#do i really dare put these on the main tags

[feath-r-hopper]

not dead, just artblock since january x_x still carnal about that sad old man. also more oc/rp stuff beloww

[i-can-do-tricks]

you ever see a work of art so beautiful it moves you to creation. because straight up that's what happened to me. holy shit

(Content warnings in the author's notes, PLEASE don't ignore them before reading I'm serious.)

7k words of Rat Grinders fanfic inspired by that fucking Kill All Your Friends Rat Grinders collab animatic led by @kindlespark. Straight up, god bless you guys I hope you have a fantastic day. Rat Grinders fans never stop winning ✊✊

[icewindandboringhorror]

More misc. daily life pictures and such

[night-dark-woods]

Yet she had also decided that she felt a strange kinship and sympathy for it, this cornered, desperate god, making infinite sacrifices out of its people.

I'm on a "rereading Forsaken loretabs" kick and I'm rotating this line in my head. Mara constantly sacrificing herself and her people to protect the solar system as a whole. Her sense of duty. Determined and deadset on saving everyone and the thing is she does she DOES save everyone!!! But does that make it worth it does that make it right!!!

What got me started again was the last line on the loretab of this year's Dawning ship (Hiera Hodos - which also... thats the Sacred Way from Athens to Eleusis, as in the Eleusinian Mysteries that Mara's throneworld is named for...):

And Mara walks alone, between the City and the dark outside.

Which made me think about this part of the Savin loretab (Title is also from this loretab):

Perhaps the Earth would be better off if the Traveler vanished or was destroyed, she thought. Even in the Reef, she felt as if she were living next to a torch held up in a dark wilderness, calling out across the galaxy to hungry things with too many eyes.

And so now I'm down the "Mara and her god complex" rabbithole again. Under a readmore because it's long:

If you have grace, then see our sorrows, but swallow back your tears. We were made to pay this price. I led us to our fate. (Archiloquy)

She feels this absolute guilt from the very beginning because she saw deeper meaning in a freak accident:

Because I asked us to leave, Mara thinks. Because something came out of deep space and killed the man next to me, and I saw the omen, and I said we should go. And now I feel like a coward. (Cosmogyre II)

And then you combine that personal guilt with her mother and Alis Li telling her she's responsible for what others think of her and that she is capable of more than those around her:

"It is one thing to have a particular power over people, Mara. But it is another to deny that you are using it." ... "Mara, you are an Auturge, a volunteer. I cannot order you to stop, and your work is exemplary. Are you putting anyone else in danger with your… art projects?" "No," Mara says. "Just myself." "False!" Li barks. "That is a selfish answer. You are now a symbol to my crew, a house god. If you were to die, they would lose something important, something Human that they have created out of loneliness and void. It would be an unforgettable reminder of the hostile nothingness that surrounds us. When you endanger yourself, you endanger that symbol. You are part of this mission's behavioral armor, Mara." Mara is thunderstruck. She's never thought about it this way. "All I did was take some captures. I didn't ask to be anyone's… mascot." "You presented yourself as a conduit to secret knowledge," Captain Li counters. "People made something out of you, Mara. Please take this from a starship captain: What people make of you, what they create of you—even without your consent—becomes a kind of responsibility. If the Mara they see when they look at you is good for them, then you have some duty to be that Mara." (Brephos III)

And you put all of that on the shoulders of an already self-important and borderline suicidal 19 year old who is convinced she's seeing secret meanings in things (and she is!!! Is the thing!!!) You cannot tell me she's not, given that her favorite enrichment activity is going on EVAs and taking off her suit in order to experience this:

The void boiled the water off her skin. Her body swelled with unchecked pressure until her undersuit forced it to stop. Alarmed cytogel crawled down her throat, hissing emergency oxygen: not enough. Her skin blued with cyanosis. She was bathed in the most profound emptiness. She recorded all of it at the neural level. The exquisite darkness. The sense of fatal independence from all things. There are those who will give anything to feel that void. (Brephos II)

And then after they are in the Distributary she keeps her idea of the duty of the Awoken to herself for so so so fucking long and plays such a long game and sacrifices her own people in that game to keep the Awoken from being truly comfortable in the Distributary:

"I have worked for many hundreds of years to arrange this outcome," Mara says, forthrightly, but without the courage to look Alis Li right in the eyes. "I have nurtured and tended the Eccaleist belief so that there will always be Awoken who feel uncomfortable in paradise. Guilty for the gift of existence in the Distributary. People who'll come with me." (Nigh I)

And all for the sake of her eventual goal of returning to the real world and saving the solar system that she is absolutely completely incapable of abandoning, regardless of the cost:

"Do you understand what you've done? Have you reckoned the full cost?" She has convinced tens of thousands of Awoken to abandon their immortality. She has deprived the Distributary an infinite quantity of joy, companionship, labor, and discovery: all the works that might be accomplished by all the people who will join her in her mission to another world. When she lies awake at night, seized by anxiety, she tries to tally up the loss in her head, but it is too huge, and it becomes a formless thing that stalks her down the pathways of her bones like the creak of a gravity wave. "Some infinities are larger than others," she tells her old captain. "I believe… we are here for a reason, and this is the way to fulfill that purpose." "And how much would you sacrifice? Your mother? Your brother? Are the Awoken real to you at all?" Alis leans across her pinned hand, viper-fierce, striking. "Do you think my people were made to die for you? "Not for me. For our purpose. For our fate." (Nigh II)

And she is so so so deeply aware of that cost, in Fideicide II Alis Li knows that "Mara knows the unthinkable value of even a single Awoken life," and she is so deeply deeply guilty about that. Like when she does tell Alis (and Sjur, eventually) we get to see her the most fucking vulnerable we ever do and GOD.

"No," Mara says, with her heart in her throat, with trepidation bubbling in her gut. You cannot keep a secret buried like a vintage for so many centuries, and then unbottle it without any ceremony. "The boon I ask is your forgiveness." Then she explains the truth. She tells Alis Li what she did: about the choice Alis Li would have made, if Mara had not made her own first. It's only an extension of what Alis has already deduced. When she's finished, her ancient captain's jaw trembles. Her hands shake. A keen slips between her clamped teeth. The oldest woman in the world conjures up all the grief she has ever felt, and still it is not enough to match Mara's crime. "You're the devil," Alis Li whispers. "I remember… in one of the old tongues, Mara means death. Oh, that's too perfect. That's too much." She laughs for a while. Mara closes her eyes and waits. "You realize," Alis Li says, breathing hard, "that this is the worst thing ever done. Worse than stealing a few thousand people from heaven. Worse than that thing we fled, before we were Awoken—" "Please," Mara begs. "Please don't say that." Alis Li rises from her chair. "I'll support your fleet," she says. "I'll use every favor and connection I have to get your Hulls completed and through the gateway—and I will do it so that I can hasten your departure from this world. I will do it out of hate for you; I will do it so that every good and great thing we achieve here will ever after be denied to you, you snake. No forgiveness. Do you understand me? It is unforgivable. Go. Go!" "I'd be very glad if you didn't tell my mother," Mara says. (Nigh II)

The last line there fucking kills me. "I'd be very glad if you didn't tell my mother." God. And then when she is brave enough to tell Sjur, to try again after last time backfired so fucking spectacularly, Sjur forgives her:

"I was first," Mara says. And she explains the missing half, the first half of the sentence: I made the rules and initial conditions that deceived her into believing she herself had decided It ends like that, where the rest picks up. Sjur Eido looks at her in expressionless silence. Sjur Eido's hands stroke the seam between Mara's skinsuit and the glassy petals of her helmet. Long ago, this woman betrayed her oath and went to serve the Diasyrm, a woman who cried out in anguish at the curse of physicality and the possibility of suffering. Long ago, this woman threw away her whole life to punish the highest crime she could imagine: the denial of transcendent divinity to those who might have claimed it. "You're the devil," Sjur says. "You're the lone power who made death. You allowed the possibility of evil. You might be responsible for more preventable suffering than anything that has ever existed." Mara cannot shake her head or even nod. "Well," Sjur says, "if you hadn't, none of us would be here. I guess I don't see what else you could've done, if you cared about those we left behind. If you wanted us to be able to go back and help in the fight." She leans forward and very gently kisses the inside of her helmet, where it meets Mara's: in her mind, in that place that is bound to all other Awoken, Mara feels the touch of gentle lips. (Tyrannocide III)

And like, those chapters also make me lose my mind because of the twofold meaning of the title- Tyrannocide because she is killing Oryx, yes, but also because she herself is dying. The self-appointed (and only ever real) Queen of the Awoken:

We are risen from man and fallen from heaven. We are made again in the fall. What was once us will not ever again be us. I am the uncrowned ever-Queen and my only diadem will be the event horizon of the universe, which is my dominion. By falling, I will rise. (Palingenesis II)

&

"Mara, with all my respect, all my genuine gratitude for bringing us here," Esila sighs, "who died and made you Queen?" Mara says nothing. But she thinks: Everyone, Esila. All of us died and made me Queen. (Revanche II)

&

On the day the Fallen struck, Mara was proclaimed Queen. It happened swiftly, though after no little debate among the people, for everyone was afraid of a monarch who could speak to their thoughts. Yet they feared more to deny her power and sovereignty, for they had come between worlds in her name. To refuse her would be to refuse their choice. (Revanche V)

And the thing is that she is their queen in such a real and tangible way like she made them she made their fate she can sense every single one of them and feels their deaths and at the same time as she is sacrificing them for The Greater Good she would do anything to save them:

Mara crawls through compartments choked with vaporized coolant. She keeps low and clutches the breather to her face. All she can think of is Kelda Wadj's last message and the data attached. "Mara. The paracausal effects are strongest around you. Whatever's happened to us, you are the locus. I cannot overstate how subtle and how important this discovery might be. Mara, when we use radioactive decay as a trigger for simulated bombs—bombs that could harm Awoken—the trigger atoms are a thousandfold less likely to decay near you. People are literally safer when you are around." She has to get into the riot. She has to protect her people. A horrible groan vibrates through the habitat structure, and then, with an apocalyptic shudder, something tears off the Reef. A ship. A ship is leaving. Mara has failed. ... She rolls onto her back and stares up into the swirling vortices of coolant, seeing faces, futures, the lives she has just lost, the lives she might yet lose. She brought her people here to die in the sense that she brought them into mortality—but she never wanted it to happen quickly. (Revanche IV)

And she keeps losing people and losing people and losing people. So many of the Distributary Awoken defect and go to Earth:

Nasan purses her lips. "I want them to understand that you are—that you—that you are good. That you aren't what they think." Seeing Sjur bristle, she holds up her hand. To her relief, Mara makes a slight warding gesture as well. "And if they know that and still wish to live apart from us on Earth, that's fine. That's their choice." "I don't need them to understand that," Mara says softly. There is the faintest husk of grief in her steady voice. (Chords of Meaning)

And then she loses Nasan too and she comes back as Orin and the Traveler has taken yet another of her people from her (and brought them back wrong!):

"Woof," Sjur Eido says when she sees Orin for the first time, "Mara's gonna hate this." She crosses the detainment cell to get a better look at Gol. "Figured this might happen eventually, but I'd always hoped…" She pulls at the nape of her neck, then gives a little half-shrug: well, what can you do. (Queenslaw)

And then she loses Sjur when she is taken/killed by the Nine:

"This was on her body, Your Grace." A strange coin lay at the center of Abra's outstretched palm. Mara took it between thumb and forefinger and held up it to the cosmos with dainty contempt. Weregild, she thought. Powerful grief filled her chest, as thick and caustic and heavy as unset concrete. (Oathkeeper)

And she turns to Orin for assistance with that and then because of that (!!!) loses Orin again as well:

On the day that Sjur Eido dies, she receives a call from Mara Sov. "I would ask for my boon," the queen says with shaking voice. It is the first time she dares to trust a Guardian. It will not be the last. (Debt)

&

On the day she leaves to find the Nine, the Techeuns name her Orin the Lost. (Synesthesia)

And then she answers the question Alis Li asked her so long ago about whether she is willing to sacrifice her brother (a resounding, grieving, determined yes):

Mara will begin the end of that Queen's brother today. She knows what that means for the fate of her own. An eye for an eye. She must think now of the fate of entire cosmos—and of her tender, half-assembled answer to the cold sword logic of the Hive. She must not grieve. She must not fear. (Tyrannocide IV)

And then at the Battle of Saturn all of this loss she has been dreading and yet causing for millenia finally comes to fruition and she then will have a good long time just sitting with that in Oryx's throne world:

This is the moment of absolute sacrifice, the incarnation of Awoken doom: to give up their lives in defense of the world they once abandoned. The sense of their great dying rips at Mara like a sob. (Tyrannocide V)

It's just like. Such a classic and compelling and well-executed examination of do the ends justify the means? (Seth Dickinson at it again! In so many ways Baru is Mara is Baru is Mara!!!) Every one of her actions led to this point, to defeating Oryx, and was that not worth it? And yet how could it ever be worth it?

I think especially the outside perspectives from Earthborn Awoken & Guardians are really interesting on that front because while they still have the connection to Mara - "However, there was always in their souls an itch, a vector pointing to a distant place in the Asteroid Belt, where their Queen still dwelt." (Revanche V) - they did not choose to follow her and they do not have the same loyalty:

Zavala:

"She was a charlatan," Zavala says, quietly. "Fighting a war that existed only in her mind. Dragging you all behind her. Any of you who will admit that are welcome in my City. But I will not take in whatever conspiracies she left unfinished. If you come to us, you come to join the City." (Refusal)

Arach Jalaal:

She speaks. "Earthborn. Did you mourn for her?" He thinks she will know if he lies. "I respected her, yes, but I despised the way she seemed… entitled… to us all. I never regret choosing the path I did. I was Awoken to continue the search we started long ago. The quest for worlds worthy of our lives." (Fleet)

Master Rahool:

We long feared that if it were intercepted by her Majesty your Queen, it would be denied or manipulated to serve some need of her own. (Of Earth and the Reef)

Mara is just such an incredibly compelling and complex and interesting character and she is so stubborn and full of herself and self-righteous and she saved the solar system and she doomed her people to mortality and she's always right because she has to be and because she makes it so and she keeps secrets from everyone and has lost more people than many people ever meet and she has felt every single one of their deaths. She is everything to me.

[todayisafridaynight]

I wanted to write in about my thoughts on Jo as a CSA survivor separately for a couple of reasons:

I already more or less have what I have to say on the topic in order thanks to talks with @starssystem and another friend [<3]

This is a massive tonal shift from anything else I could be discussing

This Is Massive In General For The Love Of God PLEASE Help Me

Obvious CSA CW for anyone else reading; I only discuss statistics, psychology, and the aftereffects seen in survivors here, but it's worth a warning.

With the disclaimers out of the way… I'd mentioned before I've only ever added one thing to Jo's background, and you were right: this is it! To me, there's so much thematic overlap in Jo's narrative with the experience of surviving CSA it's worth it to examine his character through the lens of that being the case. Of course, there are clearly-stated reasons for it all that Aren't That, but…

It's the pervasive guilt and shame, the lifelong secret that becomes too unbearable not to tell, the faulty coping mechanisms aimed at burying the trauma without having to face it, the reluctance to be sincere [vulnerable] and the lies and half-truths used to maintain the facade of invulnerability, the pursuit of power and control and the knee-jerk anger response when it's threatened, the pursuit of mastery over his body and the indifference to what happens to it. And the way a lot of it really does stem from a deeply traumatic childhood sexual experience from before either he or Ikumi understood what they were getting into, from before they could give informed consent.

Statistically, the further below the average age someone is for their first time, the likelihood of [at best] having been introduced to sex inappropriately and [at worst] having been abused at the time or earlier rises exponentially. Jo was 15 when Masato was conceived--possibly 14, since he was saying he "met" Arakawa at 15, and by then Masato was already born. To put this into perspective, since what ages register as concerning is largely cultural, the average age in the US and UK is 16-18. But in Japan, it's over 19.

To a Westerner [or even a heavily Westernized non-Westerner], having a kid at 15 is unfortunate, but not untenable; you've seen it on TV, you might know people like that, you might even be that kid or that parent. But in Jo's case, with him being 4 or 5 years younger than average, it's like if someone told you they had their first time--had a /kid/--at 13 or under. That's the equivalent discrepancy. That /is/ concerning, to me.

It's also something that's linked to negative outcomes in adulthood, partly because of the likelihood of forming bonds with poorly-adjusted peers. Jo specifically states he and Ikumi were only together because others who came from backgrounds like his own were all he had back then. [As an aside, it's interesting to see him instinctively seek out a relationship where his pain would be understood without having to say anything--or one where he could assume it would, at any rate.]

When it comes to his relationship with Ikumi, I've always felt there was this "adult dynamic" between them--in the sense it feels like one that'd be more fitting for adults to get into than a couple of teens. It was, based on his wording, a primarily physical relationship neither of them expected to last even if they were living together. To me, it's one thing if you're fully convinced you're in love or you're experimenting or whatever and that results in an unplanned pregnancy, but it's another thing entirely to have such a bleak yet objective outlook on your relationship so young.

And it didn't have to be that way. He could've been just like Arakawa, head-over-heels in love with this girl who was The Only Good Thing He Had Going, or something like that. But the sheer contrast between how Arakawa was crazy about Akane and never forgot about her for the rest of his life, while Jo more-or-less-clearly didn't have feelings for Ikumi and can't bring himself to remember her name after living with her for at least a year and experiencing life-changing events with her…

It's notable to me that Arakawa maintains an interest in women while nearly every in-character interpretation I've seen makes Jo averse to women. Obviously, we don't really know that; it's probably just based on his general attitudes, his contrast with Arakawa, and maybe his immunity to Charm. But I think there's a reason a lot of people pick up on it and tie it to trauma rather than/in addition to a lack of interest in women.

I've talked about this through the lens of comphet already [and Jo being gay or ace or both would present other difficulties], but I can't overstate how notable it is on its own. We see Jo's response to traumatic events, and it's to become preoccupied with them, to investigate further if he has any leads. That's why he remembers every minute detail of the night Masato was born and the time he saw Arakawa attempt to comfort Masato when he was crying and hitting himself. I think it's also why he gets as far as he does when looking into Arakawa's death, and why he entrusts the search to Ichi. He never seems to manage to block them out, even if that's what he'd rather do--even if that's what he thinks he's doing.

So if he "[doesn't] even remember" the name of the mother of his child, I get the feeling there's something more going on. Like I've [probably] said in the past, Jo genuinely sounds traumatized by the relationship as a whole. More than anything else he's been through, and he's been through a lot. It's often the case that CSA survivors who are also survivors of other trauma view it as worse than anything else that happened to them.

And that's not to implicate Ikumi at all, I don't think it's a case of COCSA--everything I've said holds just as true for her, and she had to suffer the additional trauma of an unwanted pregnancy and childbirth, at that. Rather, I think it would make sense for something like CSA, which often incontrovertibly reconfigures one's relationship with sex and love, to be a factor in why they rushed into a something physical before they were mature enough to handle it.

Some victims end up having perfectly healthy experiences, some victims end up avoiding them, some victims end up re-victimized, and some victims end up with a mixed bag--there's a lot of variation. But some victims do end up having relationships like this and making mistakes like this, because that's all they know, or because they want to heal but don't [or don't know how to] go about it in a healthy way, at a healthy pace. And I definitely think if you recognize that's what the basis of your relationship was, that it all comes back to something you'd rather forget, it'd make sense to want to forget the relationship as a whole.

To that end, it's possible to come away from a relationship traumatized even if no one did anything wrong. I've [probably] talked about how the way Jo comforts her at the station feels like he's doing it for her sake and pushing his own feelings down, but neither of them is really buying it. If that's a pattern in their relationship, perhaps he wouldn't have been able to communicate if maybe what they were doing was dredging up bad memories, if he wanted to stop but didn't think she did. So to go through with it, then get the news months later…

Either way, the fact Ikumi couldn't bring herself to tell him she was pregnant until nothing could be done would, for Jo, invariably cement the feeling he has no control over what happens around him. I think the sense of powerlessness he felt is why he blew up at her when she told him, because it's really the only time we see him lash out like that at her. At the park, he objects to going back for Masato, sure, but he's passive. And I think that unbroken pattern of powerlessness in his life [which CSA would only compound on] is why he's so reactionary, why he's so emotionally dysregulated, why he expresses his rage through what basically amounts to power-tripping.

But I do think Jo does have a great deal of awareness. A lot of his wording when he's telling Ichi about it borders on poetic, or at the very least candid and effective. That requires both prior reflection and a command of language. I think there's a lot he understands deep down, at least after sitting with it for long enough, but he isn't capable of voicing--or doesn't know how to voice--what's on his mind, most of the time.

So when he joins the Arakawa Family, when he rises the ranks and has that control back, his control has to be near-absolute. If it's undermined in any way--such as, for example, a certain someone failing to answer a call within two rings--he loses it. On the other side of the coin, I do feel a lot of why his devotion and gratitude towards Arakawa goes to the extent it does, why he's so comfortable with him, is because Arakawa gave him the safety of the Arakawa Family, gave him back his autonomy, gave him the environment--and treated him with enough humanity to give him the reason--to learn to regulate himself, to better himself.

And Arakawa /gets/ trauma. He really does. Aside from his own abusive background, literally the only time the word trauma comes out of any character's mouth in this series, it's Arakawa's. It comes back to Jo saying others who came from backgrounds like his own were all he had; that never changed, did it?

Lastly, For Funsies [<- LIE. COMPLETE LIE. TURN BACK NOW] I wanted to go through the items on this [CSA] Survivors' Aftereffects Checklist I could check off with near-certainty. 19/34, by the way, give or take. Now, as I said at the beginning, there are existing concrete reasons for why he has many of these experiences… but it's like the trans allegory with Masato, To Me… If I can check off over half the list based on a very limited backstory and an hour of screen time total, that's indicative of a notable overlap… TO ME…

Note that the book this list is from was published in 1990 and focuses on women's experiences. It was a huge step forward in giving survivors a voice back when a lot of existing research indicated CSA had neutral or even positive effects on children, but it's definitely a product of its time. With that out of the way…

Wearing a lot of clothing, even in summer […]

To be fair, most male characters in RGG are fully-covered and have near-unchanging designs, and it's winter in both 2000/2001 and presumably 2019, but… when it comes to Jo, it feels a little different.

He does have Some Heavage in his twenties [although the necklace takes the attention off of his actual chest], but as time goes on, he shows less and less skin and adds more and more layers. When he has the gloves on, it leaves no skin exposed at all, and there's this direct symbolic correlation with secrecy that isn't there for other characters. And if you're wearing three layers of leather [or even one], you can neither feel what you're touching nor feel anything touch you.

Pure Speculation, but I just can't really see him underdressed for any occasion… That's why his fit in Day with the Sun is funny as hell but also… yeah…

As a behavior, if it's rooted in anything, it's probably rooted in having to hide signs of physical abuse, of course--but then he kind of already had an excuse, with how he was constantly getting into fights. I guess it depends on the specifics, but I think it's interesting to consider this as one way CSA victims attempt to regain control of their bodies, avoiding emotional discomfort at the cost of physical discomfort.

Self-destructiveness

It's nothing super overt, but I see this most clearly represented in his second boss fight in particular; his willingness to wield a blade bare-handed while using enough force he could very well render his hand useless. I think it's potentially also evident in how he has severe cataracts he chooses to ignore and allow to worsen, despite having the reasons and resources to undergo surgery to restore his vision. In doing so, he literally and figuratively blinds himself to so much.

I also kind of think the assassination of Hoshino/the anonymous call and The Eye Scene are examples of self-sabotage. I mean, he literally was sabotaging himself in the former, but it's also the specific way he feels the need to be physically taken down in order to be stopped--possibly a holdover from RGGJo, who's only too happy to be beaten into a coma.

I don't know… It's hard to pinpoint, but I feel like he would be averse to most of the more "obvious" self-destructive behaviors--especially when he has people in his life who might notice and worry, like Ikumi and Arakawa. That and because many of them are addictive. He's seen what that's done to his father, and he's also developed this incredibly rigid sense of discipline he can't maintain if he doesn't have a clear head.

From how he talks about himself [as having lost his humanity and lived a half-assed life], I definitely think he's at the very least unkind to himself, but I also think he does externalize it by provoking others to harm him [in the case of physical fights] and reject him. Like he needs some kind of proxy perpetrator. For some abuse victims, this specific manifestation of self-destructive behavior is a way to regain control--whether or not you "deserved it" back then, you do now, as a direct, logical result of your actions.

Need to be invisible, perfect, or perfectly bad

I think each of these needs manifests in different ways for Jo. The need to be invisible can be seen with authority figures (mainly Aoki, but also Arakawa in The Yubitsume Scene, a little; how drastically he pulls back and tries to act "normal")--this relates to what you were talking about with being reluctant to intrude or take up space. If you fall under the radar, maybe you won't get hurt.

The need to be perfect can be seen in his seemingly "impossible" standards, I would say. Of course, because we see things from Ichiban's perspective, we tend to see them as unfair and often arbitrary demands. But they aren't arbitrary to Jo, are they? They're standards he holds himself to through and through. If you're good, maybe you won't get hurt.

The need to be perfectly bad can be seen in and relates to much of what I discussed under self-destructiveness [The Eye Scene and the way he antagonizes Ichiban specifically by making himself out to be worse than he is]. If you must get hurt, it can at least "make sense"--be "deserved."

Suicidal thoughts, attempts, obsession (including "passive suicide")

Obviously he's not like… Mine Levels Of Overtly And Consistently Suicidal, and he doesn't attempt suicide himself, but at the same time, I have to note his total ambivalence towards Aoki seeing him as a "bullet" (a kind of hitman sent on suicide missions). He agreed to what he himself viewed as a suicide mission and he didn't care what would happen to him afterward, as he says to Joon-gi, Zhao, and Adachi.

Aside from that, I certainly feel he's at least had passive thoughts like wanting to disappear or wishing he'd never been born. Y'know. Nothing concrete, but reflective of his mental state, and just as detrimental to dwell on long-term.

I think there's a sort of childishness [for lack of a better word] to thoughts like these [in that they're impossible], but also a level of maturity in that it probably doesn't escalate to something more actionable because he understands he has responsibilities he can't abandon. I think if he was ever seriously suicidal, it would be at the points of his life where he really didn't have any responsibility to anyone, like between Ikumi leaving and him joining the family, or after he was arrested.

Depression (sometimes paralyzing) […]

I'm trying not to over explain going forward because I Have BEEN Overexplaining It Is SUCH A Disaster… he's depressed If You Have Eyes And/Or Ears… I'll leave it at that…

Anger issues; inability to recognize, own, or express anger; constant anger […]

Lol

Rigid control of one's thought process; humorlessness or extreme solemnity

Relates back to what I was saying about how disciplined he is [and expects everyone else to be], but in general, he's incredibly, incredibly serious and focused. I don't think he's /entirely/ humorless [but then again, very few people are]; I just think his specific sense of humor is. Like. What Is Your Problem [I Know What Your Problem Is I Have Been Discussing It In EXCRUCIATING Detail But What The Fuck Is Your Problem]

Trust issues; inability to trust (trust is not safe); total trust; trusting indiscriminately

That's why he was planning on taking his secret to the grave, isn't it? It was only when faced with the realization it would soon be too late to say anything that he was able to tell Ichiban. He could've trusted Arakawa, should've been able to, but… in his mind he never could.

This book [and this checklist] is about "incest" actually, but it redefines "incest" to mean any instance of CSA perpetrated by any individual the victim trusts or has an expectation of being able to implicitly trust. Which… is most CSA as we understand it today, so I've edited some parts to just say that.

Anyway, I've never given much thought to the specifics of what Jo might've experienced--who did it, what happened, how long it went on, etc.--so there's no conclusion I can draw here [and elsewhere, I'm sure]… but even without that, to grow up unable to trust the one person who should be in his corner, his father, and to have his trust betrayed by Ikumi, it's no surprise Jo ended up like this either way. So… I'm happy he had the courage to tell Ichi, in the end.

High risk taking ("daring the fates"); inability to take risks

I think these are supposed to be mutually exclusive, but to me, Hoshino's assassination and Arakawa's assassination represent both sides of the coin, although they're not the only examples. There are risks Jo won't think twice about taking and risks that paralyze him.

Boundary issues; control, power, territoriality issues; fear of losing control; obsessive/compulsive behaviors (attempts to control things that don't matter, just to control something)

Lol…

Guilt, shame; low self-esteem, feeling worthless; high appreciation of small favors by others

Lmao Even…

Feeling demand to "produce and be loved"; instinctively knowing and doing what the other person needs or wants; relationships mean big tradeoffs (love was taken, not given)

I actually think this encapsulates a lot of what I've been saying about his work ethic, his ideas of discipline, and his relationship with Ikumi, but I also think it's why Masato took a liking to him. His attentiveness. It ties back into wanting to be perfect; when you're abused--especially long-term--you become attuned to observing and responding to any shifts in mood or tone. This is another area where I can't draw any conclusions relevant to my point, but it does certainly relate to his father's abuse, at any rate.

Abandonment issues

Kind of contentious… The anticipation of being abandoned by or losing someone he cares about appears to be worse than the actual experience. He's fine with Ikumi leaving him, and he's… not Fine With, but able to come to terms with Arakawa's death and Aoki's abandonment of him. At the same time, he really does try to make Ikumi's stay in his life comfortable, and he spends almost forty years doing his damnedest to keep his family together, whatever the cost. If I were to extrapolate from RGGJo, though, /he/ does have an obsessive, unhealthy attachment to Arakawa.

Blocking out some period of early years (especially 1–12); or a specific person or place

Ikumiiiiii that's what I'm SAYINGGGG

Feeling of carrying an awful secret; urge to tell, fear of its being revealed; certainty no one will listen; being generally secretive […]

Rofl Perhaps…

Denial; […] repression of memories; pretending; minimizing ("it wasn't that bad") […]

He admits to it himself. Not much else to say. Though I don't think he necessarily minimizes what he's been through by dismissing how bad it was; rather, he tends to overestimate his ability to move past it.

Pattern of ambivalent or intensely conflictive relationships (intimacy is a problem; also focus shifted from [CSA] issues)

Also kind of contentious… we don't see a pattern of romantic relationships, as I assume the author meant here, but at the same time, the romantic relationship and non-romantic relationships we do see fit this pattern. I guess I'd say I definitely think intimacy /would/ be a problem, and he /wouldn't/ be ready to address his issues.

Limited tolerance for happiness; active withdrawal from happiness, reluctance to trust happiness ("ice=thin")

The quote that prompted this ask in the first place. It's sort of connected to the point about humorlessness and extreme solemnity; if that was the "what," this is the "why." He doesn't know how to relax ["holidays don't exist" and all], he doesn't have much to be happy about, but even rarer is the occasion where he doesn't feel too conflicted in the moment to be able to enjoy himself. That's just how I see him.

[…] verbal hypervigilance (careful monitoring of one's words); quiet-voiced, especially when needing to be heard

EXACTLY what I was talking about in this ask, so I'm leaving that one up to past me…

......

... That's It That's The Essay I'm going to hibernate until Infinite Wealth comes out and somehow refutes my points but UNTIL THEN. Farewell, take care, and once more, don't worry too much about matching my energy… Like I Said if I were the one receiving this ask I'd just delete my blog, so… I'll just be happy to know you read it :] If That lmao

ok i read it :) 👁️👁️ READMYTAGSTHERESMORETHEREIPROMISE

[foggyfanfic]

Love and Fury

Fic Summary: The goat herder’s daughter, Leandra, has spent the past year of her life trying to catch the man who raped her best friend in the act. When she finally sees him slip something into somebody’s drink, she panics and overturns her plate of food onto his potential victim in order to get her out of there. Pepa, the would be victim in question, is very understanding once Leandra explains what happened. Unfortunately, nobody remembered to pass that explanation onto Bruno. Pre-Movie AU. Rape is a theme but none is shown “on-screen”. Trigger Warnings: Attempted Rape

Next Master List

CH 1 Panic! At the Quinceanera 

People often forget that Bruno Madrigal, despite having The Sight, was not actually omnipotent. He could see the future, see who was going to go bald, get fat, the exact time and place of your beloved goldfish’s demise; but, he couldn’t see through walls.

Which is for the best, really, mostly because people already thought he was creepy enough as it is. But even more importantly, if he’d seen through the walls of Señor Sanchez’s house on the night of Gabriele Sanchez’s quinceanera he would have known that when Leandra, the goat herder’s daughter, dropped a plate of food on Pepa’s lap she was actually doing Pepa a huge favor.

If he’d seen through the walls, he would have seen Cicero, Pepa’s current crush/almost boyfriend, prepare a drink for Pepa at the punch bowl. He’d have seen Cicero slip a little something extra into the drink when he thought nobody was looking. He’d have seen Leandra’s look of panic as she realized what she was witnessing.

But Bruno Madrigal could not see through walls, so all he saw was red as Cicero, Pepa’s latest crush/almost boyfriend, laughed at her. 

Pepa stared down at the food staining her dress, her brand new dress, a storm cloud forming over her head. Her bottom lip wobbled but she clenched her jaw and turned a glare on the woman and the overturned plate in her hand.

Leandra leaned down and hissed something to Pepa, Bruno couldn’t hear what she said, but he saw the way Pepa’s face fell as she looked first at Cicero, who was bent over double, then at her half empty drink.

Cicero’s bark of laughter had drawn the attention of the other people standing in the Sanchez’s garden. As heads turned their way Pepa’s cheeks reddened and the cloud over her head began to drizzle. She glanced around, looked at Cicero, then looked to the woman standing over her. 

“I’m so sorry Pepa,” and she sounded so genuinely sad that for a second Bruno’s anger abetted, but then she finished, “I tripped.”

Bruno expected lightning to flash at this blatant lie, he expected Pepa to shoot to her feet and call the other woman out, he moved to stand behind her left shoulder, mirroring Julieta who stood behind her right. They both crossed their arms and glared at the lying witch, ready to back their triplet up in whatever fight broke out.

“That’s ok,” Pepa said, slowly rising to her feet and brushing the food off her lap, “I-it’s not your fault.”

Bruno exchanged a shocked look with Julietta who opened her mouth to say what they were both thinking, “But she-.”

Pepa held up a hand with a small shake of her head, “I better g-get home and wash this stuff off.”

“I’ll walk you,” Cicero offered immediately, having reigned his laughter in and slapped on a charming smile. Bruno frowned at him, he figured the least the man could do was apologize for his initial reaction.

He was so busy frowning at Cicero that he missed the way Pepa paled at the offer.

“No,” the lying, envious, witch, yelled as she turned quickly to Cicero, “I need… I was actually coming over here to discuss buying some of your father’s wine for an event. An event to um… sell more cheese.”

Cicero smirked, clearly coming to the same conclusion that Bruno had, that she had spilled her food on Pepa specifically to steal Cicero’s attention for herself. 

“Oh, but I-,” Cicero started to say, holding a hand out to Pepa. Pepa gulped as she looked in between Cicero’s hand and the goat herder’s daughter.

“Wanted to dance? Great! We can dance,” she put herself between Cicero and Pepa, snatching up his hand.

Bruno felt his lip curl in disgust, this time he was the one who opened his mouth to say something to the lying, envious, conniving witch.

“That sounds like a great idea,” Pepa said, cutting Bruno off as she strung her arm through his, “Bruno, Julietta, will you two walk me home.”

“Of course,” Julietta said, with one more glance at Cicero and the lying, envious, conniving, horrible, witch that had attacked their sister. 

Bruno just glared at the couple as Pepa tugged him away, even craning his neck to send one last dirty look at the lying, envious, conniving, horrible, evil, witch as she smiled nervously at Cicero. When they were clear of the party, Pepa’s drizzle turned into a downpour, soaking all three of them through. Julietta softly asked why Pepa hadn’t wanted to call the other woman out on her lie but the only answer she’d received was a quiet sob. They’d walked through the village, which was thankfully empty due to everybody being at the party, in somewhat awkward silence only broken by the occasional crash of thunder.

“A-at least the rain should keep the stains from setting,” Bruno said, as Casita came into view.

Pepa laughed wetly, then sucked in a breath, “God, I’m so embarrassed.”

Cicero had been pushing at her boundaries lately, asking for a more physical relationship than she was ready to give him unless he made some sort of commitment to her. There had been a time or two where she’d had to physically push him off of her, aided by the wind at her command. Both times it had happened, he had seemed apologetic, told her he was just so crazy about her he had gotten carried away. 

Whenever she had asked why he hadn’t committed to being in a monogamous relationship he had had so many answers ready, each more logical sounding than the last. Pepa had started to think that she was being crazy, asking for him to commit without any promise that she would make it worth it for him.

She had ignored so many red flags. She felt like such an idiot.

“Pepa, no, you have nothing to be embarrassed about! That, that… absolute puta is the one who should be embarrassed,” Julietta jumped to reassure her, Pepa shook her head and said something that was swallowed up by the sound of thunder.

“I’ll wash the dress,” Bruno volunteered, the moment they crossed through the threshold of their home, “m-make it like tonight never happened.”

He usually hated doing the laundry, mostly because it was the chore he got stuck with the most. He’d complained to Felix, when the slightly older man had stopped by to drop off an order of corn flour, and Feilx had asked if Bruno was good at doing laundry. Bruno had reluctantly admitted that stains bothered him, and even though he was bored of the task, he couldn’t bring himself to do a bad job because then he would have to put up with seeing the stains. 

“Well, there’s your problem right there, hermano,” Felix had said, patting Bruno on the back.

Bruno liked Felix, most people did, but Bruno privately missed the days when Pepa was too busy pining over Felix to waste her time on idiots like Cicero. Ah, to be twelve again.

Pepa nodded sullenly, “Thank you Bruno. Julie, w-will you stay with me?”

“Of course,” Julietta said, “would you like anything to eat?”

Pepa stopped abruptly at the base of the stairs, looking somewhat stricken. Bruno detached himself from her and hared off to get the wash basin ready, he heard her blubber something to Julietta but couldn’t quite make out anything other than Cicero’s name. He heard Julie’s response loud and clear, and he briefly paused to gape at her over his shoulder. He didn’t know that Julietta knew how to curse like that, it was a good thing that they hadn’t stopped to grab their mother on the way out of the party. She would not have been pleased.

Of course, in the morning, when Julietta would quietly explain the night's events, their Mama would let out a few curses of her own.

While Bruno was busy prepping the wash basin, Pepa was beginning to feel the effects of the drug Cicero gave her. The weather inside Casita grew steadily worse as the last scraps of hope Pepa had held, hope that Leandra was wrong, hope that Cicero wasn’t that sort of man, slipped away like water through clenched fingers.

While Julietta quietly handed Bruno the delicately embroidered dress for him to wash, Pepa laid in her bed, staring at the ceiling and tried her very best to hold onto consciousness. The weather calmed as her attempts failed.

Bruno had started to hang the now clean dress up on the line, by the time Pepa regained a semblance of consciousness. And that was only because Julietta had shook her awake in order to offer her a bowl of arroz con leche. Upon realizing how truly helpless she was, how horribly wrong the night could have gone, Pepa summoned a great tornado that patrolled through the courtyard and corridors of Casita. Bruno extended his neck to look into the house at the perilous wind, then added more clips to the dress. He threw some salt over his shoulder then knocked on the nearest piece of wood, before finally sending out a little prayer that the dress would stay put. 

He wasn’t sure what saint to pray to for laundry related concerns, but he figured at least one of them must know the frustration of coming back to the clothesline to discover that your previously clean clothes had fallen in a mud puddle.

The tornado faded as Julietta reiterated her promise to stay with Pepa all night. There was nothing her food could do to cleanse the drug from Pepa’s body, but she could help heal any lingering after effects Pepa might feel in the morning.

“Ros- Rosalie,” Pepa slurred, “this happened to Rosalie last year.”

“It did,” Julietta whispered, calmly petting her sister’s hand.

“Everybody thought- Padré g-gave that sermon about alcohol.”

“He did.”

“She was telling the truth.”

“She was.”

Rosalie had woken up naked in a haystack in her family’s barn. She had been found by Florez, who worked for her father. When asked, she had sworn up and down that she hadn’t touched a drop of liquor and had left the party by herself the second she had started to feel a bit tired. Her friends had corroborated her story, but there was no denying the hand shaped bruises around her hips, or the baby she gave birth to nine months later.

When she had started to show, Rosalie had sobbed and begged her father to believe her, to help her figure out what had happened that night. He hadn’t. He had thrown her out and she had become a cautionary tale.

Alma had taken the girl in and made arrangements for her and her child to live with Señora Ruiz, the kindly old weaver who was in need of an apprentice. Rosalie barely wandered into town these days, unless it was for church. Even then, she usually arrived as late as she could without being rude, and left just as quickly.

It wasn’t that Pepa and Julietta hadn’t believed Rosalie, after all, both Mamá and Bruno took the woman at her word, why should they do any different? It was just… hard to accept that anyone in Encanto could do that to another person.

“They were friends, si?” Pepa asked, massaging her temple. It hurt to keep her eyes open. 

“Rosalie and…?” 

She gestured down at her lap where a plate’s worth of food had provided a convenient excuse to get away from Cicero, “What’s her face.”

“Oh, si. Still are, I think, might even be closer than they were before. I-I don’t know, they both live so far out of town,” Julietta sighed, realizing she didn’t really know much about the woman that had saved her sister tonight.

The goat herder, Raul Lopez, lived in the mountains surrounding Encanto, a reasonable place for a goat herder to live. His daughter, Leandra, was technically adopted, her birth family hadn’t survived the first few years in Encanto, but he loved her well enough and had given her everything he could. 

She was a bit younger than the triplets, but no more so than Agustín, Julietta’s boyfriend. In fact, she and Agustín were friends, weren’t they? Good friends, the last time she’d seen the two talk, Agustín had called Leandra “hermana” and he seemed to mean it.

Other than that, all Julietta knew about the other woman was that she had figured out how to make fine soaps and lotions by mixing lye and herbs into some of the goat milk. Leandra ran the market stall for her father, whenever Julietta had stopped by they talked about herbs and their different uses, or Agustín, never about themselves. 

All the same, Julietta had seen Leandra and her father move to sit next to Rosalie during Padré’s sermon on the dangers of alcohol and pre-marital sex. Which was a statement if there ever was one.

“Mami believed Rosalie,” Pepa suddenly said, after a pause so long Julietta had assumed she’d fallen asleep again.

“Do you want to tell Mamá about this?”

“No, but yes.”

“Do you want me to tell Mamá about this?”

“Si, por favor.”

There was a knock at Pepa’s door and Bruno poked his head in, “The dress is clean as new. D-do you need anything else?”

“What if I asked you to help me hide a body?” Pepa managed to ask, although it took effort to keep the words from smudging together.

Bruno grinned wryly, “Then I’d ask Julietta to be our alibi.”

Pepa snorted, then sighed, rubbing at her eyes in a way that Bruno mistook for her rubbing away tears. In truth, her head was beginning to pound from the effort it took to stay awake. Julietta squeezed her sister’s hand, then turned to Bruno.

“When Mama gets back can you let her know that I need to talk to her about something important? In the morning.”

“Claro,” Bruno nodded, “anything else?”

“There’s some extra arroz con leche in the kitchen if you want some,” Julietta offered softly.

“Have you had any?”

“Not yet.”

“I’ll bring you some. Pepa?”

Pepa grunted and shook her head. Bruno took this to mean that she was too upset to have more of her favorite dessert, he sighed and told Julietta he would be right back. By the time he arrived with a bowl of rice pudding for Julietta, Pepa had succumbed once again to the effects of Cicero’s drug. He decided he wouldn’t risk waking her but dropped a light kiss to each of his sisters’ heads.

Julietta squeezed his wrist and gave him a tight but warm smile, she was too caught up in thoughts of poor Rosalie for it to occur to her that Bruno didn’t actually know what was happening.

And because it didn’t occur to her that Bruno had no clue what was really going on, she didn’t tell him.

Meanwhile, Bruno sat down in the chair closest to Casita’s front door with his bowl of arroz con leche and continued thinking about the same thing he’d been thinking about since he’d left the party. That lying, envious, conniving, horrible, evil, petty, witch that had done this to his sister.

Bruno Madrigal was not what one would usually consider a confident man, when he was forced to make an appearance at a party he generally remained with one or both of his sisters. Lately he’d expanded his social circle to Agustín, so that was exciting, but even that was only because Agustín was dating Julietta. Otherwise, he kept to himself, avoiding human contact as much as he was able. 

As awed by his abilities as everybody had been when he was a child, once he hit that first growth spurt, once he’d started to lose the baby fat around his cheeks, their awe had turned to first irritation, then caution, and finally fear.

Bruno Madrigal was not what one would usually consider a confident man, because most only considered him a bad omen.

He wasn’t a violent man either, although his head danced with fantasies of throwing whole buckets of food onto the lying, envious, conniving, horrible, evil, petty, desperate, witch. Unfortunately, the thought of attacking another person in any way repelled him. Disgusted him, even. All the same, his sister deserved justice!

That lying, envious, conniving, horrible, evil, petty, desperate… he was running out of applicable insults. And it was getting much too long a descriptor, anyway.

Unfortunately, as previously stated, Bruno mostly kept to himself and well, he didn’t know her name.

He’d been to her quinceanera, he knew he had, because Mamá made them go to every quinceanera they were invited to. And, he’d bought cheese from her stall a few times. Bruno had even given her a vision once, and her father had sent her back with a thank you basket.

But he had never asked her name.

The village was small, and she had been in the grade below his in school. He sort of assumed that he should know her name by now, and it was weird that he didn’t, so he had always avoided calling attention to that fact.

He would call her la Reina Malvada, or Reina for short, after the evil queen in the play the school children had just put on. It made sense, obviously Reina was motivated by jealousy just like the evil queen in the story. The only women in the village who could compete with Reina’s beauty were the Madrigal sisters; it was only a matter of time before such a black hearted villainess went after one of them.

Well, Bruno wasn’t going to stand for this. He may not be a knight in shining armor, or a handsome prince, but he loved his sisters. And he wouldn’t let anyone get away with attacking them like this.

Reina came down from the mountains to sell her and her father’s wares in the market every Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday. Bruno would pay her a visit and insist she apologize to his sister and admit what she had done. And if he had to lean into his reputation as Bad Luck Bruno to make that happen? A small price to pay for his sister’s happiness.

[naffeclipse]

I don't know when I'll ever write this, but I've had this AU in the back of my mind ever since Bendy and the Dark Revival came out, and it's best to get it out of my head before it festers and rots.

More or less, it's BatDR and the DCA smashed into one. The premise is that you are an animator at Fazbear Studios and Sun and Moon are humans who go by Cyrus and Mani respectively, employed as voice actors. (First AU with human Sun and Moon whoo! don't get attached though) Vanessa is a janitor who is a bit odd, mostly keeping to herself though sometimes you feel like she's starting at your back when you're alone.

Cyrus and Mani perform as extras in the Fazbear cartoon, adding supporting voices for side characters and miscellaneous lines. Cyrus often supplies humorous, wacky, and surreal voices to his performances. Mani tends to get villainous or spooky characters with his deeper, raspier voice. They both enjoy what they do and love that they can work together as brothers.

You can't help but notice Cyrus and Mani. You admire their skill, their passion, and their smiles, and you sometimes even work up the courage to wave at Cyrus or Mani whenever one of the brothers happens to pass by your work desk.

They inspire you—not just with their work, but with their small acts of care. You find coffee on your desk when you return from a meeting with the other animators with a little smiling sun doodled on the cup. Sometimes, Cyrus asks you to join him on a walk since it's your lunch break and you could really use some sunshine and a chance to stretch your legs. When it gets far too late and you're burning the midnight oil, Mani is somehow always there, doing a funny voice to surprise you with a little reminder that it's past your bedtime. He leaves you little treats in blue wrappers, hidden in places on your desk, among your ink and papers.

It's not a surprise that you start drawing a character for them in your rare off hours when you still have the energy to hold a pencil. The Fazbear cartoon could add a new, permanent character. A robotic jester, lanky and tall, but with two forms for the day and night, funny and sweet and mischievous. Cyrus and Mani could both voice him!

That's silly, however. Fazbear Studios does not want your chaotic and half-brained scribbles nor do you dare show the brothers what they inspired—they might hate it. You keep your little jester character tucked away, along with a small doodle of a minor, nobody, gray character who may or may not be a tag along to the main act that is the jester. Your sketches and concept art are hidden away, far from where the light of day or the shine of night will ever see.

It goes missing one day. You're upset and asking everyone who went through your desk. No one confesses. Cyrus tells you that it'll be okay, he'll help you find it. Mani suggests that you keep locks on your drawers from now on.

It's never found, not that you wanted either of them to stumble upon it. Yet, they stay late with you after everyone has gone home, looking for your precious and secretive sketchbook through the many departments of the studio.

Somewhere along the way, Cyrus disappears, promising to return with your sketchbook. You lose Mani in the audio department before, oh, there's Vanessa. She tells you to come to the basement with her—she found your notebook. You're relieved but a little put off by Vanessa and reluctantly follow her down into the dark.

You don't find your sketchbook, but you do find Cyrus slumped against the wall, blood trickling down his temple, and a strange collection of shrines to one of the studio's cartoon characters.

Before you can rush to his side, pain explodes in your skull, cracking white across your vision. You fall to the ground, dazed, as Vanessa gives a cryptic promise to return with the last sacrifice. You manage to crawl across the floor in your pitiful state to reach Cyrus and attempt to revive him, but by then, Mani is walking in. His shock overtakes him but he dodges a swipe of Vanessa's wrench and starts struggling against her. You try desperately to drag Cyrus somewhere safe as he murmurs for you to get out of here, but in the middle of Vanessa's and Mani's fight, she flips a switch and ink begins filling the room.

The black flood sweeps Cyrus away from you. Pages spill out from the inside of Vanessa's vest, dozens of sketches of your jester character. You cry out. Mani looks to you. Vanessa at last shoves Mani into the surge of onyx liquid beside Cyrus, and you watch both of them go under together. You scream their names. She turns to you, grinning.

The last thing you remember is Vanessa shoving your head into the ink.

Then it's the only thing you remember. You're vaguely aware that your jet-black hands are strange and shiny, and that you don't know where you are in this sepia-colored studio, but you know something's not right. You're missing someone, and someone else. You're scared.

You wander around for a bit until you're attacked by monsters emerging from the ink, shrieking and wailing in gluey dark forms until a wonderful and terrifying automaton arrives. He destroys such a creature about to tear you apart. He stands so tall, detailed with sharp teeth and even sharper sun rays around his large, flat face, but you think you recognize those yellow eyes—a living cartoon.

He helps you calm down and asks for your name in a loud and funny voice that rings like a bell in your mind but you can't name the tune. You don't remember your name. He doesn't remember his either. He leads you away from the harsher spaces of the studio, somewhere 'safer'. You don't know if there is anything as safe, but you feel better with him.

You're startled when after a time, in the middle of talking to this sunshine character, he melts and morphs and bubbles until a crescent moon face emerges and a new grin. You panic before a darker, raspier voice, like a cartoon villain, tells you it's alright. He's here, too. He's not sure what's going on but he, and the other 'him', and you are gonna make it out of here, somehow.

You don't have hope anywhere else but in this unique robot jester, and he seems to want you to stay close to him. So it's you two, the last sane partnership in the crazed and dripping studios, fighting off ink creatures and surviving other bizarre characters. You learn how to wield a gent pipe and the jester is strong on his own, often able to tear things apart or toss monsters off of you before they can do worse. He has claws and teeth and he uses them well.

Vanny is a lady rabbit and a constant threat. She's smart and cunning, unlike the other mostly senseless attackers. She keeps tracking the two of you down and spouting off the religious rhetoric of Inktrap, promising that your sacrifices will be well worth the pain. You had to be introduced to the cycle. The ink has corrupted you perfectly. You are part of this place. You are never leaving and will give in to Inktrap.

You and he avoid Inktrap at all costs. You've only caught glimpses of the shadowy, pitch-black beast, but that's all you need to see as you both hide and hold your breaths until the danger just barely passes by.

You start to call the daytime jester Sun, and he seems to respond to it. The nighttime joker is Moon, and he neither hates nor loves it, but he answers when you call. He has a name for you, too, or rather names. Peach, bird, thrill, calico, and sweetheart. He gets creative and goofy. You think he's being mean sometimes but he tells you he's not, he means it, and you don't know how to take that before you two have to focus on escaping this part of the studio and getting into safer areas. You protect his back and he protects yours, and together, you make this living, unending nightmare bearable. Sharing bacon soup, falling asleep in Moon's lap, and patching up any drips in Sun's inky form becomes something like a life.

It just never stops, repeating over and over. The jester deserves better than this, whatever happened to him. You know you both do.

You become determined to learn how the cycle works and how to prevent it from going on. There's a funny feeling you have that, somehow, you're going to have to go through Vanny and the Inkdemon. One day, you will get the jester and yourself free.

You need to see his and your happy ending.

[seung-scrittore]

what it’s like dating SEUNGMIN !

📻 … hel- … can anyone … kkchh .. WC: 204 … GN! READER … GENRE: fluff … WARNINGS: none … -over … kchhh ..

minnie isn’t the best at expressing himself but he takes intense moments seriously, he’ll insist on looking each other in the eyes during a conversation <3

oh my… he’s so petty ??? why do you put up with him tbh… he’ll complain about the littlest things, but it only takes a kiss or two to calm your menace down

needless to say, the two of you enjoy each other’s company and so! you’re over often, often enough to warrant having your own toothbrush at his house. oh, and seungmin loves the domestic feeling of brushing your teeth in the same home every night 🫶

casually mentions that he wants to marry you. just out of nowhere. you’re surprised for sure but it’s endearing to think seungmin wants to spend the rest of his life with you 😵‍💫

grocery shopping !!! like i said, seungmin really adores being in domestic situations with you. and grocery shopping of all things? oh, he’d melt… he probably took mental notes on every brand you bought, he’s obsessed

and don’t you dare binge that one tv show without him, (yk the one i’m talking about !) that’s sacred to him !! he will pout for weeks if he found out you so much as unpaused without him ‼️

consider leaving a reblog ? ^^

… is anyon- … kkkch .. TAGGING: @liumoonlight , @sunoo-bby , @tbzloonar , @noramoons , @seonghwas-lighter , @septabuspass , @kflixnet , @kwritersworld , @k-labels @straykidsland-main , @kdiarynet … pleas- … -you copy? … kchhh …. 📻

[imagineredwood]

7. Macarons 🍪

Summary: Manny likes you, has for a while, but he's gotten mixed signals from you and isn't sure if the feeling is mutual. That's ok though. Nothing a few laced cookies can't solve.

Pairing: Manny x female reader (did he have a last name? Can’t remember)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI Sexual content, they do not have sex, just grinding and touching, Dark!Manny DRUGGING - the reader is drugged without her consent with a 'truth serum' type drug in her gifted macarons to get her to tell him how she feels. The reader does like him and does want to be with him/be sexual with him, she's just been shy and didn't dare to be upfront; the drug helps it come out. So their interactions are technically consensual, but she has been drugged against her will/knowledge and is under the influence. Just want to make that clear for everyone. If it's not your cup of tea or triggers you or anything like that, please don't read it. I would never want anyone to be upset by/hurt/triggered by my work, but at the same time, we're also responsible for the content that we choose to consume. So if it doesn't sound like something you would like or enjoy reading, please don't read it. I won't take it personally if you sit this one out. Also please let me know what other tw I should tag it as if there are any you feel it should be under

Word count: 1.6K

"Macarons??"

You beamed as you looked into the box, the selection of pastel treats looking delightful. They were expensive for their size, one of the main reasons you never really splurged on them. You'd had one or two here and there, but a box of 24? You had never spent that kind of money on a cookie. That didn't mean that you couldn't admire them though. You'd saved some aesthetic tiktoks of them, opting to one day spoil yourself with a beautiful box of them. You hadn't ever told Manny about your desire to have them, knowing that if you merely mentioned it, he would've splurged on the most beautiful and expensive ones he could find. He was just like that when it came to you. So you'd kept it to yourself, deciding that you would get yourself a small box for Valentine's Day, seeing as you didn't have a Valentine. 

But Manny had beat you to the punch. 

He grinned as he watched your eyes light up, happy that his gift had paid off. At first, a few months ago when he was trying to plan out what he would do for the special day, he wasn't sure if the treat was one you would be into. He wanted to make sure that whatever treat he got you for Valentine's Day, was one you would enjoy and preferably one you would remember.

When he saw the saved tiktoks, he was thankful that he'd had the idea to hack your phone a few weeks before. 

His intentions had been innocent enough, really. He just wanted to be able to know what you liked. He always got you gifts, eager to please. He had already decided he was going to put together a Valentine's Day basket for you, but he needed to make sure everything was perfect and to your liking. He needed you to see how much he cared about you and wanted you to be happy. Wanted you to be his. All of his previous gifts had warmed you and gotten you closer to him, but you still weren't his. His hope was that this gift would change that. 

So scrolling through your likes and saves, he'd found a handful of videos of the delicate treat and knew then that was his way into your heart. And right he had been. 

You smiled eyes raking over all of the colors, the sweet aroma wafting up to your nose in a swirl of vanilla and raspberry and cinnamon and-

"I'm glad you like it."

The Mayan looked proud as he eyed you, happy with his decision. Your mouth was practically watering at the smell and he knew you couldn't wait to try them. 

"Go 'head, mama. Let me know how they taste."

Your fingers hovered around the box, all of them looking so good you were having trouble picking which one you wanted. You settled on a baby pink one and picked it up, admiring it. 

"This one looks just like one I saw a video of." 

Manny nodded, knowing the exact tiktok you were speaking of. He didn't say that though. He knew that was the one you were going to have picked first. He knew you'd be excited and enthusiastic to dig into them.

That was why he had paid to have a little something slipped into the filling. 

He wasn't going to hurt you, of course not, he would never do that. He just wanted you soft and compliant. Honest. Needed to know if you felt the same way. Needed to know how you felt about him wanting you to be his and only his. So he'd gotten the idea from one of his brothers, 'truth serum cookies' he'd called it. The company made desserts for different purposes. Some had aphrodisiacs for couples to ramp up their sex life, others like the ones he had ordered had a drug known to make people relaxed and forthcoming, perfect for those who struggled with shyness when it came to dirty talk. 

In Manny's case, he just wanted you to be relaxed and open enough to tell the truth about if you wanted him as much as he wanted you. He needed to know if you would be his, and if you didn't want to be, then why. He'd brought it up to one of the Yuma brothers and he'd sold him on the idea. 'She won't even know. You can't taste it, no one would buy them if they tasted weird. They crush it up and mix it with some sugar, then add it to the cookie's filling. She won't have a clue. And you'll get to figure out whether she wants to have your crazy ass or not.' he had said.

He watched as you brought the macaron to your mouth and took a bite, catching a crumb in your hand as you licked the rest from your lips. Manny licked his own instinctively, eyes raking over your face as he watched you eat, almost in a trance. You smiled, covering your mouth as you chewed, not wanting to make more of a mess. 

"It's delicious." 

He smiled, then shook his head as you held it up to him for him to take a bite. 

"Not a fan of raspberry. Enjoy it." 

He lied cooly, and you bought it, taking another bite. You pushed the box towards him and motioned for him to take one as you both stood there at your kitchen counter. He obliged, not wanting you to suspect anything, and grabbed the cream-colored one with light brown filling, taking a bite. 

"Cinnamon." 

"Mmm." 

He held it out for you to take a bite of your own and you did, enjoying that one just as much as the other. You both stood there together, eating and chatting, a whole row missing before you knew it. You'd eaten most of them, and he wasn't worried about being affected. He didn't have anything to hide. You let out a yawn, and grabbed the lid, covering up the box with a laugh. 

"The crash after a sugar rush always sucks."

Manny nodded, his eyes on you as he watched your eyes grow a little heavier, your lids moving a little slower as you blinked. 

"Maybe we could go chill on the couch." 

You nodded and offered him a relaxed smile, that idea sounding wonderful. 

"Yeah, that sounds good." 

He followed you as you walked, hands itching to grab your hips as they swayed in front of him. You were a goddess in his eyes. A treasure that was meant to be his, but was always just out of his reach. But he was also a gentleman, despite his unorthodox methods of gaining the truth. So he kept his hands to himself, sitting down beside you on the couch. He angled his body towards you slightly like he always did, except this time it was because he was keeping an eye on you. 

Your eyes were soft, your face smooth and relaxed. He looked you over, not worried about you thinking he was weird or creepy for how long he stared at your face. He took in the angle of your nose, how your lashes fluttered on the tops of your cheeks. The softness of your lips. Your voice was gentle when it spoke, and his eyes were watching your lips as they parted, but it still caught him off guard. 

"Do you think I'm pretty, Manny?"

There it was. The serum already going into effect. His eyes drifted away from your lips and locked with yours.  

"I do, mama. I think you're gorgeous." 

You smiled softly. 

"I hoped you did." 

He inquired even though he knew exactly what you meant. 

"Hoped I did what?"

You shrugged, head tilted to the side as you gazed at him. 

"Hoped you found me pretty." 

He swallowed, his fingers wiggling as they screamed to touch you. 

"Well, I do. I think you're the prettiest little thing I've ever fuckin' seen." 

He watched as your throat moved, your swallow audible and pulling a smile from him. 

"What about you? You think I'm handsome?"

You didn't hesitate to nod. 

"I think you're very handsome. I think you're sexy." 

He adjusted himself in his seat, pants starting to feel a little snug. 

"That so?"

"Mhmm." 

You stared at him, fingers twiddling with the hem of your shirt. 

"I wanna sit in your lap. If that's ok." 

He melted, his nod sharp as he lifted the arm that was toward you, inviting you in. 

"C'mon then."

He felt his pulse quicken as you crawled over, a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself as you tossed your leg over his and then settled down in his lap, his eyes peering up at you. Your hands rested on his chest, fingers reaching up slightly, the tips tracing over the tattoo on his throat. 

"Wanted to sit like this for a while." 

The Mayan allowed his hands to finally drift over onto your hips, fingers digging in ever so slightly into the plush skin. 

"Wanted you to sit like this for a while too." 

Your giggle was breathless and it took everything in him not to start dragging your hips back and forth on him. 

"Anything else you been wanting?"

 You looked at him, fingers still stroking the ink. 

"Been wanting you to touch me."

Manny groaned, his hands gripping you tighter. 

"Oh yeah? Where?"

You shrugged and he shook his head, sucking his teeth. 

"Nah, none of that. Where you want my hands at, pretty girl?"

He slid his hands down further, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass, gripping and pulling at your cheeks. 

"Here?"

You nodded, your hips rocking slightly. You pulled one hand away from his throat and instead gripped your own breast, your nipple hard under your palm already. 

"Maybe here too." 

He cursed quietly under his breath and pulled only one hand away to replace yours, squeezing at the soft swell of your breast, feeling like he was in heaven. 

"Yes ma'am." 

General taglist

@piccasoe @ateliefloresdaprimavera @gemini0410 @woahitslucyylu @my-rosegold-soul @that-chick212 @everyhowlmarksthedead @glimmerglittergirl  @fanaticfangurl21 @encounterthepast  @svintsandghosts @starrynite7114   @destynelseclipsa  @queenbeered @iamthegraham @emoengelfurleben  @otomefromtheheart @rosieposie0624 @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @beeroses @weirdosandhopelessromantics @kola95 @black-repunzel99 @xonickibaby @cruzwalters @myakai13 @mrsstevenbuchananstark @lyly00 @kaystacks17 @cole-winchester  @alexxavicry  @savagemickey03  @fanfic-n-tabulous   @gangstaliciou06

Mayans MC taglist

@dazzledamazon​  @abunnykisses​ @briana-mishell24​  @wrcn9fvlcver​  @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @krysiewithak​  @appropriate-writers-name​  @blessedboo​  @megapeacelovemusic-blog​ @emoengelfurleben​ @blowmymbackout​ @abby-splace​ @kola95​ @black-repunzel99​ @redpoodlern​  @myakai13​

@cruzwalters​  @danimals1096 @po3ticb3auty​ @lyly00​ @im-just-a-mississippi-girl​  @angel-121​ @fanfic-n-tabulous​ @90sisthenew80s​ @lovelytricia @librarian1002

[tame-the-lion-writes]

anything but worthy [pt.2]

This is reposted from my ao3!

[SFW Arthur Morgan] tags: omegaverse

Ever since you were a teenager, you've loved romance books. First you pretended to hate them, and still occasionally do, but for all the tropes that you’ve scorned, there’s something inherently addicting about them, too.

You shared this little obsession with Mary-Beth, and as such, occasionally shared each other’s novels. She was an aspiring writer, you knew, and as an avid consumer, she’d appreciate your tips and critiques. But if there was one thing you couldn’t share, it was how much more you fantasized compared to her.

Pride and Prejudice was lovely, really – a testament to the change people will go through because they love someone. Romeo and Juliet was more of a tragedy, and while you understood the political metaphor, as a story, it felt a little too juvenile. There were the non-romances, too – Robinson Crusoe, Tom Sawyer or Huckleberry Finn. Hell, you’d even read Charles C. Chestnutt, since you were so invested in the politics of the time. Equality for everyone, past the bare minimums of the Civil War! 

But, on some level, you didn’t want the sensical. You didn’t want things that made sense – you craved suspension of disbelief. You craved something more primal, something that could be set aside from the sociopolitics of everyday life – something private, and personal, and perhaps a little… perverted.

Ugh. Putting it like that made you sound like you needed church.

(And perhaps you did.)

– but that wasn’t the point!

The point was – that for the past year, you’d been miraculously saved by a big strong mountain man, and now, in a time when women only had the options of marriage, elementary schooling, or prostitution, you had been swept into the wild drama of a gang of outlaws. This in itself was perfect romance material!-- if not perfect – ugh – Victorian erotica material.

(Because yes, those existed – though you certainly wanted something better than a couple dozen pages written from the perspective of a fucking flea.)

Now Arthur Morgan, in particular, was perfect romance material. You and Mary-Beth – and even Tilly – yes, Tilly! – had agreed as such. John was taken, Sean and Bill both idiots – though Karen would probably settle for the former. Javier was a romantic with a lovely voice, but you didn’t know him all too well, and Charles was almost too quiet. (Again, almost – he was handsome and kind and patient.) Dutch was taken, Hosea was more of a father, but Arthur – Arthur – he was a perfect mix of rough and sentimental. A perfect mix of rugged and gentle.

Though you might have underestimated just exactly how rough he could be.

Not to mention that he was an alpha – the greatest one in the pack, even above Dutch, you’d decided.

Admittedly, you didn’t notice at first – notice how often he looked at you, at least. You noticed his strength right away of course, and how much of a leader he could be when necessary, but it took Mary-Beth and Tilly and Karen – all of them – to make you realize he had taken a liking to you.

“God, you’re oblivious as hell, ain’tcha?” Karen had said one evening, throwing her hands up in the air. “The man’s been eyeing you like a piece of meat!”

“Now, I wouldn’t say a piece of meat–” Mary-Beth countered with a nervous chuckle, shaking her head. “More like a… a male lead!”

“A male– a fuckin’ what now?”

Tilly giggled in the background, covering her smile with her hand. “You know, Karen, like the main love interests in Mary-Beth’s books.”

The blonde made a face, scrunching up her nose. “You know I don’t read that shit. Too sappy for me.”

“It’s not… ‘shit,’” you defended with a smile, albeit an understanding one, but seeing Mary-Beth pout, you had to say something. “They’re pretty good in my opinion.”

“Oh, don’t you dare change topics with me, girly,” Karen scolded, rolling her eyes. “Either way, you know what we mean!”

 Actually, you didn’t – not until then. It was hard to believe a man like that could like you. But ever since that conversation, you found yourself looking over your shoulder more, darting your eyes in Arthur’s direction to try and catch him in the act. For the longest time, however, he seemed normal – busy with something else, not even close to facing you. You had nearly given up when, one night, when the gang was celebrating a successful job with drinks, that you looked up to see blue eyes staring you down, laced with a certain expression halfway between affection and lust.

That day, you looked away, red face hidden in the darkness. But from then on, with his whatever toward you confirmed, a returned interest had started to grow. And boy, did you try to hook him.

It started with simpler gestures, really – an odd form of courtship since you were shy and he just felt so big compared to life. You’d do all his laundry, hand him coffee or stew, or leave him a newly repaired shirt on the table by his bedside. One time, you even managed to scourge together enough money to buy him a new ink pen. Your excuse?-- that if he kept writing in his journal with pencil, the graphite would rub the letters clean off one day. And you knew how much his writing and drawing meant to him, even if he denied any form of intelligence.

But it took another few months before you’d finally gathered the courage. The courage to ask him to stay with you, through the heat – during your heat. But–

“I am anythin’ but worthy of that honor, little girl.”

The response made your heart sink, and for a moment, you thought that was that.

“I’m sorry, Arthur.” Your voice is shaky. “I just thought it would be nice – me and you.”

You felt like a little girl, trembling quietly in the night.  All that staring and time wasted – but it was just staring, not him actually planning to act on you. Well, now you just felt a little silly, too. Silly little omega. What kind of omega chases an alpha – not the other way around?

“I guess I’ll just ask Sadie or Miss Grimshaw to go with me again. Or maybe Karen, ‘cause she can handle a gun, too.”

But before you can disappear into the darkness, escape the vicinity and curl up – cry yourself to sleep – he speaks up again, explaining himself.

“I don’t wanna hurt you, omega. I don’t wanna hurt you. That’s all.”

“Oh, Arthur. I’d be okay if it were you.”

Something shifted that evening. And you parted ways with a better understanding.

The following day, the girls helped you pack – Miss Grimshaw being helpful in particular. She’d made sure some herbs for soothing tea was going with you, and had the others wrap up enough blankets for comfort. There was a tower, the older woman explained, back up north in the Grizzlies – nice and cool to keep your fever from being unbearable, yet not quite buried in layers of snow. Compared to the humid mists of Lemoyne, it sounded like sheer paradise. Arthur himself had scouted it out while on one of his trips, and after tidying up the place a bit, deemed it a safehouse for omegas like you, Mary-Beth, and Tilly. (And Kieren, too, but the boy didn’t like to admit it.) 

But when you expected Miss Grimshaw herself to hop onto the wagon with you, instead of a woman with makeup too gaudy for her features, you heard a rough groan as a man clad in brown leather pulled himself up to sit at your side.

“Er, Arthur, this is my wagon,” you said, dumbfounded, brain not quite working.

“Yup, I know.”

He cracked the reins, getting the horses to start their little trotting.

“It’s– it’s my wagon. I’m not going to town, you– you know that, right?”

“Yup. I know.”

You stare a few more seconds, stare hard, then sink into your seat, facing forward.

Oh my god.

Oh my god.

You hear faint laughter from behind you and raise your head to look over your shoulder, where you see the girls waving – grinning – and Karen hooting and hollering, knowing how things were likely to go. 

“Why– why did you change your mind?” you ask, breathless, gripping your hands tight in your lap. “You really didn’t have to.”

“Just thought about it last night. Thought– hell– once thought no one would have me. Then some pretty girl shows up an’-- well– guess your words hit a chord last time we talked.”

“Arthur, nobody in their right mind wouldn’t have you.”

The rest of the trip is spent in relative quiet, your mind busy processing the fact that Arthur would be staying. The stop at Rhodes for food was brief, the pass through Emerald Ranch even briefer. Then it was up to O’Creagh’s Run, where Arthur stopped by an old man’s cabin. The man had spared you a knowing smile, clapped Arthur on the back, offered to take you both fishing later, then sent you your way.

After that, it was just a little roundabout trip to avoid the steep parts of the mountain range, and soon, you two were passing into a clearing where a log tower came into view. It was a sturdy, impossibly pristine place, likely recently abandoned. A nearby campfire was still smoldering, but Arthur noted that people rarely passed through. Ambarino was a scarce place after all, with few homesteads and little reason to visit. And – on the off chance some other alpha was too nosy for their own good – the top of the tower provided ample range for Arthur to threaten them off with a gun.

Settling in, you were starting to feel the haze of your heat, but luckily, Arthur had given you some privacy to prepare. He waited outside, by the campfire, scavenging through the leftovers of the former occupants to see if they’d abandoned any cans of food. In the meantime, you’d bundled up your extra blankets and pillows, 

Once overcome by the sweltering heat of Lemoyne, now the cold of the Grizzlies has drifted through the opening at the top of the tower, allowing the cool air to sink and settle around you, and paired with the blankets still lightly scented with the smell of fellow omegas, it begins to slowly you into a sense of security. The stove can be turned on later if needed, to warm both some food and you – but for now, the temperature is satisfactory, and in your chemise, the urge to sleep is instant. You don’t even fight it. Within minutes, you’re drifting off into peaceful nothingness.

And that’s when the sound of a gunshot awakens you.

“Arthur?”

You call out his name in the dead quiet, clutching the blankets close. Your heat is on the edge of full force, and you’re just barely lucid enough to stand. Which you do.

“Arthur?” you repeat, bare feet falling in succession on the wooden floor.

Then it hits you – the swarm of what felt like dozens of other scents. The disgusting mixture of chalk and rotten food, pungent chemicals, and more. But somewhere in the middle, there’s the familiar smell of leather – the warmth of whiskey, and the freshness of rain.

And you notice – it’s raining.

There’s no more gunshots, not that you can hear, but now there’s the sound of a struggle outside. Gasps and coughs and grunts, among the sound of fists landing hard on flesh and bone. You flinch repeatedly at each blow and finally decide to peek through the window, where in the dark of night, you can barely make out the silhouettes of several people.

Two bodies lie still in the grass, water gathering in the wrinkles of their shirts. Three more are standing – one, you make out to be Arthur, while the other two are clearly trying to beat him to a pulp.

Emphasis on trying.

With a well placed kick to the gut, Arthur sends another one flying, and now it’s just him and the seemingly equally large man left.

You can’t make out what they’re saying, but you can make a good guess. Why else would a group of alphas swarm to one spot when an omega’s in heat? The thought makes you sick, and you cover your mouth, slumping against the wall by the window and forcing the bile down. 

It takes seemingly forever, but after a while, the sound dies down. One more glance out the window confirms that Arthur is the only one left standing – because of course he is – and the sight of his outline, standing against the bright of far-off lightning strikes, shoulders rising and falling with every labored breath – it makes you want to crawl right into his arms.

But as you open the door and the full strength of your scent floods down the path towards him, his body goes rigid. There’s something wrong.

“Arthur?” you call out a third time. Then a pause.

“... Arthur?”

He turns, and you see the spots of red splattered across his face. There’s this wild look in his eye – not the mix of affection and lust that you’d seen so long ago, but the pure animalistic drive of alpha pheromones. In the rain, the scent hits you. Yes – leather. Whiskey. The smell of dust after rain.

The heat pools in your blood, but so, too, does your body call you to run.

And you do.

_

Oh, you want the third part? The lovely, lovely smut? Check out my ao3

[lovelyhan]

hi beloved. i am here to bother you with the idea of cucking shua by fucking jeonghan in front of him and blindfolding him so he cant watch he can only listen to ur moans and get off to the thought of his best friend fucking the life out of you and he cant even see

03:05 — JH & JS

i was supposed to go to bed but then i remembered this ask exists and now i won't do that anymore 🗿

warnings: cuckolding, smut (MINORS DNI)

you love your boyfriend. you love him more than anything in the entire goddamn world. so when joshua lets slip that he wouldn't mind seeing you get fucked by his best friend during a silly game of truth or dare at a night out with friends, who are you to deny him what he wants?

unfortunately for your sweet, sweet shua, jeonghan plays out the fantasy in a much more sinister way.

"hear that, joshuji?" he chuckles and you feel every word breathed against the sensitive skin of your neck. "she's soaking. all wet and ready for a cock that isn't yours. how's that make you feel?"

the words are delivered in a tone that isn't so different from a stereotypical villain that's out to take everything away from the main protagonist. but if there's something you know about the nature of your boyfriend's long-time friendship with jeonghan, it's that they bond over the most unorthodox things.

one being: jeonghan being balls deep inside you while joshua sits helplessly on the plush reading chair near the bed — wrists tied together behind his back while a silk black blindfold robs him of his sight all at once.

"can hear her pretty cunt all the way here," he sighs almost dreamily — what a freak, but you adore him for it anyway. "jeonghan-ah, you better fuck her right. nice and sloppy so i can at least hear what you're doing to my girlfriend."

joshua sounds so awfully casual about the entire thing that it makes you wonder if this odd pair has done this before. you wouldn't really put it past them to be insane enough to do that, but whatever girls they tag-teamed before don't matter.

it's your pussy that they want now.

"h-hannie," you whimper, hips gyrating ever-so slightly to give yourself the friction you craved like a drug. "need you to move."

jeonghan lets slip an amused laugh, pulling his hips back only to force you back onto the mattress with a powerful thrust. you mewl at the sensation, loving the way his cock drags against your velvet heat — the way your insides squelch with his intrusion. he feels so much different from joshua and you find yourself wondering if it makes you such a terrible person to enjoy getting fucked stupid on another man's cock.

"both of you are perfect for each other — so fucking demanding," jeonghan comments. "don't worry, shua. i'll rail our sweet baby so good, she'll keep coming back for more."

as promised, jeonghan makes it sloppy. spit dribbling from his puckered lips and onto the spot where his length disappears inside of you. he fucks the stringy liquid into your tight cunt — making the slide easy and smooth and so fucking divine that you're moaning into the sheets in no time.

jeonghan's heavy balls slap against your thighs with every forward thrust — unrelenting with his vigor as his teeth find purchase on the shell of your ear. "so fuckin' cockhungry, aren't you? couldn't be content with shua's? had to let me fuck this tight little pussy to keep you satisfied?"

he says the words sharply — like a knife to the ribcage before he twists the proverbial handle. but all they do is send another rush of slick gushing out of your hole, soaking jeonghan's cock even more as your eyes flutter open to let your gaze land on joshua.

he isn't putting much of a fight, but you see the way his thighs clench with the itch to get up and stuff you full alongside his best friend. the erection straining against his sweats makes your mouth water, wanting nothing more than to take his heavy length into your mouth as jeonghan fucks you from behind.

"tightest fucking pussy i've ever had," jeonghan hisses as he smooths his hands over your ass — squeezing your perky flesh hard enough to leave angry red marks. you arch your back in pure ecstasy. "you're so unfair, joshuji. keeping such a slutty cunt all to yourself when we could've been filling her up together."

joshua lets out a shaky laugh, bottom lip wedged between his teeth with a no-good smile. "i'll give you a call when she's in the mood to get stuffed by two cocks."

"fuck— she got tighter," jeonghan groans before rolling his hips deep enough to make your eyes roll to the back of your skull. "you like the sound of that, don't you? both your holes filled with cock? or do you want me and shua inside this tight pussy at the same time? you can take it, right?"

"wan' it so bad," you practically sob into the sheets as jeonghan fucks you harder, faster. "need your cum in me, hannie. please, please, please —"

"fuck, you sound so desperate, baby," joshua moans from his spot in the corner, hips bucking ever-so slightly. "begging so fucking prettily for jeonghan's load. shit. i might just come untouched."

the older man simpers, reaching between your thighs to find that sensitive little nub with unrelenting strokes. "you hear that, sweet thing? your pathetic little boyfriend is gonna cream himself to the sound of you begging for my cum. go ahead, baby. come around my cock so i can stuff you full."

his filthy words coupled with the quick, precise circles he's tracing around your clit makes your walls clamp down on him tightly — milking jeonghan's cock as you muffle a long-winded moan into the sheets.

"that's our girl — our cock drunk princess," jeonghan hisses before slamming his hips against your ass one last time, dumping his white hot cum into your hole until it overflows.

it takes you a while to come down from sheer bliss — so disoriented from that mind-shattering orgasm that you belatedly realize that joshua is right in front of you. blindfold missing, restraints undone.

before you can even ask what's going on, your boyfriend is already taking out his rock hard length out of his soiled sweats — all while his best friend's cock keeps his own cum from leaking out of your sloppy hole.

jeonghan smirks.

"your boyfriend deserves some attention too, right baby?"

[phospadparadscha]

Church dance + Gems au = accidental near-fusion???

And now, for the main event: Black Opal, the fusion of an Orange Pearl (Kim Kitsuragi) and mystery gem (Harry Du Bois). Below is a reference I made:

Black Opal, the fusion of Harry and Kim as part of my Disco Elysium / Steven Universe crossover AU. I really wanted to lean into the nostalgia and adrenaline junkie aspects of both characters. The conclusion I came to was a 70s biker. I think every time I've seen a picture of someone's american dad back when they were younger, it was a guy with insane facial hair and a homoerotic biker fit, which lead me to this as the aesthetic for a fusion of these two. These are black opals, for reference:

As a fusion, they both struggle to speak as a singular being. They are not a very stable fusion, mostly due to Harry's damaged gem and how quickly they both can diverge from each other in action and personality. When they do agree however and can maintain Black Opal, its the aspect of themselves that brings out the daring qualities of the other; the one that says "hold on!" and presses their foot on the accelerator, the one that revs their engine, the one that brings a boombox to a boat ride. After a while Black Opal is able to assimilate both aspects of Kim and Harry, as seen in the last panel where his enthusiastic and showboating personality (which both Harry and Kim posses individually in different ways) becomes more like a singular being, like other fusions in the show.

I arranged their limbs and eyes according to where I think they diverge in terms of personality and what they try to accomplish as a fusion / where their interests conflict. This seems to be the case for fusions in Steven Universe as well, where the less harmonious a fusion is, the less proportional the limbs and eyes are to a human body. Harry and Kim have divergences in their eyes and in their forearms. While physically they follow each other in a common goal, Harry and Kim have different ways of handling the world and diverge in their sense of interfacing. Kim has a delicate touch generally, while Harry tends to brute force his way through obstacles. They also have divergent eyes; They both see the world very differently and have different reactions to the same stimulus. Besides these two divergences, they are a fairly harmonious fusion physically.

This is Kim's first fusion, meanwhile Harry has fused before with multiple people from Precinct 41 and his ex, but due to his amnesia he doesn't remember that he has.

Harry and Kim are both basically in historical cosplay throughout the entire game, and I liked the idea of them both being a fusion that dresses in an outdated and charming way as well, like a person out of time. Black Opal as a gemstone I chose because the rainbow coloration of Harry's pale damage on his gem would intermingle with Kim's orange pearl, while the orange and green of the two of them mixed as colors would be a darker muddy color. Thus, this would equate to a dark gem with rainbow coloration inside. Opals tend to be porous as well, which I found fitting for Harry's eroded gemstone.

I love how Harry and Kim have whack-ass facial hair in game and I wanted to give them both an insane facial hair combo. The leather jacket is basically a combination of Harry's green disco blazer and Kim's orange bomber jacket. Kim's gloves become biker's gloves, the "tie" from Harry is the bandana they both wear around their mullet with buzzed sides. They're wearing these big biker's boots, which are drawn largely from Kim's boots in game. Kim has a ton of little compartments to his clothes, so I liked the idea of there being a bunch of zippers everywhere. I'd have put even more and drawn on some patches but my hand was starting to fall off from drawing so for now this is it.

I'll definitely be drawing more of this fusion and for this AU in the future but if you guys have suggestions, ideas, art requests for the crossover let me know. The tag for posts about this au is "disco universe".

Below are some of the clothing and aesthetics I referenced while drawing Black Opal:

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Bucky Barnes Drabbles/One Shots

banner by the lovely @sarahowritesostucky

updated November 23 2024 * deleted a bunch of links from this post. HOWEVER the fics can all be read on ao3 still.

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click here to be tagged in future fics!

3 Times I Seen Him || Summary: Working for HYDRA, You've only seen the Winter Soldier a handful of times, each more terrifying than the last... It isn't until you are witness to his torture that you realize how innocent the man really is. (TWS!Bucky)

All For You || Summary: After witnessing your boyfriend nearly murder you in an abusive rage, your best friend takes it in his own hands to handle the problem in one swift gun shot.

Always With You || Summary: After a horrific car crash leaves you paralyzed from the waist down, Bucky vows to drop everything in order to care for you until your healthy once again.

Before I Catch You || Summary: You try to run as fast as you can away from the winter soldier.

Better Off Alone || Summary: The Winter Soldier lets you free.

Bossy Play || Summary: You meet your new boss.

Can't Lose You || Summary: good things never last....not when bucky still has secrets. You do t understand why he hates you so much any more. But in due time, his secrets are revealed. And it’s nothing you expected.

Change Your Mind || Summary: Summary: After an intense fight between you and Bucky, you vow to get your revenge on him. He thinks your kidding around until he wakes up with an arm made of metal. Will he forever have the metallic limb? Or will you both resolve your issues and cause his arm to become human like once more?

The Chase || Summary: Bucky’s the winter soldier. He just received his next mission- you. At first he assumed you were just a simple civilian. Until he keep watch on you. He realizes your a pat of those Avenger fools. You seem to be extremely close to that archer guy, Clint Barton, Bucky remembers. You were out training by yourself on the rooftop of the tower when Bucky is able to finally gt a chance with you alone. He immediately knocks you out and brings you back to the hydra base where he resides. Once you’ve awoken, however, you put up quite the fight.You run away from the base and chased by none other then the winter soldier himself. Of course, he’s able to over power you, but yo don’t go down without a fight.

Come Out, Come Out || Summary: After a long mission, after he'd damned near destroyed every building in his path, the Winter Soldier finally comes face to face with the lone child that had somehow survivede the chaos that he ensured around the damn. He had orders to kill everyone. And he'd be a fool to let one little child go unharmed.

Daisy Dukes || Summary: You wanna help Gamora and Nebula wash your mobster boyfriend’s car.

Daring Escape || Summary: You try to flee HYDRA's facility... only to be captured by HYDRA's deadliest asset.

Don't Touch Me || Summary: Bucky tries to comfort you after a nightmare, it doesn’t go as well as he wanted.

Guns N' Thugs || Summary: Bucky protects a woman from being harassed after he recognises the perpetrators as his enemy’s goons.

Howling Moon || Summary: you find out Bucky's a werewolf.

I Wander Alone at Night || Summary: Bucky just wants to feel complete.

I'm Already Gone || Summary: TWS receives his next assignment and it kills him to complete it.

Killing Me Softly || Summary: You could do nothing but beg as he killed you.

Kisses in the Sunlight || Summary: lazy days with your mobster husband are the best

Kryptonite || Summary: Bucky watches you give birth.

Late Night Worries || Summary: Standing on top of the balcony of the Tower as a party goes on downstairs, you have a chat with Bucky.

Long Live My Heart || Summary: Bucky decides to leave you after a long strenuous battle in his mind. He didn't give a reasoning behind his departure.

The Loss of You || Summary: After the death of you giving birth to a daughter, Bucky is torn apart.

Mafia Cakes || Summary: there's a new worker in the bakery you frequent.

Metallic Limbs & Sweet Cupcakes || Summary: Discovering the mafia lord's dark secret wasn't on your agenda.

Mine Baby || Summary: Sitting at a bar one night, long after you'd abandoned your friends and even Bucky at the tower, you'd finally gained the courage to explain to him why you'd left months ago. The results weren't at all what you were expecting. The reunion had all but been a terrible feat.

Motorcycles and Smiles || Summary: bucky runs a motorcycle gang that helps abused children get away from their families.

Never Safe Again || Summary: you’d thought you would have been safe after all this time.

Overboard || Summary: Ten long years it's been since you'd last seen your friend. You'd thought it would have been a welcoming affair... However, when news spread of your betrayal to him, he doesn't take it kindly.

Pirate's Heart || Summary: Bucky enlists you, a smuggler, to get him away from the royal guard after he steals something from the crown.

Reflected Fragments || Summary: In an abandoned warehouse, you confront the Winter Soldier, hoping to reach the man you once knew.

Run For Your Life || Summary: The Winter Soldier chases you, hoping to catch you.

She's Like Heroin || Summary: you and Bucky have been fighting for MONTHS. And you couldn’t figure out why until you catch him trying to leave without saying a word to you.

Somewhere I Belong || Summary: You're woken up in the middle of the night to your husband freaking out about the villagers finding his wolf form.

Surprise! || Summary: you thought everyone forgot your birthday.

Those Cold Nights || Summary: bucky always waits for you at the end of your shift to make sure you get home safely.

Three Terrible Flaws || Summary: HYDRA always wins….

Train Runaway || Summary: Bucky wanted a new life for himself. He decides to run away from his home and catch a cargo train to some unknown city.

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

title: love letters

pairing: grayson x (first person) reader

synopsis: you and grayson used to but ended on really bad terms. you never thought you’d meet his eyes again, let alone have a conversation… and that conversation changes everything

warning:

a/n: it’s a bit rubbish… sorry… but thanks for reading :)

tag list: @tornqdowarnings @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @stqrsbythepocketful @lxvebelle @mrs-venus-beaufort @emelia07 @f4iry-bell

I slowly make my way up the grand staircase to the main hall. Fancy dinner parties had never been my scene but as required by my employer I begrudgingly accepted. In a dress I didn’t own, or even intend to own I walk to meet my host.

“So glad you could make it,” she smiles a bit too warmly for my liking.

“Thanks for inviting me,” I reply, with the sort of smile you use when you have to be polite, “where am I?”

“Just between those two ladies there,” she explains, gesturing over the the seat between one young black-haired woman dressed in silks and another older woman in a deep blue.

“Thanks,” I nod at her, giving on last polite smile before my jaw got too tired to do so.

I walk over to my seat and go to sit down when something catches my eye or rather someone. I freezes mid movement, my eyes not being able to detach from the sight in front of me. I’ve never felt such a mix of shock and horror and awe in the entirety of my short life. It can’t be… oh but it is. I’d recognise that blonde hair and tailored suit anywhere.

Grayson Hawthorne.

Never again did I think I’d lock eyes with that piercing grey and never did I think it would feel so cold. I sit down and promise myself this will be the last dinner party I ever attend. I never should have step foot out of the house. I never should have agreed to this. Too little, too late now. There’s an odd sort of comfort when he too looks just as stunned, his eyebrows raised and lips slightly parted. The lips I used to kiss.

He opens his mouth to talk but I immediately look downs, avoiding any more eye contact. Conversation between us tonight would not happen. I wouldn’t let it. Nobody has to know I know him, he doesn’t have to talk to me, we can just pretend we’re strangers.

Strangers… the word repeats in my brain around and around. isn’t that what we are now? People who don’t talk or interact or really know anything about each other. Not anymore.

***

I force my eyes not to look at him throughout the whole dinner. I don’t want to look at him, I don’t want to be lured in again because I know my rational brain will go out of the window when my heart takes over. That stupid organ has too much control.

I seek to leave as soon as I can. Immediately after the three courses are done and there’s a window of opportunity to get away I do. I didn’t want to risk bumping into a certain Hawthorne on the way out. I rush out of the doors and towards my ride home. I’m half way down the staircase when…

“Y/N.”

His voice sent a tingle town my spine still. I stop and stand. Just when I thought I could escape him. I let out a breath and turn him around, letting myself take him in properly this time. He was different than I’d remembered him… something felt off. I tilt my head to the side and take in the man before me, the man who left me, the man who broke me.

“Grayson,” I say. My voice is strong and harsh and hard. He will never know how he hurt me.

He stares. I stare. It’s like a stupid competition and yet neither of us seem to give in. I can’t read what he’s thinking or feeling in this moment, but then again I don’t want to know. I’m done with the pain and I can’t put myself through it again.

“What’s the matter with you?” Grayson asks, his tone somewhere between concern and curiosity and judgment.

“What’s the matter with me?” I scoff, my eyebrows flying to my forehead.

How dare he? How much pride do you have to have to ask a question like that? It’s a joke, some kind of stupid joke the world is playing on me. What did I do to deserve this? Why now, why tonight? Just when my life is running smoothly, things like this seem to come along.

“Why are you being so cold,” he says, his brows furrowed, as if I should be dancing around and shitting rainbows around him.

“I’m not,” I snap quickly.

“You’ve barely looked me in the eye,” he expresses, his voice too full of emotion, too unlike his usual tone.

And suddenly I’m furious, I’m blinded by a sudden surge of anger. He wants me to look him in the eye after all he’s put me through? What so he can shoot me a smile and rub salt deeper into the wound he made?

“And you expect me to?” I yell, letting my rage take hold, “After everything we went through?”

“Well I wasn’t afraid of looking into yours,” Grayson snaps back.

“Oh so now you’ve finally overcome your cowardice,” I say with a smile laced with passive aggression, shaking my head, “too little, too late.”

“I don’t understand why you’re so infuriated by my presence, if anything I should be,” he replies.

“You should be?” I scoff, “well of course you would think that, you were always so self-centred.”

“I gave up everything for you,” he yells, his eyes filled with fire.

Grayson Hawthorne has never yelled at me. Grayson Hawthorne doesn’t yell. But I don’t flinch or back down. I ignore this new version of Grayson and bury it under the version I’d forgotten.

“No you didn’t,” I scream, “you say you did but you didn’t. You loved me and loved me and then-“

I trail off, I forget what I’m going to say and fumble to find the next set of right words.

“And then what?” he asks.

“And then you left,” I laugh bitterly, “and oh you left and never said anything again. So what gives you any right to show up here now.”

I don’t know what I’m saying, I’m angry and anger is all I can see.

“I didn’t just leave,” he spits, a venomous anger on this tongue, “I sent you letter every single day for a year and you didn’t answer a single one.”

“Letters?”

My heart nearly stops. I think it actually skips a beat. My brain stops functioning for a moment and everything is blank. If he sent me letters that means everything changes, that means everything is wrong. What I think of him, how I feel towards him, my whole perception of that relationship and what happened and what didn’t.

But he couldn’t have… he wouldn’t, he didn’t want to, he shouldn’t have wanted to. I refuse to believe it. Because then that means all of those sleepless nights of sobbing, all of those times I thought I meant nothing to him, every single day I looked in the mirror and hated everything about me was for nothing.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know,” he shakes his head, running a hand through his hair, “don’t do that, it’s too cruel.”

“No Grayson,” I say, trying to not let my voice waver, staring at him intently, “what letters are you talking about?”

He’s too in shock to reply. My eyes try to find his, darting around like a mad woman’s. I find myself gripping onto his arms and clinging to them. He finally meets my eyes. The grey that was once my world of precious rare metals, then dead like the wilted flowers I wept over and now… now they’re grey like the every changing storm cloud that can’t decide whether it should rain or not.

“What letters!?” I cry, my tone still thick with desperation.

a/n: tell me why this took me like three days to write?? my motivation was nowhere… but oh well. It’s a bit short and sweet, but I hope you guys enjoyed anyway :) requests are always welcome and let me know if you want to be on the tag list 🤍🤍

credit to @cafekitsune for the divided

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[farfromstrange]

Carpe Noctem [PREVIEW]

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Pairing: Vampire!Matt Murdock x F!Nun!Reader

Warnings: (additional tags to be added/changed) Dead Dove Do Not Eat, religious imagery & symbolism, vampirism, Dark!Matt, blood consumption, corruption kink, SMUT (18+), pain kink, blood play, ANGST, canon typical violence, physical assault, allusions to sexual assault, hunter and prey vibes, allusions to stalking (possibly full-on), scent kink, marking, blasphemy, no happy ending

Summary: Over the past centuries, nothing could have stopped Matt Murdock from wanting, craving, everything, even what he could not have; money, power, and sex, among other more materialistic things, but nothing has him in quite a chokehold like the insatiable hunger for blood he was cursed with the night he died. Nothing could have stopped him from getting what he wants until one day in March, you enter his life.

Matt has stolen, beaten and killed without care, but corrupting a child of God is a line he dares not cross. You, a nun. It’s unthinkable. The part of him that longs for the life he was torn out of—the boy still riding the waves of Catholicism, that Matt Murdock—would rather see him impaled on a wooden stake than allow him to take your blood. Your blood, your innocence, and all that you are; the aroma of rosemary and sanctity that surrounds you is a siren’s call that draws him inevitably closer. The same walls of Clinton Church that house you would incinerate him, and he still wants you. He wants you, but he can’t have you.

Devoting yourself to the church saved you from the abyss, but it may also lead to your eternal corruption at the hands of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. Matt Murdock. A vampire. Soon, you find yourself not only on the verge of losing your innocence to this angel of the night but your life, too, and your world drastically changes for what you realize might be worse than death itself.

(18+ MINORS DNI!)

A/n: I’m back, back, BACK again! Vampire!Matt brainrot is real, and this idea was so dark in my head and kind of ironic, really, I had to put it out there for you. I will be doing my research on Catholicism religiously (pun intended) to make this as accurate as possible, but it’s still an alternate universe and I like making up my own rules. Everything I write is my personal playground, and I invite you to join me for this steamy piece of angst. So far, this is only a concept, but I will get to writing it as soon as I can! The idea is there, and I’ve got some things planned out already. So, if you’re curious, do stick around!

AESTHETIC.

Matt.

You.

RELEASE DATE: TBD!

(If you want to be tagged to know when I release it, as always, feel free to let me know. I don’t bite. Well, only sometimes.)

[allur1ngs]

we ALL know how protective bada can be right? we’ve seen it we’ve read it…

BUT we’ve never seen how the other bebe girls act when someone tries approaching y/n or is making her feel uncomfortable. i feel like out of all of them lusher would be the most violent and hyo would definitely be the most protective seeing as she’s literally y/ns bodyguard (also bada would 100% kill her if anything happens to her)

you're absolutely correct!!

tw: violence, torture, and a creepy man!!

she not only is the most violent--she's also the one to get physical quicker!! and she feels the angriest out of all the girls, because how dare some lowlife make you feel uncomfortable--(it doesn't matter if the person making you feel uncomfortable is rich or somewhat powerful as well--they're lowlife scum in her mind). you're her sweet unnie, and the soon-to-be wife of her best friend, she'd kill anyone before they get the chance to lay their hands on you.

tatter is next up on "most aggressive" out of all the girls. she's quite literally right behind lusher, except she usually hopes that the person bothering you will realize who you are and back the fuck up, but if they don't do so immediately, she's more than happy to fuck them up without a second thought.

after that the girls are all equally as protective/violent, except soweon is in dead last.

she takes after tatter in the regard that she wants the person to stop bothering you without having to use force. but of course, if they don't, she's following in the other girl's footsteps, and using physical violence to protect you.

hyo, as you mentioned, is absolutely the most protective out of them all, even lusher. her job is of course to keep you safe, but beyond that, she genuinely cares about you. she thinks of you almost like a little lamb she has to protect--of course, she knows you're strong as well--but that's her main goal during confrontations. protect you first, then beat the absolute shit out of whoever is bothering you.

(also let's not forget that if bada finds a SINGLE scratch on you, tiny or not, she'll literally have hyo's head. and there's nothing hyo hates more than disappointing bada, and you getting hurt)

so let's put together a little scenario to show what the girls would be like in practice.

imagine that you were out on a date night with bada (the girls decided to tag along for some fun and to protect you both), but she has to head home early because of some urgent business, and you're not exactly ready to leave yet.

bada says you can stay out, but only if all of the girls stay with you and keep an eye out for you, while she heads back home.

you agree, and with a sweet kiss and a, "i love you, please stay safe,"--and a expectant look at the girls, your fiancée is off on her way home.

you stay out for a while, and just when you start to feel ready to head home, a man starts to bother you.

he begins by just staring at you while you talk to the girls, his gaze curious, until he starts to really look you up and down, and gets the stupidest, and most disgusting idea ever.

he shouts things at you like, "hey what are you doing out so late? it can be dangerous out here," and, "why don't you ditch your little friends and come have a good time with me?"

lusher freezes in her spot, her teeth slowly beginning to grind against each other painfully. scolding hot anger is already building up in her gut as she turns around to look at the man harassing you.

"do you think that's funny?" she starts walking over to him slowly, like a predator that has their pray cornered. "how dare you speak to her like that?" (she does that thing you see in k dramas a lot where they take in a sharp breath of air and make a disgusted face iykwim)

the guy is most likely drunk, because he somehow still doesn't recognize you, or the fact that lusher has a gun that's just barely visible in its holster on her hip. so he keeps spitting out disgusting things, adding in a "bitch" here and there to you and lusher--

hyo steps up, standing in front of you and placing her hands over your ears so you don't hear what the man is saying, or see him, then gives the signal for lusher to do her worst.

she does so without another second of hesitation, punching the drunk man staight in the stomach, then in his face. when he lands on the floor she starts kicking him in the stomach over and over again--surprised that he still has the energy to spew vulgar things about you while getting the absolute shit beaten out of him.

tatter joins lusher, and breaking the man's nose with a particularly strong kick. they both taunt him, telling him that he'll suffer a fate worse than death for the things he said--the rest of the girls come in as well, with soweon being the last.

when they're done with him he looks like a lifeless shell of his former self, bruises and blood splattered all over him--he's basically unrecognizable.

so you think that they'd probably kill him now, right?

wrong.

lusher picks up the man and places him in the truck of the car, smiling at his terrified face while the other girls focus on comforting you and reassuring you that you'll be alright.

(also all of their trunks are sound proof...i'm sure you know why)

when they get home they take you in first, lusher staying behind to take the man out when you've settled into bed and the girls continue to take care of you.

she takes him straight to bada's office and throws him on the floor before explaining to her everything that happened.

so, that fate worse then death that i mentioned before?

yeah, that's bada.

that man will be just barely clinging onto life while your fiancée makes him pay for the things he'd said about you.