Simmons for just about my whole life, he’d had family dinners with us, we’d visit his house frequently. Dad had confided in him about so much I just… I can’t believe he’d betray us like that. I can’t believe he would be so selfish.”

The tears were making it hard for her to see, her words were mixed in with sharp breaths as she began to sob.

“He killed dad and all those people, after everything, he just fucking killed him and killed everyone else and burned it to the ground all for what!! And now he’s gone and I don’t know what to do, Leon I just don’t know what to fucking do!”

She cried for a moment, letting the anger and the grief flow. Purging her system, letting it out. As she started to calm down she pulled a packet of tissues from her bag, to clean her face.

“I want to make a difference. I want to do something, like dad did.” she said slowly through strained breaths.

“I never want to feel helpless and small ever again. After you rescued me in Europe, after everything you did to stop Simmons, I want to do something for the world too.”

She glanced up at the security camera, as if it would respond back somehow. Hoping he was watching.

“You and dad made me realise what I wanted to do with my life, what I cared most about. I even changed my college degree to International Relations when I got home but I mean, you already know that. Now with the BSAA here, I’ve asked Hunnigan if she can help me shift my career slightly, and work with you and everyone else here.”

“Really? You want to work for the BSAA?”

She nodded, not knowing if he could even see. Taking the moment to have a drink from her water bottle to gather herself.

“... I’ll put in a personal recommendation, if they’re still accepting those from me after everything.”

“Thank you Leon, I’m sure they will.” Ashley smiled.

“Well if they let me do anything, once the tests are cleared, I’d like to go visit your old man with you. If you don’t mind. I couldn’t be there for the funeral so… “

“Of course Leon,” she wiped a tear from her eye, “I’d love that. I’m sure dad would too.”

“I think you’d be great here, we need more people like you Ashley.”

“Of course, someone needs to be around to stop you getting into more trouble right?”

She was hoping for a smart ass response, a laugh, a quip, something. Her comment was met with silence. Her heart sank.

“What happened to you, Leon?”

He avoided responding, she could hear more slight shuffling noises.

“I know you feel uncomfortable, god knows I would too. Everyone’s talking about you, saying you’re a hero. You and all the others that worked together to stop the C-Virus from spreading. You saved people's lives.”

“... I don’t think you’d be calling me that if you could see me right now.”

The most she’d gotten to read about the effects of the virus on him were small comments about carapace and ‘external structural changes’. In all honestly she had no idea what he looked like, if he was even recognisable. She didn’t really know how to ask, besides the fact she really only knew Hunnigan well enough to be confident posing the question.

“I wouldn’t know. No one’s shown me any photos of you. I have no idea.”

He was silent again.

“But you’re still you, in the end. Does it matter what you look like?”

“It does when you look like a monster.”

She recoiled slightly at the tone of his voice.

“When I was in China, when it happened. It didn’t really matter to me. People's lives were at stake, Simmons was out there, I embraced it in the moment because I couldn't let people down. I needed to do something. I couldn't just give up and avoid facing the world. But now? I’m stuck in this cell and every few days I get more needles poked into me and more scans and more people asking me stupid fucking questions and I just.”

He paused suddenly. Breathing for a few moments.

“I can’t deal with all of this. I’m as good as a lab animal now. And why would anyone think any differently if they saw what I’ve become.”

“C’mon, don’t say that.”

Suddenly the shutter began to move upwards, a brighter light from the room beyond the glass spilling in. It took Ashley a moment to adjust before she could fully stare at the figure sitting opposite her.

“If you were in trouble and the thing that came to help you looked like this, would you still call it a hero?”

#Leon Kennedy #Ashley Graham #C Virus AU #Resident Evil 6 #Resident Evil #fanfic #fic #Look I got way to excited about this and just knew exactly what I wanted to write #so have this very rare burst of Text from me #I'm enjoying practicing writing interactions between characters and focusing a lot on the interpersonal relationships #I'm trying to pack a lot in there #nods to other characters #reflections of the past game events #how things might change in a characters psyche after they experience something big #I hope you enjoy and if you have any feedback I'd love to hear it #because this is a draft and its almost 6am and Ive been awake a long time

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think-thonkin · 3 years

Text

Different kind of grief

Have you ever experienced a friendship or relationship breaking apart so terribly and irreparably that you grieve it like you'd grieve for a recently deceased loved one?

Like you don't even grieve the person, but the companionship, the late night talks that exposed questions about existence and deeply hidden feelings coming into star-brightened darkness, the occasional laughing fits, the warm smiles, the content silences...

She was the last one I had. In person I mean. I cherish and appreciate my online friends with a soul-crushing passion, but the in-person companionship I crave is a kind of void that they just cannot fulfill, not anytime soon at least.

We were unhappy even before our relationship changed labels, I think. We didn't have much in common anymore, after (then) 15 years of having been friends, our interests and expectations in life and romance had drifted apart instead of closer together and it should have been the first sign that turning our relationship into a romantic one was a terrible idea.

I was unhappy, I ended up being the initiator of practically everything, be it touch or conversation or addressing problems. It was always me that stepped forward, and the lines between platonic and romantic felt like a blurry and dangerous path to tread on without her telling me what is too far and what isn't, so sticking to small displays of affection like occasionally holding hands and a few gentle kisses to the cheek or forehead were the most bravery I could muster and the most I received in turn. I was touchstarved and desperately craving physical proximity, in part to battle my internalized self hatred that told me I was undesirable and only her last resort choice after 3 failed relationships of her own.

One time she exploded on me, her years worth of bottled up frustration and anger at the world bubbling up over a relatively small situation via text, intentionally twisting my words to be angry with me and vent more of her tension. She apologized later, but the panic attack I had that day would stick with me for far longer still.

I would start noticing when she lied about her feelings.

The way I recognized her typing style shift, her voice grow meek, the sudden increase of time required to form responses. Seeing the signs was easy, but discerning the cause was always about as clear to me as milk.

I was taught that honesty and communication were key in maintaining healthy relationships, so I would ask her if I did something wrong or if we needed to talk something out in any way, because I had noticed her tone change mid-conversation.

She would always insist that everything was fine, maintaining her facade of the perfectly composed adult.

I believed her and reinforced the chains that bound me to her.

We would start writing less, seeing each other less, despite only living two blocks apart. It was more and more difficult to get any mutually beneficial conversation going and we'd get frustrated being around each other in person after as little as 3 hours too. She at some point insulted my interests and got angry at me for struggling to share hers. I've tried to bring our lack of intimacy and unclear boundaries to attention too one day, only to have her shake her head and tell me that she's fine with whatever, that she doesn't need much to be happy. What we had didn't cut it for me and it had hurt, having my feelings ignored like this, so I refrained from trying again.

I thought it better to not poke the sleeping bear anyways.

Then, someone new tumbled into my life, someone with a passion as sparkling and intense as my own, a lonely soul masked in a charmingly awkward, ironic bravado and bluntly thrown quips. It didn't take long for us to click and converse on the daily. The more we learned of each other, the more similarities we found.

He lives several hundred kilometers away, but it still took only two months of daily texting and several hours of voice and videochat for me to fall head over heels.

I felt so unbelievably guilty.

I couldn't sever the chains that tied me to her out of fear of playing into her insecurities, but by the time I met him I had already been feeling like a bird stuck in a cage - solely there for her comfort, putting her feelings before my own, always. I was unhappy, we weren't working. But I cared more about her than myself, so I told myself I wouldn't break up with her.

And yet she’d deserved to know the truth, so as soon as I realized my feelings I confessed about it to her.

Things got messy from there, too much back and forth with me desperately clawing for any bit of selfish compromise I could get my hands on.

She eventually had enough of it and broke up with me, but we promised we'd stay friends.

She put on her porcelain mask of careful indifference and things went smoothly for a while.

It didn't take long for the mask to crack though. It was too frail to withstand her jealousy, her heartache, and eventually it fell apart.

She came to me with misinterpreted situations and long ago wrongdoings I've comitted, in her mind to intentionally cross her, talking over me when I attempted to correct her or defend myself, accusing me of being a lying, backstabbing bitch who was not an ounce better than the grovelling, attention-starved crybabies that play the victim card at and every opportinity. Then she insulted me and my loved ones up and down.

Then she left.

And I wailed as my shaking fingers blocked her on every site I could think of, terrified of her wrath and scared of more to come.

And then I hated her, for her hypocrisy and the hurt she's inflicted on me, as the realization of her small manipulative tactics to keep me bound to her slowly sunk in (for the sake of maintaining her anonymity I will not go into detail about how specifically she manipulated me, but know that there was what I now understand to have been some gaslighting involved).

Now, over a year after she confronted me, all I have left are the glowing embers of grief replacing my rage, and the understanding that I too have made more mistakes than I can count and had originally realized.

Now it doesn't matter who had ultimately been at fault, or whether or not her behavior was hypocritical or just.

All I know is that now I am lonely and tired.

Tired of being angry and hurt.

Tired of remembering her in all those little, painful ways that have shaped my life over the 16 years I've known her.

I still have him and my online friends and feel more balanced and supported than I've ever been, but in losing her I have also lost my only remaining real life friend and along with it, the kind of companionship my online friends cannot give.

She's written me a letter together with some old art of mine since that last fateful conflict, actually.

It made all of my emotions flare up again.

On the first read it had felt sincere, she was apologizing for not letting me defend myself in our last conversation all those months ago, that she's doing better now, especially in handling her emotions more openly and hasn't had any outbursts since. She also said she'd send me the art pieces and gifts I've given her over the years back if she found more of them.

On the second read it felt like salt in an open wound, an attempt to rub in that she is over me, better off without me while I was still stuck in my grief and hurt. I've written countless drafts of response letters, ranging from long and infuriated, to brief and sorrowful, to sarcastically apologetic until eventually I gave up trying altogether. Too stricken with negative emotions to think clearly.

I'm still unsure which outcome would be pettier of me, trying to get the last word in, or deciding she doesn't deserve an answer? Would sending her a response incite an attempt to mend our lost friendship and rekindle it, or would not answering imply my agreement to have her send back more items in the future?

It made me realize that I don't actually want her back in my life.

That it's not her that I miss, but rather the easy in-person companionship I've had with her, the happiness and comfort that comes with it.

By writing this post I was kind of hoping to find a different kind of closure, by getting my thoughts and feelings out about it all without actually writing her back.

I'm still hurting and lonely, but it's gotten better, continues to get better.

If you've read this far - and really, I don't think there's much of a reason you would, you don't know me after all, so why should you care - thank you for lending a patient ear to a grieving stranger.

If you think that you are who this whole post is centered around:

I genuinely do hope you are doing well. That you will find happiness, comfort, genuine companionship and a warm meal and bed to return to every day.

I just wish for it to be far away from my own.

#vent #bisexuality #relationship #failed relationship #story time #thoughts #heartbreak #prose

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supportivespaceforsurvivors · 3 years

Note

is this Devyn's blog?

hey anon, i'm sorry it took me so long to respond to this; between insomnia, work, my birthday, and other personal issues (along with accidentally deleting my initial response in a sleep-deprived lapse of judgement..), i've been pretty low on energy - but hopefully i'll be feeling better soon?

as for your question, it isn't a complete yes or no answer. yes, Devyn is a mod on this blog, and yes, he posts a lot; but nobody 'owns' this blog. all mods are equals; both in the literal sense that we all have to have administrator privileges in order to answer asks, and also that we rely on each other to help with anything we post. we're all human, and as such, we know that we have weaknesses and blindspots; as a team, we talk to each other to help smooth over some of those wrinkles to help y'all the best ways that we can - so even when one specific person's name is put on a post, more often than not, we have all contributed in some way. the reason that Devyn answers things more often than the rest of us is because he simply has a lot more time and energy than the rest of us do, and trying to write a whole response ourselves can be exhausting when you are already low on energy; but conveying our thoughts or opinions to each other for someone else to weave into a post takes a lot less energy. as such, the rest of us on the mod team really appreciate that Devyn is able to answer more often! its not that Devyn is more committed or holds more power than the rest of the mods, just that he's been more available to answer things recently.

and as a side note: we got another ask somewhat along this line of thought, but it mentioned the name of someone who made personal posts on their personal blog - and since i don't want to risk 'calling them out' (for lack of a better term), i don't feel comfortable posting that ask, so i'm adding my response to it here.

i want to start off by saying, we do appreciate when people bring up concerns that they have! giving us feedback on things that might make you uncomfortable or bother you helps us learn how to better help y'all. without feedback, we kinda just assume that we're doing alright - so encourage anyone to give us constructive feedback (i.e., dont just say something like "i dont like [thing] about mod x, fix it" - give us suggestions on how to best fix it!) if something we do bothers you! we wont be upset; you mentioning how we can better help you means that you do care about us, and we would never get upset at y'all for that. and, as such, we do really appreciate that you brought up your issues with us! genuinely our only issue was the fact a specific person was named (which really isnt even an issue - telling us who made the posts helped us find the posts, since we hadnt previously known about them) and we just don't want to inadvertently cause problems for them. we really dont think you had meant to purposefully cause strife, so please dont think we're upset with you!

as for your ask, i get why you would feel that way. Devyn tends to answer a lot and doesn't cushion his answers as much as some of us do, but it isn't due to him not caring or simply wanting the inbox empty - Devyn does care a lot about answering things well, he just prefers to get to the point rather than writing out giant walls of text. rather than try to explain things for Devyn, i'm gonna let him finish up the post by explaining his method for answering asks - i dont want to accidentally say anything that isnt true, but i can guarentee that Devyn does care. if he didn't care, he wouldn't still be here - he does care for all of you, and he does want to help! if he didn't, he wouldn't be putting in the effort that he has been to change how he responds to things in a way that won't upset or trigger people, and he wouldn't put in the effort to try and get input from the rest of us mods. please, do let us know if there's anything else we can do moving forward to help things feel less bad for you. we don't want anyone to feel like they cant be helped or that we dont care for them.

mod berry 💗

---

Hey anon.

I wanted to make sure I also answered this in case you were looking for an answer from me directly.

Originally I had a few paragraphs here essentially echoing what Berry said, but it felt too repetitive and I ended up cutting it out.

We had another ask that we mentioned we're tacking the response to on here. I'm going to copy-paste some of the text from it for context since y'all obviously haven't (and won't) see it, so that my response makes sense:

[...] we wrote in and got a quick response from Devyn whereas previously we got really detailed responses from other mods. It felt like Devyn just sees it as a rush to clear the inbox and not work with other mods. And now this blog feels like his exclusively.

I want to start by saying I understand how how I was pretty much the only one who answered anything during September made you feel like this blog is mine exclusively, but I assure you that's not the case - it just happened to be a particularly shitty month for all the mods here. While those issues haven't disappeared, we should have more availability to answer asks currently.

Secondly, something I think will be helpful is if I walk you through the process of how I answer an ask. I was going to use this one to do that and then proceeded to get distracted and forgot and answered it, so here's a fake example ask. Let's say this ask comes in:

Let's say the question is something any of us can answer easily, like, "How many followers do you have?" That's an easy question and we can all look at our follower count and give you a number. So I click answer.

I always start answering genuine asks with some sort of greeting. Usually "Hey anon," is my go-to. Then the answer. "Oh, we have this many." Then I'll end with a well-wish and my name. Easy enough.

I think part of the issue is that if people ask yes or no questions (like "is my trauma valid?") I'd rather say something short in response, like, "Yes, your trauma is valid regardless of what it is," and sign my name than waste our readers' time and my breath answering with extra words. I just don't see the point in using more words than I need to. I try very hard to make it clear, especially in shorter responses, that I'm not trying to be hostile and am actively aware of my tone. Some answers have more words in them because I always try to make sure to explain what I feel could be misunderstood and that's not always easily done in one or two sentences.

Another thing that might be part of the issue is that Berry, for example, tends to answer asks by grouping paragraphs after which they hit enter only once, and I hit enter twice to start a new paragraph. That doesn't mean Berry's answer has any more actual content in it than mine does, it just might look like that because the format ends up looking more dense in Berry's answer.

Anyway, if someone feels like they want to answer a certain ask but doesn't have the spoons, they can save it with their name to the drafts, which is where a lot of our unpublished asks live. It's like the purgatory of the ask box, because sometimes I put an ask there and sometimes I only think about it. 😬

Asks that go to our drafts aren't ignored, that's just sort of a transition period. If the ask is slightly more complicated, we usually discuss it first in the mod Discord - which you guys obviously can't see. Sometimes if we collaborate on an ask, whoever sees it in the ask box first is the one who ends up answering it, but not always. But we usually just sign those with a single name for sake of ease. If we put all the names of all the mods who contributed any thought to an ask, most of them would have all of our names on them. Also, it's not necessarily accurate to sign my name to an ask if all I'm commenting on is the tone of an ask. Sure, I technically contributed, but I didn't say anything helpful.

If multiple people have thoughts on an ask, usually what we do is one person answers it and the others reblog with their thoughts. This ask is an exception because last time we answered an ask specifically about me that way, it escalated the situation, and we're trying to avoid that.

If none of us know how to answer an ask, we'll usually publish it for our followers' input after a week. I try to follow up about asks that are in drafts pretty often, so usually they don't sit there for a month, but like we've said multiple times, this month has been a bit of an outlier for all of us.

So essentially what I'm saying is that just because you don't see active ask collaboration happening doesn't mean it's not. It all happens in the Discord and, unless you're also a mod in our server, you're not going to see that discussion happening.

Hopefully this helps with the misunderstandings.

Mod Devyn

#ask #answered #mod devyn #anonymous

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chrismerle · 3 years

Text

what’s up i spent way too long typing up a post about my thoughts on P5S, and it isn’t even all encompassing. i guess if you’re curious about anything i didn’t mention in this trainwreck just ask.

my spoiler-heavy thoughts/pseudo-review below the cut

THINGS I LIKED:

The characterization, broadly speaking. If you, like me, loved the Thieves in P5/P5R then you’ll be pretty happy with them here. There are a couple moments that made me roll my eyes (lookin’ at you, hot springs) but on the whole, the main cast are unchanged.

The new characters. Sophia and Zenkichi are great. Sophia is precious and Zenkichi straddles a very fine line of ‘realistically out of the loop, but gives as good as he gets.’ I don’t even care how silly their costumes were. Sophie looked like the Stay Puff Marshmallow Man, though I did like her little emoticon visor, but also she had no pants. Wolf’s mask was badass but the fact that his stupid pointy hat was riveted to the top of his stupid disco high collar killed it and I wanted to see someone grab his hat and pull it back to see it fling back into place like a drinky-drinky bird. Even so, the characters were great, and when I noticed that all the attacks for Sophie’s initial pseudo-Persona had question marks after them (Kouga? Dia?), it made me laugh, and Wolf’s a good all-purpose party member because he hits like a fucking truck and nothing is immune to Almighty. Plus in some of his post-battle dialogue he calls them all ‘kiddos’ and they consistently call him Gramps.

The gameplay. I mean, yeah, it’s VERY different than P5, but you all know that. And hey! The game no longer immediately ends if Joker gets knocked out (unless he’s the only one left in the party, obviously). It ran pretty smoothly, there’s something weirdly charming about the other Thieves showing up perched on cover points, and the only consistent issue I ran into is that in segments where the camera gets forced into a certain angle, it can switch back so abruptly at the end that you accidentally go walking right off a ledge.

I’ve never really played a Dynasty Warriors-type game before, so it took me a Jail or so to get used to it, but then I was just cackling as I mowed down swarms of Jack Frosts like a weed-whacker in a flower field with a knife the size of Joker’s torso. Honestly, it took me the longest to get used to the fact that the circle button became the all-purpose ‘interact’ button than anything else.

Actually, that’s a lie. It took me the longest to get used to the fact that if I left a Jail, I wouldn’t be losing any time. I’m very used to Persona games having the calendar constantly counting down, which wasn’t the case here.

The story, broadly speaking. It had some hiccups and some issues, which I’ll get into, but for the most part, it was fun. I’m...not going to outline every detail of the story here, but it felt very P5-y and I enjoyed it.

THINGS I LIKED BUT THAT NEEDED WORK:

The writing. It was a little inconsistent, beyond just the usual weirdness that I have accepted comes along with Persona games. (//patiently clicks through numerous conversations of the gang going ‘did this super obvious thing that this memory threw in our faces happen? Let’s debate about whether the most likely answer by a huge margin is the answer’ and several conversations of ‘are we sure this person is bad? We saw them playing nice, like literally every other villain we’ve faced’) A lot was great! Like, the bit with the Okinawa locals breaking into the RV while the kids hide in the bushes? Genuinely unsettling! Akane’s Jail and the fake Thieves was fun, and seeing Zenkichi scuttle from hiding place to hiding place without Thief powers was funny, and his Shadow’s glowing eyes watching him before becoming his Persona was both badass and unsettling. The realization that EMMA was actively lying to Konoe was nice. Character interactions were great and I loved that Sophia went with Ichinose at the end. There was a lot that was good. But there were also a lot of missteps.

Like, it kind of felt like the direction for the writing changed partway through. It started out as if each member of the Phantom Thieves was going to get their own time to shine, identifying and empathizing with a Monarch. Ann realized she could have been Alice. Yusuke realized he could have been Ango and also saw redeeming him as sort of like redeeming Madarame by proxy. Mariko was a link to Haru’s childhood and her father. The ghost Jail on Okinawa lured Sophie in and by the end she realized how much she meant to her friends ryuji said fuck. Akane was Zenkichi’s literal daughter. And then it went to Konoe and then EMMA, so Ryuji, Futaba, Morgana, Makoto, and Joker didn’t get a chance to shine in that regard. The switch from ‘a Jail for everyone to identify with’ to ‘whelp here’s the decoy and the end boss’ felt like they came from two separate drafts of the script, and it’s not like they had to watch the time; I got through P5S in about a third the time it took me to get through P5R. It took me about 35 hours. Considering the game kind of relies on you having played P5, they already knew their target audience has a longer attention span than that.

Owada was talked up as kind of a big deal, but he had like two scenes on-screen and otherwise was an entirely off-screen character. There’s a lot of mid-combat dialogue that is very difficult to focus on, which was sort of annoying when some of it was actually relevant. Ichinose’s reveal as a villain is very info-dump-y.

Plus, Joker wasn’t utilized particularly well as a silent protagonist. He’s got more implied personality than basically any other Persona protag. Which means he’s actually pretty expressive throughout the game, but I can probably count his lines of dialogue outside of combat with fingers left over. No one expects Yu Narukami to actually react to anything, so it doesn’t feel odd when he doesn’t. But the combination of Joker being reasonably expressive and having a demonstrated personality means you’re perpetually EXPECTING and WANTING him to say something about the shit going on, and when he doesn’t it feels like mentally missing a stair.

THINGS THAT I DIDN’T LIKE:

The cut corners. Like, a lot of things just seem lazy. There were scenes that really should have been included that weren’t, like how the Thieves escaped from the hotel after the police showed up; it cut from Zenkichi warning them and getting arrested to them arriving at the temporary hideout, so we never even got to see how the Thieves reacted to realizing the cops were outside. Requests to bond with the other Thieves only got a couple of text boxes, when they could have shown a tiny scene of them hanging out like they had all over P5. Rather than having Sae actually on-screen for her brief scene, the camera instead very unnaturally switched to an angle as if it was from her point of view, which was literally the only time the camera did that in the entire game. All of the Sentries look the same from Jail to Jail, instead of being unique to each Jail. Igor is completely absent for the entire game, and other than a throwaway ‘my master can’t be here’ from Lavenza it’s just not really acknowledged.

The missed opportunities. Like, there is no way to look at this except to assume that Joker was a horrible friend to literally everyone in this world state. Like, I can pass off the fact that everyone has their baseline Personae as being because they haven’t had access to their powers for a while, but when you combine it with the fact that NONE of Joker’s other confidants show up or even know he’s back in Tokyo, it leaves little to assume except that in this world, no confidants got maxed out. On top of that, the Personae are all basically pointless. They could be Pokemon or Stands or Digimon or fucking YuGiOh cards, and it wouldn’t make a difference; NOTHING about the game says ‘these entities are integral to this world and important to these characters.’ Also they could have had Akane actually realize who the Thieves were and it would have been hysterical, but that’s just my personal sulk.

The Requests. I liked the Mementos missions in P5/P5R. They felt like they had a point. Requests in P5S are all basically just fetch quests. ‘Go to Location A, fight so many of Enemy B to get so many of Item C. Turn in Request.’ Hell, one of them bugged out on me, I swear. There’s a Request to teach Zenkichi how to cook a simple meal, and Haru gives you a recipe including beef. I had no beef on me at the time, because if you want SP restoratives you gotta cook a fair amount and I used it, and I could find literally no beef in the city I was in at the time so I had to abandon the Request. On top of that, outside of getting food or a few moments where another character specifically asks for Joker’s attention, character-specific Requests mostly replace the ability to bond with the other characters individually.

The restoratives. Or, more specifically, the disparity between HP restoratives and SP restoratives. There’s essentially one cookable recipe to restore SP for every four recipes to restore HP. Even if I stopped at every store and vending machine, I’m pretty sure there were a couple cities where I could find NO SP restoratives for sale, while most stores and vending machines had at least two or three HP restoratives. And while it is true that you can go in and out of a Jail whenever you please to restore SP, that doesn’t help you if you run out during a boss fight you weren’t expecting (mini-boss encounters are virtually identical to regular monster encounters) or during one of the times where you CAN’T leave the Jail for reasons XYZ.

The final boss, and not just because I died and had to start over a few times. As a concept, EMMA could be cool, but in reality she just seemed like the writers threw Yaldabaoth and Maruki in a blender and poured the results into the game. Like Yaldabaoth, she is a false god who seeks to control humanity, claiming it’s what they want. Like Maruki, she seems genuinely deluded into thinking it’s for the best and that she’s not doing anything wrong. Her Jail looked like a slightly sci-fi reskin of the Depths of Mementos. The shtick with the multiple platforms and getting to actually SEE an all-out attack at the end were nice, but for the most part the fight itself was nothing special. Ultimately, EMMA had nothing unique going for her except her name.

Plus, EMMA’s entire rationale was that the majority of humans want someone else to control their lives for them, essentially out of convenience. And she’s presented as being more or less right, but that just being one of the hurdles of being human. It seemed a little dour and far-fetched. Like, the Thieves repeatedly point out that struggling allows people to grow, and they’re right, but in my experience, I’ve never actually met anyone who, upon hitting a roadblock, decided ‘Jesus take the wheel.’ Considering the greed with which her weird tentacle arms snatched up the solidified Desires, the pettiness of the complaints she used as a “gotcha,” and the fact that she just kind of reiterates her ‘people want to be controlled’ point over and over, I think it would have felt a bit more true to life and given her more agency if, instead of presenting her as largely correct, it instead acknowledged that everyone at some time or another hits a wall and wants someone to tell them what to do and had her capitalizing on those individual brief moments to hook people in, despite her having reams of data that for most people, those moments are temporary.

#persona 5 strikers #persona 5 strikers spoilers

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cubeswhump · 4 years

Text

Her Old Home: A Visitor

Here we see Sweetie when she lived with her first owner. Sorry if you were looking forward to some Michelle nastiness. Pretty fucking angsty (see warnings) but uh. Sweetie makes a friend.

This was supposed to be posted hours ago but I think my iron is low so I slept all day and then my pig (yes you read that right, no I do not live on a farm) threw a tantrum that would put any two-year-old to shame and I had to make him happy and then I had to do exposure therapy. Now watch Sweetie make her pig happy.

Also I misspelled bruschetta so many different ways in my first draft.

Thank you @moose-teeth for the Guard Dog concept.

Tagging @more-miserables @haro-whumps @albino-whumpee @eatyourdamnpears @broken-horn @whumpsblog (If anyone wants to be added to the taglist, just say and I'll write you down for next time! Same goes for wanting to be removed.)

Warning for institutionalized slavery, dehumanization, ableist language (brief), implied dub/noncon, unwanted pregnancy, pregnancy in general, physical and emotional abuse, self-harm, self-deprecation, thoughts of abuse toward a minor, creepy caretaking (kinda?), suppression of stimming (very brief).

The pet stared with wide eyes as her owner took the good clothes out of the closet. Excitement bubbled inside her and the previously forgotten emition nearly knocked her off her feet.

"Mister Trey," she said quietly, daring to speak up. "Are we going out?"

He sneered at her. "Of course not. Are you retarded? Wretches like you stay in the house."

"Yes, Mister Trey. I'm very sorry." What a fool she was to have such absurd hopes, but the curiosity piped up within her brain, begging for answers.

"You don't need to know my reasons; all you need to do is what you're told. Now get fucking dressed," the man growled.

As he stalked out of the room, smoothing his greying hair, the pet dropped her sheer nightgown.

The nice clothes seldom came out of the closet, so how did they smell like Mister Trey's ashtray? She wrinkled her nose. The red skirt slid down her hips and she had to fasten its button with an elastic band. The shirt was so tight around her stomach too, and she couldn't even hide how she'd fastened her skirt.

She couldn't help shuffling into the bathroom to see the mess she was in the mirror. Her reflection's face contorted hideously and gripped its bulging stomach. The pink shirt was taut against the growth and showed a slip of pale skin below her navel as she fought to pull it down. She looked uglier than ever.

A little girl with her father's beautiful blue eyes and thick hair so unlike her mother's in the way it doesn't escape her pigtails prances around in a fabulous blue dress. Mister Trey spends so much money showering their daughter with gifts of clothes and toys but he doesn't complain. The kitchen smells of savory spices when she runs in and tugs on the wild-haired woman's conservative dress.

"Mama, Mama!" the girl exclaims in her squeaky voice. "Come play!"

The woman looks down and smiles. Her neck is bare. Bad thought, you're a pet. Her collar is stylish and comfortable. She holds a spoon to the child's lips. "Blow on it, baby, and tell me how it tastes."

The little girl blows so hard some broth splashes out, but her mother only laughs. She takes a noisy slurp and beams. "Mmm!"

"Good?" the woman asks, and the little girl nods emphatically. "Okay, I'll leave the soup simmering while we play."

The woman allows the little girl to take her hand and pull her right along into a different scene.

"Mama, Mama!" the child yells, and the woman scrubbing smokey baseboards in a translucent nightie fights the urge to cover her ears.

"Not now! Mama's busy," she says harshly. Her hands are red and raw but she scrubs and scrubs, nightgown wet after the day's cleaning and chafing her skin.

"Mama, I wanna play!" the child whines. Though its mother makes sure to keep it clean and fed, it's dressed in rags and covered in bruises.

The woman suddenly spins around and grips the child by its fragile shoulders. She forces herself to look into its eyes and gates the way she sees its father in them. Shut up, you love your owner. "Look, baby, I know you're bored but you'll have to just deal with it. We both know what your father will do if the house isn't clean when he gets home."

The woman releases the child's shoulders and turns her back. She doesn't want to see the tears pooling in its eyes.

The woman pet, younger now, stroking a black cat in the garden. A faint smile plays on her lips as she is warmed by the sun.

An infant's shrill cry pierces through her peace. The stupid brat always ruins her peace, what little time she has to herself. It was all she could do to not yank it out of its crib and shake it until it's quiet.

The pet whined a little, face crumpling in the mirror. She was awful, wretched, terrible. She seized her hairbrush and started beating her stomach with it. "I hate you! I don't want you! I don't want you!"

"Shut the fuck up!" Mister Trey screamed downstairs. "What's taking so long? Hurry up!"

The pet huffed and puffed, stomach and chest heaving so much her shirt threatened to burst. The slender fingers gripping her her hairbrush were white against the black handle. She slammed the brush down on the counter and pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes in an effort to keep the tears in.

"Bitch! Hurry up!" Mister Trey boomed.

The pet placed a hand on her stomach. It stung from each blow but now she stroked the growth as tenderly as a newborn kitten. "I don't really hate you, baby... This world isn't right for you. And I'm a pet, not a mother."

"I don't want kids, Mama. I don't want a husband either. No one can tie me down!"

Confusion replaced misery. Where did those words come from? Had she uttered them? Who was Mama?

Stupid. Of course she had a mother at one point. As a pet, though, she has long since given away her right to have parents. She was a simple pet that was meant to serve. Her only family was her owner, and she loved him so, so much.

Her owner, who was waiting impatiently. Her blood turned icy. She tried to run from the bathroom but a sharp, white-hot pain knocked her to the ground. She cried out, convulsing as the pain radiated from her neck throughout her body.

Feet thundering up the stairs. All she could see were the tiles (did she already need to mop again?) and Mister Trey's shoes. With the click of a button, the pain stopped and she was able to be pleased that she had polished his shoes so well that her agonized face was reflected on one toe.

Still twitching, her hand moved to wipe away the drool that had trickled down her chin. A big hand grabbed hank of light brown hair and yanked her up. Her legs scrabbled achieve balance as her scalp screamed.

"When I say to hurry up, you fucking hurry up!" he roared, face twisted and nearly purple with rage. "What are you playing at, Bitch?"

"'M shurry..." Had her tongue grown thicker? Ugh, she sounded horrible. This wouldn't do.

"Come downstairs now!" He let go of her hair without warning and she dropped, chin hitting the floor so hard that for a moment she worried her teeth might break. Her tongue ran over the backs. Safe.

He stomped out of the room as she pushed herself up. He said to hurry but he'd be even angrier of she came downstairs with her hair sticking up and tangled. She raked the brush through it and sighed at the amount of hair that came back between the bristles when she pulled it away.

She ran down the stairs so fast she almost fell, stumbling on the last step. Mister Trey caught her by her arm, finger going wag-wag in her face like she was a naughty puppy.

"Clumsy girl! You be careful with my heir," he barked.

"I'm very sorry, Mister Trey," the pet said hastily, moving to kneel before he stopped her.

"I'm expecting company. Get started on negroni and something to eat."

She hurried off to the kitchen. She didn't know how much time she had to prepare so she had to come up with something that could be made quickly but wouldn't stale or turn to mush if this visitor took a while to arrive.

She had just drizzles the last of the balsamic vinegar when the doorbell rang. She picked up the tray and hurried to greet the visitor, but not so fast that the drinks would slosh.

There wasn't one visitor, but two. The shock collar around the stocky, taller one's neck quickly told the pet why Mister Troyer only mentioned one visitor; the second wasn't even a person.

"Right on time. Oh, look wgat she has for us!" Mister Trey's teeth gleamed in his perfect smile.

"Isn't she a Romantic?" asked the other owner.

He was less handsome than both his pet and Mister Trey, heavyset and balding with a pinched face, but he seemed... genuine. No, horrible pet, your owner is the most genuine man alive!

"She is," Mister Trey said. "Isn't she lovely?"

"Your romantic cooks and serves you on a platter?" asked the other owner, eyebrows raised.

Mister Trey took away the tray and wrapped an arm around his pet, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. "She's perfect. Now, show some respect for Mister Brighten. Position five."

Both pets dropped to their knees, palms down and foreheads pressing to the floor. Mister Brighten sighed. "Come on, Ajax. You don't have to do that. Get up."

His pet, Ajax, was upright in an instant, right by his owner's side. His expression was hard as stone. "Yes Sir, sorry Sir."

"Tell your girl she can get up, Kyle," demanded Mister Brighten. The girl was shocked to hear someone bossing her owner around.

"Get up," Mister Trey barked, and she did so. As Mister Brighten tirned his attention to regard the female pet, he frowned, squinting at her stomach as it stuck out over the waist of her skirt. This early on, he couldn't tell if she just carried extra wait in her midsection, or if Mister Trey actually...

"You should buy your pet clothes that fit," Mister Brighten scoffed, and heat rushed to the pet's face.

No, don't blush! Embarrassment insults the owner! But it was hard not to feel embarrassed as she regarded herself in her socks and ill-fitting clothes, with her hair that refused to cooperate, and then looked at the others. Mister Trey in his smart suit and shiny patent shoes, hair nice and gelled. Mister Brighten with his suit as well. Even Ajax looked nice, fantastic curly hair in a neat ponytail and a button-down tucked into his slacks.

But Mister Brighten softened as he looked at the girl. "What's your name, honey?"

She opened her mouth. "Bi-"

Mister Trey cut in. "That doesn't matter. This is Ajax?" He reached toward his slick black hair, hand retracting when the boy snarled. "My God! Discipline your pet, Will."

Mister Brighten's ever-present frown deepened. "He's a Guard Dog. He's meant to be wary of people other than his owner."

"I'm a friend of your owner, Ajax. You treat me with respect, you hear me? Now, let's not let this food go to waste."

"I hope you made enough for Ajax," Mister Brighten murmured, sitting across from Mister Trey. The other owner snorted.

"Does he need it in a dog bowl?" he joked.

"You know he's still human, right?" Mister Brighten asked dryly. "How about the pets take their plates and leave us owners to talk business?"

Ajax gave a nod. The girl looked ro her owner for approval, and he waved dismissively. She took four pieces of bruschetta to split between two small plates, and did an awkward curtsey.

"Enjoy your bruschetta and negronis, sirs," she said, though it felt very belated. She turned to Ajax, murmuring, "Shall I show you the garden?"

Ajax looked to his owner. His owner nodded. "Go ahead, Ajax. She's safe."

Ajax nodded and followed the other pet. She led him to the back garden and he patiently listened while she showed him all her plants" "This here, my tomato plant, is my favorite. I grew the tomatoes on our bruschetta myself. I used to have an eggplant bush but Mister Trey said he doesn't like eggplants and it's an eyesore so I had to dig it up, which was a great idea from him. I don't know what this cactus is, but I really, really like it. And this..."

Once she had introduced every plant, the pets lapsed into silence. Ajax took a tentative sniff of his bruschetta before taking a bite. He really was like a dog, but at least he chewed with his mouth closed.

The girl didn't think she had ever interacted with a Guard Dog. She hadn't interacted with many pets at all; Romantics were dirty sluts and the orher trainees rightfully kept their distance.

"What does your owner call you?" Ajax asked at one point, surprising her. "He wouldn't let you say."

"I don't think he wants people to know," she replied.

Silence again. Then he spoke up. "May I ask a question? It might be rude."

She frowned a bit. She, a pet, was being asked for her approval? And who was this other pet to speak so casually?

"All right," she agreed.

"Are you pregnant?"

The girl pulled on a lock of her hair, moving it toward her face. She stopped herself from putting it in her mouth. Bad, Bitch! No chewing. She nodded.

"Pets aren't supposed to get pregnant," Ajax pointed out.

"Mister Trey wants an heir," she informed him.

"What does that even mean?"

"It means..." She paused, frowning again. "I don't actually know, but it's very important to Mister Trey, and I want him to be happy."

"As you should. I strive to keep Will- Mister Brighten happy."

"I'm happy if Mister Trey is happy," the girl went on. "So, so happy. And very grateful for all he's done for me."

Ajax nodded. He swallowed the last bite of his bruschetta while the other pet's sat untouched.

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erin-epica · 4 years

Text

Woop-de-doo, it's Lord Scarlet stuff part 2

This was a post I planned on making WAY sooner, but I accidentally lost the original draft so I didn't even bother to try doing it gain until recently. And just now something happened that changed everything; and I mean what both DID and DIDN'T automatically give me the right to post this. I almost deleted my first post at that, and here's why:

In the first post, I mentioned that when I initially found out Vic was lying to me, I was quiet about it and just stopped talking to her out of fear, and then when I asked for help on what to do I was told to leave without a word. I don't think that was entirely the right thing to do in the long run, because it may have been the easiest way out but I'm better off with proper closure.

And the thoughts she left me scarred with never left my head. Time and time again, I'd find myself crying myself to sleep again at the thought of Brock forced to hide romantic feelings for Master Frown and not know who he was anymore while Frown was left unaware and in love with someone else, even if it wasn't Lord Scarlet.

And the pain sometimes came with a want to confront Vic one last time and open up to her about how I wasn't blind anymore, and how much she really hurt me. But I, again, wass scared she wouldn't care and would cut me off.

So when the pain got worse, I did what any coward would do: tell everyone else about my pain.

Now I DID tell friends of mine other than the Unikitty Amino staff about what happened, and they were all sympathetic and understanding about it. But then I told almost everyone, and then made my vent post on here (as well as Wattpad). As much as I wouldn't want to call them call out posts, they might as well have been. I didn't want people to harass Vic and make her mad...but at the same time I kinda did. I was too scared to face her that I was hoping that someone would do it for me. I even tagged accounts of Vic's. Not cool of me at all.

Now the Tumblr and Wattpad posts got me pretty much more of the same: sympathy, and acceptance that I had moved on. No one came after Vic but we could still agree that none of her actions were justified (I even got @careeningle's attention...sorry about the aneurysm)

Now comes the next important thing that happened, because I mentioned @friffinx kinda being responsible for me getting back to the Lord Scarlet Amino to write the message that I did. In it, I said that after I sent the message I did I would leave the Amino again & for good.

Well...I lied. I still checked in every day for the same reason I started venting: I kinda wanted Vic to see my message. Even if she'd ban me, I wanted to see if she'd ever notice my message. And that would've been the end of it if it wasn't for Brook.

I briefly mentioned Brook in the last post. She was another OC of Vic's, and was exactly to Brock what Lord Scarlet was to Master Frown; a carbon copy love interest. Except Lord Scarlet was far more developed and drawn & written about more. Brook didn't even really have a distinct personality, she was a girl Brock and that was it. But with reptilian overlord eyes. (To be fair, Vic drew Brock like that sometimes too)

(I didn't include Vic's art unless it was in chat bgs or whatever in the last post, but for the sake of referencing/proving a point, this is what Brook looks like)

No one really paid attention to her for the longest time. She was there in the fanfics because according to Vic, "Scarlet needed a friend." And like I said in the first post, Brook wasn't said to be canon so I never found a reason to really care for her. Plus I can only recall someone giving Vic fanart with her, and it was with Scarlet (@plastic-papercuts made it, go follow her she's gr8).

But then one day, for some reason, something in me clicked. I actually thought of a story idea for her. Somehow this bland cutout of a character had potential in my eyes, and I weirdly started liking her because of it. She suddenly felt...more real. I got pretty invested in my idea and newfound interpretation of Brook, and describing it would make this post way longer than it is so if anyone asks about it, I'll probably make a whole other post about it.

Anyway, I came up with a little plan: draw out this idea in the form of a comic and post it to the Lord Scarlet Amino. And see if Vic gets suspicious and checks out my profile and then maybe bans me. It felt a bit better than total silence and she'd probably see that someone gave a crap about Brook after all.

So I started a new chat called "It's Brook" to share my progress with the other members of the Amino, which there weren't too many of but we had fun in it. It was basically me, @friffinx , @soapycocacola, @plastic-papercuts, and a few others who aren't on Tumblr (or at least don't think are) chatting about how awful Vic was and calling out her lazy art tactics like tracing and using assets/clips right from the show. And of course me sharing the comic progress I was making. Again, this doesn't make anything we did right but it felt good getting everything off our chests. We were like a secret rebellion against an absentee dictator. One time Vic came online as we were chatting and even viewed my profile, but nothing happened. And it stayed that way until I opened Amino up one morning. For those of you who don't have it, the menu shows all the communities you're in when you open the app, and all of mine were there except for the Lord Scarlet Amino. I assumed I must've been banned overnight. But I wasn't banned from Vic's other Amino so I commented on her wall on that one. For Vic's sake, I won't show how the conversation went (and I'll explain why at the end) but here's how it went:

Me: Did you ban me from the LS Amino?

Her: There was drama in one of the chat rooms and I'm not having it. I didn't want to do it and it's not a big deal It's just an amino and you're still on this one AM I RIGHT?

Me: Yes, but I assume you read my updated bio. As I hoped you would.

Her: Nope.

Me: Oh. But you know what? Ban me from here too for all I care, I feel like you deserve to know why I left and came back: *insert me finally telling her how I know she lied, that she hurt me, and what I did was wrong here*

Her: Lol ok be that person but keep in mind that I'm one of those people that doesn't gibe a fuck lol

And then she banned me from that Amino too before I could type and submit a fitting farewell reply.

At least I finally got all the built-up emotional pain out of me, but it did help me realize something important: we never really were friends. I wanted more of her content despite all her red flags as a person so I tried enduring them, thinking it'd be worth it, and she only kinda cared about me when I was being a yes man. She never kept any promises and didn't respect me the same way I did her. So I could at least feel confident knowing she most likely didn't care at all when I first left.

@friffinx and the others didn't get banned, though, and Friff even started another chat on the LS Amino called "It's Brook 2" where they talked more about Vic being a terrible person. And it didn't take long for her to shut that chat down too and ban everyone from it that time. Friff sent me screenshots of what happened next (which again, I'm not gonna show), where Vic basically had a meltdown. She changed her username to "Little Miss Guillotine", and made a post about her being "finished with the bushit". In it, she announced that she didn't even like Unikitty! anymore but was still gonna keep/use Lord Scarlet because she wanted to. The part that made my blood almost boil wasn't her views on the show, she's free to have her opinion and I couldn't care less about it. What DID was that she acknowledged that she lied the whole time because "she didn't care anymore" and said that it was "our faults for believing it in the first place" and that "we needed to grow up"/"stop brining it up"

Ooooh boy, victim blaming, my favortie...

Since then she changed the Lord Scarlet Amino's theme to make it about The Penguins of Madagacar (again, fine with me). Either way she was still a narcissist and I thought she'd, sadly, likely never change. And my friends and I all thought that was the end of it.

Until a few hours ago...

I was browsing the Unikitty Amino and saw a new member named BlueCat. Didn't think anything else of it until the user PMed me. And this is what happened:

I didn't know what to think other than "I thought this day would never come", I was that shaken. This was so left field-ish that what else could I do but believe her? It didn't even seem suspicious or like she was trying to be a suck up, that wasn't Vic at all.

But the one thing I knew I had to do was ban her because even if she meant well and did it for the right(?) reasons, but I still asked if I should in the staff chat. @girly-glorious (also amazing so pls check her out :D) told me that yes, it was ban evasion so since I'm a leader too now I could to it on my own. But I knew I had to message Vic first and Girly told me to be careful, so this is what I sent:

And then I banned her, the end (not really)

Now I don't understand how or why this sudden behavior change happened but I don't know if I should question it in case it's personal. But again, I at least want to believe that she's really being genuine and had a change of heart because never in a million years could I imagine her being this mature. Again, she didn't demand that I forgive me or probably even expect me to. But the message still does leave me feeling sorry for her.

Now I thought that was the real end of it until I see the Penguins of Madagascar/old Lord Scarlet Amino on my sideboard.

She unbanned me.

Now I don't know where we'll go from here, if anywhere. I'm not too sure if I can really let my guard down around someone who hurt me so badly just in case she does it again. So I may not talk to her again, but if she really asks something from me, I might try and build up courage to ask her more about how she came to apologizing to me. Plus she followed me on Wattpad too.

But this is why I didn't show our conversation right before my ban or her "f.u." posts. Because I don't want people seeing more of Vic's past behavior and possibly embarrassing her about it if she ever sees this. But that's kinda why I felt like it was 100% necessary to finally make a sequel post in the end; I'm hoping people at least acknowledge Vic has changed and don't keep thinking about based on what I shared out of attempts to gain sympathy like a crybaby.

So before I go: PLEASE, DON'T GO AFTER OR HARASS VIC. I KNOW YOU PROBABLY WON'T, BUT THIS IS SERIOUS. ALL THE PROBLEMATIC LORD SCARLET DRAMA IS STUFF OF THE PAST AND NEITHER OF US WANT TO KEEP LOOKING BACK ON IT.

I hope this helps whoever's reading as much as it did me.

#unikitty #unikitty!#master frown #brock #lord Scarlet #brook #vic #vicslayer #scream queen savage #Victoria #update #amino

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