Dish to the Death @dishtothedeath - Tumblr Blog

No Dessert? [Game End]

The last time you stood on this helipad was when you were all filled with dreams of money, fame, or culinary glory. But now you all stand with anticipation to get the fuck away from this place, feeling hope for the first time in weeks, months, as you watch a series of boats and a helicopter close in on the island. Rescue is on the way, escape is imminent. You are free.

The few of you that remain alive - Fergus, Giselle, Manqian, Morgan, Sunako, Yuzuki - are screened by medical professionals before being escorted to a ferry. Except for Fergus, who gets a special helicopter ride straight to a hospital to treat his arm.

For the dead, it is a little more complicated than just jumping on a ferry. Your data is stored in servers based on the island, and moving those would be quite complicated and expensive. However, with the help of Sunny and some of the devs (who were unaware they were dealing with REAL dead people data), you all gain your independence, one way or another. It is your choice whether you return to a shell with your previous form, or go for an ‘upgrade’, with a 5-year free warranty courtesy of Sunny.

Tsuki and Araceli, however, are picked up by a strange black helicopter. A mixture of people from their agencies, as well as government officials and authorities, make sure they do not leave any other way.

Severin is also arrested immediately, and you can’t help but feel a wave of vindication as you watch the billionaire dragged away in handcuffs.

The truth behind Dish to the Death spills out. Your faces along with Severin’s are spread across the internet, newspapers, magazines. It goes to court. You all undergo a lot of questioning, asked to be witnesses. Therapy of all kinds is offered - all paid for. News reporters stalk you for months. Tsuki and Araceli are charged alongside Severin, but these court cases are always so long and complicated that the result isn’t finalized yet.

A whole lot of stress, but thankfully, Severin is sentenced to many years in prison and fined to all hell - you all walk away with more money than what you would have if you had won the show (if it was a normal cooking competition). The compensation sets you up for life.

A life that is now yours to do whatever you wish with it. A life where you order takeout, rather than risk cooking something again.

—

Skull-kun, or Basile Belemont, is reunited with his body. He takes over HDQ Entertainment and makes doubly sure that his brother never sees his wealth or the outside world ever again. Basile also makes sure you are all looked after, and sells off parts of HDQ Entertainment to open up a charity to turn some of the work developed for Dish to the Death into something that would actually help people.

Taking the robotics technology that was developed for the AI, Basile reached out to Sunny to turn this technology into aids and functional prosthetics for the disabled. Sunny happily obliges, continuing the work that he started to try and help his brother many years ago.

The Skull and BB romance… well… There is no Skull anymore. It is just Basile. And while they still keep in touch, Basile was never one for romance, especially one where he wasn’t even himself for most of it. It’s for Beastie’s benefit, he tells himself.

Beastie itself stays by Tsuki’s side. It’s hard to say if it remains out of a sense of attachment, of obligation, or by force– but unlike Basile, it gives up its attachments to its former life, choosing to never pursue the man who was once Cristobal Keen. It keeps tabs on Tsuki.

Aides doesn’t return to their old life. It doesn’t want to be just a program, either. Inspired by the kindness, the tentative friendship, and even the sorrow of events that surrounded their creation, Aides pursues a new life as a new person. A real person—or as close as they can get.

[The End.]

#announcement

Class Action Settlement

There was a lot presented to them that they needed to address and to say. The room was vibrating with energy but as a message comes through from her tablet, she knows there’s not that much time left and they deserved the truth or as much as they could give.

So though she asked, Araceli knows better than to expect Tsuki to immediately comply so she can take the lead. Let’s start with an easy one.

“The staging of this finale is Severin’s handiwork… I’m not entirely sure how everything works but I do know that there were no plans to execute us. I… can’t tell you why it might be that he just ran out of time.”

She shouldn’t regret that that was the case. If anything she should be thrilled to live but it’s weighing on her. They wanted their justice, whatever form it took, but would have to wait.

“In any case, while what you’ve experienced here is real… the world at large does not think that is true. It was framed as a show and HDQ Entertainment bought out the broadcasters, networks, and internet providers along the way… There are people who have tried to voice concern but they are far and few between. Though I suspect that the proper authorities have already been alerted so… It’ll be easier for you to share your experiences if you so wish to.”

She had considered if her manager or dad were part of those people who cared enough to speak. It feels just as sick saying it as she remembers hearing it for the first time. Worse, actually. Back when she had convinced Basile to follow her lead even at the detriment of Tsuki.

Araceli stops her talking and keeps her eyes on him, nodding to signal that he should start.

“Everything is a broad ask you know… besides I already said it early on… there was no good reason. The person in the pod, my brother, was just a bonus once I realized I could potentially use him for all of this too.

The short of it is I was at a company party and happened to have a chance to speak with the boss about my future career… one bad faith joke after another lead to me saying that with how desensitized people are to the media these days we could likely get away with actually killing people on a show. I get along with some of his tech support staff who were sharing details of a new VR project going on since the environments fucked, so I added that we could use the people we kill to further the project. Honestly I thought it was corporate banter at first, but he liked the idea… This is where I’d love to say I’m a better person and I called him a freak, but once I saw he was genuinely invested… I mean honestly I was curious about it all.

So why? It was a sick joke between two corporate bigwigs that became real because neither saw an issue with it. We toyed with you like all reality celebrities are toyed with. And to be honest for most of you… you’re getting bodies back and will have full control, so there’s really only emotional damage.”

It was quick, clinical, and painless, at least on the Producer’s end. A clear lack of guilt in his words, in his tone, in his expression, save for a small glance towards Araceli before he closes his eyes and continues.

“I put Haruki into a coma when I tried to get him out of the picture… oh over a decade ago? Since then my mother made me replace his existence, as she could live without her second son existing, but her dear precious first born needed to live. Add some resentment, some wanting him dead, and now I have a chance to put him, or a version of him back so she’ll finally leave me alone. Like I said… he was just a bonus. If anything, the fact that research can at least potentially help other coma victims… is an even further bonus?

Despite the lack of chip in his brain initially, the combination of it, and some time has lead to his AI self being a one to one with how he was, and I never added any blanks in for him… it was just the system itself. The new issue is figuring out how to get my idiotic brother’s consciousness back to his physical body, but clearly I don’t have time for that anymore, so I’ll probably just shove him in a robot too, he’d probably prefer starting at 18 again instead of his atrophied body.”

As long as his brother was back so his mom could leave him alone, it was clear at this point that was all he cared about. Shallow, just like everything he claims.

“So, most people think this show was actually a performance by all of us, once you’re all in new bodies it will be like this never happened, and you can have as many chances at further life as you want until you’re done. Even us who never died, that chip can still be used down the road if wanted. Optional of course.”

Tapping the side of his head, the Producer continues.

“Orrrr you can stay in the servers. Love the whole virus idea, but you’d be just that. A global virus and I really don’t care to have several governments after me just because you want to hack Tesla’s. Soooo… those are the choices. Oh and to keep things from being all how do we know you didn’t add mass self destruction, I’ll work on Sunny first with him overseeing me. Then once Sunny’s back we’ll work on everyone else…

Until I get bored, then it’ll just be Sunny. He’s a fast learner he’ll probably figure things out, and if he really needs advice he can contact me. If anyone who is currently alive and wants a backup body since you also want a second life, you’ll have to let me know now. Otherwiseeee I can’t really do much, oopsie.

Feel free to pitch other ideas that don’t involve me dying though. Maybe I’ll consider them. Any cool special features you want your bodies to have like built-in roller blades.”

Thumbs up.

Araceli… doesn’t know how to possibly follow all of that up. There were bits and pieces she didn’t know and information being put into a different light. Whatever picture she had of Tsuki warped into a different form. She didn’t have enough fight left in her to scream or even get angry. It just hurt.

“Right. You may not need it depending on what HDQ is going to have to spare, but Sweethearts can and will provide you with money, legal services, or.. connections but I doubt many of you would want to be involved in the entertainment industry.” She hadn’t gotten approval from this but Araceli knew the names and faces of all those who attended the meetings. This was only part of what she was owed. “Public Relations will also be handled on our side. Even if you want to disappear from the public eye, that can be arranged.”

She looks down at her tablet, carefully sending a message and looking to make sure that none of the dead glitched out more than they already have been. She receives a message in turn. There’s relief on her face.

“The rescue will be here soon, with medical staff for those who need it… Wherever you want to go, they’ll take you. You should pack your belongings, if you still want them. They’ll take you when you’re ready to leave.”

The Producer takes a moment as his tablet beeps at him and nods to confirm Araceli’s words.

“Meanwhile I have work to do. Please give your last requests of what you want so I know where to focus my efforts. If you don’t make one, I’ll choose for you. Perhaps I’ll see you all again, though, probably not since none of you really want that, if you really want to… I don’t know. Add that onto the requests because I’m assuming no otherwise?? You guys really are all so mean, making Sunny have to do extra work.”

#mm #trial

Left Out | Sunny MM React

Stupid pretty Tsuki.

Stupid, pretty, evil Tsuki.

Stupid pretty, evil, fucking genius Tsuki.

Sunny hangs back as the others vent their frustrations, their hopes, their hearts. And he seethes.

Some fuckers just got to have it all, didn't they? The looks, the money, the fame, the smarts. It's no duh that Tsuki acts so horribly awfully rotten. He has it all so he's above it all.

The only thing that seems to matter to the Producer is the work-- and worst of all, there's no point to the work, is there? He's not doing it to improve anything. He's doing it to see if he can.

And there's something

wretchedly envious about that.

Sunny can't even decide what to be angry about.

'I bet you've had soooo many laughs, huh!'

'You mean we could have been talking shop this whole time?'

'You don't even care that you've made people miserable. It doesn't affect you at all, does it!'

When Sunny died, a small selfish part of him thought that he'd been freed. Freed from the obligations of his reliant friends, of his family, of all the people who needed him to do the things he did just because he was one of the few people who could.

And this guy.

This guy...

He wanted to be this guy so bad.

"When I figure out how all this works I'm going to kill him and put him in a tamagotchi."

Thanks Sunny. Very helpful.

#submission #mm #trial #sunny

Bye Bye! || Tsuki || MM.5

Though a childish reaction and vow of silence took place, at Araceli's prompting, he opens an eye and uncrosses his arms. That said, rather than respond to her request, he turns his attention back to Man.

"... I never did answer what will happen to me, in truth I do think there's a fairly solid chance I'll have to go somewhere. If you're willing to wait a bit, I'd appreciate it. If not? I think I don't really have room to take it personally here so don't feel obligated or anything."

What with Araceli bringing people here instead of just getting out of here the quiet way, he'd have to take responsibility for something or other he's sure.

"That said I know it's not my trip to invite you on, but Inigo and Alfs, why not take Manqian with you for a trip or two? I'm sure he'd like spending more time with you two again. Do whatever you want, of course, but I'm sure you three would have fun."

#submission #mm #haruki

we shall all be healed | odile | mm trial 4 | re: new beginnings

What was the purpose of Odile, the black swan?

In all of her stories, she has no defined existence of her own; a character meant solely to be Odette’s doppelganger, to take from her what mattered most for the sake of her father. Even when she wants something, it is always the love of another, something to validate herself among all the others. Rothbart takes her feathers and sharpens her into a tool. And to Siegfried, she could never be anything but that white swan’s shadow, an imitation of his real love. When she dies, it is unceremonious, all at once, or it is in sacrifice, her life for someone else’s happy story. The page has turned. The book has closed. There is no other way that this story goes.

It’s already been told, but this is not the end.

There’s nothing glamorous left about Inigo. Raw, plucked, pulled out every light from his stage. Failure doesn’t begin to describe all of what he fell short on, with more years of his life wasted than were ever warmly enjoyed. Enough time tied to the ground will convince any prisoner that they never looked at the sky anyways. Each old mark left on his skin was a point of pride, another piece of himself lost along the way. To have survived this, to have made it past that. To surmount, to challenge, to overcome, triumph after triumph on the mountaintop, not yet realizing the path was underground from the start. A younger Inigo would see themselves in pieces and throw their outstretched hand to the side, stomp on it. I would never become you, they would say, because I am better than that.

Now they have no work to be proud of and no body to call their own, after years and years of putting themselves into every inch of it, ego found in right angles and right words and right turns. For once out of material, out of ways to retaliate, to make some laughable spot out of all this darkness. All of the lovable bits about them stained with blood and regrets and debts left unpaid, as high as rising water and churned like there’s a beast underneath the waves. Encircling the present moment like a leviathan, a poison flower in a vast plain. Inherently, something wrong and rotten to them, something that caused them to turn out this way.

Even so, Inigo looks at himself and feels nothing but pride. Not in spite of, but because. Nothing Tsuki could do or say could touch them now. To think they’d been had by another sad megalomaniac, grasping at whatever they could do drag everything down, perhaps there’s some irritation about lessons thrice learned, but! They are dancing on a different stage. There’s no use in comparison between two people, one who follows their disgust, and one who has learned to let in love.

No more kingdoms left to fight. No more wars left to wage. Time will prove who the victor of Dish to the Death was. Inigo feels that push of Alfie’s hand in theirs and takes it, a squeeze to try and aid the ache. Soft smiles, no warmth to be felt in their death senses, but the illusion of it just from what can be remembered. Even if now, they faded away, everything will be alright.

He has nothing left about Tsuki or Araceli to say. Leftovers from old chapters. Rather, Inigo speaks, and says:

[♫♫♫]

“Hey, Alfie? Where do you wanna go first? Spain? Greece? Whatever place over there has Frankfurt? Come on, we gotta start planning early if we’re going to backpack the whole way.”

The swan without any feathers chooses to fly anyways. Up to where the next leg of their tale begins, to where the night sky has its stars shine and never fade. To, at last, take their own dance upon the lake.

#submission #mm #trial #bonbon

I'll Never Love Again, My World Is Empty | Emil MM-2 | RE: Yukari

Emil is quiet as other people explain what has happened, and Sion - Severin kept asking questions. They say nothing when Yukari shows her hand. When Tsuki reveals his true, dark, vile self.

Clearly, something broke in Emil these past few months. They aren't scared of their captors, the architects of their death and suffering. They aren't boiling with rage like they thought they would be either. Or at least it's not the writhing anger they keep under pressure out of fear of acting on it until its too late and they pop a lid, like they did with Fergus.

This is something different. It's a simmer, calm but controlled. There is no pity, no sadness, but they know they can't do anything to change anything. A resignation.

In a lull, they make direct eye contact with Yukari, staring at her until she stares back.

"Then n-none of this matters. You p-p-p-patch us up, we go home. Nothing we say or do from this point on can change you succeeding in what you set out f-for."

However they are feeling, it seems they are deep enough in thought that they are stumbling over their words less.

"But... let me just say from experience. From someone else with blood on their hands. It won't change anything. Any guilt you feel now will be felt for the rest of your l-life."

"It wo-won't go away. It will stay with you forever. And you will never be forgiven. B-by those left behind. Those who are feeling the d-d-d-damage of what you've done. They will resent you forever. When they think you can't hear, they will say how it should have been you instead. How you don't deserve whatever mercy fate has h-h-handed you."

"It will hang on your n-n-neck. It will be your first thought when you wake up. The last thing on your mind when you go to sleep. It will per-pervade every waking moment. Haunt your dreams."

"It will be the last thing on your mind as you die. As your consciousness fades. They will look down on you. You will beg for forgiveness as you take your last breath."

Their expression becomes more intense in that last moment.

"That will be the rest of your life too. The crushing guilt that will weigh you down forever. And you'll realize it's exactly what you deserve."

#submission #mm #reaction #emil

L'âme en peine // Fergus // MM.5

He finally has to look at her. There is only so long one can avoid staring at the sun, only so long one can deny themselves the glorious hurt and beautiful pain that comes from looking at something forbidden, the blinding spots obscuring the vision and robbing sight.

But before Fergus blinds himself on Yukari’s gaudy, brilliance, like a diamond refracting light, the matrix glitches just enough to show the wedding ring underneath. Even in the darkness the light glinting off of it enough for him to notice, far brighter than the fake pixel glow of the hologram.

His mouth feels dry.

“… I only have one question for ye, Yukari.”

#submission #mm #trial #fergus

Death By A Thousand Little Things || Masaji || MM

Masaji's death was fast. A couple of knocks to the head, and it might as well have been over in an instant. Even when he's sat down and tried to linger on it, his efforts have come up empty. He felt death, and felt it too quickly to remember much about it.

...

Right now, he thinks this is what it feels like to rot.

Or, to be more accurate, to finally be aware of how much of yourself has already decayed past recognition.

The paint; all discolored, and chipping, and flaking off in chunks. It exposes the weak, rotten wood underneath.

"Are you saying I, Angel Yukari Kamikita, would lie?"

Masaji first recognized her as "Angel Yukari Kamikita". Of course he would. He remembers the embarrassment he felt just trying to act like a normal person around her. Except, he wasn't a normal person. He was doing what he always did: guessing what would make her feel more comfortable, tailoring his presence around what he thought she wanted. And, he still fucked it up like he always does.

"If you shared even an ounce of kindness that you gave to others with yourself then you'd come off your stupid sad act and see there's something to love."

He really thought he'd made a friend, then. It'd been so long since he'd had so much as a friend...

But, what a stupid, sad act he's been.

The wallpaper has yellowed so much, and gained such a thick layer of grime that the pattern can't even be made it out. It peels, and curls off the walls, shrinking the space of the rooms.

"Mana sorta talks about ya like you’re her best friend, so…

He never wanted to just say 'I'm only talking to you because you're the closest connection I have to my daughter.' Because, that was never all it was. At least, that's what Masaji has convinced himself. Maybe there was a selfishness in his actions. Though, what guy wouldn't want to get to know his daughter's best friend?

"Is it because me not offering something doesn't let you feel useful?

I understand you have a surface level concern for me but given everything I don't really want it"

denial denial denial denial denial denial denial

"Mana would not like that man."

"His ex-wife is just a piece of shit and he's passive with her toxic habits so I don't have faith in his taste is all."

...

Ah... now he sees it.

Masaji had spent the last two years trying to do better. Saying he'll do better than he had been, that he'll finally make a change for himself for the better.

Ten years later.

And not a single damn thing about him has changed.

He's the same coward who couldn't be honest with the woman he married. The same fool who made excuse after excuse for every crumb of false affection he was given. Time and time again, he slaps on a fresh coat of paint, and rearranges himself to fit whatever someone needs him to be-- what he wants them to need him to be.

He can repaint all he wants, dust the rafters, scrub the tile, and patch himself together with spackle and plaster and nails again and again and again and again.

But the foundation has been crumbling underneath him for years.

And he's finally too weak to hold it all together any longer.

Masaji stops himself from looking to anyone else for answers. He doesn't think he needs them, really.

Masaji stops listening to all the chatter around him. He knows he'll be ushered along at any vital occurrences.

Masaji stops thinking about what anyone needs anymore. He hasn't had much success, anyway.

Masaji stops...

#submission #mm #masaji

being in love is the same thing as being alone || mm.4 || yukari

Yukari was slightly caught off guard by how quickly Tsuki folded. Granted Fergus did present a very solid and pointed view of the Producer. Maybe if she had been quicker or even just had more fight in her, she could’ve kept distracting them until she had confirmation that the rescue was here.

But she wasn’t. And she didn’t.

If anything Araceli was... well she didn't know either. Too much information, too many different volatile emotions. And she was still stuck in an idol outfit.

"...you continuing your work would've still hurt people. Getting Severin to the island was necessary otherwise he'd just... do this all over again or worse. You know how he loves dramatic things."

Here were the points she couldn't talk to him about but knew she would have to eventually. She hadn't planned on Basile being attacked or Tsuki revealing himself. Had she known about Severin going above and beyond to parade them around simply for revealing their work titles she would've... God what could she have even done. Maybe it’s a trick of the light or the instability of the set itself, but Araceli can’t hide behind the forced smile and serenity much longer, so it’s easier to see where the hologram loses focus and her eyes are tired of being weighed down by their guilt, shame, regret, burden, whatever word she could think of that could fit everything inside.

"Oh my god... this little brat..."

It was her first impression of him. Ever since the meetings or rather... Ever since he first came into her room and took over her space. Yukari did what she could to make Haruki comfortable. And eventually Araceli could tell Tsuki she cared without any angle or lie to it being worked. He must've already heard how she stopped updating or keeping in contact with Severin. Did he overhear when she told Fergus to watch out? Or when she shared more details than she should with Jun'ya? Did Skull tell him how she would pivot conversation topics away from those people she got along with and onto whatever else may keep her interest? Maybe he at least knew of every warning she received that wasn't shoved on a document. Getting too close and letting people have too much of you. Wasn't she supposed to be the cold and bitter manipulator who could lie her way in and out of trouble?

She can't help it or hold back anymore as she has no more strength to act perched on the pedestal made for her. So her eyes go to where they would naturally. To the faces of the people she loved as much as she betrayed. To the few she held and reassured. To the person she spilled her worst thoughts to and sought out at her lowest point of desperation. To the person she could never call a friend but who understood her better than she could herself.

And then to Fergus.

Fergus who burned like the sun as he whispered sweet things that she believed in knowing it would only ever be for a limited time. Fergus who saw past the dazzle of Yukari and wanted to see more of her that lurked behind shadows. Fergus who made it easier to breathe and sleep.

A trick of the light. A fault in the visuals. A glitch. Whatever it was, it quickly continued on different spots. A blink and you'll miss it for some cases. Around her hands the pixels shift to reveal that under the mess of holograms and tricks assisted by the VR technology she still only partially understood, she wore her ring.

"...We'll answer what we can. With the time that we have left. About everything here, we owe you more than that but it's what we can start with. I..." Don't get choked up. You can't cry in front of him now. She clears her throat. "I was only privy to certain details but what I can offer its... its yours."

They want answers and she knows both her and Tsuki can provide that. She turns her attention to Tsuki.

"It's not just Fergus... There has to be something you and Severin haven't told me so... If not for everyone else, then can you at least share more with me now? I think I've earned at least that much."

#submission #mm #trial #yukari

you don't have to make a sound || Riley || MM.4 || RE: all this

Riley's been quiet. Briefly. It's a glorious several minutes of absolutely nothing. Perhaps he's stunned that Haruki, Tsuki, whoever, actually had the drive to do something like this. Maybe it's just because Riley would have never seen it coming. Maybe he's ruminating on what this means for him.

But, alas, all good things must come to an end, so he proceeds to undo any introspection he may have accomplished in favor of running his mouth.

"Complex motives ass--" he huffs. "Well, since it's APPARENTLY my calling on high to shepherd your leftovers," he means the living, "I'll be pleased as fuckin' punch to speculate on the sequence of events that lead us to this point."

Get ready for Headcanons with Riley.

"So Whats-His-Nuts's clearly got more fuckin' paper than he knows what to do with. Maybe he hedge-funded it." Riley does not know what a hedge fund is. "Maybe he played Danganronpa at a formative age or some shit. Really kinned Junko."

In a show of arrogance, he crosses his arms, grin smug as ever.

"Flash forward to however many years. He's got, I dunno, who was that person in the dick pod again? I missed that. Anyway, he figures he's got Comas Georg as a test subject, and maybe he can merge his two interests. Killing people and unethical science."

Riley uncrosses his arms, just enough to wave a hand, having already accepted his own insane bullshit as fact.

"So, how'd I do?" he does not wait for an answer. "You got up to a lotta fucked up shit here, huh! You galaxy brained a killing game, you lied to people! You used 'em! You refuse to explain yourself! Probably a Geneva code violation somewhere in the mix if you squint! But I think..."

Oh god, he's leaning forward on the table again, having tucked his legs under.

"... Your biggest crime of all, is makin' me defend Danganronpa. At least Junko had some fucking CHARISMA. If I can say anything to your credit, it's that hirin' Yukari was probably the one smart thing you did here."

He leans back, forearms bouncing into an apathetic shrug. He's already dead; may as well go for broke.

"But hey, broken clocks, right?"

#submission #mm #trial #riley

Go Away 5head || Producer || MM.4 || RE: Man, Jun'ya, Fergus

What was to come of him?

It was a fair question from someone who apparently cared about his after.

"Well... I'm not entirely sure to be honest...? It's not like I wanted some flashy reveal, or one at all. I was content with ending this quietly once I was done my work. They just wanted to speed up the process."

Musing his options, the Producer gives Manqian a somewhat apologetic shrug, and a small side eye to Araceli and Basile.

"...Regardless if I had to guess it would be finishing things up like Jun'ya said and-- hoooooly shit do you mind? You're so lucky that you're chip is messed up or I'd put you on mute right now.

Did you notice several other people already asked what now? Do you think I'm more inclined to answer when you speak? I've just decided that right now I'm not answering anymore questions about the future state of things.

Everyone go thank Fergus for fucking things up."

#submission #mm #haruki

Hypothermia // Fergus // MM.4 // Reaction to the Producer

Fergus already knows who will be the next to speak up, even before The Producer reveals himself. His gaze had locked squarely on Tsuki as soon as he’d finally looked up from his feet, and had stayed on him the entire duration of his wade into the limelight; Fergus might not be clever, or educated, or wise, but he certainly isn’t fucking stupid.

All that greets the Producer is a mirthless, clenched teeth grimace.

“I always knew there was somethin’ wrong with ye. Ever since Yukari told me to watch out for ye, that there’s more to ye than meets the eye… I knew somethin’ had to be wrong, and the fuckin’ bills and how cagey ye were about them made me all the more suspicious. Didn’t take ye too long to shed the fuckin’ nightmarish dreamy movie star mask, thank fuck for that, at least. Realised ye can’t get everythin’ ye want with a pretty face, now did ye… ”

Yukari had always been deceptive, yes. But the reason Fergus fell in love with her is because he had seen past the twinkling, far too perfect display, and realised that beneath it was someone entirely else. Someone he could trust. With Tsuki, the more he had scraped off the surface, the clearer it became that beneath the false glass diamond was something rotten and fetid and wrong, something that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. It was an instinct to never trust Tsuki.

And now, being proven right, Fergus is glad of every little slight, every wrench he’d thrown at the man and his plans. He’s glad over the drinks he mistakenly threw on him, of all the mean-spirited, cruel things he said, of the way he pushed him away when he tried to befriend him, of the ruined execution.

He’s glad to have been a thorn in Tsuki Kitamura’s flesh.

“So, what the fuck now? Ye just let us go and expect that we’ll be thankful for it? Fuck, ye really expect us to do that?! Just fuckin’ – bow out like ye’ve done us some fuckin’ service? Ye fuckin’ designed this god damn thing! All I want – is for this place to be demolished!”

Even if he’s not sure of anything else anymore, Fergus knows he wants this island burnt to the ground. Razed so that it will only ever remain as a nightmare, to be returned to when he wakes up in the middle of the night slick with sweat and his heart threatening to tear itself free of his chest. He wants the island utterly, completely destroyed, and all of the research gone with it; he doesn’t want their suffering to pay the bills of some bastard’s mansion, or even to be the joy of someone ailing and suffering.

He wants nothing to remain of their personal hell.

Because that’s the only way Fergus will never return to the good memories he has of this place, the only way to deny them.

the ring around the finger, curled up on the bed holding each other, kissing sweetly, playing at the beach, repairing an engine, riding a horse, cooking together

To cleanse himself of the humiliation and pain is to destroy them as well, the good gone with the bad, a clean slate to start off of. He’s never been given the courtesy of starting truly anew, something always dragging him down, and now he decides he finally, finally, deserves the closure for his suffering.

His anger no longer burns hot. But it has been replaced with the inevitable roil of a glacier; with spite and ice cold despair.

The worst thing for a man like Fergus is to be proven right; to be shown that all he feels is justified.

#submission #mm #reaction #fergus #trial

The Tenth Twilight | Jun'ya | MM.4

It’s a shame that Yukari wouldn’t even look him in the eye for their second performance in opposition to each other. Jun’ya really had enjoyed working with her - if only there had been a more formal chance to do so. Tactfully, he thinks better than to express any appreciation for the sentiment out loud. A wasted opportunity, but one that would have been cut off too soon regardless. Disregard the wine nights, the wedding plans he’d been privy to, and the worst thoughts they’d shared about the others on the island. They’d never been completely honest with each other. Why would they start now?

There are other matters to attend to. Two names added value to the project. It’s only natural that a second showy entrance follows the first. Wasted on an audience of sixteen, and on two people who couldn’t care less about the flashiness of the whole affair. Severin really was an idiot if he couldn’t see any of that coming. Getting tased served him right for that alone. At least Tsuki suggests they keep things cordial - surely with the understanding it wasn’t going to happen, having met these people. Too much sentimentality in the room to allow for that.

But really. Not even a little monologuing about what he’d actually set out to accomplish?

Well. So be it. Show’s already over. It’d be wasted on an audience this small even if he was actually interested in having one. There’s a weariness that comes with hearing that the Producer might have interfered with his actions, too. Araceli The Director had certainly tried. What terrible villains they both were, getting attached to the subjects of this little experiment. Would they have played favourites with livestock raised for slaughter, too?

He supposes he can’t complain too much if they’re planning to let everyone go now that it’s over, though. So maybe it’ll be in a different body. As long as they got all the visual details right, that’s what mattered most. Appearances were everything. Recovering from what only materially amounted to a second near death experience shouldn’t be too difficult. So, keep it cordial. Jun’ya can do that. He’s done so for clients that were bigger headaches than an aspiring mad neuroscientist. At least this one didn’t seem to have much desire to keep them any longer than was necessary.

“If you have your results, then all that’s left is to wrap this whole affair up, hm? It’d be a terrible shame to leave any business unfinished after everything you’ve put us through to get them. I do hope you're completely satisfied with what you've gleaned from this. Seems a bit of a wasted endeavour otherwise."

Half-assed half-measures could render just about anything ultimately pointless. So even if the show was over, well past its closing time, why drop the pleasantries while they're still on set? He's got at least one more well-practiced smile in him left to give. May as well.

“Still. In the end, I must say... it’s been quite a pleasure working with you all.”

And it sounds like he might even mean that.

#submission #mm #junya

I hope that I make it home by Wednesday || manqian || trial 6.3 || re: erm...2!

"...Of course I think lowly of myself... this isn't new. My boyfriend's dead, my sister's in a coma, two of my best friends here also died and the remaining one was one of the people responsible for putting me here. And I have no reason to think that this isn't life toying with me.

It's all too fitting for my existence... hahaha... hahahahaha..."

It all made too much sense. Why would Manqian die here now? Why, if he could just live through it all and experience loss much worse than dying?

He shouldn't have been afraid of dying this whole time. He should've saw all this coming instead. Stupid, stupid, stupid...

But still, Manqian was aware all of what the Producer did. He was aware of the override, and he was aware of everything he did for Manqian-- things he didn't have to do, but did so anyway. Did so when no one was watching. Did so in private. Things only Man would know he's done.

He just wanted to hear it from him. Confirmation.

And did he get it?

Well... it feels like he didn't get much of anything. Perhaps a handful of puzzle pieces that Manqian would have to put together himself, but there was no time for that. His brain wasn't in a good space to do that.

But the fact that he was given anything at all in the first place, instead of a simple 'no'...

...

Well, of course he'd take it as a yes. He had always been that desperate. To see the world the way he wanted to.

"...You remembered her name..."

So he'll run with that indirect 'yes'. He'll keep running until the Producer regrets it someday.

"It's not infatuation! In fact, you aren't even my type! I've only been with taller, older guys with lots of scruff on their face!"

The way he goes red this time is more comical than mournful this time.

"But I-- I looked past that because you understood me! You lent me your support when you didn't have to... You cared about me to this extent... to try and override my execution, then check on me after... you got angry at me then because you cared, right...? I knew... I was aware about all of this, but... Could you blame me for just... wanting to hear that from you directly? That if you hid this from me, that... you could've been lying about everything else?"

Maybe it was true. Maybe Manqian still didn't know enough about the Producer. But it didn't mean he wasn't allowed to want to know more. He tried to get to know him more, but was it so wrong to become fond of someone regardless of how much you knew?

"You-- you said we'd figure things out together... T-that you weren't going anywhere! You said you wanted to get out of here with me too! What did it all mean then? What...

What's going to happen to you? Will... will that still be able to happen?"

To reunite with Baozhai... That's all he ever wanted on this bitch of an earth.

'Will I be able to hear you laugh again after all this?'

But hearing that made Manqian feel like a dog being dropped off to another home, confused, clueless that his original owner will never come back for him.

#submission #mm #ch5 #manqian

Whales Swim in The Starry Sky || Producer || MM.3 || RE: erm.

Shouting, anger, threats to kill him- in truth that's what he had expected from Alfie.

Instead he got the hatred and anger he expected from Alfie in Giselle.

And Giselle's tears which he expected he got from-

"... Of course... before I answer, my offer to you both is always still on the table. Regardless of what I say, there's no hard feelings on my end regardless of the choice you make."

As if he still had room to act like the offer changed much. The offer that made sense to him when he had heard it and used as well. After all he knew their reactions never would be good, not when he's reasonings were so...

"I should start with asking Araceli for anything is a bit of a lost cause... she was just a hire because I was too stubborn to care about assisting on the reality tv side of things..."

As for his reasons, the Producer found himself glazing over that aspect of the question.

"... I can't be sure if we were really friends... By agreement we were... but ah... I mean you were rather cruel to me weren't you? Agreeing to be my first friend, then prioritizing the one you were infatuated with despite my concerns, and then I comforted you after everything and you pushed me away when I almost died-- I really thought I almost did too you know... there was no real protections made for me until after that. I was just doing my job trying to stop someone from discovering too much and he used the chance to mess with me…

I did still enjoy my time around you despite those things though."

Giving a sigh, the Producer leans back and moves through his tablet. Not truly working on anything, instead just idly reviewing data, reviewing stability levels, making a few temporary adjustments on second nature.

"...For what it's worth, which isn't much however... I was honest when I said I would like for us three to get out. If I had control over those who killed I would have done something I feel… If that’s friendship, then maybe we were friends…"

But he didn't and Alfie was still dead. Technically, he had the power to stop things just before that. But he had told Araceli to not kill, and he had assumed she would understand that he was the one person never allowed to leave the island early. Still she was too optimistic, and still cowered out.

And then there was the other one vying for his attention. After being told forget it, it would be so easy, so simple to just comply with the request.

“... Manqian you think to lowly of yourself if you're seeing me now, aware I attempted to override the execution by any means possible and I don't want you alive… though perhaps that was selfish of me."

Eyes remaining trained on his tablet, he continues his idle work.

"Our last conversation was selfish too, after all I knew something would have to give eventually after Fergus’ little stunt, so I apologize for both of those things. I knew it would be unfair, yet I still acted as I did.

Still... you don't really know much about me anyways since you're asking those questions. Just infatuated with me because I was nice... so...”

Had he not bubbled up with laughter, he likely would have been more sound in his response, but he had found himself caught up without a weight on his shoulder for a moment, a moment too long.

Perhaps he had expected a bit more time before he had to deal with the consequences. Even though there were consequences he expected to reach him no matter what.

There was a question he should answer really.

“... The research I’ve gathered should potentially assist your sister… Baozhai was it? If nothing else… you should be able to properly reunite with her. While not an intended part of this, it seems you all want something good to come out of it all.

So there... Consider it payment for letting me laugh... it was nice."

He really should answer that question more directly.

#submission #mm #trial #haruki

Shared Sentiment | Liêm | Trial 6.1 | MM + Producer React

The sight of Yukari in such resplendent regalia was, in the kindest way Liêm could put it, utterly sickening. The sight of Tsuki, regal and aloof, even more so. He didn't want to see either of them dressed so lovely, so refined, not when everything they'd done was utterly foul. Brown eyes snapped closed to steady himself.

Both of you had the gall to act so betrayed, all those eternities ago. He'd been a fool to care at all.

You, in particular, told him you hoped death was kinder to him than life was. He'd suspected, then, the extent of her duplicity. The movement of her hand in all these affairs. But knowing now didn't ease the sting or lessen the ache. Especially now when he sees those words hadn't been for his sake. They'd just been for your comfort. A way to alleviate your own burden of guilt, wash your hands in brine and try to ignore the glassen, hollow eyes staring back at you from the corpses at the bottom of the pool.

Death wasn't kinder, he wanted to lash out. This was no mercy you've granted, and how dare you even try to feign otherwise. You took everything from him - his life, his dignity, his agency, his humanity. Every bit of him he bore with pride, stripped clean to the bone, the remains tossed overboard. Denied the privilege to reunite with his brother in life, barred from returning to him in death, if, indeed, that's where he ended up - he's stuck in between, baited on a hook, gasping for breath, stuck in a stasis between life and death, and it occurs to him, then, that wherever he might find his brother, Liêm couldn't even greet him as himself.

Whatever abomination you made of him, he wasn't Liêm in flesh and blood. When Liêm saw his brother again, if such wishes could be granted, he'd be only an afterimage. An afterthought.

He couldn't even cry. Something glitched in his system and distorted the image. Brief flashes of a bleak, sobbing form, glaring murder, radiating anger, wallowing in despair were mere ghost sightings - momentary hauntings, gone in the blink of an eye, replaced by Liêm's gentle, smiling visage. Because what else could he be allowed to do but whatever they pleased? What other parts of him had been carved from his chest, scraped off his ribs? What else could you take? What else could you justify to yourself by convincing yourself that somehow, someway, death was the best alternative for him?

He doesn't speak, won't speak because he can't trust himself. But deep brown eyes, almost black, flick open, and there's a million things to say, as Inigo had said, but not one breaches the surface. He's tight-lipped as a clam. What good will his words have, regardless? Who will listen? Who wanted to listen? His words hold no weight, buoyed to insignificance. Swaddled in an isolation by his own design, he's aware he had no right to complain now. No choice but to sink farther. Drown again. All the way to the trenches where there's a primal sort of darkness that he feared to touch, and it was slipping through the cracks. And it whispers. And it calls in something not unlike a siren song.

It all pitches and keels, battering the sides, and he feels himself breaking apart - but he doesn't move an inch. He stands, still, firm, there's no change in him.

The light won't reach this deep. Forgiveness won't reach this deep. Humanity can't reach this deep.

He says nothing. He draws no attention. This isn't his moment. And he didn't want to speak when he'd receive no meaningful response.

But he hopes they both die.

The two of them and every last one responsible. It's a childish thought, like a tantrum. He wants everybody to shut up, it's all loud. It's all too much. Particularly, those wishing to salvage the lives of those present needed to pound sand to glass.

He's never wished something so vile. It suited his brother more. Bian wore cruelty like a faded sweater, well-worn and loved; it was always so small on someone like Liêm. Suffocating and stifling. but it's an urge he can't suppress. He hopes they rot until there's nothing, just the same as he had been. The same as he was now.

Apologies mean nothing. Excuses were nothing.

Because there's nothing anyone can do to fix this.

It's not so bad a wish, he thinks, staring through the producer and the director. As though staring at something behind them; the people he'd thought they been. The sort of people he'd been so ashamed to hurt and disappoint. Such bullshit.

It should have been you, both of you, before any of them.

It's not so cruel a thought, he figures, imagining all the ways they should be brought to suffer before snuffing out the breath in their lungs as he waited for an explanation that wouldn't make any of this right or okay.

Who knows? It might be a mercy.

Maybe death would be kinder to them than life had been.

#submission #reaction #trial #liem

All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream || manqian || trial 6.2 || re: Erm

'Ah, that matters not no more, as we are in the present now. Not everyone is a good person, after all.' Manqian felt like he had every right and reason to think that way. There was no such thing as a truly good person, there was no way. Not when life was so cruel. Not when life loved to play pranks no one liked, and told jokes no one thought was funny. He’s not sure if he remembers--

Sͯ́̓҉̞̙̝͞͠h̶̟̼͉̆͛̋͜͠ṵ̸͚̝ͧͩ̾̕͟ä̓́̚͠҉͓̲̻į͙͍̲̈́͐̀̚͠ǵ̽͒͢͏̴̲̯̖ęͯ̈̃҉̷̼͍̭’̈̏̇͏̧̗̣͝ͅs̸͍̥̼͒͂̽͜͡ S̵̞̞ͣ̂͘t̴̝͕̄͂͜a̫̼͛̔̀́r̶̛͎̟̊̆ų̶͕̹̈́͋'̳̼̌̿͢͝s̷̩͎̾ͪ̀ Ḧ́͟a̶̍r̵ͨuͮ̕'̂͘ṡ҉ H͡a͝r̛u͘k͢i͢'͡ś K̕i͠ţa͜m͘u͜r͞á-͞s̡h̀i͡'҉s͜--

--the Producer’s reaction to what he said that time. He wasn’t sure if he even reacted at all to it. After all, the Producer’s expressions had gotten more mild whenever they were alone, though, Manqian never seemed to pay it much mind or attention. He just knew… it was him. That's just how the Producer acted. No camera in sight to act cute towards. Neither of them had to act anymore. Neither of them had to act distant when no one was watching. How many masks can a person wear at once? It couldn’t be more than one, could it? Inigo, Yukari, and himself... the Producer had dropped an act too at some point.

Did he drop one again? Or did he pick one up again? Which answer did Manqian like best?

He didn't know. As much as he wants to shy away, he can’t take his eyes off of what unfolds before him. How could he? As the fish pass by, he could only think of the time he made an exception in his own reality so suddenly; his rule to hide away his scars, until someone insisted he fight against his "curse" more insistently, who helped make him feel comfortable in his own skin again enough to allow the sun kiss over every mark of death he had.

To hide's one skin was to hide one's true self in fear. How was that fear so easily dissolved in his own desire to show a dear friend what a harmless moon jellyfish looked like?

Manqian knows he had it coming. With a curse like his, it made sense. And outside of the curse, he knew this result still made the most sense within its context, but no matter how many times he thinks to himself,

ah, figures,

ah, should've seen that one coming,

that previous feeling of resignation wasn't there to blanket him with some piss-poor makeshift replacement for hope. Or any feeling that can override whatever's bubbling up inside him right now, really.

"You... you won't even explain yourself right away. That's unfair... I... Why..."

His chest starts to burn-- it has been burning-- as he hunches over to hide his face, but it's clear as day to see droplets fall from where his face is. For once, he considered his survival from death as good luck, that the four-leafed clover that was given to him the moment prior worked. That the person who gave it to him was his good luck charm, and one he wanted to bring home and keep.

'We can probably figure something out if it is true...'

'--even if you are cursed I'm not going anywhere, 'kay?'

He trusted him then... he still wanted to trust him now.

The reason he stopped his trap was because he decided to trust him...

"S-so what? So is this just... is this just you?"

It didn't look like him.

'I... um... I have feelings for you... ............. ...like, the big L word...'

Every few seconds, the Producer looked like someone unfamiliar.

'Ah… right… the big L word… Laryngitis.'

'Mhmm... Laryngi-- WAIT NO!!!!'

"W-was Tsuki also just an act and you... you just... saw everyone as below you this whole time...? Was that you just another name and personality you could drop?"

He remembers what he said about being his brother's replacement.

'Gaaahhh I can't believe I accidentally friendzoned you--!!'

'...Maybe I should change my mind as revenge...'

Was that relevant? Was this his mom's fault? Was Manqian just coping pathetically for reaching this far?

'W-w-wait!! No!!! No takesie-backsies!!'

'Fond could mean friendship... you don't know.'

"Were you just toying me the entire time, like you said you were doing to me in the beginning? Was that never water under the bridge after all?

Was learning about what my family did to me amusing too? Did you actually want me to live? Do you actually not want me to be a robot? Did you..."

He remembers waking up in the Producer's bed after his panic attack had him collapse on the floor.

In the end, Manqian never really cared if this Producer dude was good or bad. Ray wasn't a great person either.

But he loved Manqian. And Manqian loved him back for it.

He'll love anyone, so long as...

"...Did you ever actually care about me?"

Just as desperate as he was when Inigo died, he always only and truly cared whether people loved him or not. It was something he had to find himself, for it wasn't something he was born with. It didn't matter if the people who loved him were cruel, terrible, horrible people.

It just felt nice to feel like he belonged somewhere. That he had people who cared about him to come home to...

Home... oh, how he'd like to be home.

To go home to his cat, the both of them finding out he got fired again together, and to fall asleep with Full House or some shit playing on Netflix.

If he couldn't have anyone... he would just want to be home.

Manqian remembers, even being punched by him made him so, so happy. And even after all this time...

He just wondered if he'd be able to hear his laugh again after this...

"What... what's going to happen to you? I... ugh..."

"I... forget it. It p-probably doesn't matter right now, anyway... I-I wanna know what the whole point of this is... I don't want to go home without knowing why I--or we-- were sacrificed and toyed with in the first place... so..."

"Why? What was the true point of the show and this research? Why pitch the idea of killing people on live TV? What were you even expecting from it? What does it all mean?

What were you two trying to achieve?"

He wants to know the answers to these of course, but he known he wants to know the answers to his personal ones the most.

He's ready to hear the words 'no'.

And he's just about ready to wish he'd died earlier.

Being a robot without the fear of a tormenting curse sounded like a dream as sweet as candy...

Did this strange Producer guy still care to figure out his curse with him?

Or was he content being a part of it?

#submission #mm #ch5 #trial #manqian

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