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mushroom-for-art · 7 months

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I don't know what came over me but uh, don't mess with Axels family and probably don't read this tbh it's nasty

Grunts moved quickly packing up boxes and supplies with clumsy inefficiency as a superior admin barked orders for them to hurry up and get everything taken down and shipped 10 minutes ago. They needed to get out of there quickly if they were hoping to survive.

"Stop fucking about! Get those boxes moved now, go go go! We haven't the time for you to be a pansy!" the Admin snarled at a stumbling grunt who had just dropped a small stack of boxes they'd been moving, they skittered past the doors of the main entrance, their neck snapping at the speed and velocity of the doors blasting inwards and becoming lodged into walls saving them from what was going to occur.

Time slowed as the Mewtwo floated into the room gliding in eerie silence as his tail swayed.

"Where, is my family. " His voice was more of a growl in his throat as he spoke and projected the words outwards, the snarl echoed painfully inside of the skulls of those present causing many to double over in sheer agony at the psychic voice probing their minds and tearing into their thoughts.

Limbs locked the Admin couldn't grab any of the Pokeballs secured to her belt and she felt psychic energy burning into her as the mewtwo zeroed in on her, she sneered at him past the pain inside her skull.

"I won't be intimidated by you. You won't find them if you kill me."

Her body was lifted slightly from the floor and floated up to his eye level slowly as he loomed in front of her his expression dark and unreadable, his eyes bore through her laced with unspoken threats and an awareness of control and power.

"If that is the knowledge you want to put your faith into." he lifted arms to the side casually his hand doing a flourish, "just know," his fingers moved closing into a fist before his arm flicked forward as though throwing something, bones slammed into a wall breaking on impact as the sound of tearing flesh and muscle registered to the admins ears, a grunts body stood for a second completely torn open from the inside outwards before their boneless husk slumped with a sickening slap of blood, brains smeared slowly down the walls from where the skull has smashed open on impact.

"You won't be granted the same quickness or relief."

Eyes staring on in horror the mewtwo produced a sharp quill from his inner wrist pulling it out from his flesh, he held it in his fingers twirling it before pointing it to another nearby grunt who let out a soft hiss as the quill cut a small line in their cheek. They started to hyperventilate before the toxins even took hold, the blood seeping from the cut became putrid and contaminated turning into yellow pus as the surrounding skin turned to shades of blue and purple and ultimately darkening to a deathly black.

The psychic restrains let up on the grunt who stumbled quickly, they tried to speak spraying spit as their tongue swelled causing them to hack and cough struggling for breath as it started to block off their airway, they were in hysterics crying and choking, dying flesh wetly slid from their muscles and bones sloshing on the floor beneath them filling the room with the horrid stench of death. Their gurgled quiet screaming and choking as their tongue rotted out from their mouth had fear soaking into the Admins very core as the grunt fell down onto their side. For a moment she thought dead but their wheezing told her they hadn't received that mercy yet.

The mewtwo had not broken their gaze from watching her even as his tail swayed behind him, she watched the fur shifting intertwining around itself morphing into a pointed shape like a syringe, there was an audible hissing of steam as see through organic pipes grew out and back into the mewtwos tail flesh. With a flash that nearly burned her irises, red hot flowing liquid pumped through the structures, almost like Kyurems biological tubes as they changed their form the way they pumped energy. Tail stabbed forward past her shoulder into the last grunt behind her, and he hollered in agony immediately.

She couldn't turn her head to see, but she could feel it was hot suddenly as there was another hiss with the mewtwos tail returning to its original state, screaming never ending behind her and the smell of burning flesh and flooring. She could barely swallow as she stared forward a horrid red hue illuminating the mewtwo from behind her as he looked at her but his expression was still dark.

"They were sent to another facility! In Unova! We only wanted the Haunter! The Gengar was just in the way!" She barely recognised her own voice for the terror in it.

"I know."

She found her breathing difficult as she stared at him.

"I was one of the most powerful pure creatures to ever bless this planet, and I am now a bastardized chimera of that purity that violated the boundaries of limits set by Arceus." His expression was almost a deranged grin.

"Do you really believe your thoughts are your own and private? That I couldn't rip out that information, why do you think your head hurts so much." His teeth gleamed in the unnaturally hot red fading light behind her.

"Why are, why are you still here then?! Wasting time! That family of yours must not be so precious-" Her voice choked as her lungs were squeezed in a way that forced all the breath from her, her vision blackening at the edges as her compressed lungs fought to gain any air, if this was how she went then she'd accept that. Unfortunately the air forces back into her lungs brought her back from the cusps of unconsciousness.

"You don't get to die that easily, don't presume about the importance of my family when I know what you did to my daughter and mate. I've seen through your eyes what you did to her. How you tormented my love in the process." His spoken words were venomous as he stared down at her in pure hatred, she was faintly aware of the weakening wheeze on the floor near her.

His hands came up casually and she felt like her aura was being pulled out of her body like her soul was being separated before witnessing the projected double helix swirling around before her.

"They say mew are the ancestor of everything, classes as the genetics pokemon, so very fitting" his finger idly touched over a strand of dna and she felt her skin begin to crawl from uncomfortable to painfully as it seperated from her muscles as though the connective tissues were dissolving, before he flicked his finger over the strand again and her skin stopped trying to peel from her body though it still hung just a bit looser than it did before.

"When me and my brother were younger, not in full control of our powers we used to play this game with other pokemon." another idle adjustment, the backs of her eyeballs burnt as her eyes weeped her ears ringing loudly painfully in a way that blossomed pain across her whole temple in a brain splitting migraine.

"We'd fly past and," his fingers moved adjusting changing her dna structure, she hitched a quiet scream as her muscles spasmed in her arm breaking her forearm bones as her fingers twitched against her control, the bones in her fingers began to deform subtly but quickly deforming her fingers and cracking through the skin, "of course we were only little and we could only change phenotype expressions making fur scales and that different colors, or grow faster, straighten curl." he let out a sigh.

"In hindsight, what cruel little bastards we were, mini gods tampering with things that they really had no right to for our own amusement, of course we meant no harm and didn't intend harm but I do sometimes wonder." Her vision went black as the genetics in control of her sight were altered, blood vessels popped and blood mixed with her tears streaming down her face. She could feel her organs moving, growing shifting inside her as well as he altered her biology casually in a way that shattered her concept of pain, leaving her with only searing burning nerves.

"I was pretty blind to the cruelty of mews when I was one, maybe I wouldn't have ended up like this were my brother kinder, but I see now how rotten we can be but we still had our naivety at least that kept our innocence, the disconnect from mortals that we couldn't properly sympathize to or understand." Her spine popped bones growing out from her skin but she could still feel everything as more muscles broke in spasms.

"I don't have the excuse of innocence or naivety anymore, I can see with mortal eyes everything I do and the effect it has, and how wonderfully ironic that in place of that innocent evil the rot of humanity has replaced it, giving rise to the ability and enjoyment of hurting others and how to make it worse. I am the worst of humans and the worst of mew." He looked at her almost gently with a smile that mocked her as her bloody eyes met his, blood dribbled from her cracked lips.

His eyes roamed her for a second as he fiddled with the very core of her person altering her genetics irreversibly.

"Did you know that there's a lot of uncategorized pokemon that exist purely inside others?" his finger hovered over her stomach "it's fascinating actually the organisms that have specialized in your gut, and they're so intertwined with you that no one realized they're there. Why don't we let you be the first to say hello?" psychic energy glowed from his hand and she felt the breath leave her again as she almost wretched.

Something inside her began to writhe, she could feel hundreds, maybe thousands of squirming legs pushing on her stomach and small intestines and a sickly burning pain that would've had her double over did the psychic energy not keep her restrained. He lowered her body slowly and her legs flopped uselessly like a ragdoll as he slumped her down on her legs unnaturally. She couldn't move still.

A piece of glass levitated to him and he put it in her hand, "here, since you did tell me eventually I'll give you this mercy to end this suffering." he closed her hand around the glass shard as her arm remained held out for his psychic ability. He turned leaving her there, the grunt finally still but bloated and missing chunks of flesh that lay gruesomely on the floor.

His psychic restraint released and the admin raised her hand quickly to thrust the shard into her throat. Her fingers went numb and the shard slipped smashing by her feet as her arm slumped body collapsing to the side, she could breathe but only barely and she could move her eyes but nothing else.

"Guess you didn't act fast enough." the mewtwo had stopped at the busted doorway just to look back and mock her, "ah well, ever heard of parasitic Beedrill? I'm sure you'll make a very comfortable flesh womb meal combo, you'll get to enjoy feeling them grow inside you while unable to speak or tell anyone. Maybe they'll die inside you and the sepsis will take you out or maybe they'll adapt to keep you alive even after you should die, after all your insides will have been their comfortable little home for so long they won't want to part with it. You'll be their hive their playground protection from the real world in your chest cavity nuzzling into your ribs. Congratulations Admin. This could be the rest of your life." his smirk was simple as he flew away with force that caused the trees to bend and sway.

The admin lay there stomach twisting in knots, eyes in a panic darting around at the sight of the corpses around her as the horrors crept into her mind of what would happen, her thoughts spiraling into gibberish as the hours passed decaying her only ability to even try to communicate as her eyes flicked around in circles, death burning into her vision and the stench crawling over and seeping into her skin and senses permanently.

#My writing #tw murder #tw death #tw blood #Tw genetic mutilation #Tw biological manipulation #Tw body horror #Tw rotting #Tw parasites #Tw torture #Tw mention of brains #Tw suicide baiting #Just uh this is dark folks. Probably a way future event canon wise. Some people took Axels daughter and mate. Lots of people die.#Axel has all the casual cruelty and genetic manipulation abilities of a mew for both himself and others #While also having received humanities cruelty disregard and even want to push the boundaries to hurt hurt hurt #You gave a gene manipulating god the ability to know his past actions were fucked and the frontal lobe to be even worse and vengeful #Well done.#Axel really went yea I already knew that I just wanted to torture people #He probably sent a big mental image to every pokemon in Unova and that area to find his mate and child so hes not like doing this while his #Family is at risk somewhere. Honestly he probably begrudgingly contacted one of his mewtwo offspring to help so like sensible revenge?#And yes it is implied he straight up just injected someone with lava how the FUCK did u do that

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dirkification · 8 months

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over 30 and posting abt incest between minors? 🤨 no choice but to kill yourself immediately

So this would be a huge life decision, right? I decided to talk it over with my therapist to get her input. Unfortunately she said I shouldn't do that 😕

I even explained to her I ship underage incest!! But she insists that's super normal and I should keep doing that if I want and maybe the sort of person that tells people to kill themselves is the one that *really* needs to check in with their therapist 😔

Sorry, nonnie, but the therapist has spoken

#jax yacks #ask jax #anon #anonymous #suicide baiting #suicide mention #anon hate #so people can block #idk if people use that tag to block but oh well lol

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olderthannetfic · 6 months

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Being a trans man and not being an anti is also isolating, which is part of why I think trans guys gravitate towards either being an anti or reposting anti posts. If you're not an anti, you get booted from discord servers, blocked on social media at best or sent misgendering rape threats, death threats and suicide bait by other trans men at worst, and now that I'm in college I've found IRL that not being an anti makes a lot of people in queer spaces available to the average college student incredibly uncomfortable. So you have to either be entirely alone - which is very difficult when you're young, queer, and just coming into your own identity - or you have to be around it a lot without saying a word. Agreeing with it at first wouldn't even be necessary. You just have to not say anything against it, and then you'll be able to be around other people.

It doesn't help that most trans men who get sucked into anti circles are teens at the time. There's 501 proposed anti-LGBT laws right now, not counting everything that has passed, the majority of it anti-trans. If you're a teenage boy seeing all this transphobia on the rise, you're going to feel powerless. Bullying people like antis do makes you feel power over at least a few people. Being told you can consume your way into being a good person via media intake makes you feel like you have power and control over at least that.

I was sucked in incrementally because I wasn't exposed to the more violent antis who fantasized about murder and hurting people for writing fiction, I met my only friend - who was an anti - after my dad had beaten me for coming out as trans, and I was sixteen. I got out when I was eighteen because once I went to live with my mom, a psychologist, she gently corrected me when I would say things that aren't based in fact. She pointed out how upset these people were making me. She taught me how to fact-check claims and look into the veracity of claims.

And when I tried to convey to my friends that no, what they were saying wasn't supported, they turned on me. Including the only person who had been there for me when I was hatecrimed, who had reached out to me specifically because she met me what day. I lost every friend I had in roughly 30 hours.

If I hadn't had a really great mom, a very intelligent rabbi who's well-versed in psychology and is a former lawyer who saw the "fiction made me do it" excuse used to defend heinous crimes and doesn't buy it, and an older half-sister who lived through people calling her a psycho lesbian because she's a lesbian who played D&D, listened to metal and dressed Goth in small-town Montana in the 80's/90's, I would have probably killed myself. Having those three people who accepted me and did not accept this extremist rhetoric kept me sane and repaired my self-esteem enough to keep me going.

But a lot of people don't have three adults who are intelligent, supportive, and know better than to fall for this faux-psychology. A lot of people don't even have one. Often, they have unsupportive people who also believe firmly in the faux-psychology of "if you watch a thing you'll do that thing IRL". So there's not only no one hauling them out of this, it's getting reinforced.

Being a non-anti who is a trans man gets me a lot of shit from a lot of people online and offline. (As other anons have mentioned during the ace discourse, online talking points come up on college campuses and in real life, because the internet is not an alternate dimension, it is something being used by the people around you who exist in the same physical space as you.)

A reality that I don't think people want to discuss is that trans men, just like all other people of all other genders, suffer a lot of psychological distress if they're put in a position where they have no support. I sure as fuck wasn't happy being in a position where I went from having tons of online friends, discord servers I could hang out in and fandoms I associated with good vibes to none of that, plus harassment, plus massive misgendering.

It's a lot less awful of an existence to be a trans man and an anti when you're young and need community and support than it is to not be an anti and be isolated. And humans gravitate towards the least awful option 99% of the time.

Yuuup.

Having some kind of real support network, usually offline but at the very least not randos you met a day ago on discord, is vital and is the difference between not only whether you rot in a pit of antidom forever but in stemming the massive flood of trans teen suicides. The overall queer rates aren't great, but the specifically trans rates... they're bad. They're so, so bad.

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lewkwoodnco · 7 months

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Hii I want to request Anthony Lockwood!fem reader, with the song I Can See You, where they are rivals kinda like him and Quill, and she hates him because his annoying, and he just likes to flirt with her to annoy her. And they get put on a case together by DEPRAC, and I don't know you could make some scene like from Lockwood&Co season 1, where he and Lucy where discovered by the relic man and his wife, I don't remember their name, but like something similar, where he is willing to do anything just so they don't hurt her. Also, could you put a dagger to the throat scene in somewhere, where the reader is holding a dagger to his throat, but all he can think about is kissing her. Obviously, you can make the plot so it suits the song. I hope you could write this as long as possible because I love long fics, and your Lockwood fics are just amazing!!

I Can See You - Lockwood x Reader

A/N: Had a bit of writers' block with this for a while, but I think it's one of my favourite works yet. TW slight suicidal and death mentions, spoilers for the ending of the second book in the series. 5.9k, enjoy!

Lucy Carlyle was currently looking back and forth between Lockwood and the leader of one of the teams from Fittes. Both of them were just staring intensely at each other in silence, expressions inscrutable. The Fittes agents watched their leader apprehensively while George was practically beside himself with glee.

"George, who's that?"

"Y/N L/N. Lockwood's had a bit of a thing for her for a while."

"Bit of a thing...?"

"They hardly agree on anything. Makes for some very entertaining cases, if dangerous. I've put money on her setting his coat on fire within five hours."

Lucy opened her mouth to ask more questions, but George shushed her impatiently.

"Look what the cat dragged in."

"Nice to see you too, Y/N.”

“Can't say I return the sentiment, Andrew.”

“Charming as ever, I see."

Barnes had sent them a letter a few hours ago, requesting their immediate assistance on yet another DEPRAC misson. That was nothing new, and neither was them being partnered up with a team from either Fittes or Rotwell. But a boyish glow had washed over Anthony as he skimmed the letter; he looked pleased enough to start humming. George didn't have as intense of a reaction, but his eyebrows had disappeared into his hair and he hadn't wasted time dawdling like he usually did. And now this stand-off. Strange.

“At least the papers get my name right.”

“I’d rather your lips get my name right."

"Oh, fuck off."

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

There was a small kerfuffle as her teammates lunged to hold her back as she tried to launch herself at Lockwood.

"I take it back. Fuck you Lockwood, you and your agency can go to hell. Oh, hi George. Did you get my biscuits?"

"They were lovely. This is Lucy, by the way. New recruit."

"Hi Lucy. I like your boots."

"Thanks. I like your belt."

"Really? I got it for a really sweet deal."

"Well, while we're exchanging compliments," Lockwood began all too innocently, unperturbed by her glare, "I really like your jumper, Y/N."

A curious silence followed as she stared at Lockwood, trying to figure him out. Next to Lucy, George inhaled sharply as realisation struck. "Now that I think of it, might be best to lower it to three hours."

She finally broke the silence, but she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of falling for his only seemingly innocuous bait. "Right, well, I don't care. I hate it, in fact."

"Really?" He had the gall to raise his eyebrows as if genuinely surprised. "Hmm. I suppose you're right. It would look better on my bedroom floor."

She was too flustered to come up with any clever sort of response, only this choking sound that was a cross between a scoff and an expression of disgust. It was only because it was completely uncalled for, she reassured herself. Why would she want to know anything about his bedroom, floor or otherwise? She suddenly became aware of the murmurs running through her team and she rallied her senses as best she could.

"In your dreams, Lockwood."

"Ass-kisser."

"Rule-breaker."

"Goody-two-shoes."

"We're starting!" Barnes hurried in, so she had to settle for giving Lockwood a very dirty look. "Well, not much to it this time. We're missing source, a pair of opera glasses, recovered only a few hours ago."

Barnes holds out a file and Lockwood and her both lunge for it, but she's just a fraction quicker. Feeling unusually smug, she takes her time smelling the paper, flicking the page, glancing at the ghost of the competitive smile on Lockwood's lips.

"...we think it's more likely that they're still inside the house they were found in, but it's always possible that they've already been stolen-"

"Wait, a poltergeist?" She was holding the file open to the second page. "Inspector Barnes, you can't be serious!"

"You'll manage. Reports don't point to it being particularly vicious, and visiting the house is more of formality. We don't expect the source to still be there, buy we didn't check for hidden walls or flooring." One of Barnes' assistants leaned forward to whisper in his ear, and he nodded. "I have to go. Find the source."

With that, Barnes left, and the two teams stepped forward to absorb the space he left, Lockwood and her facing each other directly.

"Well then, to the house we go."

"Are you crazy? With a poltergeist? That's a suicide mission."

"But isn't that what Inspector Barnes said?"

"I don't know what kind of agency Lockwood & Co. is, but at Fittes we address our superiors with respect."

"If the source is at the house, we won't have to deal with Winkman. Case closed."

"My team would rather deal with Winkman than a poltergeist. Case open."

"No, your team wouldn't think that if they had actually dealt with Winkman before, like we have. Case closed."

"But-"

"Look, you do not want to deal with Winkman. Trust me on this."

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The air in the house was stale, and the creaky floorboards made her jump while the wind howling through some draft kept her on edge. In short, the worst kind of house to deal with a poltergeist. The corridors were so narrow, shrouded in darkness except for light from the ghost lamps filtering through the cracks in the ceiling, and everything smelt like death. They were walking in a single file, Lockwood and her at the end, just to make sure no one got left behind. Of course, that also meant that she had no respite from his incessant chatter, his warm breath tickling the nape of her neck.

"Would you quit it? I'm trying to Listen."

"We'll be fine. I happen to have the-"

"The best Listener in the country, yes, so you've mentioned. A few billion times."

"Aw, cheer up. I'm sure you're not half bad either."

"I'm perfectly cheerful, thank you very much."

"Then I wonder what you're like when you're actually all wound up."

That was her breaking point. She needed to assert herself if she had any hope of being even remotely civil towards Lockwood on what was beginning to look like a very long case. She spun around, pulling out her dagger and pushing the flat of the blade against Lockwood's neck while the rest of the party continued on, oblivious.

"Still no rapier? Y/N, you're going to get yourself killed. That butter knife of a weapon isn't going to do anything to a ghost."

"Listen, Anthony, I'm here to do a job, not entertain your charades, and I'd like to do so with as little casualties as possible. But if you don't stop, I think I can make an exception for you. Stay out of my way, and I'll stay out of yours. Are we clear?"

She revelled in his stunned expression, mouth ever-so-slightly agape, finally receiving his full attention. But as the glow of her satisfaction faded, she felt a lump growing uncomfortably in her throat, suddenly aware of the simmering hunger in his gaze, completely unable to tear her eyes away. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but she could have sworn he ever so slightly licked his lips, and unbidden images of what they could, or would, do if they were alone flashed in her mind's eye. She felt rather than imagined his mouth pressed unyieldingly against hers, his hair in her fingers, their bodies pressed impossibly close to each other.

She inhaled sharply, blinking, unknowingly withdrawing within herself, her dagger resting on his collarbone rather than his throat. Lockwood's expression was back to normal, insufferable and aggravating as always, but there was a slightly less arrogant tilt to his head now.

"If you wanted me up against a wall, all you had to do was ask."

"I'm not even...going to deign you with a response to that. It's scarring to just think about." Not her best, but it was all she could force out without giving away the need bottled up inside of her. But she could see in the way that he wasn't quite meeting her eyes that he felt it too. That moment had permanently shifted their relations. From professional, if slightly hostile, to something far more intimate. It made her dizzy with want, or fear - she couldn't decide.

One of her teammates had stopped at the door at the end of the corridor, hand hovering over the doorknob. Lockwood squeezed past the single file, barely brushing against her, razor-sharp focus on the door. She hated the way her cheeks flushed at the slightest of his touches. He became a totally different person when he was working: dedicated, professional, capable, and the Fittes-agent in her couldn't help but find that efficiency desperately appealing. But it was more than that. As big as his ego was, he clearly didn’t think much of his casual nonchalance or confidence, and there were these increasingly frequent moments where she would be possessed by this sudden insanity to wrap her arms (rather than her hands) around his neck.

Months of suppressing and denying feeling anything other than despisal towards him certainly didn't help matters. It made her feel unstable, like she didn't have proper control over what she would do or say when she was around him. Kiss him, kill him, push him over a bridge...She spent half of her time with him enraptured and the other half trying not to think about him. She bit the inside of her cheek. There was something about his daring, his ability to throw himself in the direct line of fire that made him so dangerous, so addicting.

The boy at the front stepped back, relieved, as Lockwood pressed his ear to the door. He started turning the doorknob.

"Lockwood, don't, you can't hear a poltergeist. He's probably heard us by now but he hasn't done anything yet. Don't be foolhardy. It could be a trap."

"I don't think it's a trap."

"You don't know it's not a trap. We need to think about what to do next."

But it was too late. Lockwood swung the door open. In an instant, the floor heaved, then gave away, and suddenly she was falling through the air.

"Lockwood, I fucking hate your guts!"

Out of nowhere, she felt herself being grabbed by the waist and then almost immediately slammed into a wall. There was this awful ringing noise in her ear, but at least she had someone to hold onto.

"Please, save the dirty talk for the bedroom."

She groaned, wishing it was literally anyone else, trying to block out the warm feeling of his body pressed against hers.

"That's twice I've saved you now, by the way."

All she could manage was an incomprehensible scream which made Lockwood wince, not realising her lips were on the shell of his ear. Strangely enough, despite her panic, she felt oddly grounded by the feel of Lockwood's rough coat desperately clutched in her hands and his annoying yet normal quips. It was a new sensation. Plastered against her mortal enemy, and yet it was the only thing keeping her breathing? The intimacy of how she was wrapped around him made her breath hitch, and the anxiety it induced was enough to drive her back to the present.

Looking down was nauseating, and looking up was somehow worse. Lockwood had wound a loose wire from the ceiling around his knuckles, and it was digging a cut into his palm. She felt her grip loosen as her head spun, but the arm around her waist tightened. She felt a brief flicker of peace, or maybe hope, and then the ceiling started to crumble.

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

The last bits of debris were still falling when she came to, but she could have sworn she had blacked out in fear for a moment. She couldn't feel any broken bones, only a heavy weight on her hip. She blinked away the blood and dust and saw the weight take the form of Lockwood.

"Well. I didn't know you were so scared of heights."

Lockwood didn't like admitting fault, and she didn't like admitting weakness. It was such a silly thing to be afraid of, but and when all Lockwood did was push her to the precipice of territories unknown, she didn't know what to do with the fear running through her. Didn't know what to do, except lash out.

"Get off. Get off.”

"Geez, take me out to dinner first." She finally snapped.

"This is all your fault!" She yanked him towards herself by the lapels of his coat, yelling at him through tears. "That's twice you've put our lives in danger, idiot. I told you it wasn't worth it, that we would be so much better off at Winkman's, but you just had to go for the more dangerous option. You just had to open that door. Anthony Lockwood, you're a professional show-off. What if someone on my team died today? You'd just skip on home while I would have to live with that grief for the rest of my life. You don't know what it's like to see someone Ghost-touched in front of your eyes and being completely and utterly helpless."

The lines on his face hardened. "Y/N, if the worst thing to you is death, you won't stand a chance against Winkman."

"What do you know? You've demolished an entire house. Face it Lockwood, everything you touch gets destroyed."

He was finally out of smartass quips. She felt small just saying that. She knew it was too far, and under-handed, but she was just so mad she couldn't help but spit fire. Why did he have to be so reckless? Didn't he realise his luck would only last him so long?

She felt an awful prickling at the back of her eyes, and she tried to convince herself that no one noticed the rough edge to her voice. "I think it's best we go our separate ways." With a heavy heart, she turned, her team tiredly following her, no one pulling her back to stay this time. Feeling the floor fall beneath her feet and seeing Lockwood grasping for life with his fingertips was too frightening for her to stay, and if that meant she was a coward, so be it.

Too much of a coward to even look him in the eye.

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Her team decided to stop for supper before tackling Winkman, not that she managed to eat much. The events at the house sat like lead in her churning stomach as she turned the memories and images in her head, until she felt numb. It was either that, or acknowledging that she just might be the worst person in the entire world. Distantly, she heard her team discussing their plan of attack at Winkman's, and suddenly her mouth was forming words her brain wasn't aware of.

"I'll go. No point in all of us going, we wouldn't be stealthy enough. Besides, I'm responsible for all of you. Contact DEPRAC if I'm not back in 12 hours." With that, she stood up and left before she could properly hear her team's protests.

As she drew nearer to Winkman's, she heard repeated dull, echoing thuds of metal hitting metal. She crept up cautiously with her hand on her dagger, then visibly relaxed when she saw it was just Lockwood hammering away at the lock.

"Oh. It's you." Apart from a glance, Lockwood acted like he didn't even hear her, or know her, with an impassive expression. A part of her was angry, but another part knew it was what she deserved.

"You're lucky it was just me. That dagger's not scaring off anyone." She fumed. Did he have to be so antagonistic? Why couldn't he be nice or just civil like a normal person?

"The dagger works perfectly fine for me. I have no trouble scaring anyone off."

"Yeah, I can see that." His voice was so rough with hurt and resentment that she instantly regretted everything she just had to say. She opened her mouth to apologise, but was interrupted by the final clang of Lockwood's rapier and the thud of the lock falling off.

"Lockwood, I'm really sor-"

"Save it. Somehow, that's still not the most frustrating thing about you."

Her mouth dropped open, and it was a good few seconds before she spluttered and found her voice again. "Frustrating? ME? Are you out of your mind?"

She felt her back slam against the aluminium door, not much different from how she had cornered Lockwood in the house. Lockwood's arms caged her in, but he didn't make her feel nearly as claustrophobic as her emotions did, threatening to claw their way up her throat. He was impossibly close, breath ghosting over her face, overwhelming her senses, and she felt every rational thought scatter in her brain, like loose marbles. His voice was gravelly, almost tender, and she didn't trust herself to speak.

"What would you do..." She didn't resist the arm snaking around her waist, nudging her closer. "If I held you like this..." His other arm reached into her scalp, sending a shiver down her spine, cradling her head and exposing her neck in a way that made her feel too vulnerable. His breath tickled her ear, threatening to snap every single one of her highly-strung nerves, mouth just a few inches below her temple. "...and kissed you?"

For a few short seconds, all she was aware of was her distracted, erratic heartbeat and the feel of Lockwood all around her. She felt her legs losing circulation and her knees threatened to buckle at any moment. He pulled back, cold air rushing in to take his place and sting her scarlet cheeks. Her answer must have been written all over her face, making Lockwood laugh sardonically.

"But no, Y/N L/N is too good, too proud to be involved with anyone beneath her. So she'll deny and push down any sort of feeling or passion," he spit that word out with such vehemence, "Like she's some saint, too holy to meddle with mortal sins like love. No, no, so in your perfect, sensible words, let's just stay out of each other's way." Even though they were her own words, it stung to have them thrown back in her face with such malice. Lockwood started on one end of the warehouse, and she started on the other end, sifting through the hoards of trinkets as if on autopilot.

"I wasn't kidding before. It really is dangerous to carry a dagger instead of a rapier. You'd be ghost touched before you realised."

Lockwood's voice floated above, somewhere beyond the walls of junk. Her hands trembled as she continued, guilt gnawing away at her, fixating on the feeling of his hands on her.

"And just so you know, if someone on your team died, whether or not it was because of me, I would very much care. I don't think I would be able to live with myself."

She groaned internally, the beginnings of a migraine spreading through her temple. Why did he have to be so complicated? "Which is why," he continued, "you should go back. I've handled him before, and I can handle him again. You're way out of your depth here."

"I've been an agent nearly as long as you have. I'll be fine. Just focus on finding the glasses so both of us can get out of here."

"No, you won't. Trust me on this. Leave."

"Lockwood," she began irritatedly. She was so very tired. Why did Barnes ever think they would make a good, or even functional team? "I mean it. Stop being an ass and just look for the glasses, okay? Lockwood? Lockwood?"

She crept around the aisle, peeking from behind a tapestry. Her vision was limited, but she could see enough. Lockwood was kneeling, talking soothingly to this little boy of about five. There didn't seem to be anything obviously hostile about him, but something about the scene deeply unsettled her. Suddenly, there was a flash of electricity at Lockwood's neck, and he slumped forward. She bit her lip to stop herself from screaming, tasting blood.

She turned away as the woman who had shocked him dragged him off. Her heart shifted into overdrive. She looked around blurrily, fighting back tears, shoving down the panic and bile rising in her throat. She had to save him. No, she had to find the glasses first. Then she would come back with reinforcements. It was only logical. But what if it was too late by then? She clumsily searched the little cartons, making more noise than she would have liked, breathing shallowly as she desperately fought the panic attack hovering over her.

Maybe it was just her heightened anxiety now that she was alone, but she felt the hairs on the back of her neck prick up. She spun around and was badly startled by that same boy - Winkman's grubby gremlin of a son. Oddly enough, it grounded her enough to stop spiralling. "What are you looking at? God, you're so creepy. Quit it with that smile, your cute act won't work on - oh."

And it was just as those words fell from her lips and the world turned black that she realised her horrendous, absolutely awful mistake.

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When the world came back into focus, she felt terrible. Every joint in her body was screaming for relief and her sore muscles ached. Once she had adjusted to the blinding light, she felt the rough floor against her cheek, heard voices around her; one behind her and one in front. She felt...distant, somehow, but she was sure one of them was Lockwood's...so the other had to be Winkman's.

She shifted her fingers as much as she dared, heart in her mouth for fear of being caught at any second. The muffled voices continued miles away from her, as if she wasn't even in the room, one of them becoming increasingly agitated. What was Lockwood even doing? Couldn't he see that she was awake?

She blinked imperceptibly, and the blood roaring in her ears finally died down. Her head hurt and her senses were too stimulated to think straight, but she managed to pick out Lockwood's voice eventually.

"I'm telling you, I don't know her. We're not even from the same agency."

"Is that so?"

"She might not even be an agent, I don't see a rapier on her." She felt a stab of annoyance and then overwhelming relief. Her other hand was stuck beneath her, but if she could just wriggle it around enough - yes. She still had her dagger. Her fingers closed over the handle, waiting for the right time to strike.

"Then you won't mind if I..." Winkman trailed off, and her glow of happiness was immediately extinguished by the feeling of a cold barrel pressed against her skull. It took all her efforts to not openly panic. She closed her eyes tighter, bracing for the pull of the trigger as she heard the gun click.

"Don't!" Lockwood's voice reverberated in the dingy room, startling everyone.

"So you do know her."

"I don't, I just think that she shouldn't have to die when she hasn't done anything wrong. She just got caught in the middle of this. Please, she can't tell you anything. Just let her go."

"How would you know? Fittes uniform...looks like some higher-up. She probably knows something of value, and I could probably force it out of her," he pressed the gun more insistently into her skull, "if not out of you."

Her mouth was dry as her heart hammered against her chest. She was going to die here, she could feel it. Suddenly, she heard Lockwood speaking in a rush, breathless, and she felt her heart sink.

"Fine. I know her. And I know she doesn't have anything you want. But I do. Whatever you want to know- want to do, do it to me, I'll tell you everything. You can kill me, I'll never see the light of day again, and no one will find out. No one will come looking. Just let her leave, she won't breathe a word of this to anyone else, I promise."

She could feel Winkman consider his words, and after a moment or two, she felt the barrel being lifted from her head. That was all she needed.

With her free, outstretched hand, she grabbed the barrel, hoping and praying Winkman's finger wasn't on the trigger. Her prayers were answered, and she jerked the rifle upwards, which punched him in the jaw. His grip loosened, and she turned the rifle on him, slipping Lockwood her dagger with her other hand to cut himself out of his restraints.

"Take one step towards us, and I'll shoot." Winkman was right where she wanted him, because there was nothing more terrible for a man as selfish as him than dying, missing the chance to enjoy his spoils. Her voice was calm and belied the rage simmering underneath her. How dare they hold Lockwood hostage like that? They were going to pay, and she would make sure of it. She was so furious, and all reason had been thrown out the window by that point.

"Actually, I don't need a reason to blow your fucking brains out." She raised the rifle, taking aim, just about to pull the trigger, when she felt Lockwood's hand on her shoulder. She didn't even turn to look at him, but she immediately felt the anger bubbling within her flow out, replaced by the gasping relief that everything was going to be fine.

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

She kept the rifle trained on the couple as best as she could with her trembling hands as she and Lockwood slowly backed away, then broke into a sprint, rifle tossed to the side halfway through. When they had finally run far enough into the city, they stopped at a bench underneath a ghost lamp, and for several seconds there was only the sound of their panting as they struggled to catch their breaths.

"I think," she began breathlessly, "that's the third time you've saved my neck." Lockwood looked at her from the corner of his eye, and she smiled so earnestly that they couldn't help but laugh. Their laughter swelled in the silence of the night.

But the laughter was temporary, just like their relief, and once they fell silent, the tension from earlier returned and occupied that vacancy. She pulled out a mini first-aid kit and started cleaning up his cut, which looked grimy and almost definitely infected by now.

"What was that, at Winkman's? You were practically begging him to kill you."

He didn't respond, and his eyes had taken on a dull sheen. It confirmed everything she needed to know.

"I...I guessed, a little...never would have thought it true."

It was like talking to a mannequin, except for the occasional wince when the rubbing alcohol stung. She didn't even recognise her own voice. It hurt to think about her being more attached to Lockwood's life than he was. The vigour with which she bandaged his cut grew with her words.

"It...It feels weird when you say things like no one would come looking for you. Your friends care about you so much. George would burn down the Archives if it meant saving you-" Lockwood groaned at the idea. "-and yes, he will bitch and moan about it for probably years on end, but if it meant you sticking around? He'd do it in a heartbeat. And I'm sure Lucy is no different either. I don't know how you got this weird idea that we'd just move on with our lives if you disappeared, because we wouldn't. Lockwood, people care about you, so stop being an arse and just let them."

"Even you?"

She paused, pretending to focus on the ointment. Opening up was as difficult as cracking a walnut open, but it was a bit too late to avoid all this. "I get restless if I don't see you in the papers for a while, whether it be for burning a house down or actually getting a job right. And every morning when I pick up the paper, I hope...I hope i don't see your obituary. So yes, Lockwood, I would hate it if you were dead. Who else am I going to butt heads and dream about making out with?"

Lockwood sat up, suddenly very interested. "Relax, it was a joke, just trying to breathe some life back into you. There, you're all done."

He fidgeted, looking down at the blood bleeding through the thick layers of the gauze bound almost a little too tightly to his palm. In the pale yet weak light of the ghost lamp, he suddenly seemed years younger, someone just like her. Someone who may have been a rival, but first and foremost, was an equal. She felt this sudden pang inside her heart. She dropped her voice, as if saying it a little louder would make her feelings for Lockwood all the more real.

"I didn't mean, what I said, earlier." Lockwood waited for her to continue. She had said a lot earlier. "About you being...destructive. I guess I was just furious that you had me a wreck when you weren't even trying all that hard. I'm such a mess, Lockwood, you have no idea. My dagger?" she pulled it out with some difficulty, wiping away the grime on it with her sleeve, her bloody face staring back at her. "It's just because I suck at using a rapier. I'm not even middling, I suck so bad it's not even funny. Stop!" Lockwood's mouth was twitching at the corners and when she finally looked up, looking like a cat left out in the rain, all because she couldn't handle a rapier, he lost it. "You know, you wouldn't be laughing like this if you actually saw me-" That just made him laugh even harder. She shook her head, waiting for him to finish.

"Y/N," he began, once he was done laughing. "You really are better than any medicine." He interlocked his fingers with her, raising her hand to kiss the back of it. "You can't handle a rapier yet, so what? I'll teach you. And then you'd need loads and loads of practice before you could get anywhere as good as me."

"I'm not done." He threw his head back dramatically. "I have a list!"

"Of course you do."

"I heard that." There was something infectious about his teasing smile, but its warmth was fading fast as she unpacked a memory she had shoved into the corner of her mind. She didn't like thinking about it too much, it made her too hopeless. Even now, she felt waves of despair crashing over her. "I didn't mean to fly at you like that earlier. It's just, my mum's been ghost-locked for a few months, and I'm not having the easiest time dealing with it."

She felt Lockwood still next to her, hating yet craving his sympathy. It had been so hard to wake up each morning, put on her suit, and go about her life while fighting the very real fear of never speaking to her mother again. It was like a long, drawn-out death that repeated every day. He wordlessly pulled her in as she sobbed into his chest, unravelling at the seams. If it was anyone else, she would have been mortified, but with Lockwood...it was different. It always had been.

"I understand," he murmured into her hair, "my sister was Ghost-touched in front of me. "If I had cared a little more...she might still be alive today."

That just made her sob even harder. How did he stand it, her hurling every insult in the book at him, when she didn't know the first thing about him? She don't know how long she cried, long enough to release months' worth of pent up grief, but Lockwood didn't show a single sign of wanting to let go. She wrapped her arms around him as she calmed down. She never wanted to let go of him.

"I never thought you were beneath me." Her voice was muffled as she spoke into his chest. "You own a property in central London, for God's sake."

"Not much else, mind you."

"If anything, I would have thought myself beneath you." She finally peeled her face off his shirt to see him raising his eyebrows with mock innocence, and she nearly shoved him off the bench. "Gosh, not like that. You're like a walking...sex...maniac. Is that all you ever think about?"

"When I'm around you? Most definitely." She groaned, but for the first time, she allowed herself to laugh too.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you had a crush on me."

"Lucky for you, I don't know better, and I can say I do." They sat in comfortable silence, enjoying the first respite in what had been a very chaotic night.

"I still can't believe Irene's been Ghost-locked."

"Irene? Have you been...corresponding with my mother?" Lockwood shifted awkwardly, jerking his head up.

"Do you hear that? Is that Barnes?"

"Lockwood."

"Yes, that's most definitely Barnes."

"Barnes isn't even here! Lockwood. Lockwood!"

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

She was sitting in the waiting room outside Barnes' office. It was morning now, and the room was filled with a pleasant warmth. She had already given her account of the events while Lockwood was being stitched up by the paramedics, and now she was waiting for him to finish his report after her head was bandaged up.

The door opened with a soft click, and Lockwood stepped out wearily, the exhaustion finally catching up to him as well. He smiled weakly. Even after a long night she sat with perfect posture, legs crossed neatly, looking the paradigm of innocence with hair gleaming like honey in the sunrise. It was maddening to Lockwood. He could never get enough of her little intricacies.

"You have no idea how much I've hated your necktie. It distracts me so."

"It's not a necktie, it's just a tie. You'd know that if you weren't so pretentious."

She grinned, reeling him in by his tie, pressing a small kiss to the corner of his mouth. She pulled away, walking out of the waiting room where the rest of her team was waiting.

They had discussed it on the way to DEPRAC's headquarters. The papers would have a field day if they caught wind of their relationship, and they would spin it and twist it in every which way. The less negative press they got, the better.

"I'd lose my job."

"Come work for me."

"Does your insurance cover ghost-lock of family members?"

Lockwood swore.

Now, he reluctantly followed her out, where George and Lucy celebrated him being in one piece. They turned to leave when she spoke up across the lobby.

"Lockwood."

Both agencies froze, watching uncertainly. George hopefully wandered towards the fire extinguisher. "I'd absolutely hate it if I needed your agency's help on our next case."

"I'd hate it even more."

"Good to see we're on the same page. Fingers crossed I never see you again."

She quirked the corner of her mouth, and Lockwood had to purse his lips to keep from smiling. Lucy looked back and forth, as confused as she was at the beginning of the case, turning to George.

"What was that about?" George groaned.

"Never mind that, you have no idea how much money I've lost..."

#fanfiction #anthony lockwood imagine #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #fanfic #lockwood & co #lockwood and co #lockwood and co netflix #lockwood x y/n #I can see you #taylor swift #speak now taylor’s version #from the vault #requested

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narumi-gens · 29 days

Text

From the Ashes | Part One

Mei Mei x f!Reader

summary: Mei Mei arrives at your uncle's estate as a con woman. She leaves it as your savior.

warnings: 18+ minors/ageless/blank blogs dni, angst with a happy ending, historical (1920s) au, gothic romance, total rip-off of park chan-wook's masterpiece the handmaiden, con woman!mei mei, sexually and emotionally repressed reader, reader seems to be losing it a little at times, mentioned suicide, minor references to early 20th century japanese politics and colonization (for the history nerds)

words: 3k

notes: after two years, we're finally here! go watch the handmaiden if you've never seen it. it's maybe one of the most romantic movies of all time.

series masterlist

Before deciding to take on a job, Mei Mei always makes sure that she knows everything she possibly can about a potential mark. She learns their history, their routines, their likes and dislikes, as well as what skeletons are hidden away in their closets.

She bribes maids and chauffeurs and everyone else working in service who are treated as if they’re invisible. She digs into every record she can access through any means necessary. Whatever it takes to uncover every dirty secret the mark in question is hiding, she does.

It’s only when she’s sure that she’s left no stone unturned that she decides whether or not to go through with the job.

So, when word reaches her about the pretty little heiress sitting on top of a massive fortune, she finds herself intrigued and begins her discovery process. The picture that begins to form as she does so isn’t anything that she finds all that surprising or interesting.

You were orphaned at a young age and put in the care of your aunt and uncle. Your aunt died only a few years later, leaving your uncle behind as your sole guardian. From what she can gather, your life has been a sheltered one, as is usual for a woman of your status. You don’t seem to have many — if any — friends. The only people you spend any significant amount of time with are the staff working on your uncle’s estate and the man himself.

She’s almost certain that the remote location of the estate, which is nestled deep in the countryside, only contributes to the isolation. But it leaves her with a problem. With so few people who interact with you on a regular basis, she’s left with fewer sources of information than she would like.

However, what she is able to do is intimately familiarize herself with the terms of your inheritance. To inherit, you must marry and until you do, your entire fortune is locked away in a trust. The only funds accessible are the generous annual allowance provided to your guardian — your uncle.

Your inheritance is large enough that she decides to move forward with her con despite the gaps in her research on you. After all, big risks warrant big rewards.

So, she turns her time and energy into crafting her plan: under the guise of a lesser noblewoman, she’ll earn your uncle’s attention and an invitation to his lavish estate. Once she’s there, she’ll prey on your innocence and naivete, seducing you until she can sneak you away in the middle of the night and marry you, only to then cash out your inheritance and do away with you.

And then she’ll laugh without looking back as she makes off with your entire fortune.

When the time comes to put her plan into action, the first part goes as smoothly as she anticipated. Your uncle makes regular trips to Tokyo for business and Mei Mei ensures that when he does, they cross paths. Japan’s imperial ambitions in the region and colonization of Korea have only benefited the man’s financial status over the years, yet he’s still always looking for ways to grow his obscene amount of wealth.

All it takes are a few vague allusions to her being interested in both a new investment opportunity and a new husband for him to take the bait and she’s secured herself an open invitation to his estate to stay for as long as she desires.

She arrives in the countryside and at your uncle’s manor a week later and finds herself thankful that the car that was sent for her has a small glass window that separates the backseat from the driver. The partition allows her a moment to herself to scoff at the sight of the large house, which consists of two massive wings — one in the traditional Japanese style of wood and paper, and the other a Western-style multistory building of brick and stone.

The house reflects the country’s vast and hurried ambitions to Westernize over the past fifty years. Mei Mei has no fondness for tradition. But likewise, she looks equally down upon the uncritical admirers of the West. Everything she detests about the men who have led this country through the past two eras can be represented by this monstrosity of a house.

Of course, when the car comes to a stop in front of the entrance, she makes sure that it’s the awed noblewoman who greets your uncle and not the derisive criminal. The staff are lined up in two neat rows to welcome her, and standing right in front of them is you. And you’re everything that she’s pictured.

You’re prim and proper, your posture perfectly straight and your head respectfully tilted down. Your outfit is fashionable and undoubtedly expensive, but also much more conservative than what’s being worn in Tokyo. Yet when your uncle introduces the two of you and you lift your chin, it’s all she can do to keep a delicate eyebrow from quirking.

Because where she’s expecting to find a shy, innocent, and naive flower that's ripe for picking, she instead finds a cold, sharp ice princess looking back at her in return.

All you offer is a polite bow and a courteous, “It’s nice to meet you, Mei-san.”

However, it’s more than enough to pique her interest, leaving her curious about what lies hidden beneath your thick, hardened exterior.

And just as she’s planned, Mei Mei has ample time to find out. While she does have to spend her evenings with your uncle, entertaining his pathetic flirtations and dreams of acquiring her fictional fortune, business occupies his days, meaning that she can fill hers with you.

The two of you share tea in the sitting room and afternoon walks through the estate’s sprawling grounds. You sit alongside one another and read in the library. She watches as you sketch in a book beneath the towering sakura tree in the garden, although she hasn’t been able to catch a glimpse of what fills its pages.

As she spends more time with you, she begins to take notice of how your hands are always clothed in a pair of gloves that never extend past your wrists. The gloves are rarely ever the same set — sometimes they’re silk with a lace cuff, sometimes a rich leather that creaks with every absent movement of a finger, sometimes they’re the same shade as your skin tone and don’t stand out at all.

There’s something about the way that she never sees you without them that makes her think they’re more than a mere fashion accessory, but she can’t say for certain what the reason could be.

Your uncle encourages her to get to know you better, telling her that he hopes she can soften you with a woman’s touch. One night, with a glass of whiskey in his hand and a cigarette perched between two fingers, he mentions that it’s something that you’ve been without since you were young and your aunt tragically took her own life.

“There’s a touch of madness that runs in that family. My late wife suffered from it and I’ve spent all these years wondering whether my niece escaped it,” he says with a sigh of pity. “At times, I find myself unsure if she has.”

The man demurs to provide any more details, insisting that doing so would be too ghastly for the sensitive ears of a woman, particularly a pair as fine as hers.

His refusal to speak further on the matter to protect her propriety is one of the many things he gets wrong as she’s not only heard much worse, but she’s seen much worse. She’s done much worse.

None of it matters though as she’s already aware through her research into the family that your aunt’s body was found one morning hanging in the garden from the same sakura tree where you spend so many of your afternoons. What your uncle does let slip is that you were the one to find the body.

Finally, Mei Mei has at least one piece of the puzzle that is you.

Another piece is quick to come as it doesn’t take long for her to realize that for all of her scheming and plotting, you’ll never fall prey to whatever trap she manages to set. You’re much too sharp and distrusting for that, keeping her at a distance no matter how much she tries to close it. For all of the hours that you’ve spent together, you’ve never offered her more than cool formalities.

As she contemplates how to adjust her plan in light of this, the seeds of an idea are planted one day as she strolls around the house’s exterior, committing to memory every entrance and exit and window under the guise of appreciating the building’s unique architecture. Just as she rounds a corner of part of the Japanese-styled wing, she stops at the scene that she stumbles upon.

Three housemaids stand in a row facing her, although with their heads shamefully tilted down and gazes fixed firmly upon the gravel path, her sudden presence goes unnoticed. She takes a few steps back, peeking out from the side of the building to watch you as you go down the line, striking each of them harshly across the cheek one by one.

Despite the distance, she can hear the crack of your gloved palm meeting each of their faces and the cries they let out in return. However, she misses whatever scathing words you spit that have the maids looking so fearful. Suddenly, your hand darts out to grab the braid of the girl standing on the right, yanking it so hard that Mei Mei can hear her pained yelp clearly as you force her to the ground.

When you look down at the cowering girl at your feet, continuing to direct your vitriol at her, she’s finally able to catch a glimpse of your face. Across your pretty features, she finds the same coldness that she’s spent the last weeks becoming familiar with since she arrived. You then turn back to the other maids who flinch despite your hands remaining at your sides.

As much as she wants to stay and watch the rest of the situation unfold, Mei Mei decides to make her retreat. She can’t risk being discovered. This new piece of information is something to be tucked away for use when it serves her best.

Knowing that every set of eyes and ears on this estate belongs to your uncle, she wonders what the man’s reaction will be when word inevitably reaches him about your treatment of the staff.

However, dinner passes as it always does without any incident. Your uncle discusses his business in an attempt to impress Mei Mei. Mei Mei acts coy in return. And you speak only when spoken to — which is rarely.

The only proof that anything happened at all that afternoon is the red and slightly swollen cheek of the maid who fills your water glass and the line of tension in her frame as she does so. Mei Mei sees the way your uncle’s eyes barely pass over the maid’s face and realizes that the man already knows about this streak of cruelty in you, this hint of madness in you. He just doesn’t care.

As she watches you eat one grain of rice at a time, bringing your chopsticks back and forth to your plush lips in a delicate motion, she begins to recognize the darkness she sees in you. It’s similar to the darkness she sees in herself.

The next afternoon, she decides to confront you about the incident over tea, curious to see how you’ll respond.

“Why were you disciplining the maids yesterday?” she asks. She hopes to catch you off guard by both the knowledge that there was another party present for the maids’ punishment and by how suddenly she’s broached the subject.

However, you continue to defy her expectations.

“They were gossiping,” you answer simply, your temperament calm and undisturbed as you continue to lightly stir your tea before setting down the small spoon.

“Is that enough of an offense to warrant a slap to the face?” There’s no judgment or criticism in her tone, only pure curiosity. But the question is enough to have you lifting your gaze to meet hers, a cold look in your eyes as you do.

“I want them to be miserable,” you tell her indifferently as you lift your teacup to take a small, ladylike sip. It’s Mei Mei who now finds herself slightly surprised by your blunt response. “It makes life just a bit more bearable.”

She knows how to read people. And she can see what it is that you’re not saying. It’s not just that you want them to be miserable. It’s that you want them to be as miserable as you.

It’s the final piece she needs to solve the puzzle and she hides her satisfaction behind the teacup she brings to her own red-painted lips. A con woman’s greatest asset is her ability to improvise and she has always prided herself on her ability to think quickly, so the solution to her problem comes quickly.

Despite the risks, she’ll include you in her plan and turn you from unknowing target to willing accomplice.

The next afternoon when you both are alone on a stroll deep in the gardens and away from any unwanted ears, she makes her move.

“The terms of your inheritance are rather strict,” she casually remarks and there’s a slightest pause in your step that betrays your surprise at the deviation in perfunctory small talk and she can’t help but feel satisfied with how she’s finally caught you unawares. “You need to marry in order to inherit.”

It’s not posed as a question but as the statement of fact that it is. You remain silent by her side, seemingly unsure of where this topic of conversation will lead.

“Would you like to marry me?” she asks, a coy smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. It’s a question that provokes an immediate reaction from you.

“I have no plans to marry. Ever,” you’re quick to tell her. There’s a forcefulness in your tone that leaves little room for doubt and Mei Mei can feel the urge to giggle threatening to bubble up. It reminds her of the way spoiled children refuse to eat what’s been put before them at dinner.

“Yes, for us, marriage is just another cage,” she muses, settling for a thoughtful hum instead of outright laughter. Any lingering humor dissipates as she poses her next question, knowing how important it is that you don’t misread her or her intentions. “But what if I said that this one would set you free?”

You come to a stop so suddenly that it takes her a few steps before she realizes that you’re no longer beside her. When she turns around, she finds you watching her with a guarded expression. Your posture is perfectly straight, but she can see that it’s due to the line of tension in your shoulders rather than the etiquette lessons she knows were drilled into you as a child.

“I arrived here with a plan: to seduce you, steal your fortune, and then get rid of you.” With each word, she takes a step towards you until only a few feet separate you.

Your gaze remains locked on hers despite how you bristle with the visible urge to put a respectable distance between you once more. Mei Mei can’t help but smirk yet again, despite knowing that doing so will only feed into your distrust.

“But as soon as I met you, I knew that you would never fall for such a ploy.” She then takes on an air that’s only slightly more serious. “So, I’ll make a proposal of a different kind. I’ll spirit you away from your dull life in this country estate and give you your freedom. In return, we’ll split your inheritance right down the middle.”

While she doesn’t expect you to leap at her offer, she at least hoped for a hint of awe in your eyes at the idea of a life without the restrictions placed on you by both your status and society. Instead, you continue to give her nothing.

As the silence stretches on, she prepares herself to mention that fifty percent is more than what she would normally offer an accomplice. But before the words can even form on her tongue, you turn your back to her and begin to walk back in the direction of the house.

Part of Mei Mei expects to be hauled away by the police in the next few hours, but there’s something about your demeanor that keeps her from cutting her losses and running. For how unreceptive you seemed to be towards her proposal, it was your reaction to being offered your freedom that gives her pause.

The tension you carried didn’t stem from outrage, but from self-restraint.

That evening at dinner, you act as if nothing happened. You give your uncle the same perfunctory greeting, you bow lightly to her, and then you take your seat at the table.

She wonders if you just haven’t had a chance to be alone with your uncle and reveal her treachery, but when breakfast proceeds the same way, she realizes that you don’t intend to do anything with this new information. You’ll keep her nefarious secret to yourself, which gives her time to adapt.

Since her plan requires you to be a willing accomplice, there’s a fine line that needs to be walked so as not to scare you off. So, she decides to default to part of her original plan – she'll seduce you.

#tw suicide #mei mei x reader #mei mei #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #mei mei angst #jjk angst #mel writes #from the ashes

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huntinglove · 10 months

Text

How to get away from antiship spaces (mostly)

Warnings: Long post, antis mention, mentions of pedophilia, rape, self harm and gore (none show, not descriptive)

Have you recently learned that you align yourself with the proship label? Would you like to get away from antis as safely as you can? Here's what I've learned, as an ex anti:

1. It may be hard, but try to get rid of/abandon your accounts where you used to interact with antis.

This is one of the hardest steps because having a lot of followers can be discouraging, but it's the safest approach in this situation, because if antis see you following or interacting with proshippers they WILL question you about it and depending on how you tackle their asks they'll throw you to the wolves and publicly "warn" people about you so people can mass report your account/harass you

This applies to anything; Tumblr blogs, Twitter profiles, Discord servers, if you've interacted with antis block them and delete your account if you decide to adopt the proship label

Antis constantly claim that they don't harass people but as soon as someone drops the anti label they dogpile them and call them "traitors" as well as their usual buzzwords to catch people's attention, it's better to pull the plug directly than just rebrand your account

1.5. If you REALLY want to keep your account because you've used it for a long time or because it works as a portfolio, please create a different account to post about proship content

If you make a new account remember to block your anti mutuals/followers from your main account before you start posting, art styles can be very unique and easy to spot similarities in, as well as typing patterns and reoccurring emojis/symbols

If there's the option to, keep your profile private until you've built a steady environment for yourself, if you prefer to keep your profile private permanently that's also a good option!

Remember, your safety matters more than numbers on a screen!

2. This one should go without saying but, please don't share much of your trauma/mental health issues/triggers with people online in general, but especially not with antis

I used to talk about my struggles and vent publicly a lot, antis would stalk my accounts and send me all types of fucked up content.

I've had people send me rape videos and threats, people telling me I deserved the abuse I went through, people would send me gore and self harm images, as well as suicide tutorials.

They can and will use all of it to their advantage, they're restless and will dig up even decade old posts if they feel it'll be useful for them. It can and will take a toll on your mental health, so please save yourself the trouble and only open up with people you genuinely trust and feel safe talking to!

You're not alone, but please don't let dangerous people take advantage of you when you're at a bad spot

3. Keep an eye on your followers, especially if your profiles are public. There are always some things to look out for to make sure your followers aren't antis pretending to be proshippers

According to my personal experience, here's some red flags to look out for:

A.Antis think that the word proship means problematic ship, so they'll refer to pairings as "a proship"

Most proshippers dislike this terminology because it comes from an incorrect definition and usually avoid it

B. TikTok antis specifically come up and use a lot of emoji combos, creating meanings for them and usually adding one or two combos that are actually known to proshippers, along with some never seen before

A lot of the time they use it to identify themselves, a sign that means "I'm not actually a proshipper, just baiting"

I've also seen antis use the clover emoji in combos, inspired by the "clovergender/cloversexual" scam that 4channers came up with, to make it seem like the LGBTQ+ community was welcoming to offending pedophiles. Antis do this because they assimilate the proship label with problematic ships, mostly age gaps/underage content

C. Their account is brand new but they already follow a lot of proshippers. This is usually because they'll follow proshippers who've been posted on a blocklist, usually in the exact order that they've been listed too

If they're on Tumblr, they'll usually keep the people they follow public, so that other antis can find and harass those proshippers

D. Keep an eye on their follow list. Like stated above, they'll usually keep it public and 9 times out of 10 there will be an out of place antiship account, it's most likely their main profile/account/blog

E. They'll use their usual buzzwords on their own posts

For example, if they're trying to mimic a proselfship account they'll post pictures of underage characters and caption it things like "omg i'm such a pedo" and tag their post with proship related tags

Of course this doesn't apply to everyone, so it's always important to take context into consideration, as well as how many of these red flags may apply.

And lastly, please remember that the block button is your friend.

If someone's interacting with you and something about them seems/feels off, block and move on

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 17 days

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aita for making a thread on twt against an ex online teammate?

cw: suicide baiting, mentions of grooming, possible sexting, transphobia, mentions of NSFW but no outright specifics

i (15 f) had this friend, who well call aj (fake name) (18-19 ftm i believe) back in october of last year. for context we met in a quick match when i was 14 and he was 17-18 in a video game where i also met another friend, moto (fake alias) (14 f at the time, now 15). after a few matches where we would be randomly matched together he sent me the invite to his discord server and i joined. eventually as more people joined the server (at most there were 20 or more people in the server before its deletion, most of which were minors and we were around her 'adult' friends who were anywhere from 18-30)

we would talk alot (and aj would insert herself into any conversation possible) but we would eventually have our disagreements which would end with aj threatening to kill himself, eventually this became the norm and we stopped giving a shit when he would threaten to kill himself because of how frequently he threatened it (kind of like a cry wolf situation)

around the time we stopped caring about his suicide baiting he switched tatics and tried to guilt trip us into apologizing to him for questioning her behavior (e.x. using the fact that he was neurodivergent, to elaborate someone would say "hey stop saying your going to kill yourself" and he would go "its something called a brain problem" or "i dont have pills to help me", basically blamed all of his actions on his alleged 'brain problem'). we still proceeded to not care because of how frequently he lied

on top of this, he had this streak of calling asian characters within the game feminine? a specific case (and the straw that broke the camels back for alot of my teammates) was when she called a well-loved chinese character from the game something along the lines of a femboy because they wore a traditional chinese outfit that was not "manly" (basically, didnt stop where a normal shirt stopped. im not sure what it was called and google didnt really help...) during the same time, aj identified as transgender (i believe he still does, but i no longer interact with him) and said trans women werent women because they dont get periods???

on top of this, he would also publicly do nsfw things with the adults of the server (none of the chats were role restricted. this wasnt a thing until i became a server admin and then shut it down not even 3 weeks later) and would also share nsfw/18+ topics in the server. even after the "nsfw" chat was there (we were still figuring out how to restrict it [i was coming back from a 2 year internet hiatus]) the other adults still did things along the lines of erp. aj encouraged this behavior and eventually in his new server and was talking about these things with minors (aj is about 19-20)

so after a few months of off-and-on gathering evidence (what you have just read + plus screenshots) from numerous people from his server i post the thread, and almost instantly it got posted to his server. i have a friend in that server who ended up voice chatting with him and moto (who is under a different alias in the server) and aj is literally sobbing, threatening to kill himself, and has his entire family in his room who are all looking at the thread as well. they all basically say that he doesnt look too good in the screenshots and "what were you thinking talking to these people" type of situation. aj ends up deleting the server a few days later, messages undercover-moto that he isnt making anymore servers.

im wondering if i went too far? aita?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #suicide cw

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cvpitvno · 1 year

Text

PRINCE CHARMING (part one)

𖤐 — 1.7k

𖤐 — fem!pronouns, soulmate au, angst no comfort (in this part at least), popular!ateez, nerd!reader, one line mentioning suicide, yeosang is horrible in this

soulmates were a well-known yet foreign concept to many people.

it was plastered all over the news, magazines, or websites; finding your soulmate 101, how to tell if someone is your soulmate, what happens when you find the one? countless (read : pointless) half-assed written columns that misguided the gullible into believing everyone had a happy ending waiting for them down the road.

one of those gullible fools happened to be her.

growing up in a household full of love, kindness, and happiness, she was no stranger to the concept of soulmates. with her parents being high school sweethearts who had the ultimate soulmate meeting, and her brother finding his true love in college, soulmates had been a big part of her life from a young age.

she remembers sleepovers with friends dreaming about the day all of them would find prince charming, and get their own sparkly carriage and pair of glass slippers to which they’d wear to their perfect wedding. it was a fairytale in her eyes at that time, but the dreams and hopefulness lived with her into high school.

every day she woke up and got ready with the mindset that ‘today could be the day that i meet him’, as she looked at the words written delicately on her wrist.

the font was pretty, cursive and fine, as it looped and swirled to make a beautiful sight to anyone that saw it. however, she knew the minute they would read the actual words inked on her wrist, they would pout in pity at her destiny.

for how were they supposed to be happy for someone whose soulmate would ridicule and put them down with the first words they speak to them.

it was disappointing looking back on the hopeful day of her sixteenth birthday – her family and she were all waiting and watching the clock tick down to midnight on the eve of her sixteenth birthday; eyes darting between the ticking hands of the clock and the blank space on her wrist. at that point in time, untainted with her future sorrows.

her mother and father held each other close, ready to get a minute look into who their baby girl would be destined to be with in life, just as her brother and his then-fiancee sat with baited breaths to see the ink fade onto her skin.

they, like her, were left in shock at the harsh words that painted themselves on her skin at the stroke of midnight.

the girl who grew up wishing, hoping, praying, and waiting for her happily ever after and prince charming, had been let down before she had even met the man; but the child, the small and hopeful girl, was still alive deep down no matter how hard she tried to pretend she didn’t know her fate.

perhaps the words were just an ugly start to a beautiful thing.

or perhaps the man of her dreams has problems in his life that she was dying to help him through, hoping that the venom-laced words would fade into soft kisses and whispers of love.

so while she expected disappointment, she still awaited her happy ending with a slowly breaking heart, and a newfound impatience yet dread for the day she would finally meet the man she grew up calling her ‘prince charming’.

high school was hell on earth.

especially considering the kids she went to school with.

self-obsessed, headstrong, over-the-top, and just downright rude kids – kids that made her life a living hell the moment her teacher announced that she had the highest grade in a class all those years ago.

rich, popular, and pretty people didn’t take kindly to those who were smart – it didn’t matter their looks, social status, or situation; if you presented yourself as an academic threat, they sought out to make coming to school dreadful.

she did better than some other so-called nerds at her school – while they dealt with spilled milk, scrapes and bruises, or the confined spaces of lockers, she had been able to escape without much harm.

keeping her head down and blending in with the crowd was the ultimate way to remain unscathed, unbothered, and undetected.

what also made going unnoticed easier, was the extensive focus on the it boys of the school; upper classman park seonghwa and kim hongjoong, boys in her grade jeong yunho, kang yeosang, and choi san, and the lower classman song mingi, jung wooyoung, and choi jongho.

while her peers fawned, entertained, and followed the boys around, she had been able to keep on top of her studies, slip by the popular girls without being touched, and shimmied her way through the crowds of boys so she could start her trek home.

that at least would have been the case had she not been body checked by a certain black-haired beauty with the mark of an angle beside his eye.

be it the shock of hitting the ground harshly or the disturbance in her bubble of ease and quietness, she had realized that her time of peace was likely to end after this run-in with the one and only kang yeosang.

a beautifully handsome boy who held the hearts of many had a knack for music and spoke words laced so richly with ice and blades, that even a compliment coming from his mouth felt like it cut deep.

“jesus, why do you snobby little nobodies not pay attention to where you walk?” yeosang looked down his nose at the girl who looked up at him with wide eyes. “you made me spill my drink,” yeosang growled, turning on his heel and kicking dust towards the girl who’s jaw had long since dropped after her mind processed his words.

she knew eyes were on her, both from the growing crowd who gossiped at the sight of the ice prince, kang yeosang, snap on the clumsy girl, and the group of boys who sneered at her from their position near the picnic table in the school courtyard.

with bambi like legs, a skirt full of dust from the pavement, and red palms and knees, she had stood up and looked at the back of yeosang,

“it’s you! you’re my soulmate!” her words made her cringe as she let it sink in who exactly she was yelling out for. the same man that acted as if him stepping back into her path and knocking her to the ground was her doing.

silence washed over the courtyard as the crowd watched yeosang's back grow taught, steps faltering as he let your words ring in his head a few times.

god, she wished she could have just run away, but she was sure the people who gathered around would laugh and push her back towards the boy, desperate to see a showing of yet another embarrassed girl facing the harsh words of yeosang.

yeosang turned on his heel slowly, a half-assed smirk lining his lips, and while she might have imagined it, she could have sworn she’d seen something else in his eyes; something she couldn’t put her finger on.

“soulmate?” yeosang laughed at the word. “god, for a nerd like you, i’m surprised you're that dumb,” yeosang sneered at the look of gloss growing in her eyes. he stepped closer, keeping his voice loud so everyone could hear. “sorry to tell you, but someone else is gonna say the exact same thing i said to you one day – someone else in life is gonna see you for the nobody that you are and tell it like it is,” he huffed, looking at her shaking frame with disgust. “if i was your soulmate, i’d kill myself before i lowered my standards for someone like you.”

‘oh’s’ and ‘ah’s’ echoed through the courtyard; that paired with the whoops and hollers from the boys behind yeosang taunted her even more.

kang yeosang was a cruel boy, but never had he been as cruel as he’d been at that moment.

everything after that had been a blur; fleeting footsteps, the wind blowing harshly on her wet cheeks, and the blurriness of the sidewalk she fled on were all she remembered of her journey home. now, the darkness of her room, soaked pillowcase, and shaking hands were all she knew.

she hadn’t known how long she had laid in bed and cried, but she knew a considerable amount of time had passed since she had collapsed on her bed when she heard the voice of her mother echo from downstairs.

“y/n, darling, do you wanna run to the grocery store with me?” her voice grew louder and the sound of footsteps and the creaking of the staircase faded into the scene. “i need to grab some things for dinner-” her mother's voice halted as she opened her daughter's door and found the girl with bloodshot eyes, tear-stained cheeks, and lips bitten raw.

it was a far cry from the happy, composed, and sweet girl she had come to know.

“oh baby, what’s going on?” her mom hurried into the dark room, sitting on the edge of her bed as she laid a hand on what she presumed to be her daughter's thigh.

it was hard to speak; after all, she had sobbed and borderline screamed at the pain and sadness she had felt. voice raw from exertion. it took her several minutes to even compose herself enough to tell her mother what had conspired mere hours prior.

the boy she had hoped to be different, the words she had hoped were a misunderstanding, and the happily ever after the girl had dreamed about since a young age, had slipped through her fingertips and shattered in front of the entire school.

everything was torture – her chest hurt, her head pounded ferociously, and she felt as if she had no control over the shaking in her body. rejection was always a scary thing, but this was nightmare fuel. something she was sure would play on repeat in her mind every night and keep her up for hours. something she was sure could never be topped.

she wanted everything to disappear.

including that damned tattoo that burned her skin.

her mother held her as she choked on her sobs, fingers gripping the arms of her mother as she pulled her daughter in close and whispered sweet nothings into her ear.

in that moment, the burning fondness she had for soulmates had been put out.

her hope, belief, and love for the idea of the universe putting two people together who would love, cherish, and care for each other had finally dimmed and turned to smoke.

all because of a boy named kang yeosang.

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