he's mocking us

basicallyshippingsideblog  asked:

I'm bored and suffering from serious writer's block SOS send help

Jar Jar sat at his computer staring at the open word doc he had yet to spill his enlightened ideas upon.

So far, he had only typed one word “The”, and his frustration was mounting. He wiped the sweat from his brow with a long ear flap and cautiously pecked out another word with one finger, one letter at a time (as was customary for him)

He stared at his creation “The turgid”, the words seemed to mock him. He used to write spectacular smutty novels, he had been hailed as a erotica maven, yet he could come up with nothing.

He, who had typed such timeless sentences as “he plunged his swollen meat rod into the delicate flower of her womanhood without pain despite her virginity and his selfish lack of foreplay”, he could not think of a an idea!

He dramatically threw his arms into the air, knocking over his limited edition Senator Palpatine mug and shattering it on the tiled floor. This action caused him more distress and he let out a fetal scream,

“Mesa is a hack! Mesa never wrote bombad pornsa, mesa issen a failure!”

He then bowed his head and sobbed into his hands. His ear flaps drooped across the laptop.

Because of his melodramatic wails, Jar Jar did not hear the moist, slimy, scooting sound of his lover coming into the kitchen.

Jabba placed a gooey hand upon Jar Jar’s shoulder and slid his tongue around the rim of the Gungan’s ear flap.

“Mmmmm pedunky mufkin, you aren’t a hack, you just have writer’s block.”

His gooey hand trailed down from Jar Jar’s shoulder lower and lower…

“Ooey Mooey!” Jar Jar exclaimed, then his smile turned lusty, “Yousa gonna unblock mesa?”

“Hahahaha,” Jabba wheezed, “You know I will…”

@coupdefoudrey does this help?

I fully expect to lose followers because of this, and I deserve it.



When I’m in a good mood, or stressed, or just… anytime, really… I cycle through a number of terrible voice impressions. It’s a habit I picked up from my dad, who has a vast array of ridiculous accents and personas that he used to mock me with.

I like breaking them out during road trips when my friends are trapped in close proximity to me for long hours and cannot escape.

theories or something

*crashes through my own window*

So in my recent pattern of being minorly majorly fixated on Darkiplier and Antisepticeye and what little ‘lore’ we have on them, I came across this post. Which, first off, is just funny. But secondly it gave me an idea.

We know that Anti has pretty much told us that it’s our attention that keeps him alive, and we know that he has accused us of just ‘sitting and watching’ him kill Jack. These two pieces of information imply two thing: that simply by virtue of thinking about him we can impact him, and that we are capable of interfering somehow– otherwise, wouldn’t he have mocked us for being helpless, rather than choosing not to act?

If these things are true– then it’s entirely possible that fanon lore built up by enough of the community could carry over and impact Anti. I don’t think we could defeat him that way, since our attention seems to fuel him, but what if we could give him weaknesses? That would be a fascinating development, particularly if our fav demon boys end up going against one another later on– we could set Dark up for victory, or we could set Anti up for victory, depending on where the majority of fanon falls. It would also be interesting if Anti continues to antagonize us but doesn’t go up against Dark– it could, potentially, give us a way to interact more directly with him, and to stop him from doing things we don’t like.

At the same time of course, if the fandom picks this up and tries it, we’ll have to be careful to make sure that exploiting Anti’s weaknesses wouldn’t also hurt Jack– so no dislike/like ratio on videos Anti appears in, or anything. Maybe we could have him vulnerable to a particular phrase, or cursed to obey someone who sets off a particular code or incantation against him. 

Okay, next theory shit: Darkiplier.

As a lot of people picked up on, Dark indicated that “he” (presumably Markiplier) promised to “let him back in” and “didn’t even invite him on this adventure”, that he was tired of giving people– not just Mark?– a choice. It’s also repeatedly stated that he wanted to get to the viewer and to spend time with them, he didn’t care about Mark himself, unlike the dynamic with Anti and Jack. Anti points at us for being too distant and not interfering, while Dark pulls himself closer to us by choice. There is also the EXIT ‘ending’, wherein we see Dark seemingly manipulate time itself, or possibly just the video sequence. He pulls other shit, like warping our perception when he first appears, seemingly teleporting (? time/space manipulation?), indicating that he is consciously aware of what’s going on while not in control of Mark’s body, marking himself as superior to Mark, able to take us places (more teleportation evidence??)… but most crucially:

“There’s nothing you, or he, can do to stop me!”

While Anti told us we let his actions happen, Dark has told us that we don’t have a choice. In essence, Anti has admitted to being stoppable– and Dark has denied it… although if you choose the RIGHT he fails to reclaim control of Mark’s body. The flickering of his influence in that ending, however, may indicate that he isn’t dead– and indeed, even in LEFT Mark may not be dead– but only injured, unable to take control but still there. Following that thought, as I said, LEFT may not lead to Mark’s death, even though Dark clearly has control at the end. It may be that the shot similarly only wounded Mark, leaving him unable to even fight Dark’s control– making it exceptionally easy, even easier than it already was, for Dark to keep Mark’s body (and us). 

Also interesting, and something I didn’t really pay attention to my first run-through: While deciding to shoot RIGHT or LEFT, the one on the LEFT (Mark) says you “have to trust [him]”, while the one on the RIGHT (Dark) says “he needs to die”, among other things, like “He’s Dark, he’s a bad influence”, “he’ll [indecipherable] everything you ever loved”, and ”he’s a bad man, he does bad things to good people”. Mark, meanwhile, is much vaguer and less accusatory– “he’s got the weird eyes and all that stuff”. It’s very interesting to me that it is Dark himself who calls himself ‘bad’ and warns that he does bad things to good people. It may provide an interesting insight into how Dark views himself, and how he knows the world views him– and may be a powerful warning, not to underestimate him just because he hasn’t hurt us, not to underestimate him just because he was mocked.

Absolutely none of that last paragraph helps me dismiss the irrational urge to hug Dark and tell him that we, the fans, we do want him. It seems to be a desire I share with a… rather large portion of the fandom. For all that Mark is clearly being imprisoned while Dark takes control, Dark’s desires to spend time with us, his gentle reassurances in LEFT, his promises and offers… are all very, very human, and very relatable. He seems lonely, and combined with the well-tailored suit and power play aesthetic, it makes us sympathize with him and accept him, even though by all rights we should be majorly concerned that he’s taking Mark’s body from Mark. Whether accepting him and trying to rehabilitate or make a compromise with him would ever possibly be wise, whether his relatability is a calculated move in its entirety on Dark’s part… is hard to say. His desperation to see us and his repetition of wanting to get to know us certainly seem genuine.

Tbh, I’ve seen so much about how lgbt+, poc, and women are in very real danger of getting hate crimes and revoked rights. And I completely agree and fear for it too. But I have seen only 2 posts that talk about how disabled people will be affected by this.

Trump has on stage, in front of people, mocked the mentally disabled, specifically those with mental development issues. He mocked flapping, a thing us autistic people do when we’re happy. And it was a joke for him. People laughed. He got away with it and so many people didn’t even think much of it. I’ve seen people makes jokes with him acting that way, because they think he looks dumb. That hurts so much to know that the majority of people, including the President don’t even view me as human. View us as human. And so little people care about that.

And this doesn’t even touch on the physically disabled which is equally terrifying. I cannot work due to physical disabilities and I may never be able to work. It’s very likely that my entire life I’ll have to depend on the government for any money I receive. I also have to depend on my father’s insurance, which is supplied by his job at the IRS. All money and care and pretty much anything I need to live is dependent on the government, and Trump being “in charge” of that is terrifying. Especially since he clearly doesn’t see disabled people as people. I know that he does not have supreme rule over the entire government, but he will certainly have a large influence. 

My entire health is on the line, and if something changes, I don’t know if I’ll be ok. I can’t even imagine what it’s like for those in a more severe state of health. So to every disabled person out there, of every degree, I hope for the best.

The Night He Found Out



That was the foundation of any relationship, so when Kiseok found himself doubting his girlfriend of barely a month. He wasn’t sure if it was his own insecurity or it was reality. Surely, no one should doubt their girlfriend first month into the relationship. This was the honeymoon phase. This was the time when waiting for her to get ready was not at all tiring. This was the time when he craves to hear her voice every moment in his day. This was the time when all he wanted to do was lay beside her all day long.

But it wasn’t.

Compliments felt like a jab at his ego.

He seemed so aware that every words leaving your mouth felt like a hidden message; a hidden clue. He seemed to take things to heart and every time you teases him, and you have done that a lot which only made him felt small and mocked. He used to love it whenever you flirted with him, especially when you complimented about him being a rapper.

“Is that why you’re so good with your tongue?” that sly smirk and the teasing eyes losing whatever it had usually sent.

It felt like a lingering insult as it traces his earlobes and slapped his cheek.

“Kiseok,” you called once you saw how his eyes stared off at the wall.

He turned his head and was faced with curious eyes. “Yes?”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

If you guys were chip flavors (ex. Doritos nacho cheese) what flavors would you be? how about a cheese type?

Denmark: This is the weirdest question I’ve ever answered. Uh… maybe the nacho cheese and… feta cheese? *shrug*

Iceland: No idea…

Finland: Me either…

Sweden: …

Norway: Salted crisps and mature cheddar.

Denmark: ….

Finland: Should we be concerned that Norway actually knows?

Denmark: I feel like he’s indirectly mocking us…

Radio 1 Breakfast Show
  • Radio 1 Breakfast Show
  • 27th September 2016

The team discuss Harry’s Another Man magazine cover, or as some might say, him singlehandedly saving the magazine industry.

Alternatively titled: ⬜⬜⬜👦🏻👦🏻👦🏻

This is why I started using instagram. Lol.😂

From - https://www.instagram.com/p/BQj9oiqj_zz/
Pigtails and Bad Boy | Theo Imagine #1:

Reader (female) x Theo

Imagine: You are Stiles‘ twin sister. Theo Raeken comes back to town, but you are not the way Theo remembers you. He used to mock you and still does, but now in a different way than before.

Song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=03WRjADHQ9o

(Not my gif!)

“Did you know he came back to be in the pack?” “Theo’s a werewolf?” “Speaking of the devil…”

Your Outfit:

“Stiles? My bike is falling apart again! Can you take me to school?” you shouted into the hallway of your house, holding your bike chain in your hands. “Wait a sec, I’m coming!” Stiles’ trashcan of a jeep looked crappier from day to day, but it surely would be a better alternative than walking two miles to school.

“You’ looking grumpy today, what’s up, Stiles?” You could see he didn’t sleep much this night. His knuckles around the steering wheel turned white as he murmured “Guess who’s back in town? I didn’t want to tell you at the Senior Scribe yesterday. Didn’t want to destroy your good mood…” You knew something nerve-jangling happened tonight, about some weird looking werewolf. You didn’t make it to that so you went straight to the library. “Theo frickin’ Raeken.” Oh hell no. “Bully-Theo? That dipshit from fourth grade?” “Live and in person…” Stiles sighed while checking the rear view mirror.

You parked next to Lydia’s adorable blue Mini and headed towards the building together. Your friends Scott and Lydia were already waiting outside the school since the weather was clear today. “Hey, girl!” Your best friend Lydia gave you a shiny smile while embracing you. You hugged her and laughed “Someone’s in a good mood today!” Speaking of good mood, you thought, well, bad mood is probably more accurate… “Scott, you didn’t tell me about Theo being back in town. Weren’t you two kinda close?” Stiles looked at you in shock, so you quickly added “Besides your incredible and eternal love towards my brother, of course.” He smirked at Stiles who – obviously pissed off by you – pushed his lower jaw forward and put his hands on the hips, but then Scott raised his shoulders and scratched his temple. “We lost contact, I guess…” Lydia jumped in. “Did you know he came back to be in the pack?” “Theo’s a werewolf?” That was shocking and not very surprising at the same time. “Speaking of the devil…” Stiles nodded towards the school’s driveway and then looked away. As you turned around Theo climbed out of a car. You were surprised. Even though it seemed stupid, you didn’t expect him to look so… grown up. When you thought of Theo Raeken all that came to your mind was this rude ten-year-old with stupid freckles and weird haircut mocking you for your looks. As if he overheard your conversation he immediately looked over to your group. Oh wait. Werewolf, he probably actually heard us… And as if he was also reading your mind, he looked you directly in the eyes, smirking. With a disgusted look you huffed and grabbed Stiles sleeve, turning him around. “Let’s get to class…”

And as the odds wanted it, Theo entered history class, sitting down right behind you. While passing you he provocatively smirked and murmured “Cute little dress, Stilinski…”, but you just turned your head away, rolling your eyes at your brother who started grinning. “Good luck.” he formed with his lips, unobtrusively pointing his head at Theo.

After class you went to your locker, getting your books for the next period. As you threw the locker door you found Theo standing right next to you. “Jesus!” You flinched which made him laugh. “Funny, Raeken.” “Haven’t seen you in a long time, Pigtails… Oh, but can I even call you that anymore?” He looked at you pitiful, not hesitating to take look at you from head to toe. ”Got rid of the pigtails, I see. And the glasses…” He smiled to the ground. You didn’t do anything, but glaring at your former childhood enemy. Running his fingers through his hair, he looked up at you. Wait, what?! Damn, that idiot got cute… You immediately turned red at that thought what he for sure noticed, so before he could say anything you hissed “And you clearly didn’t lose that stupid grin of yours…” Now he smiled even brighter, tilting his head back. Damn, that’s cute… The school bell started ringing, so Theo finally pushed himself off the locker wall. As he walked away, he did a turn and murmured “Sassy, Stilinski… Where did your geekiness go?” Then he turned back around walking to his next class. What a blowhard… You had to smile at his stupid behavior. He did get kinda hot, though…


The mocking went on. Stiles sat at his desk, you sat on his bed doing your homework. Suddenly the telephone started ringing. In your house there were three telephones: One in your room, one in Stiles’ room and one in the kitchen. “Y/NN, can you go? I’m busy…” Stiles mumbled while eagerly typing on his laptop. “Stiles, are you kidding me, you are literally sitting next to it.” The phone kept on ringing aggressively. Irritably and without looking at you Stiles grunted “Get. The. Phone. Y/N.” With a groan you stood up from his bed and flicked your finger against his head. He flinched and rubbed his head. You could see he wanted to curse you, but you had already picked up the phone. “Stilinski, hello?” “Hey, Pigtails! Can I talk to Stiles?” What did this guy think?! “Uh-uh, don’t call me that. Where did you even get our number?” “Didn’t change since fourth grade, y’know… Unlike you, Pigtails…” You could hear him grinning. “Don’t call me that, Raeken.” Stiles got alarmed when he heard who you were talking to. “Okay, how about beautiful, very precious Ms. Y/N Stilinski, would you do me the favor to pass me over to your brother?” Stiles heard that and was now doing everything to signalize you to get rid of Theo, but you got tired of talking to him, so you laughed “Yeah, much better… One second.” “Thanks, girl, see you around…” Once again his shiny smile punched you in the face through the phone. Rolling your eyes, you slipped the phone into Stiles hand, padding his shoulder and mumbling “You deal with him.” Stiles frowned while listening to Theo and you jumped back onto the bed, smiling triumphantly.


“Y/N!” Lydia urged through the mass of students in the hallway. “Lydia, how’s it going, girl?” “Yeah, it’s going good…” You could see she was impatient about something, and of course, as Lydia was, she immediately expressed it. “Soo… This Theo boy and you, is there something going on between you two?” Her famous mischievous grin appeared. You wanted to intervene, but she went on “There’s this tension between you…” She raised her eyebrows. “Kinda sexual, actually. Like, the way Theo looks at you all the time… Is there something you didn’t tell me? ” Right at that moment Theo walked by, a few more meters from where you and your friend were standing. The knowing and smirking face he threw at you gave it away and the blood flushed to your cheeks in an instant. Oh no, he for sure heard that… “Lydia, there is nothing, don’t worry.” You had lunchbreak now, so you started walking to the entrance dragging Lydia along by her arm. “Oh, I am not worrying, Y/NN… You should go for it though, I mean, not gonna lie, he is really hot…” “Yeah, I know, but he’s an ass…” Lydia threw her red designer bag on a lunch table on the schoolyard sitting down and rolling her eyes. “You don’t know that, Y/N, you didn’t even give him a chance to talk to you for longer than three minutes. It’s quite likely he completely changed since fourth grade…” True. Lydia was right, like always. You acknowledged defeat and just sighed. “Hey, girls, what’s up?” Kira walked up and sat down next to you with a bright smile. Soon after Stiles came after him Scott discussing something with Theo. As the two sat down Scott pressed a kiss onto Kira’s forehead and Theo took a seat right in front of you. You didn’t look at him, but aside from the boisterous conversation of the others you heard him smirk and whisper. “Hey, Beautiful.” You avoided looking at the boy, because once again you turned red like a tomato, but right then you felt Theo gently nudging your foot underneath the table. You didn’t want to, but a smile spread on your face that you couldn’t suppress. As you looked over you recognized that you made Theo smile as well, but as he looked back at you, you looked at your hands. This is ridiculous… you thought, making yourself chuckle.

“So, Stilinski…” The bell still rang as Theo came up to you from behind. You survived last period and were now packing your bag to go home. Theo stepped into eyesight and as you packed you looked up at him. He continued with a smirk. “Now, that you’ve finally admitted you’re into me, we should go out.” He leaned against the desk in front of you. You were in the act of thinking of an excuse already, when he added. “I heard you talking with Lydia. And she’s right, you should give me a chance, I’m not the asshole kid from fourth grade anymore…” He overthought what he said and hesitantly added “Okay, I might be an ass still, but I think you should find out yourself…” You laughed a little, not really knowing what to say and stood up. The two of you were the last ones to leave the room.

“So.” At the parking lot Theo got out his car keys, flipping them around with his finger. That was when you realized Stiles’ Jeep wasn’t there anymore. That little shit left without me… “Y/N, do you want to get something to eat before you go home?” You’re instinct immediately told you to reject, but you forced yourself to at least think about it. Okay, I should give it a try… He doesn’t seem to be that bad of a guy… If so, I’ll blame Lydia… You looked the handsome boy in the eyes, saying. “Fine, Raeken. Let’s eat something.” Triumphantly smirking he jogged to his car to open the passenger’s door for you. “But just so you know, I’m just coming for the food. And the ride home.” Theo laughed and you had to tune in. “Fine, Pigtails, if you say so…” With that he ran over to the driver’s side and entered the car with a smirk.

Imagine being chased through the woods

You panted, stumbling over roots and dodging branches as you raced through the dark. Your heart pounded in your chest. You could hear them behind you. You knew it was only a matter of time before they caught up to you.

         And they did. Suddenly something heavy hit your back and you fell to the ground. Groaning, you shoved the weight off and scrambled onto your feet.

         The boy smiled down at you with malice. “Why’d you run from us, Mother?” He mocked, using the name some of the younger Lost Boys had taken to calling you. “We just want to play.”

         You ground your teeth together. “Leave me alone.”

         “But we want to play, Mother. Tell us a story, Mother. Sing to us. Hold us close.” His companions chuckled and came closer. You stepped back only to run into a tree. Great.

         You quickly evaluated the situation. The one directly in front of you was the fastest. If you were to kick at him, he would go down, giving you the chance to run away from the other two. Chances are, you could circle back around and make your way to camp.

         But you didn’t feel like that would be fair. You wanted justice for what had happened, for their harassment, and you wanted it to happen now. Somehow a kick to the groin just didn’t seem like it would be enough.

         Then you got an idea. A wonderfully awful idea, one that would make this terrible trio wish that you had never even come to Neverland. Make them wish that they had never been born.

         And you wouldn’t have to lift a finger.

         You watched with delight as horror crossed the boys’ faces as you screamed, “PAN!”

Queens and Pawns: Part 1

A/N: This is is my new multi fic. I don’t really know what to say about this one, other than its a soulmate AU where the name of your soulmate is on your arm, so this will be a relatively short A/n. I hope you enjoy!


Pissed didn’t even begin to describe how you felt, sitting there, Rumlow staring back at you. “Problem, Angel?” He mocked, using the code name they’d given you when you’d first woke up.

Your programming kicked in and your expression went blank as you responded, hollow. “No, sir.” He gave a nod and left without another word, leaving you alone in the apartments bedroom once again.

Even with all the people you’d been told to kill, you believed Rumlow had to be worse than any of them. Your hand absently rubbed the long scar on your arm where he’d literally carved your soulmate’s name out of your body.     

You never did get a chance to see who it was. The day it appeared, you didn’t notice it until Brock did in training, and by that time, you were held down on the training matts as he cut it out.

You held on to the one letter you did see though. “B”. That was it.

For a while, Brock had led you to believe it was him. Until you were no longer useful to his purpose. Only then did he tell you he’d lied. And now, he was telling you they’d be taking you out of the field, that there wasn’t room for you and the Winter Soldier.

You’d heard of the guy, everyone had. But they never gave you the opportunity to meet one another. Maybe they were afraid it would end as a blood bath. They might be right.

“Angel. We’re moving.” A HYDRA guard barked as he swung open the bedroom door. You stood stiffly, falling in step between two of them, heart hammering as they led you to the armored truck.

This wasn’t going to be pretty. There was no way you could survive going back underground, or worse, Cryo. They’d let you out for too long.

You tried to calm your emotions as the truck sloped down, not wanting to give them any more power over you than they already did. Instead, you thought about your replacement. Anger filled you.

What was so special about the guy, anyway? You’d been completing missions for the past 6 months. Why give them to him all of a sudden? Didn’t they think you could handle it?

The truck rolled to a stop and you readied yourself as the doors opened. Brock stood waiting and stripped you of all your weapons, letting his hands linger longer than they should have just to watch anger simmer in your eyes before shoving you roughly ahead of him. “Walk.”

You bit your tongue to stop a reply and did as you were told, knowing you were going straight to your cell. As you walked, a scream tore through the building. You stopped and listened intently, your curiosity piqued.

The scream was one of pain, not terror and you tilted your head slightly as a guard behind you shifted uncomfortably. “What’s that?” he asked Brock, who scoffed. “Easy, newbie. It’s the Winter Soldier. Get used to it. He does that a lot.”

The famous Winter Soldier, huh? So they’d be keeping him in the same facility as you. You watched Brock out of the corner of your eye, a horrible decision already confirmed in your brain.

You spun to the left, elbowing him in the nose and kicking the nearest guard in the stomach before taking off running. Brock shouted behind you, his voice muffled. Another scream echoed off the concrete and you followed it, skidding on the slick floor.

You rounded a corner and two armed men immediately aimed their guns at you. But you paid them no attention, fascinated by the sight behind them.

Pierce stood in front of a (very shirtless) man, plugged into what you referred to as The Machine, his dark hair slicked back and his skin glistening with sweat. He shifted and as his left arm came into view, you suddenly were sure it was him.

The Winter Soldier.

Your replacement.

Looking at him, his eyes squeezed shut and his muscles tense with agony, you didn’t feel hatred. You felt…nervous. Seeing him in pain made you want to help him.

Brock’s fingers tangled in your hair and ripped your head backwards, earning him a shriek of pain as it slipped from your lips. On the edge of your vision, you saw the Winter Soldier attempt to sit up, but was stopped by the restraints on his arms. The two of you only managed to make eye contact for a second before Pierce stepped between you, watching your struggle with Brock.

In that second, something inside of you changed.

Brock forced you to your knees with a jerk of his hand and you were forced to focus on him. Pierce exited the room and came into view, clicking his tongue as he approached. You shook slightly. Pierce could do so much worse than Brock.

“Having issues, Agent Rumlow?” he questioned and Brock’s hand released your hair for a grip on your windpipe. “Nothing i can’t handle, sir.” he growled, squeezing as a choking sound escaped you. Pierce’s expression hardened. “Agent. Release her, I’ve told you, we’re using a different approach with her. She’s no use to us dead.” Brock hesitated, but threw you forward slightly as you coughed, spit splattering the ground at Pierce’s feet as he kneeled in front of you.

“Now, Angel, why’d you come all the way over here? Eager to have your memories wiped again?” he asked with a deadly calm, tucking a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

You frantically shook your head, flinching when his hand brushed your cheek. “I just wanted to see what he looked like.” you whispered, tears springing to your eyes at the thought of his threat being carried out.

Pierce’s eyes shot up to meet Brock’s and he chuckled. “Hear that, Brock? She wanted to see him.” Brock shifted behind you. “Sir?” he asked, but Pierce stood. “Agent, we’ll discuss this later. Make sure she’s in one piece for tomorrow. I have plans for her.”

Brock roughly yanked you to your feet and began dragging you backwards as Pierce returned to the Winter Soldier. You twisted around to watch as the Winter Soldier lifted his head to speak to him, eye glued to your face.

You managed to read his lips with little difficulty. “Who’s the girl?” Pierce turned around to look at you and chuckled. “You’ll find out soon enough, Soldier, don’t you worry.” Before you could see anymore of their conversation, Brock had pulled you around a corner and out of their sight.

As soon as you reached your cell, he posted two men outside and roughly threw you forward. You were off balance and as a result, your palms skidded on the concrete floor as you hissed in pain. Instinctively, you whipped around to face your attacker and immediately got a foot to the chest.

You gasped as you were knocked sideways and clutched your chest, desperately trying to consume enough air to breath before the next blow came. You twsted to look at Brock as he peeled off his jacket and tossed it on th mattress against a far wall.

“You fucked up today, Angel. Apparently they were too soft with you on the surface. Well, let me remind you what happens when you disobey me.” He allowed you to scramble to your feet before his fist buried itself in your stomach and you flew back into the wall, involuntary tears pooling in your eyes as previous experiences flooded back.

He advanced and you threw up your hands to protect your face. A big mistake. His fingers wrapped around your throat and his nails dug into your skin as he hoisted you off the floor, your toes barely scrapig the floor with every kick.

“What, Angel? Did you think you were in control? Think you had rights?” he sneered as you clawed at his arm, angry red lines showing on his skin. He pulled you off the wall and turned, shoving you to the floor. The back of your skull brutally slammed against the floor and black crawled into the edge of your vision as you fought to stay conscious.

Brock’s weight settled on you as he straddled you, drawing his knife. He gripped your face with one hand and traced your bottom lip with the flat side of the blade. “What do you think? Have we been reminded?” he questioned almost gently. You frantically nodded but he gave a sad shake of his head. “Yknow, you said that last time, Angel. I have to make sure this time, you made me look bad today.” he murmured, feigning remorse as he whispered in your ear, his hot breath sending your skin crawling.

You attempted to struggle, and he sat up, holding your head tightly in place. He pressed down and  the blade sank through your lip. “Ask me to stop,” he whispered, slowly dragging the knife downwards. “Beg me, and maybe i’ll stop.”

Your hands fisted at your sides. You wanted to scream, wanted to cry. You wanted to claw his eyes out with your nails. But you were afraid to move and push the blade deeper.But you couldnt ignore an order. “Please,” you croaked. He smiled. “Good girl. But i’m not going to.”  

So he dragged the blade lower, cutting the skin below your lip as well. You held your breath and closed your eyes, tears squeezing out. His grip tightened painfully on your face. “Eyes open, soldier.” he ordered. You did as you were told and he finally pulled the blade out of your skin.

He replaced his knife back in its home and stepped off you, retrieving his jacket and leaving without a word. You laid there for a moment before forcing your shaking hand to touch your mouth. It stung and you pulled away, your own blood glistening on your fingertips. You could feel the shape of it, starting in the center of your inner lip and continuing over the curve, ending halfway to your chin.

A sob leaked from your throat as you rose to your feet. Tears flowed and mixed with the blood, thinning it and dripping down your throat. You weren’t worried about the wound, he wasn’t trying to kill you.

You were pissed about the scar. You’d heal, but there would be a lasting mark. It wasn’t like they hadn’t scarred you before, but never on the face, and never… never deliberately. The bastard had carved his mark into you, a permanent reminder that you didn’t belong to yourself. And it would be there any time you looked at yourself.

You laid on the mattress and curled up, facing the wall as the cloth below you steadily turned a light pink. You closed your eyes after fighting sleep for a few seconds. There was no reason to struggle. No reason to fight anymore. You were broken. And there was nothing to bring you back. Right?

Originally posted by amjeth