#A CONSTANT REMINDER OF THEIR TRAUMA

[mingot-studios]

Am I the only who gets kinda triggered when Ginny, Bonney, and Kuma get portrayed as a happy loving family?

Not that I don't WANT them to be happy, but the problem I have is that it completely ignores the fact that Bonney is a RAPE BABY.

It reduces Ginny to just being a mother to Bonney, and wife to Kuma. WHile ignoring the fact that Bonney was FORCED UPON HER AGAINST HER WILL. No one wants to address the trauma that would have on Ginny because they don't want to acknowledge the grim reality of the situation in favor of they so-called "nothing-bad-happens-au". (Which is ironic, considering that Ginny HAS to be captured and RAPED in order for Bonney to exist at all)

RAPE IS NOT SOMETHING TO BE BRUSHED UNDER THE FUCKING RUG. IF YOU DO ANY AU WHERE GINNY SURVIVES YOU BETTER FUCKING ADDRESS, YOU SICK FUCKS!!

[kaisollisto]

(Based off of the reality of having a metal ring in your back as a constant reminder of your fate and how that affects you as a person set in the Switzerland arc)

“Does it hurt?” 

Ava’s pressed face down into the pillow sleep curling around her limbs. She hums, she can’t remember what she says, she’s exhausted. Her arms are tangled beneath her pillow. She holds her fingers tightly between each other, her bones ache from the pressure but her hands no longer shake. Ava hasn’t experienced this before, a fear that haunts her at night. (She finds she cannot stop dreaming about dying. It’s stifling in the cover of night trying to figure out where she is.) 

She slowly opens her eyes and squints in the darkness. Beatrice is facing her a furrow in her brow that Ava knows she’s doing unconsciously. Ava’s lip quirks a smidgen, Beatrice looks funny. It’s a bit silly to her, Beatrice no doubt working out a solution to an unknown problem that Ava has yet to see in the middle of the night. In her sleepy state she wants to laugh at the imaginary cogs churning in Beatrice’s head. 

Beatrice scooches closer and Ava panics, her skin can taste the dust of Bea’s forearm. She hoists herself up on her elbows, turning to face Beatrice. “Wha?” Ava’s shaking off bits of sleep from her mouth when Beatrice repeats herself. 

“Does the Halo hurt?” 

She doesn’t know if she wants to answer that. Ava peers over Beatrice squinting at the harsh light of the digital clock on Beatrice’s side. Ava loves it, it reminds her of the early 2000’s and the aesthetic of waking up to an alarm to go somewhere. The clock blinks an innocent 1:43 Am, and Ava debates on letting her head thump back down. 

She turns her body on her side, she can feel the halo shifting in her back and it makes her want to throw up. The sides of the halo press against her shoulder blades and Ava resists the urge to yank it out. She grits her teeth and settles ignoring the skin of her back pulling tight to accommodate for the ring. Beatrice is still expecting an answer and Ava can’t lie to her, she pulls the covers of the sheet up to her chest hoping to bide more time for an answer. 

"Everything hurts Bea," Ava smiles, "getting my ass handed to me is hard work."

Beatrice frowns displeased but looks at her through her lashes, it's unguarded, the stress and worries of the world stay out of their room in the dead of night. Her lashes are so pretty and Ava wants to curse the soft glow of the moon. There’s just enough moonlight to illuminate her eyes but overshadow her freckles. Ava swallows down the taste of defeat, she can’t win, she thinks. 

Her gaze is soft, Beatrice is looking at her and it’s different yet the same. The same feeling in her chest constricting her lungs, the same soft gaze of Beatrice. Beatrice who likes what she sees in Ava when Ava can barely see where she begins. She doesn’t like to dwell on it, the truth of the matter being what belongs to Ava.

If she closes her eyes she can pretend just a little longer. She can give herself the hope of the future and what comes after all this. She can put down the fighting and the artifact and live. Ava doesn't want to think about it anymore, at least not tonight when Beatrice is here with her. 

Beatrice is soft. She knows it from hours and hours of training. She's felt it when Beatrice corrects her form, in the way she talks. She speaks from a place of care like she has turned the harsh words in her brain over and over to soften the syllables spoken to Ava. And Ava doesn't linger on it, the meaning behind it, (Ava didn't think she'd make it this far, finding a person who cares quite like Bea does.)

And Ava's got it bad, she knows she's fucked because Beatrice doesn’t say anything about her language and Ava can't not tell her the truth. She looks down, her hand fiddling with the bed sheet underneath them. 

"It doesn't hurt," if she thinks about it she can feel the fibers of the cotton between the pads of her fingers. "But it's very uncomfortable." She doesn't want to find the response in Beatrice's eyes, content to hear it from her voice. The soft British lilting accent that holds her just as soft as a touch. 

She waits, she can picture Bea’s mannerisms with her eyes closed but maybe she should check just to be sure. Ava peers up at Beatrice and she’s suddenly closer. Her eyes really are pretty, there’s a depth to them that Ava wants to spend an ungodly amount of time studying.

“Can I help?”

[just-some-brainrot]

four: what if we had reverse thunderstorms

legend:

four: instead of bright lights and rumbling, there’s random flashes of total darkness during the day followed by loud, high-pitch screeches

legend:

four:

legend:

four:

legend: hey four

four: yeah?

legend: what the actual fuck

[bookishjules]

ahaha percy getting turned to gold before annabeth's eyes, being fit into the form a god chose, very much in the same way thalia got turned into a tree ahahah man this girl cannot catch a break :D

[bao-dur]

where do i go and who do i pay to make a mod for wyll where he's more tiefling-like: tail, fangs, nails, pointy ears and all? serious inquiries only!!!

[tittyinfinity]

I overshare online because I need constant validation that every thought and action of mine is Good and Okay and Normal. Surely this is a healthy coping mechanism

[sapphire-weapon]

probably the most interesting observation about RE fandom since the release of RE4make is that RE4make brought in a shitload of new fans, and yet it created absolutely zero new leon/ada fans.

this isn’t even a case of “fandom only cares about m/m” either, because i’ve seen a dramatic uptick in support for leon/ashley. it’s just that the only people that i’ve seen making leon/ada content have already been doing it for years.

it’s just fascinating to me because for like 20 years, leon/ada was THE SHIP in RE fandom, outclassing even chris/jill, and it seems to have fallen out of favor ever since capcom starting releasing the new remakes.

you know, the remakes that are determined to write the characters as though they were actual people and not ridiculous caricatures.

funny how the ship just falls apart when you do that. which is what i’ve said for actual literal years, but, much like RE2 leon, no one ever listens to me.

[gothsuguru]

i love muting people on twitter some of you bitches are very dumb

[cassandralexxx]

the world is in a disastrous state of affairs when people are supporting a school shooter over the community bc “forgiveness is free” and “are people not allowed to change”

[radgeorgie]

just mourning the comfort I was never allowed & fearing for the future without the right tools I should've learned in childhood. figuring out that both of my parents were horrendous & brought me into a world that I never asked to be in. wondering how to grapple with the idea that I've never been more alone in life, despite crying over isolation and loneliness since I could write. wondering what the purpose is if the journey is enough to splinter this soul so drastically.

[amethystsoda]

Sometimes if you’ve grown up in a traumatic or emotionally abusive household (or are still in one), you’re just gonna feel like you’re bothering people or inconveniencing them bc of how your brain has been hardwired for years.

Reminder: most people are NOT like that and genuinely do like hearing from you.

Do you get bursts of happiness from getting messages from friends?? Chances are they feel the same way about you too 💖💖

[goldkirk]

Insím mo scéal. Buailim.

[cptsd-thin]

It's crazy how your mind & body will work against the sleeping meds you've taken when you're in a hyperpanic state of thinking!

I just want sleep to feel safe!

[wovenstarlight]

Hello! I'm thinking about your cached AU again and I was wondering, what is Yoojin's relationship with Song Taewon with like? Because their relationship in canon (at least up to where I've read) is heavily influenced by the fact that Yoojin is an F rank who holds power over S Ranks, making him both a threat and someone to protect. Does Taewon just go red alert whenever Yoojin around now? Does Yoojin keep trying to be friends with him? Does Taewon find that terrifying?

HAHAHAHAHHA. OH BOY. THIS SURE IS A QUESTION THAT HAS AN ANSWER. a very long answer so i'm putting it under a cut. thanks for waiting and im sorry if its incoherent its like 6ish local time. or maybe not im not very concerned wth reading clocks rn

(on ao3)

——

Be careful.

Taewon had wondered, when he received that message from Sung Hyunjae, if it was some sort of joke. A sly way of telling him he’d made trouble somewhere and he’d better prepare for the incoming paperwork, perhaps. The fact that it had been encoded suggested some degree of seriousness to it, but it was vague enough that he’d dismissed it and gotten ready for this long-delayed meeting.

Taewon locks eyes with Han Yoojin and is immediately struck by the complete lack of fear he finds there. So much so that he barely notices when Sung Hyunjae crushes his car with the breezy efficiency of a compactor.

And even as Sung Hyunjae gets out of his own car, even as he turns that amused, glittering gaze onto Han Yoojin, no apprehension sparks to life. No nerves. Just a cool, faintly disappointed look that he turns on the Seseong Guild Leader.

It stops the man in his tracks. Song Taewon blinks at Sung Hyunjae, faint smile frozen on his face, and looks back at Han Yoojin, who’s gazing at him now with a welcoming smile on his face.

…So that was a real warning, then.

Surely it can’t be for what Taewon thinks it is.

—

Taewon was told Han Yoojin was an A-rank. While the Hunter Association staff had confirmed his stats were well within standard range, they’d also made no secret of gossiping about how even the A-rank he’d come in with had looked vaguely spooked. How Han Yoojin carried himself with that unthinking confidence and grace all S-ranks had. How, when Seok Gimyeong had gone to personally take him through the registration process, Han Yoojin’s expression had gone flat and stony, and while he’d cooperated, something in his demeanor had had everyone around him going quiet and hurrying through the steps as fast as possible.

What it boils down to, in the end, is a sense that he’s not what he seems.

What Taewon thinks it is, quite simply, is a high-rank fear-inducing skill. Han Yoojin has no reason to claim he’s lower-ranked than he actually is, not when being higher-ranked would mean getting fast-tracked to a much better lifestyle than what he had before.

What Taewon realizes upon meeting Han Yoojin is that either he was very, very wrong about the other man’s ambition (or lack thereof, as it happens), or that the fear induction skill is far more potent than anyone let on.

“Chief Song-nim?”

Taewon stares at Han Yoojin. He’s merely standing there with a bag of instant coffee in hand, gazing at Taewon over his shoulder, and yet, if Taewon’s phone was in his hand right now, he’d probably have crushed it. As it is, he realizes distantly, his nails are digging little crescents into his palms. “Han Yoojin-ssi,” he gets out, and then stalls immediately.

He’d come here with the assumption that Han Yoojin was an A-rank. Which means all his questions (I wanted to check, are you safe, are you being pressured, why did such a high-rank monster appear in a dungeon with only two S-ranks in it and how did you kill it anyway?) were tailored for an A-rank. For someone that needed protection.

Is something wrong, he’d wanted to ask.

Is something wrong with you? is what his mind supplies now.

“Are you—alright,” he manages eventually.

Han Yoojin stares back at him, fingers tensing faintly around the bag as Taewon speaks. “I… yes? Why wouldn’t I be?”

“…With… the Babar’s appearance in that last dungeon.” It gets easier to speak once he’s started. “And all the higher-ranks you’ve been around lately. I’d understand if you were feeling—stressed, or strained.”

“Ah.” Han Yoojin relaxes. “No, I’m alright. It’s been quite busy, but I’ve adjusted well enough, I think. Thank you for your concern.”

Truth, Taewon thinks. He seems too confident for it to be anything but. But how can that be? To face an SS-rank monster as a supposed A-rank—

“Are you sure?”

Han Yoojin glances at him out of the corner of his eye. The tension isn’t back, but there’s a frown tugging at his lips. Taewon forcibly uncurls the fists his hands have balled into, and continues. He needs a reference. He needs to know what Han Yoojin looks like when he’s lying. “The Babar alone was an SS-rank, and you may have had your brother and ward with you, but even then, facing such a monster as an A-rank—”

And there it is, the slightest creases around his eyes, how he looks down and to the side slightly before meeting Taewon’s gaze once more, lips thinning into a line. Taewon’s so busy thinking over their conversation so far, matching these markers against what’s been said, that he doesn’t realize what he’s saying—

“…seeing them fight… They may be your family, but they’re S-ranks before that. Which makes them dangerous, more than you know—”

Until it’s too late.

“What are you trying to say, Chief Song-nim?” Han Yoojin asks, letting go of the bag of coffee and turning to face him properly. His voice has taken on a sharp edge, and Taewon steps backwards before he even consciously acknowledges the sound. Han Yoojin just steps forward to match, bringing him dangerously close— “If there’s a point to this, I’d like if you could—”

Taewon has a hand around his throat.

Han Yoojin raises a hand (touching? grabbing?). Seize his wrist, twist his arm, shift the grip on his neck, until Han Yoojin is pinned face-down against the counter, cheek pressed against its surface.

Then Taewon realizes he’d moved to begin with.

“…What are you doing?”

Han Yoojin’s flat question kills Taewon’s hasty apology before it can even leave his mouth. His grip tightens instead of loosening. Some quiet part of his brain is counting out the handful of people and low-rank Hunters present in the building today. A much louder part of his mind says he’s testing the hold.

Han Yoojin flexes his hand again, shifting easily even in Taewon’s grip, and he—

He panics.

Looting flares, black not-smoke wreathing his fingers and Han Yoojin’s limbs. Vague surprise flickers over Han Yoojin’s face before his eyes rise to a point in the air before himself, likely checking his status window. Whatever he sees there has his eyes widening sharply.

And then, all at once, something closes off in his face, and he goes limp.

A different kind of alarm spikes through the white-out fear in Taewon’s mind and he tilts his head to get a better look at Han Yoojin’s face. There’s a tightness around his eyes, still, lips pressed together like he’s bracing for something. But when those eyes flick up to meet Taewon’s stare, there’s also a dull sort of… familiarity?

No, not familiarity.

Resignation.

Taewon feels sick. He all but rips his hands off Han Yoojin, backing away hastily. There’s already shadows on his skin where Taewon’s fingers had pressed against it. There’ll be bruises there by tonight. Earlier, even, because—how long had he had Looting active?

He can’t remember. He can’t remember the last time he lost control like that. His stomach twists. He feels sick.

Han Yoojin still hasn’t moved. Taewon tries to remember how tightly he was gripping his neck.

And then Han Yoojin slowly, slowly draws his arm to his side again, pushes off the counter with his other hand, and straightens back up. A pause. Then he turns, just a little, so he can look at Taewon.

They stare at each other in silence like that for a moment.

Then, in a thin voice: “Interesting skill you have there.”

Taewon’s breath catches. Han Yoojin doesn’t seem to notice as he tilts his head slightly and opens his mouth again.

“Why’d you stop?”

…

Taewon—

Taewon leaves, after that.

He doesn’t remember what he says. What he does. Han Yoojin has a knack for disabling his rational mind, it seems.

What he does know is this: that Han Yoojin’s voice, when he asked that question, was genuinely curious. Perhaps even a little pleading.

What he does know, looking back, is that Han Yoojin didn’t try to pull away. He shifted in Taewon’s hold, yes, and in his panic Taewon overreacted. But he never tried to break free.

(What Taewon doesn’t know if he wants to know is this:

How does a man like Han Yoojin end up feeling resignation?)

[recreationaldivorce]

always strongly considering complaining about all the related but separate times the nhs has either literally forced a treatment on me against my consent, or strongly pressured me into consenting to a treatment I'd already explicitly said I didn't want, but I'm always worried that if I complain about these things the complaint will just be used to withhold treatment I actually do both consent to and actively want

[chainsawworld]

I kinda feel like I've just hard erased any happiness or elation I had from being done with school all just so I wouldnt get asked a stupid question anymore I hate this I hate this