#got two back to back 12 hour raves

[saisons-en-enfer]

Helloooo

I am in Berlin the next 8 days, any mutuals want to meet let me know :)

[matttgirlies]

Matt & Me🎀

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a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - mentions of guns,, drug use,, threats,, mentions of affairs

y/nn = your nickname for any confusion🩷

Chapter 21

Putting together the best musicians, sound and lighting technicians, costumers, and choreographers, he was taking no chances this time. He scoured the music scene for the top sidemen in the business. Auditions were held and he handpicked each player—names such as James Burton, John Wilkinson, Ronny Tutt, Glen D. Hardin, Jerry Scheff. He loved the sound of the Sweet Inspirations, backup group for Aretha Franklin, and he hired them on the spot as a warmup act and to sing backup vocals. He also hired his favorite gospel group, the Imperial Quartet.

Before leaving Los Angeles, Matt rehearsed at RCA Sound Studios for ten days and then polished the act for a full week prior to the opening. It was the event of the summer in Vegas. Colonel Parker brought the preopening publicity to fever pitch. Billboards were up all over town. On the third floor of the International, administrative offices bustled with activity. No other entertainer coming into Vegas had ever stimulated this kind of excitement. The hotel lobby was dominated by Matt paraphernalia—pictures, posters, T-shirts, stuffed animals, balloons, records, souvenir programs. You’d think Barnum and Bailey were coming to town.

Back home there was also excitement as we girls discussed what we’d wear to the opening. “I want you to look extra special, Baby,” Matt said. “This is a big night for all of us.” I hit every boutique in West L.A. before finding just the right outfit.

Though it had been nine years since Matt had given a live performance, you never would have known it from his opening. The audience cheered the moment he stepped onstage and never stopped the entire two hours as Matt sang, “All Shook Up,” “Blue Suede Shoes,” “In the Ghetto,” “Tiger Man,” and “Can’t Help Falling in Love.” He mixed the old with the new, the fast and hot with the lyrical and romantic. It was the first time I’d ever seen Matt perform live. Wanting to surprise me, he had kept me from rehearsals. I was astounded. At the end he left them still cheering and begging for more.

Cary Grant was among the stars who came backstage to congratulate him after the show. But the most touching moment was when Colonel William arrived with tears in his eyes, wanting to know where his boy was. Matt came out of the dressing room and the two men embraced. I believe everyone felt their emotion in that moment of triumph.

I don’t think we slept that night. Nate Doe brought in all the newspapers and we read the rave reviews declaring, “Matt was great” and “He never looked or sang better.” He shared credit for his new success with all of us.

“Well, we did it. It’s going to be a long thirty days, but it’s going to be worth it if we get the reception we got last night. I may have been a real tyrant, but it was well worth it.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” we all agreed, laughing. “You were a tyrant.”

The International Hotel was delirious over Matt’s performance and the box-office receipts. The following day they signed a fiveyear contract with the Colonel for Matt to appear twice a year, usually around the same time, January and August, at the then unheardof salary of one million dollars a year.

Matt literally took over Las Vegas for the entire month he was there, playing to a packed house every show as thousands more were turned away. No matter where we looked, all we could see was the name Matt—on television, newspapers, banners, and billboards. The King had returned.

Initially, Matt’s triumph in Las Vegas brought a new vitality to our marriage. He seemed a different person. Once again, he felt confident about himself as a performer and he continued to watch his weight and work out every day at karate.

It was also the first time that I felt we were functioning as a team. I made several trips to New York, trying to find unique accessories for him to wear onstage. I bought scarves, jewelry, and a black leather belt with chain links all around it that Bill Belew would later copy for the famous Matt jumpsuit belts.

I loved seeing him healthy and happy again, and I especially enjoyed our early days in Vegas. The International provided an elegant three-bedroom suite that we turned into our home away from home. During his show I always sat at the same table down front, never tiring of watching him perform. He was spontaneous and one never knew what to expect from him.

On occasion, after his midnight show, we’d catch lounge acts of other performers playing Vegas or we’d gamble until dawn. Other times we’d relax backstage, visiting with entertainers captivated by his performance. This was the first time I’d been with Matt at a high point in his career.

With the renewed fame came renewed dangers. Offstage he could be guarded by Sonny and Red. Onstage he was a walking target. One night that summer Nate and Sonny were tipped off that a woman in the audience was carrying a gun and had threatened to shoot Matt. A true professional, Matt insisted on going on. Additional precautions were taken and everyone was on the alert. Matt was instructed to stay downstage, making himself a smaller target, and Sonny and Jerry were poised to jump in front of him at the slightest sign of suspicious movement in the audience. Red was positioned in the audience with the FBI agents.

The show seemed to take an eternity. I glanced at Patsy apprehensively and she in turn grasped my hand as we comforted each other, longing for the night to end without incident. James remained backstage, never letting Matt out of his sight and praying, “Dear God, don’t let anything happen to my son.”

Because of this and other threats, extra security was arranged wherever Matt appeared. Entrances through backstages, kitchens, back elevators, and side exits became routine.

Matt had his own theory about assassinations, based on the murders of the Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr., and Robert F. Kennedy. He felt that the assassins gloated over their “accomplishments,” and told his bodyguards that if any attempt were made on his life, they should get the killer—even before the police. He didn’t want anyone bragging to the media that they’d killed Matt Sturniolo.

Sonny and Red lived in so much tension these days that they were constantly frenzied. Suspicious in crowds of overzealous fans, they were quick to respond to any sign of danger. Compared to Sonny’s diplomacy, Red’s reputation was to act first and ask questions later. Eventually, numerous assault-and-battery charges started piling up against Matt. When James warned him about Sonny and Red’s aggressiveness, Matt said, “Goddamn, Red. I hired you to keep the sons of bitches away from me, not get me in any legal binds. Somehow you’re going to have to control that redheaded temper of yours.”

Although Matt would joke about the death threats—and there would be several more throughout the Vegas commitments—the fear and constant need for security heightened the pressure of nightly performing.

In the beginning when Matt began doing regular Vegas engagements, we girls visited frequently. We’d fly in over the weekend, sometimes bringing our children, spend three or four days, and then return home.

On the days we were apart I’d take hundreds of Polaroids and home movies of Charlotte. She was growing so rapidly I didn’t want him to miss out on her development. Daily he’d receive his “care packages,” as I’d refer to them, including tape recordings of me teaching Charlotte new words and Charlotte mimicking me. Each week, upon my arrival, I’d paste photos on the mirrors in his bedroom to remind him that he had a wife and child.

During his first couple of engagements he still seemed humbled by lingering doubts of whether the public was fully accepting him. At this point he had no interest in outside affairs or flirtations, his concentration on daily rehearsals and performances every evening excluding everything else.

Later he would become more cocky. The crowds’ admiration took him back to his triumphs in the early fifties and he found it hard to come down to earth after a month of nightly cheers. His name on the International’s huge marquee would be replaced by the next superstar. The offices on the third floor would be cleared out and incoming calls for reservations would stop.

Thriving on all the excitement, glamour, and hysteria, he found it difficult to go home and resume his role as father and husband. And for me the impossibility of replacing the crowd’s adoration became a real-life nightmare.

At home in Los Angeles, there was just the usual group around—strictly a family atmosphere. This abrupt change was too much for him and soon he developed the habit of lingering in Vegas for days, sometimes weeks, after a show. The boys were finding it increasingly difficult to resolve the conflict between working for Matt and maintaining a home life.

Crazed with inactivity and boredom, Matt became edgy and temperamental, a condition exacerbated by the Dexedrine he was again taking to control his weight.

Sometimes, to ease the transition home, Matt would insist we all pile into cars and head for Palm Springs. Since our marriage we had spent-many weekends there sunning and watching football games and late-night television, but after Charlotte was born, my needs changed. The Palm Springs heat was too much for her, the long drive boring, the idleness of resort life wearying. One weekend I suggested, “Matt, why don’t just you and the guys go down?”

From that time on, the guys developed their own lifestyle in our secluded desert home. Occasionally we wives would be invited to spend the weekend, but by and large, Matt now considered Palm Springs his private refuge.

He made it clear that this time away was good for him, giving him a chance to think, to hang out with the guys. In reality Matt was lost. He did not know what to do with himself after Vegas. He escaped in more powerful, unnecessary prescribed drugs to raise his spirits and ward off boredom.

After he had conquered Vegas, it was agreed that Matt should go back on the road. Colonel immediately began booking concert tours around the nation, starting with an impressive run of six sold-out shows in the Houston Astrodome, which earned over one million dollars in three nights.

The night I arrived in Texas to watch the performance, Amber, Judy, and I flew in on a private jet. I looked down on the Astrodome and found it hard to believe my eyes. The length of a football field—and already sold out. It made me nervous. I could imagine how Matt felt.

Matt too found the Astrodome overwhelming. “Goddamn,” he said when he first walked in. “They expect me to sell this son of a bitch out? It’s a goddamn ocean.”

However dwarfed he was by the giant facility, he electrified his audience. Houston was our first run-in with mass hysteria. The limousine was strategically parked by the stage door for Matt’s immediate getaway. Even so, screaming fans surrounded the car, frantically yelling out his name, presenting flowers, and trying to touch him.

If anything, Houston was an even greater victory than Vegas. The King of Rock and Roll was back on top. The strain of sustaining such a hype was just beginning and, for the moment, I could believe that everything would still be all right. I did not realize the extent to which Matt’s touring was going to separate us, that this in fact was the beginning of the end. After Houston Matt began crossing the country, making one-night stands, flying by day, trying to catch some sleep to maintain the high energy level demanded by his performances. From 1971 on, he toured more than any other artist—three weeks at a time with no days off and two shows on Saturdays and Sundays.

I missed him. We talked constantly of being together more, but he knew that if he let me join him, he couldn’t refuse the requests from regulars whose marriages were also feeling the strain of long separations. For a while a group of us would fly in from time to time, but this didn’t last long. Matt noticed that his employees were lax in discharging their duties to him when spouses were present, and he established a new policy: No wives on the road.

I didn’t really miss the one-night stands, a tedious routine at best: Jump off the plane, rush to the hotel, unpack as little as possible, since you had to check out the next day, go to the performance, then back to the hotel for a little rest before heading back to the airport. Everything was the same except for the name of the town.

It was the day Matt suggested I come to Vegas less often that I became really upset and suspicious. He’d decided that we wives would attend opening and closing nights only.

I knew then I’d have to fight for our relationship or accept the fact that we were now gradually going to grow apart as so many couples in show business do. As a couple, we’d never sat down to plan out a future. Matt, individually, was stretching as an artist, but as man and wife we needed a common reality.

The chances of our marriage surviving were slim indeed as long as he continued to live apart from Charlotte and me, and in bachelor quarters at that. It came down to how much longer I could stand the separation. Matt wanted to have his cake and eat it too. And now, as the tours and long engagements took him even further from his family, I realized that we might never reach my dreams of togetherness.

I had trouble believing that Matt was always faithful, and the more he kept us apart, the more my suspicions grew.

Now when we went to Vegas, I felt more comfortable at the openings. He was always preoccupied with the show and I felt he needed me then. On closing nights I always felt uneasy. Too many days had gone by, enough time for suspicions to poison my thoughts. The Vegas maître d’s invariably planted a bevy of beauties in the front rows for the entertainer to play to. Curious, I would scan their faces while watching Matt closely to see if he seemed to direct his songs to any girl in particular. Suspicious of everyone, my heart ached—but we were never able to talk about it. It was to be accepted as part of the job.

Backstage one night James was jokingly negotiating for a key that had been tossed to Matt. She was an attractive middle-aged blonde—James’s type. Matt said, “Dad, you’ve got enough problems at home with one blonde. You certainly don’t need two.”

“Well, okay,” James said. “You’re going to have problems of your own if your wife goes out in the street looking like that.” I had begun wearing skimpy knit dresses and see-through fabrics that were daringly revealing. Steven and Charlie whistled and gave wolfcalls, while Matt proudly showed me off.

The jokes I played on him were also efforts to get his attention. One night, after he’d left early for a show, I put on a black dress with a black hood and an exceptionally low-cut back. When it came time for Matt to give away kisses to the girls in the audience—a regular part of his show—I went up to the stage. Instead of kissing me, he kept on singing his song, leaving me to stand there. With my hair hiding the dress strap around my neck, I appeared from the back to be nude from the waist up. I could hear the “oooh”s and “ahhhh”s of the audience. They were under the impression that a topless girl had cornered Matt and that he couldn’t figure out what to do.

I kept whispering to him, “Kiss me, kiss me, so I can sit down,” but he decided to turn the joke on me, and made me wait in the spotlight for the duration of the song. Planting a big kiss on my lips, he surprisingly introduced me to the audience. I felt a bit embarrassed and made my way back to my seat.

Later in the show he’d strut back and forth onstage, tease his audience, talk to them, tell them stories, even confide in them. “You know,” he’d say, “some people in this town get a little greedy. I know you folks save a long time to come and hear me sing. I just want you to know, as far as I’m concerned, there won’t be any exorbitant raise in price when you come back. I’m here to entertain you and that’s all I care about.”

Matt was having an ongoing love affair with his audience and the next time I was home alone I knew I had no choice but to start more of a life of my own.

It was with that thought in mind that Amber, my sister Michelle, and I planned a short trip to Palm Springs. In the course of the weekend I opened the mailbox to check the mail and found a number of letters from girls who had obviously been to the house, one in particular signed “Lizard Tongue.” My immediate response was disbelief, followed by outrage. I dialed Vegas and demanded that Nate find Matt and bring him to the telephone. When Nate said Matt was sleeping, I told him about the letters and insisted I speak to Matt. Nate promised that he would have Matt call as soon as he woke up. He did, but it was clear that Nate had filled him in on the situation and Matt had his explanation ready. He was totally innocent, the girls were just fans, they were out of their minds if they said they’d ever come to the house, and besides, it was their word against his. As usual, in the end I apologized for putting him on the spot, but things at this point were becoming too obvious.

He said, “Get out and do things while I’m gone, because if you don’t, you’re going to start getting depressed.”

Although my choices were limited—he still objected to my taking a job or enrolling in classes at college—I continued my dancing and started taking private art instruction.

Matt was a born entertainer and although he tried to avoid crowds, disliked restaurants, and complained he “couldn’t get out like a normal person,” this life-style suited him. He handpicked the people he wanted to be around him—to work with and travel withand they adjusted to his routine and his hours and his temperament. It was a pretty close clan throughout the years. A few arguments erupted and a few couples left over some misunderstandings, but they usually returned in a week or two.

My view of life had been fashioned by Matt. I had entered his world as a young girl and he had provided absolute security. He distrusted any outside influences, which he saw as a threat to the relationship, fearing they would destroy his creation, his ideal. He could never have foreseen what was happening as the consequence of his prolonged absences from home. A major period in my growth was beginning. I still feared our separations but felt that our love had no boundaries, that I was his and if he wanted me to change, I would. For years nothing had existed in my world but him, and now that he was gone for long stretches of time, the inevitable happened. I was creating a life of my own, starting to achieve a sense of security in myself, and discovering there was a whole world outside our marriage.

Over the years of playing Vegas, other pressures began to mount. There were more death threats and lawsuits, including alleged paternity suits and assault-and-battery charges. Jealous husbands claimed they’d seen Matt flirting with their wives, and others continued to charge that Sonny and Red were manhandling them. Matt began to get bored with these nuisances as well as with the sameness of the show. Inevitably, he tried to change the format, but then he felt it just didn’t have the same pacing as the original. He’d add a few songs here and there but then revert to the original. Pointed suggestions that he make changes before the next Vegas date added to the pressure.

Bored and restless, he increased his dependence on chemicals. He thought speed helped him escape from destructive thinking, when in reality it gave him false confidence and unnatural aggressiveness. He started losing perspective on himself and others. To me he became increasingly unreachable.

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd. This material may be protected by copyright.

a/n - welll..🎀

[olivetreehugger]

introducing: dispatches from republic city

Hey any and all Bolin fans! I recently rewatched LoK and it reignited my love of this universe. About 10 years ago, I sort of latched onto a side character and shipped her with Bolin, but it never became anything until now. I have started writing this story, "dispatches from republic city" about Bolin and this side character, who I have named Tanana or "Nani" for short. I will place a link below for a separate post regarding this character and why I am shipping her with Bolin.

But for story's sake, I headcanon that Nani sounds like Susan Egan (she played Meg in Hercules and Rose Quartz in Steven Universe! Her singing voice is similar, but I also headcanon that she sounds like Annapantsu on Youtube-she's INCREDIBLE!). In the show, her height isn't well established, in some gifs she's the same height as the other girls, other times she is the same height as Tahno? So I'm dubbing her a solid 5'7, while Bolin started the show at a nice 5'8 and seems to have grown a bit taller? Just look at him compared to Mako in Book 4 and tell me he hasn't gotten taller! In my fic, he's 5'10.

anyways, moving on. This story takes place post-Book 4, but I've made some changes. I've always been a Makorra gal, don't get me wrong we love the gays in this house but frankly I never got the appeal of Korrasami. I won't get into why right now, I just always loved Makorra and that will never change. Oh, and call me bitter but in this world, Zuko and Katara got together *cough*. It really won't be mentioned, but it is my head canon and I'm sticking to it.

in this story, Mako and Korra have recently gotten back together, but the actual narrative doesn't focus on them too much. The story is strictly from Nani's perspective, with only one possible chapter dedicated to Bolin's POV. We'll see how it fleshes out!

See below for chapter one of "dispatches from republic city"!

dispatches from republic city

chapter one: once a wolfbat

rating: M for sex and violence, language and eventual S/A

The sound of the lunch gong split through the air like a cannon, just as Tanana barreled into the kitchen of Mama Chen’s Dumpling Joint. She hurriedly tied her apron around her waist.

She glanced up at the clock and winced. 15 minutes late!

Any minute now, Mama Chen would burst through the swinging door, ranting and raving about her repeated tardiness.

The scent of sizzling pork fat and vegetables wafted through the air, making Tanana’s mouth water. Her stomach growled knowingly. She hadn’t had single thing to eat today.

Slyly, she ducked past the fry cooks and swiped a bun from the platter next to them and stuffed it into her mouth so no one would see. She then glided towards the back of the kitchen, near the freezer, and spent a few quiet moments savoring her stolen meal.

This was now a daily routine. She’d work from noon until midnight—at least, that’s what her timecard would reflect. Tanana, or Nani, as she preferred--was usually at Mama Chen’s from about 12 pm to 2am the next day, spending an extra two hours clearing out the drunks, teenagers and straddlers while simultaneously helping to close for the next day. She would then stuff her bag with whatever leftovers (whatever she could hide, anyways), and walk to The Bookkeeper’s apartment where she stayed. She’d eat, leave the rest of in the ice box for the old lady, and then collapse wherever she could before waking up and starting the day all over.

All for two yuan a day, though if she charmed the right customer, she might get lucky and score a decent tip.

Ever since Kuvira’s mecha-weapon destroyed the downtown area, people moved in droves to the outer neighborhoods, meaning there was less of everything to go around-including work. For many, it was a struggle just to keep their heads above water. For Nani, it was an ice cold wake up call.

As she chewed and swallowed the rest of the salty dough, the brunette wiped a dribble of oil from her chin with the corner of her apron. Without missing another beat, she picked up a tray of discarded dirty dishes and began her work.

The mix of steam, oil, and body odor marinated in Nani’s hair and skin as she worked alongside the other unfortunates around her. She didn’t bother to learn their names, why would she? After all, Nani wasn’t here to make friends. And none of these people were “friend-material”, anyway.

They all seemed to have a silent agreement, though-as long as no one snitched on the other, they all kept to themselves.

Well, some of them did, anyway.

As another invisible fixture of the kitchen, Nani usually got a front row seat to the hushed confessions of the degenerates around her: the ones who cheated on their spouses, the ones who stole money from their parents to buy opium, the ones who got pregnant and left their babies in the woods.

Hearing such tantalizing gossip would leave a person reeling, bursting at the seams as they waited to regurgitate the story to another person, but not Nani.  She’d learned a long time ago that being a snitch was a stupid form of suicide, and she had the scar to prove it.

Her life was otherwise an exhausting blur—what was a little gossip to pass the time? She would be lying if she said it didn’t give her a delightful thrill of power to know what made people stir at night, what made them ache from the inside out. To know that others were awful human beings meant she wasn’t as awful as she thought. And that was nice to believe, if only briefly.

The hours seemed to fly by quickly as Nani scrubbed, wiped and swept every inch of the kitchen. She wiped a few drops of perspiration from her brow as Mama Chen shoved through the doors.

“You!” The older woman pointed angrily at Nani. “Don’t think I didn’t notice your tardiness today. This is the last day you dishonor me. You’re fired!”

Nani felt her face instantly turn red as the other workers turned to stare at her.

She didn’t expect that.

Biting back a nasty response, she tore her apron off and let it fall haphazardly at her feet. She pushed past Mama Chen and ignored her when the older woman screeched something about “making sure she never worked in another restaurant again!”

The cool autumn air slapped Nani harder than Mama Chen’s words, but it was a welcome reprieve from the congested, sweaty air of the kitchen. She sighed and inhaled deeply, her nerves on edge as she suddenly realized that she was once again out of a job.

How could she explain herself when she showed up at the store early and empty-handed?

She started down the block, racking her mind with excuses to tell the Bookkeeper, who would undoubtedly assure Nani she was doing her best and to not worry about a thing. Still, the young brunette knew the elderly woman would have to worry about her next meal and the concerning lack of customers.

Another sudden gust of wind burst forth, smashing a flurry of discarded newspaper and ads into her face.

Nani stumbled back, the wall of stray papers temporarily blinding her. She sputtered as she ripped the sheets from her face, only for one of them to catch her eye.

It was a flashy advertisement, adorned with gaudy colors and symbols, calling hopeful talents to appear on Shiro Shinobi’s new radio channel 54. The advertisement promised the potential winner a chance at hosting their very own show on the channel!

She reread the last sentence over and over, her grayish-green eyes widening at the prospect.

Could it be?

Suddenly, Nani was on a stage, a crowd of mesmerized onlookers chanting her name as she crooned into a microphone for them. The camera flashes caught the glitter of the jewels on her dress so perfectly,  momentarily blinding her, but it didn’t matter.

She was star.

For a moment, Nani dared to dream about a future that seemed impossible just moments ago. This… had to be a sign. This opportunity quite literally slapped her in the face!

Feeling giddy, she hurried back to the shop.

----

Taking one last glance at the mirror, Nani grinned with satisfaction.

She looked good, really good, like that poster of Cherry Wong hanging in Mama Chen’s. She even emulated the famous singer’s makeup, dark red lipstick and sultry cat eyes to bring out the green.

One of the first, and most influential, performers in the United Republic- Cherry Wong wowed audiences with her stunning features and incredible voice. She had a talent that no one had seen in those times. She was known for taking old Earth Kingdom poems and transforming them into melodious harmonies. Her music was enjoyed by both old and young audiences alike.

As a child listening from the partially open windows of the clubs, Nani marveled at her talent and was utterly inspired by her passion. She spent most of her free time practicing her sonnets and ballads, hoping to find her voice like Cherry Wong found hers.

A crash sounded in the room next door, followed by a cry of pain.

Nani jolted, rushing to the sound. In the hallway, a massive grandfather clock had toppled over, pinning the Bookkeeper under its impressive weight. Shards of glass and wood lay scattered around her. Blood trickled from the elderly woman’s mouth.

“Oh…oh…” the woman whimpered, shaking as she struggled under the gargantuan fixture.

Nani gasped, nearly frozen by the grisly sight. She fell to her knees, cradled the woman’s head in her hands and cried, “I’ll call for help!”

She wasn’t sure if the woman was shaking from pain or simply nodding her head, but she spent no time discerning the difference. The brunette gently laid the Bookkeeper’s head down and jumped over the sea of glass shards that littered the floor. She sped outside and flung the door to the store open, shouting for help.

The rest of the morning was a blur of people, police sirens, ambulances and cleaning up glass. Nani breathed shakily as the medics strapped the Bookkeeper into the stretcher. She reached out and squeezed her hand.

“Don’t let them take my shop,” the Bookkeeper moaned, her bandaged face soaked in tears.

Nani couldn’t say anything with the massive lump in her throat, so she mustered a nod and watched as the medics took her away in a flurry of sirens.

The tumultuous morning events had shaken Nani terribly. A jagged feeling of guilt dug into her abdomen as she returned to her room, her gaze fixated on the poster she hung above her bed. She peeled it off the wall and folded it gingerly, setting it on the mattress.

She turned away, prepared to give up this dream once and for all.

Unless…

Nani’s eyes tracked round to the bed where the poster sat. After a moment, she reached for it and unfolded the paper, gazing at it intently.

Guilt be damned. She would be stupid to waste the opportunity.

Betrayal accompanied the sound of the clanging keys as Nani locked up the store and darted up the street, her purse and the poster in her arms. Waving wildly, she was able to flag down a taxi and hurled herself into the backseat.

“To Studio 54, please.”

----

Traffic was actually quite agreeable that morning. When the cab finally reached the studio, Nani tossed what little money she had left into the greasy palm of the cab driver and pounced from the backseat onto the pavement. The sound of the cab speeding away barely registered as the brunette gazed up at the building.

The studio itself had undergone quite a transformation. It used to be a simple office building in Harmony Park, but with Shiro Shinobi’s attention (and money), it quickly became the hub for all radio-based creativity and communications. People from all over the world could be heard from this very building. Their stories, their songs, their lives…spread across soundwaves and flowing indiscriminately to anyone who could turn a dial, only to become a daily, integral part of that person’s life. It was magical, really.

Bright red, towering doors were cast open, inviting Nani inside with their promise of fame and freedom.

When she walked in, she noticed the line for auditions was quite short. Only a handful of people were in the queue. Directly in front of her stood a broad-shouldered individual who was just tall enough to obscure her vision of the ticket desk at the front of the line. Hopping onto her tip toes, Nani got a brief view of the desk and noticed the alarmingly short stack of tickets.

Her stomach turning to stone, the brunette reached up and twirled a strand of curls between her fingers. It was something she’d done since childhood, whenever she was intensely anxious.

With every auditionee, the stack got shorter and shorter. She watched in despair as the ticketer handed over the very last one to the man in front of her. Nani took a defeated step forward, the last glimmer of hope extinguished as the ticketer merely shook his head.

“Sorry, toots. Gotta be quicker next time.”

Her shoulders sank and her eyes stung as the failure dragged her under water. Her gaze traveled to the group of auditionees filing into the audition booth, the forbidden space meant only for the most auspicious, blessed individuals favored by the spirits.

Nani, as usual, was not such a person. The spirits must’ve really gotten a kick outta this one.

She chewed on her ire and hurt as she trudged back to the shop. The stone in her gut had turned into a burning lump of coal. What was worse, the humiliation of being turned away from the one thing she’d always wanted, or the immense guilt of closing the store and setting the Bookkeeper back for a stupid pipedream doomed to flop?

When she reached the decrepit little book store, she hastily let her self in and slammed the door behind her. Her eyes caught the broken grandfather clock, now shoved into a corner where it could no longer fall on frail old ladies. She locked her jaw in indignation.

Marching through the shop, Nani found the tiny radio she shared with her elderly roommate. She tore it from its perch on the counter and chucked into the trash outside. She ripped the poster from her purse and tore it to bits, letting the pieces fall around her like confetti. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

There she was, once again in a hapless celebration of her own failures and delusions.

“You’re never gonna learn, are you?”

----

It was an unusually warm autumn morning as Nani walked into the Bookkeeper’s hospital room. Clasped between her fingers was a large bouquet of petunias, the old woman’s favorite flowers.

“What a surprise,” the Bookkeeper murmured, lifting her head from the pillow to see the young woman at the foot of her bed. “Come, come sit.”

A sad smile tugged on Nani’s lips. The Bookkeeper looked so much smaller than she remembered. Her face had become jaunt and skeletal, her eyes barely open slits, her lips cracked and bleeding. Her neck was so weak she could barely lift her head.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Nani offered.

“What lovely flowers,” the Bookkeeper said, as if not hearing Nani’s apology. “Find a vase for them, and put them in the windowsill. They like the sun.”

The brunette did as she was told and took a seat next to the old woman’s bed.

“I heard the most beautiful lady sing on the radio last night,” the Bookkeeper mused. Her eyes glittered with tears. “What a star she was. Did you hear her?”

Nani clenched her jaw. The audition was last week, so the stinging feeling of disappointment was still fresh. The Bookkeeper had unknowingly thrown salt right into her wounds.

The old woman turned her head weakly to smile at Nani. “I have no idea where she is,” she whispered, her tears falling down the side of her face. “She said she would be back, but I think she got lost.”

Concern set in as Nani watched the Bookkeeper’s face relax into silent, pleasant confusion. Her eyes settled on the ceiling, as though watching clouds in the sky.

It was later revealed that the Bookkeeper had cancer, and it not only ate through her bones, but it was actively chewing through her brain, too. Nani had thought it was simply senility easing its way in, a normal part of aging.

But this wasn’t normal aging. This was dying.

Nani sat at the Bookkeeper’s side for several days, comforting her as she cried out for people who weren’t there, moistening her lips with cool water, and mustering a brave face as she watched the woman who took her in waste away.

As the end drew closer, Nani knew what had to be done.

The woman deserved a proper burial at the very least. To sell the shop felt like betraying her, but what else could Nani do? She had no job, no support, and the shop hadn’t made a sale in months.  

That’s what Nani told herself when she found a buyer. The guy was skeezy, but he paid a decent amount that would cover the Bookkeeper’s funeral and then some. He seemed rather excited to take the shop off of Nani’s hands, and frankly, she was eager to wash her hands of it.

The exchange went well, leaving her with a hefty envelope of cash under her arm and one less guilt trip to carry around.

Still, her eyes filled with tears as she watched the flames flicking at the funeral pyre. The Bookkeeper was kind and generous. She never badgered Nani for rent. She never judged or shamed her when she lost a job. She was just there…a trustworthy, safe fixture that Nani could rely on.

When the last of the flames died and the old woman’s ashes were collected, Nani walked to her grave site and placed the urn in the ground before piling a mound of loose dirt over it. She sighed, wiping her hands on the hem of her dress and sat back on her heels.

The sky was gray as she dipped her head and pressed her palms together, murmuring a final prayer for the old woman’s soul.

“Well, ain’t that a pity,” a male voice drawled behind her.

Nani tensed. She must’ve not heard the footfalls coming up behind her. She used to be good at that.

A disappointed clicking noise left the man’s lips. “Can’t say hi to an old friend?”

Nani’s heart pounded in her chest as sweat began forming on her brow. Reluctantly, she turned her head to see the tanned, curly haired man looming over her. His hands rested on his hips as he stared her down.

“M-ming.”

Her voice betrayed her as it cracked. She didn’t mean to, but the very sight of him had her frozen to the ground where she sat.

The earthbender smirked at her, his soulless gray eyes boring through her body.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, sweetheart. Tahno had us looking everywhere for you. After a while, we just assumed you died with the other poor souls in the tunnels,” he said, his voice devoid of any concern.

Nani gulped as he lent down  on his knees, meeting her eye to eye.

“Turns out, you’re just good at hiding,” he cooed, reaching out to caress her cheek.

The young woman gasped sharply as she jerked away, glaring at the man with a mix of terror and disgust.

A few moments passed as she tried to compose herself. “W-what are you doing here?” She questioned.

Ming glared at her intensely. “What do you think?” 

A shiver ran down her spine as she digested his question. Wolfbats were known for being possessive of their mates.

Nani’s hands wandered behind her, grabbing fistfuls of grass before finally finding a rock. She swung her arm around, clocking Ming in the jaw with it.

“I’m not going back!” She screamed.

He went down with a loud grunt, and Nani took off. She didn’t dare look behind her as she darted away, lurching over tombstones, urns and dead flowers, desperately running away from the life she left behind last year.

As she zig-zagged through the cemetery, she could hear the sound of heavy stones whooshing past her, some just barely grazing the tips of her hair.

“You chose the wrong place to pick a fight with me, baby!” Ming taunted, his voice echoing not too far behind.

Nani’s heart pounded against her ribcage. Her eyes fixated on the iron gate at the entrance, hoping to clear its threshold before her attacker could reach her. Her legs ached as she pumped forwards, her breathing ragged. With every distressing step, the gate grew closer.

Suddenly, two tombstones came flying from opposite sides, sandwiching Nani between the slabs of rock, slamming her into the ground.

Ming was right. It was stupid to challenge an earth bender in a cemetery.

“Agh!” She cried out, her ribs cracking under the weight.

She could hear the sound of grass being trampled and winced when Ming’s face came into view. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

She squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing her fear.

“You were always such a stubborn broad,” he lamented.

Like an act of mercy, the stones fell away and the pain swiftly disappeared with them. Nani blinked, staring up at her old compatriot.

“Just kill me, then,” she panted. “I’m not going back to Tahno!”

Ming dropped to her level again, this time cruelly yanking her forward by her hair. She yelped in pain.

“You knew that shop was drowning in debt, didn’t you?” He questioned, quiet but threatening. “The bank sent a letter threatening foreclosure four months ago. You let my uncle buy a foreclosed business!”

Nani wasn’t sure how to respond. Since when did Ming have an uncle? Was this not about Tahno?

“I didn’t know!” It was true, she didn’t know just how bad the debt was. All she had were a few bills and the deed to the shop. And, damn, if she’d known San Ho was Ming’s uncle, she would’ve never sold the shop to him. Now, she’d really done herself in.

Ming pulled harder on her hair, and Nani cried out, clawing at his forearm as she squirmed under his grip.

Eventually, he released her. Nani fell back, gasping for breath as she watched Ming, petrified.

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Normally when someone pathetic and nameless crosses San Ho, they get whacked. But, we’re old pals-wouldn’t you agree?”

Nani diverted her gaze from him. ‘Pals’ was a strong word.

Ming flashed her a sinister grin. “When I heard about your little transgression, I had the option to send my uncle’s goons out to find you. But those guys, they aren’t exactly known for their self control, if y’know what I mean.”

Instinctively, Nani pressed her legs together tightly.

“Believe it or not,” the earthbender continued, “I was real down when you left us, Nani. I don’t think Tahno ever gave you credit for how talented you were, but I saw it.”

Drops of rain kissed the top of Nani’s head, soon becoming an overpour. The heavens above seemed to pour out their disfavor of her, thunderously crashing down like a typhoon in the spring. If she even dared to run again, the mud would only make the chase more difficult. Ming would capture her again, and would likely break a few bones to drive home his point.

She’d lost, Nani told herself.  If tears rolled down her cheeks, Ming didn’t see them.

“Once a Wolfbat, always a Wolfbat,” she murmured, echoing Tahno’s words.

Ming shook his head, snickering. Nani snapped her head up to look at him through a curtain of sopping wet curls.

He chuckled at her confusion, replying, “Like I said, Tahno was a fool to ignore your talent.”

Apparently, he had other plans.

Nani would have to sell her body again, but not in the way most girls on the streets did. San Ho, Ming’s very rich and very corrupt uncle, owned a lucrative brewing company as well as a few dozen opium dens throughout the United Republic. He had quite a few connections with the Terra Triad, of which his nephew was an avid participant. His customers were often high-profile businessmen and women who liked getting drunk and high while being, well, serviced. Everyone appreciated good music and dancing, and Nani would provide. It was abnormally merciful, but who was Nani to refuse?

After all, Ming teased, there were worse ways to put her mouth to use.

----

Nani sighed as she picked up the cheap, shimmering silver fabric of the dress laid on the chair of her “dressing room”, i.e. a dimly lit walk-in closet with a futon on the ground coated in mysterious dried fluids.

She slipped out of her old maroon dress, undid her brassiere, and slid the new dress over her head. She shimmied and danced a bit until she was able to get the cloth over her hips. Eventually, the dress was on, and it actually fit pretty well, considering it had belonged to someone else. Nani’s breasts and back were very much exposed , however, leaving very little to the imagination. Even the most salacious lingerie wasn’t this provocative, but Nani knew her “audience” would appreciate it. Even more so, Ming and his uncle would be pleased.

As Nani rummaged through the box of costumes in front of her, she pulled out a feathered, boa-like head piece with a glittery band that matched her dress. She wrapped it around her head, careful not to disturb her curls which she’d smoothed down with gel earlier.

A heavy-handed knock startled her.

“Come on now, let’s see it.” It was Ming.

A deep sigh left her lips as Nani threw open the door. The earthbender was leaning against the frame, his eyes trailing up and down, a stomach-churning grin of satisfaction on his lips as he drank in her appearance.

“You look good enough to eat,” he muttered.

Nani didn’t look him in the eye as she walked past him, the look of disgust apparent on her face. She made her way to the long mirror in the hallway and stared at her reflection. The ridiculous headpiece, the exaggerated makeup, the scandalous outfit.

She was a show girl. An indentured show girl.

A mirthless laugh left her mouth without warning. You want fame? The spirits asked. Here’s your fame.

Ming sauntered into frame and put a cold hand on her shoulder. It took everything in Nani’s being not to recoil from him.

“The madame wants to meet you before you take the stage,” he said.

In another room, one more decadently decorated and much cleaner, sat the Madame. She was a tall, middle aged woman with a heavily powdered face and nails like knives. She was dressed in a silk red and pink kimono and a glossy black wig. She was pouring tea into a small cup.

“Madame Yoshino, I’ve brought your newest act, as promised,” Ming announced, keeping his fingers tightly curled around Nani’s shoulder as he led her into the room.

The exquisite woman stood from her cushion, cup in hand. She approached Nani with narrowed eyes. She barely looked at her before turning away in disgust.

“She’s dark,” she spat.

Nani’s eyes widened at the unexpected jab. Her hands balled into fists, nails digging into her palms.

Ming patted her back, replying confidently, “You’ve got plenty of porcelain dolls, why get another one when you can have a bronze beauty instead?”

Madame Yoshino glowered at Ming for a moment before turning her attention back to the young woman. She raised an inquisitive brow at her. She studied Nani’s figure,  pausing over her chest and then her face, where she lingered for a long time.

Nani gulped as she tried, and failed, not to look the frighteningly intimidating woman in the eyes.

The madame grasped her chin and forcefully jerked her face from side to side.

“Open your mouth,” she demanded.

Nani gave her a hateful stare but complied when Ming slapped her ass with stinging force.

She bit back a yelp and let the Madame inspect her teeth.

“Hm…a few cavities, but overall not bad,” the older woman commented. She tapped Nani’s jaw as if to signal her to close it.

Shrugging, Madame Yoshino took a sip of her tea and settled her gaze on Nani again. “Where are you from, little miss? North or South?”

Nani understood her question, as many had asked the same. And she answered the same as she always did.

“Neither,” she replied boldly. “I’m from Republic City.”

Ming cleared his throat and pinched the back of her arm. Nani squeezed her eyes shut to keep from crying out in pain.

Madame Yoshino set her teacup down, waving her arms in the air with disdain. “No, no, no! That won’t do. From now on, you’re a Northern girl, you see?”

Another slap to her behind from Ming, this time less vicious. “Our little arctic fox,” he teased.

Nani bit her tongue until it bled. Hatred burned in her veins as the two continued to talk about her as though she weren’t in the room. To them, she was just a piece of meat to be devoured later, then regurgitated and devoured again…until she was completely unrecognizable.

Madame Yoshino dug her dagger-like nails into Nani’s arm as she dragged her onstage.

The brunette’s eyes darted around the room. The atmosphere was thick with the familiar scent of opium and sweat. The dim lights were a blood-red hue, blanketing everything in a sort of sensual, dangerous anonymity.

Her gaze turned to the door in the very back of the room. If she tried to make a run for it, Ming could easily block off the exit with his earth bending, or smash a rock into her head with a swipe of his hand.

Madame Yoshino took the microphone and introduced her as a “Northern Snow Princess”.

A stage light shined jarringly in her face, blinding her for a few seconds. As her vision adjusted, Nani took in the environment around her.

Various paintings and portraits of people engaged in lewd sex acts decorated the walls. Well-dressed men, and a few women, sat on various couches and cushions, pipes and sake glasses in their hands as young courtesans fawned over them. Their clothes were still on, but a few had their shirts unbuttoned, dresses turned askew, shoes missing.

This was nothing like her daydreams.

The clientele hummed in surprise and intrigue, a few even clapped. Nani couldn’t stomach looking at them directly, instead focusing on a portrait to the right of her. It was a photograph, blown up on a poster, of a naked woman, her large breasts like two moons shining bright in the night sky, with a green and pink folding fan splayed out between her legs, just barely covering her sex.

Somehow, that woman was using her sexual prowess as a form of power. Somehow, she was able to take hold of the narrative that she’d been sold into. It was in her eyes. Her body was hers, and no one could take that away.

Nani longed to be half as brave as the woman in the photograph.

An upbeat, jazzy tune began playing behind her and her hands trembled as she took the microphone.

Just sing, she told herself. It’s like riding a bicycle.

The words tumbled from her lips on cue as she timed herself to the music. It was a song about falling in love, or something silly like that. It wasn’t the most appropriate song for a brothel, but somehow it got people going.

As the song continued, Nani sashayed her hips to the melody, waving her arms in a rhythmic swaying motion.  

The crowd was pleased, clapping along and cheering. Their enthusiasm would’ve been intoxicating had it not been for the fact that she could see them getting grabby with some of the courtesans.

She did her best to keep singing, to pretend it didn’t bother her. She murmured out a few more notes, humming along and dancing away, but then she saw it:

An older gentleman had his hands around a girl’s throat as he straddled her, his knee forcing its way between her legs. The girl was around Nani’s age, but her face was caked in geisha makeup to make her look older. Her eyes were wide with panic and terror, until they rolled back into her head. Her body went limp in the man’s grasp, but he didn’t let up.

All the while, the cheery cacophony of saxophones, trumpets, bass and drums continued their happy tune as Nani watched this man choke a dead body. Her voice had long been drowned out by the music. Or maybe she’d stopped singing altogether, she didn’t actually recall.

Her eyes were glued to the man’s hands. He just kept going.

The music got louder, the cheers got louder, everything sort of blurring together in the chaos.

It was in that moment that something buried deep inside Nani exploded.

A wordless, enraged shriek tore itself from her throat. She leapt from the stage, grasping the microphone stand in her hands. As she charged at the man, she held the pole over her head and brought it down on his face with a sickening crack.

He crumpled to the floor.

Nani’s hands shook as she dropped the microphone stand. The music came to a screeching halt. The looks of awe and wonder morphed into terror and disgust. Nani could feel Ming and Madame Yoshino’s eyes burning into her back, but all she could do was watch the man stir, trying to push himself up with his hands. Nani brought the pole over her head again.

But before she could deliver another blow, the thick scent of sulfur and ammonia filled the air.

Smoke seemed to pour from every orifice of the building, creating a cloudy miasma that rapidly replaced the oxygen in the room. Panic settled in, screams tearing through the atmosphere as everyone scrambled  to escape.

Nani coughed as she tried to fight the smoke, stumbling over the bodies of the clientele as they dropped like flies around her. Her eyes and lungs burned as the smoke seared into her mucus membranes. She gasped into the crook of her elbow, but the fumes were too much. She staggered towards the exit, when something caught her ankle, causing her to lurch forward.

She was unconscious before she hit the ground.

----

The sound of jingling keys and steel-toed boots woke Nani up. Or maybe it was the raging, fume-induced migraine boring into her skull. She wasn’t quite sure, yet.

“Wake up, miss,” a deep voice beckoned.

Nani groaned as she opened her eyes. She slowly lifted her head, squinting as the figure of a uniformed man came towards her. Behind him, she could see a set of bars. Her mind quickly registered the cuffs around her wrists and ankles.

Eyes snapping open with alarm, Nani jerked away from the officer. She held her arms up to shield herself, but that, unsurprisingly, did nothing to stop him.

“Let’s go,” the officer said, grabbing hold of her arms and pulling her up.

“No, no, no,” she begged. “Please don’t do this!”

She writhed against his iron-grip as he dragged her out of the jail cell and through the halls of the precinct. In her peripheral vision, she saw Ming being carried away by two officers, except his cuffs looked different, like they were wooden—probably so he wouldn’t try to metal bend his way out of them.

Relief washed over her for a second, but only for a second. She then realized she was in a showgirl’s outfit, in a brothel, surrounded by opium, prostitutes and rich people who were above the law.

“I-I don’t belong here!” She said nervously. “You have to believe me.”

The officer scoffed at her. “You know how many times I’ve heard that before?”

She ended up in an interrogation room, sitting across a young detective with enigmatic amber eyes and dark hair.  He had his arms crossed as he leaned back in his chair. He didn’t say anything for a few minutes; he just looked at her.

She covered her chest with her arms, suddenly very self-conscious of her very exposed body.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Nani finally muttered, her voice hoarse.

The detective leaned forward, his elbows on the desk in front of him, as though eager to hear more. “Well, a statement, for starters,” he responded.

Nani shook her head, her glittering headpiece tilting down to one side. “What is there to say?” She retorted. “You found me in a brothel. I know what you do to women in brothels.”

The man raised one sharp brow at her. “Oh?” He replied, as though inviting her to continue.

A tickle started in Nani’s throat, reminding her that she was quite dehydrated. “Can I have some water?” She asked.

Nodding, the detective left the room. In seconds, he was back with a glass of lukewarm water, but Nani didn’t care. She threw her head back and gulped down the whole thing.

When she was finished, she placed the glass in between herself and the detective.

“I’m not some skirt,” she said flatly.

The detective nodded. “I know.”

“How?”

He swiftly laid out several photographs across the table. Nani leaned forward to examine them. There were photos of San Ho, Madame Yoshino, Ming, and several young women and men she did not recognize. Evidence of drug, alcohol and sexual paraphernalia was wantonly displayed in the images.  There were also images of the brothel and other buildings within the Red Light District. Nani was surprised to see those pictures had been taken some time in the morning. They didn’t look so frightening in broad daylight.

The detective explained, “We’ve been watching this group for years-even had a few of our officers infiltrate their ranks to find information that could help us bring them down. They knew every face that walked into that bordello, except yours.”

Nani glanced at the detective and then back at the photos. She couldn’t stop looking at the faces of the young sex workers.

“We did however hear about an unsavory purchase that San Ho had made,” he continued. “Something about a foreclosed book shop?”

Her knee jerk reaction was to scream, “It wasn’t my fault!” but Nani held her tongue. Instead, she looked away.

“The woman I was staying with died,” she muttered. “She owned the bookstore. On her deathbed she asked me sell it.”

That little lie stung. Nani knew it was wrong, but it was better than the truth. The Bookkeeper had begged her not to let anyone take away the shop. Perhaps in her demented, cancer-ridden brain she knew the bank was going to take everything.

Leaning back in his chair, the detective appeared to take this in.

“Okay,” he started slowly, as though he was working out a puzzle in his mind. “So you sold the deed to San Ho, and then he somehow found out it was foreclosed. Then what?”

Nani sighed loudly. “Do I really have to walk you through every little detail?”

Reaching into his coat, the detective pulled out a yellow notepad with one hand and clicked a pen with the other. “Yes, please,” he responded. “Let’s start with your name.”

“Tanana, my friends call me Nani…at least they would if I had friends.”

“Is there a last name?”

“No.”

“Where are you from?”

“Born in Republic City.”

“Ok. Do you have any family we can contact?”

Curls shook furiously. “No family. Just me.”

The detective nodded. “How old are you?”

Nani bit her lip, hesitant. “I-I’m not 100% sure. Between 20 and 23, I think.”

His eyes flew up to her face, filled with confusion and possibly even concern.

“You grew up on the streets,” he responded, as though filling in the blanks. Despite her not asking him to.

The brunette’s expression was stone-like. After a while, the pity gets old.

Clearing his throat, the detective asked Nani to give her statement as truthfully and clearly as she could.

Eager to be done with it, Nani explained the events in the cemetery and the brothel, up until she met Madame Yoshino.

“I thought I was doing a show,” she explained. “But then I looked around, like really looked around, and I realized where I was.”

As she spoke, the detective scribbled furiously onto his notepad.

“Were you asked to perform any sexual acts?” He asked, his eyes not leaving the pad.

“Oh, no,” she responded nonchalantly. She noticed a dusting of pink on the detective’s face as he paused writing for a second. “But I saw quite a few people getting their rocks off in the audience.”

The writing paused momentarily, and then resumed. Nani watched the detective quietly as he wrote. His features just screamed with familiarity, but for some reason she couldn’t place it.

Seconds later, the man looked up and noticed her watching at him. “…I’m listening,” he prompted.

Nani shrugged, “I don’t have much else, sorry.”

Pursing his lips, the detective clicked his pen before stuffing it and the notepad back into his coat. He scooched his chair back and stood.

“Thank you for your statement,” he said curtly, resuming an air of professionalism. “My officers will be in here shortly to undo your cuffs and bring you your belongings.”

Nani nodded in response, watching him as he turned to leave. She almost let him go, but something nagged at her incessantly.

“Detective?”

He turned his head to look at her. “Yes?”

Rubbing the inside of her palm, Nani stared at the files in his hands. “What happened to that girl? Did she make it?”

A look of recognition flashed across his face, followed by somberness. Nani grimaced knowingly.

“No….she was one of ours,” he admitted soberly.

“Spirits….I’m sorry.”

A few seconds of uncomfortable silence lingered in the air.

“Me too,” he responded, closing the door behind him.

----

Less than thirty minutes later, Nani was freed. She wasted no time fleeing downstairs to the front lobby with her purse in hand, covering her chest. As she made her way down, she noticed a group of officers crowded around a radio, howling with laughter.

 She paused, simultaneously amused and annoyed, wondering what they were listening to that was so funny.

“Turn it up, will ya?” A stout officer exclaimed, shoving one of his companions.

The taller, thinner one obliged, chuckling as he playfully punched the first officer back.

Nani lingered in the lobby of the precinct, her ears perked to the sound of Shiro Shinobi’s voice:

--“AAAANNND welcome back ladies and gentlemen to Channel 54 Radio. I’m your host, Shiro Shinobi, and tonight do we got a program for you!”

“Tonight, I am pleased to announce the premiere of our newest program, ‘Dispatches from Republic City’, hosted by the one, the only…

“MISTER BOOOOOOLIIIIIIN!!!! ALSO KNOWN AS NUKTUK: HERO OF THE SOUTH!”--

Nani’s eyes nearly bulged out of her head. Her mind went back to the day of the audition. The man in front of her….did she ever catch a glimpse of his face? Then she remembered, he’d said his name to the ticketer.

Bolin.

A festive, over-the-top jingle played over the soundwaves as the officers whooped and hollered in front of Nani. A tiny, likely overworked and underpaid intern scrambled behind her, spilling a week’s worth of paper shreds around her like a burst of confetti.

It would’ve been comical...if it weren't absolutely maddening.

Nani didn’t bother to listen to the rest of the program. She stared blankly ahead of her as she marched out of the precinct and into the chilly night air. She was burning with so much rage the cold actually felt good on her skin.

For a few seconds, she watched a slurry of satomobiles pass her by and contemplated walking into traffic. And she might’ve done it if she hadn’t looked up and saw a faded Nuktuk poster plastered on the wall of the building beside her.

No, she told herself. You’re not going out like roadkill.

She glared at the actor’s face, memorizing the face of the man who’d stolen her dream from her. Oh, she knew him. Maybe not personally, but she remembered him from her days with the Wolfbats.

He was a cocky Pro-Bender with a pet rat, big whoop. He got his fame when he starred in the movers, even bigger whoop. Who was he to steal audition spots? Didn’t he get his fifteen minutes?

Nani took one last look at the poster before tearing it down and ripping it to bits. People walked past her in the streets, staring at her like she was crazy, but she couldn’t give a rat’s ass if she tried.

She was furious, mostly at herself for giving up so quickly after the audition but also at the universe for favoring that big, dirt-pushing lug over her when it knew how badly she needed this.

Well, no matter. If the spirits could play tricks….then so could she.

She hurried towards the nearest hotel, intent on getting some decent beauty rest. She’d likely have to dip her fingers in some poor sap’s pockets to fund an outfit change. She wasn’t sure about the hair and makeup, but she would find a way. She always did.

After all, she had to look good if she was going to meet Nuktuk, hero of the South.

[mahuhumaling]

bad buddy fandom getting-to-know-you meme!

made by the one and only deepa. thank you for tagging me! i'm not really sure how the format of this tag game works haha but i'll do my best. ):) @fiercynn

note: i consider "fanworks" to pretty much everything people create related to a fandom, including but not limited to meta/analysis/discussion, gifs, fanvids/edits/fancams, filk, fanart, fanfic, fan food, fan crafts, etc. please include this note with the meme unless you have a different definition!

name and whatever you want to share about yourself

heyo! i'm atria (pronounced ey-tri-ya), 21, and a college senior struggling studying creative writing in the philippines. i use she/her pronouns and i'm very much sapphic thank you.

when did you watch bad buddy/join the fandom?

december 14, 2021, when i decided to binge what my twitter mutuals have been hyping about on my tl for weeks.

i had been on a hiatus prior to that, having just been suffering from julie and the phantoms brainrot, that it surprised me that my old fandom mutuals were moving on collectively to another show. so many tweets analyzing and raving about the show caught my attention because i'm all about those, those are my cup of tea, especially the night of episode 5 airing. i watched a clip of the rooftop scene and i wanted to know why they were crying and why one of them walked away, so i had it on my watchlist. i was still busy with schoolwork though so i didn't get to actually start watching until two weeks later, four days after episode 7 aired (hence 12/14/21) at 10 PM with my sheets pulled up. it was me and my phone against the world.

yes i made it worse because that week was my finals—but to my defense, to my defense, i had already finished half of it and was close in finishing the other half of my exams.

joined the fandom like not even an hour later after i binged 1-7 because i came on twitter and was met with a warm welcome.

favorite ship(s)

patpran and inkpa. i have my fair share of liking rare pairs (clary and izzy from shadowhunters tv, riley and farkle from girl meets world, quinn and rachel from glee) but for shows like these, nah. haha the main pairs really do it for me.

favorite character(s)

pat - mans was so relatable. sexually fluid, thought he had a crush on his different-gendered friend but turned out to be in love with someone who is of the same gender who was right in front of him the whole time. became closer to different-gendered friend after confessing to them i'm totally not projecting haha what do you man

ink - ah, ink nolastname my beloved. introduced as a red herring but ended up having her own sapphic love story?? no other girl in a bl could ever.

junior - i thought he'd just be a one-episode side character but him serving the story in multiple ways got to me. he felt like patpran's child which is so cute, but also a representation of the freedom patpran's own kid selves could have had.

favorite episode(s)

3 - falls under the romcom formula of pat just following pran around like a dumb oblivious puppy and while we the audience are attuned to pran's perspective, once you rewatch episode 3, you realize how much pat has not been lying about how he feels for both pran and ink and that his behavior says it all.

5 - do you even need to ask. i'm pat-biased so him speedrunning his sexuality was so funny and so devastating at the same time.

10 - some people have said that i'm a masochist for this one. but in all seriousness when i first watched it (which was via iWant and not YouTube, so i had no interruptions of 4 parts and got to watch all four parts immediately and earlier than everyone else because if you didn't know back when it was airing, the premiering of the parts would have an interval of around 5-15 minutes each) it felt so long and advanced the plot the most. it had all: inkpa getting together, patpran being adorable annoying bfs, and learning about their generational trauma. yikes! i loved the angst of it all.

favorite scene(s)

*cracks knuckles* oh boy, do i have a series of textposts for you. i made commentary post thingies for them detailing the reason why! it was so fun to do.

designing bus stop 2.0

fight in the dorm's ground floor

pran singing the unfinished version of "our song"

inkpa in the darkroom

ming putting the letters in the siridechawat mailbox

one thing you would change about the show if you could

just one??? i mean haha sure...

the whole plot of wai getting mad at pran and how they resolved it. like come on man, the best friend hates when one lies to the other trope is so lame and overused. it's not just pat getting shot, it was the whole thing of the archi gang being unfairly mad without bothering to learn about why he lied. if they didn't feel like side characters then who are just there to put external conflict and less like actual friends who got hurt from the secret, they certainly acted most like it in episode 9.

what are your some of your favorite fanworks made by other people?

i made a fanfic recommendation thread and i have a couple of bbs edits saved in all of tiktok, instagram, and twitter, but if i had to really narrow it down, that'd be tough. hmm.

gif - i search @pranpats' pat breaking silently post every few months to make myself cry whenever i need a good one. my baby boy my baby boy i love him so much. i tuck him in bed and give him nong nao. btw the sharpening of this gif made pat's tears so much clearer and i want to hurl myself off of a balcony thanks.

fic - from the tide by fruti2flutie is a popular fanfic but it deserves the hype. i was blown away by its character dynamics and style of writing that i wrote an original story inspired from its worldbuilding/power system for my fiction workshop class. the river can't go back by unsungyellowraincoat is poetic heaven.

art - last one to propose loses by cubedmango + rooftop wedding by @thatgothsamurai = my our skyy actually.

animatic - Ur SOUL Ur BodY by RENii•EXE has so many shots that made me question my entire existence, namely pran pressing pat's hand into the bedsheets (0:41). it's so good. 10/10.

animation - I am not your ocean anymore by @architectxengineer is incredible. watching this broke my heart in the best possible way. the visual of how pran and pat stumble into their room in episode 11 is such a cute scene to fill the gap of.

edit - mae's safety net is a personal favorite because it was first uploaded on my birthday, i could never get tired of it as i kept watching it for months on end, and then there was that time it was archived on mae's instagram but she was kind enough to unarchive it for me (alongside her other incredible bbs edits!) huhu ily. and then another objectively well-made one is 7 things by mic that is deservedly popular on twitter, not to mention the very intentional use of colors from all of pran's markers/color pencils! HOW. COOL. IS. THAT.

text - In Fair Verona by @shortpplfedup is an analysis/commentary scenepost series that i fell in love with and tuned into as the episodes aired. it details the main romeo and juliet allegory as well as points out its differences. it's so so pretty and insightful and a delight to read. read all of it, guys. please.

(if you create fanworks) what are your favorite fanworks that you’ve made?

visual edit - among all my photo edits, my untranslatable words one almost made it here but i gotta hand it to my bad idea storyboard. if i could only draw, i would have animated the shit out of this tbh.

video edit - all the stars kind of flopped in reception which was a bummer considering no one knows i spent an embarrassingly long time working on it (...9 hours) but now you do haha.

fanfic - the rest are drabbles anyway so i don't even think this can count as a favorite if it's only one lmao but it's my Teen Wolf AU anamnesis (28k, 4 chapters, fin). really enjoyed the season 6 binge for educational purposes :DD and writing pranink, pranpa, patink, and the jindapat siblings was one of the best parts. my true ot4.

other - i wrote something about patpran that was not prose. it's post velum (which is latin for behind the curtain, the name of the novel) and it's poetry about each episode of bad buddy + our skyy. oh and my patpran as percabeth series that i mostly only did for like,, two people.

a song that makes you think of bbs (the ones in the show don’t count lol)

a taylor swift song feels like cheating because every ship can be associated to a taylor swift song but still. daylight is perfect. i once believed love would be burning red? pre-relationship patpran. the rivalry is so fiery that they thought they wouldn't have the space to be soft. but it's golden. established relationship patpran. they are the healthiest teenaged boyfriends ever. their relationship endures for years and glows.

watch this edit, see what i mean.

idk anything else you want us to know?

i don't really agree with thinking bad buddy is the perfect show and that it had the perfect ending. i still understand the direction and the decision to go with those and other more questionable choices, but i like recognizing the show's flaws. tons and tons of it. from the technicalities of production to the actual writing. especially knowing the show's behind the scenes and what happened from the mock trailer's official announcement and the gp's initial (horrible) reception, to this show finally airing and its first four episodes being in the trenches when it comes to ratings (haha the bbs nugu era), to the ending of episode 5 breaking the internet to the point of being recognized in the following gmmtv 2022 presscon, then to the steep rise to the peak.

...especially knowing those made me love the show more inside out. tldr; i'm a "bad buddy is a very flawed show and i love it" type of person.

tagging bbs tumblr mutuals who might be interested in playing but no pressure though! @dravbn @lurkingteapot @seoperior @pransobrave @rhvmaresh @patpranism @zetteceniza

[forthedancingandthethriving]

SMG4 finds that, really, really badly, he wants to tear out the throat of his alternate version of him. He remembers about a week ago, when Lil Coding got sent to this place, he was ranting and raving for hours about this universe's version of him.

His heart felt so heavy as his son ranted on and on about this alternate version's attitude. And attitude he himself used to have, before.. the Reset.

He clenches his hands and exhales before, finally, pushing himself up and sitting on the couch. It draws attention to him immediately, with these other versions of his friends nearby, but SMG4 was surprised by how there was still no.. showgrounds castle.

Were things that different in this world?

"Hey, uh.. SMG4-" Meggy begins, approaching him with a warm smile, but he cuts her off.

"Glitchy." he corrects her with a sigh. "Just.. just call me Glitchy, please."

He stands up and rolls his shoulders, wincing. That was the last time he let Mario and Lil Coding team up when making weird memes.

He finally looks at the other version of himself, and he forces back a scowl. Don't judge someone until you've seen them yourself, Forum's voice rings in his mind, and he lets out a soft sigh.

"Two times in a week," the other SMG4 sighs before glaring at Mario. "Thanks a lot, Mario. You really can't go one day without doing some stupid, can you?"

"It's not his fault." Glitchy narrows his eyes at SMG4, and everyone jolts a bit at how sharp his voice is. "I haven't even explained how I got here and you're already blaming him?"

"He was being his typical self earlier and messing things up!" SMG4 shrugged. "Plus, add on his track record-"

"Track record has nothing to do with this." Glitchy cuts him off, and he has to mentally remind himself to breathe. "Don't go and assume shit all because Mario was being Mario, okay?"

It's quiet before he continues. "Anyway, the whole reason I ended up here is because my Mario and son ended up, uh.."

"Wait, son?" Mario interrupts him. He gasps. "Wait, you're that Glitchy?! Your son is the one who threw a piano at SMG4?"

"Mario!" Meggy glares. "Dude, come-"

"Yeah, Lil Coding is my son." Glitchy smiles warmly and nods. He doesn't care for the bewildered look Meggy gives him. "And that's what he grabbed that piano for? Jeez.."

Glitchy takes note of how everyone is looking at each other, confused. He knows that they're confused about why he isn't agitated with Mario's antics.

Speaking of Mario..

He walks over to the alternate version of his best friend and pats his shoulder, still smiling warmly. "And Lil Coding said that you were really nice to him. Thanks for that. He.. can have trouble in places he doesn't really recognize."

Mario beams at that, and Glitchy looks over at SMG4. "And.. sorry for the way he treated you. Lil Coding, I mean." He glances away with a shrug, heart clearly not there in the apology. "Absolutely no clue what got into him."

"It's alright." the alternate version of himself shrugs. "I'm used to it since I've been someone's friend for the past 12 years."

Glitchy doesn't miss that subtle dig at Mario. He used to do it, too. He knows.

He flexes his hands a bit to try and calm himself. No. Even if he wouldn't ever end up back here, it'd be wrong to start something. He needed to be calm, cool, and at the very least, sane.

He forgot how hard that was to do.

Glitchy found himself defending this different version of his friend over and over again over the course of the day. Each time Mario seemed to mess up something, typically because of something outside of his control, everyone would all too easily blame it on him.

It was exhausting, draining, and downright infuriating seeing the attitudes of these different friends.

But it also reminded him that this was them at one point. This was their day-to-day as well. Before the Reset, before Singularity, before everything.. this had been what they did. How they acted. How they treated their Mario.

How Glitchy had treated Mario.

He'd changed, and everyone had changed, for the better, thankfully. They stopped treating Mario like an idiot, a lazy moron, everything. They had apologized and grown.

These versions either hadn't realized it yet, or they needed a wake up call.

And as SMG4 snarkily said something towards Mario, Glitchy felt the final string in him snap, and he decided that he would be that wake up call.

"Well maybe," Glitchy sneers, stepping between Mario and SMG4, "if you just listened to him, for once in your life, you'd actually know what happened!"

"Know what happened?!" SMG4 demands, glaring. "All because he doesn't want to run his spaghetti store anymore and not make anymore food, he decided to throw a fit and-"

"He's never had this kind of responsibility before!" Glitchy snaps back. "And he didn't throw a fit, you idiot! He wasn't motivated! You and I both know damn well what it's like, not being motivated!"

He takes a step forward, and SMG4 takes a step back. "You feel like you can't do it, you feel the immense pressure on you, and you just can't gather the willpower to! I know we've both felt that, time and time and time again!"

"And yet here, you want to act like some self-righteous prick!" Glitchy spat, drawing everyone else's attention. "Have you forgotten that the whole reason Mario is even like this is because of you?!"

"I never wanted him to be like this-!" SMG4 tries to argue back.

"Oh, so what did you want?! Did you want an easy Avatar that you could oh-so easily record videos with and make memes out of?!" Glitchy demands. "Or do you want Mario to stop being himself when it was you who caused it!"

He couldn't stop himself. All of his self-loathing, his anger, his hate all directed towards himself began flowing out. He could barely hear himself over the pounding of his own heart. He was just too angry. Too furious.

He finally had a target for all of his loathing for how he treated Mario, and of course, that being was an alternate version of him.

"And another thing!" Glitchy shouts, voice cracking a bit. He doesn't care. "I bet you don't even know about the 'best friend award', huh?! Never stopped to ask Mario how he was after MAR10 Day, did you?!"

Everyone falls quiet and the only sound is Glitchy's pants from shouting.

SMG4 hesitates. "What.. award..?"

"Of course you didn't know." Glitchy laughs bitterly. "I mean, why would you? Too fucking focused on making a perfect video, and-"

"And I think that's enough!"

Glitchy jolts at the sudden hand on his shoulder, and he turns his head to see.. his SMG3. He can tell by the way the other Guardian is looking at him.

Glitchy exhalesband turns, already walking in the direction of the portal he knew his SMG3 came out of. "Okay."

"Dude.." his SMG3 sighs, following after him. He says nothing more, but Glitchy knows that his partner will have more to say.

"Fix your attitude," Glitchy warns his alternate self as he stands in front of the portal, "before you go through something that'll make you realize how much of a fucking dumbass you've been."

He strides through the portal, his SMG3 close behind.

"What the fuck was that?" Bob asks, raising his swords in a 'what the fuck' gesture as everyone watches the portal close.

The only answer was the soft howl of the wind.

[spaceagecynic]

first up: Fourth Wing

First of all, I freaking love dragons. Second of all, I loathe first person POV books, especially when it's present tense. Because I've been burned. I've seen things. Read things... it's not always done very well. Every POV has its challenges for writers (ask me how I know). So the main point is: whatever POV you write in should be secondary to, and serve, the story you're telling, instead of being the whole point of the story (I'm looking at you, self-published Kindle Unlimited Contemporary Romance Authors! ok not really i love you all please be my friend ok? ok)

I also tend to umm... dislike participating in social media trends (or hell, anything else) just because everyone else is. Generally if I see The Royal Everyone raving about something, I think "If The Royal Everyone jumped off a cliff, would you?" and run the other way. Because I'm not an impulsive arch-druid. Or a lemming.

Now that I've truly revealed myself as neither of those things (just as a beautiful butterfly), let's move on. <cough>

When I started seeing Fourth Wing by Rebecca Yarros allll over the Tikkity Tocks and beyond, I was like mehhh. I mean. It can't be that good. I mean dragon school....?? I love dragons. Don't do me like that. Or them. Then I read the blurb and instantly went "wait...what? So this ISN'T HP with dragons...?? Or is it...?? WHAT IS THIS I MUST KNOW."

Now, my curiosity having gotten the best of me, but being that I have been burned by reading awful social-media-viral books before, and have no monies for buying books to begin with, I put it on hold at my lamentably-tiny suburban library and got my hands on it within a week. I read the first two sentences and immediately put it down, annoyed, because of the POV - the fact of it being written in present tense just put my tolerance over the edge. Two nights later, I was bored watching my SO play Starfield and kinda tired cuz i was sick, and picked it up again to read in bed.

Reader, I didn't put it down until 2 am. I haven't been that sucked into a book in a long time. I completely forgot about the POV and narration tense. And THAT IS HOW YOU DO IT.

What a freaking RIDE. I had it finished within 12 hours of picking it back up again the day after my til-2am-reading-sesh. I literally don't want to say anything else about it here because. Spoilers.

[robinruns]

Ok quick Dunes Day update

...just kidding this got fucking long, so it's going under a cut

Got to the hotel a bit before 3, had to wait to check in, but that wasn't a big deal. Got over to The Rave and there was a line but it wasn't bad. I asked and it was not separated by VIP/non-VIP so I just sat down on the blacktop like everyone else and roasted for about two hours.

I had paid for parking and around 5 pm a guy came out and was like "Hey, if you're parked here, come get a pass or we'll tow you." So I had to go to my car, get my ticket, get a pass and he made me move my car so there would be more room. (Spoiler alert: when I left the lot wasn't even half full)

There was some back and forth with whether or not the VIP line was lining up at the front of the building, or if they would come and get us. They did come to get us a bit after 5:30 and then we went inside and lined up. I think I was about the 10th person in line. I shoulda known how bad it was gonna be when I was standing inside and it was just as hot as outside, just without the sun.

We finally get let into this smaller side bar and I was like oh ok, this is where the Q&A is, then we'll go into the larger room for the show. Then I realized the drum kits were set up there. No this was it. This tiny tiny space was it. Well fine ok. I had made friends with the two people behind me in line and they were super nice, and we got to talking to a couple in front of us as well. We quickly realized this show was basically a mini-Pride event 😄 it felt really cool to just be like "oh yea, I'm NB" and it was just... yea 🤷🏻‍♀️ no big deal!

The Q&A was fun. One of my line friends was like "What's your favorite horror movie?" And Frank was trying to take off his sweatshirt and he gets the mic and is like "just now when I was stuck in my sweatshirt" 🤣 Anthony talked about being 12 and huffing and accidentally burning down his friend's garage. At this point I now consider IASIP to be a documentary and Anthony was the inspiration for Charlie and/or Mac lol

Q&A ended, the assistant who was running it handed out the waters on stage that the guys didn't take and I got Tucker's extra La Croix. It was grapefruit 😄

Pinkshift came out and absolutely ripped it the fuck up, like holy shit they were great. Highly recommend checking them out! A person did pass out a little bit back from me, and the band was good about stopping right away and everyone was calling for security, but it felt like it took forever to get anyone to come around for them and get them off the floor. It was so fucking hot, like it was insane. I'm surprised more people didn't pass out honestly.

Then Dunes came on and it was fucking rad. Anthony was giving high fives and like taking peoples' hands and he totally held my hand for a moment, a long moment! And it was magical 😄 They fucking tore it up, and at the end of the first song I made eye contact with Travis and was like "🤘🏻 yea!" And he grinned back, it was great!

That reminds me, I think Coheed is coming to the Sylvee again for the 100th time, maybe I'll go because I'm done with the Rave I think.

The crowd was nuts, they were pushing really bad from the back and I eventually had to dip out. I was afraid I was gonna pass out if I stayed in there with how hot it was plus all the pushing. Would have been good if there was any sort of security keeping people back, but again, they were MIA. So I went around to the bar off to the side to get a water and there was a giant industrial fan blowing. The vibe was so much more chill and I was like "am I old? Is this it?" But honestly I didn't care. I leisurely went to the bathroom, grabbed merch, and just enjoyed the music.

I'm pretty sure this means I'm old 😅 oh well, I don't mind!

I left right at the end and grabbed a brat from a street vendor. It was amazing and honestly I needed it so bad. I had a water in my car so I slammed that as well. It sucks when you go to shows alone and you can't pop around the corner to McDonalds while you wait to get some fries and a soda and take a pee break. Like you just have to wait and wait and wait and hope someone around you is chill to hold your spot. It's sorta a bummer honestly.

Getting back to the hotel was a bit of a headache, mainly because of traffic from the Brewer game letting out. But as soon as I got back I got into my room, got a shower, and now I'm in bed. I have a full day planned for tomorrow, including stopping at Target, stopping at the running store, finding a post office, and getting a manicure. And then going home and getting prepared for the rest of my week.

Ok that was a lot longer than I originally intended, but oh well

[theggning]

Hello! I was the anon who asked Sapphire-Weapon about how RE6 was originally recieved. You offered to tell me about your own opinions on the subject, if you remember. If you like, I'd love to hear your thoughts.

I rewatched some scenes and I still... hate it. The script and overall story were awful imo. It's cringey but without the RE charm, lol. And I'm still mad about how watered down and silly they've made Ada in that game. It was cool to play as her, but the whole "everyone important is just in love with her or wants to be her" was so blaringly stupid and lazy. I felt it really took away from her character, tbh. She should've zipped up and thrown a bomb down. Just explode the lot of 'em and go home to a girlfriend. Would've highfived her for that. (All jokes, lol!!). And Jake... his arc really lacked effort and it's a pity because I really enjoyed him as a character. He could've had a great opportunity with his development but... nah. A little insight as an OG fan about what you loved and hated would be great!

/rolls up sleeves

I consider RE6 one of (no longer #1 but one of) the greatest disappointments I've ever had in a video game that I was otherwise really, really hype for. So BOY am I down to unload talk about it.

Honestly the thing I hated the most about RE6 is the level design. It's really a shame, because the gameplay/controls are actually really fun. I love the increased focus on melee. Mercenaries mode in that game is a blast. But unfortunately, the campaign design is so fucking miserable and such a slog you could not pay me to play through the whole thing again.

The average level design in RE6 goes like this:

Hallway full of enemies

Telegraphed set piece w/ QTEs

Hallway full of enemies

Explosion

Hallway full of enemies

Telegraphed set piece w/ QTEs

The boss monster you defeated 7 times already STILL ISN'T DEAD and pops out to chase you some more

Explosion, launching our heroes into:

a hallway full of enemies!!!!!

I remember this being particularly bad in Chris' campaign, but it's a problem in ALL of them. There's no atmosphere, very few moments of quiet, no interesting rooms or details to look at. You know how in REmake/RE0 and the more recent remakes and especially in RE4R you can look around the environment and see fun little details, objects? How the rooms look lived in and like this was a real place once? There's almost none of this in RE6. The places you walk through don't look real. That marketplace doesn't look like anyone's ever done business in it. The spa level doesn't look like a real spa. It's a hallway full of enemies that leads you to your next explosion.

To add to the problem here, the chapters are goddamn ALMOST AN HOUR LONG EACH. Unlike RE5, where the subchapters were around 10-30 minutes if you knew what you were doing, when you sit down to play a chapter in RE6 it's gonna take you an entire hour. Even if there were some little fun moments in the levels, I can't remember them and I'm not gonna go back to play them when that fun moment is sandwiched by 45 minutes of awful bullshit.

The story also does absolutely suck. I have never before played a game plot that felt more like two 12-year-olds hopped up on Mountain Dew enthusiastically spitballing fanfic ideas and jamming every single one of them into a story. What's frustrating is that there are glimmers of good ideas all over the place, but they end up falling flat or getting stupid.

I could probably rant and rave about the plot of RE6 for another 4000 words, but since it's been a literal decade since I played the game and I'm fuzzy on the details, I don't want to go too in depth. So I think I'll just throw out some things I liked and disliked for each campaign. That I remember. From when the game came out.

It is also worth mentioning that my friend and I, foolishly, played the campaigns in reverse order because that was shown to be chronologically correct. This was a very bad idea. By the time I got to what most people consider the "best" campaign, I was 80% of the way to my sinking realization that I hated the game.

Jake's Campaign:

THE GOOD:

Sherry! I love grownup Sherry. I like her silly G-virus healing factor. I like the bit where she tells Jake to stop fucking whining about the evil daddy he never met, because Sherry fucking Birkin doesn't need to hear your "woe is me"ing about your evil parents fucking up your life.

The snow level was kind of unique and interesting-looking.

The spa level was kind of unique and interesting-looking.

THE BAD:

Ustanak. I realize we're trying to recapture the magic of Nemesis for the 4th or 5th time here, but when every other goddamn boss in this fucking game comes back 50 times before you kill it, it kind of takes away from the one enemy whose entire gimmick is that exactly. I cannot remember what he looks like at all. Nemesis is iconic, this guy is just big and ugly. The fact that Jake punches him to death with his bare hands is really silly but in kind of the good stupid RE way that I enjoy. It's what this loser deserves.

I'm honestly not a huge fan of Jake in general? He has a good character arc, which is more than I can say for basically anybody else in this game, but he slots right into this godawful edgelord teenage boy catnip character archetype that was absolutely everywhere in the early 2010s in gaming.

The idea of Wesker having a son could be really interesting (even if it makes me think about Wesker fucking, which. ugh) but it's integrated in a really strange way. I frankly do not believe Jake's mother when he says she genuinely loved Wesker and that he was a "good man," a thing that has literally never been demonstrated, ever, in the entire history of this canon. It's really incongruous given everything we know about Wesker, so I'm not sure why they went with that instead of the, honestly, more sensible idea of having Jake be an unauthorized experiment using Wesker's sperm or something.

The bit where Jake, who vocally despises his absent father the entire length of time we know him, suddenly decides to get pissy with Chris for killing him, is incredibly contrived. It feels like it's in there just because they felt like they needed an excuse for Jake to be in conflict with Chris, even when it makes no sense with what we know of Jake's personality.

Chris' Campaign

THE GOOD:

Piers is the best character in this game. He's charming, he's appealing, we can sympathize with him, he and Chris have wonderful chemistry together (platonically or not- I do love me some Nivanfield.) I love what they do with him as a "successor" to Chris, and how he helps Chris through his spiral. I will never stop being furious that they killed him off. Piers deserved better.

I like the broad strokes of Chris' character arc here. Chris becoming an alcoholic and suffering real, visible PTSD from the deaths of his men is both appropriate and a sensible step for his character at this point in the series.

Carla is definitely the best villain in this game. I have some beef with her that I'll discuss in the Ada section but in terms of campaign-specific antagonists, she's both the most compelling and the most dangerous.

THE BAD:

The execution of Chris' arc is possibly the stupidest fucking writing in this entire game. So you're telling me that Chris Redfield, Superstar BSAA Founder and Golden Boy, is somehow able to just disappear from the hospital where he's laid up with head trauma and amnesia? He just, wanders the fuck away and nobody notices? Chris is gone for SIX FUCKING MONTHS and nobody is able to find him in that length of time? Where the hell are Claire or Jill in this scenario? Claire spends 2/3 of her starring games moving heaven and earth to search for her brother. In Revelations, Jill disobeys orders and goes looking for him when he's missing for 12 hours. And neither of them bother looking for him when he goes missing for half a year? If you have ever wondered why Jill or Claire aren't in this game, it's because there's no fucking way to make this stupid plot work if either of them have anything to say about it. So they're apparently just blipped out of existence for the duration of RE6. Oh hey, we found Chris. In Edonia. The same place he went missing six months ago. Guess we were too busy to really look for him that hard. Hey Piers, go drag him kicking and screaming out of the bar. There's some shit going down in China and we need our top guy on the job. What's that? He's still suffering the effects of massive head trauma? He can't remember who the fuck he is? He has no idea who we are or what he's doing? Ehhhhhhhhhhh don't worry about it, stick a uniform on him and throw him into the thick, that oughta jog his memory a bit. This bit is so stupid and irresponsible that I will never again respect the BSAA as anything but cartoonishly incompetent. Head Trauma Amnesiac Chris gets his memory jogged midway through proceedings, and flies off into a frothing, mindless vengeance rage against Ada. In the process he personally gets an entire team of BSAA operatives killed. Again. Two in one game! That's pretty bad even for Chris! It's only via being screamed at by Piers that Chris snaps out of it and goes back to being the respected leader that he's supposed to be just in time to save the world. Chris decides, then and there, that maybe he's no longer in a position to keep doing this. That he should step aside and give a new generation of fighters a chance to fight for what's right. That Piers, who's been levelheaded and focused and brave through all of this turmoil, deserves to be Chris' successor and that he's the hero the world needs now. And then Piers dies horribly, tragically, traumatically, so uh. Never mind that I guess. Making Chris an alcoholic and forcing him to reckon with the deaths of his men is a great idea for a story arc for him. But this contrived-ass prolonged soap opera amnesia drama ain't it, chief. EDIT: Tumblr, in its infinite wisdom, just linked me to a blog post I made in 2013 COMPLETE WITH PICTURES I DREW making fun of this plot point. Please enjoy!

Everybody says this is the campaign with the worst, grindiest, bullet spongiest, Gears of Wariest gameplay and they are correct.

I think we are supposed to take the ending of the campaign as inspirational. Chris goes back to the BSAA with renewed determination, and we're supposed to find this as noble or heroic. I actually find this ending incredibly fucking sad and tragic. Piers' death is haunting Chris, and he's now taking Piers' faith in him as a mandate. Piers' hero worship and respect for Chris is now being interpreted as "you can't give up-- ever." Chris has resigned himself to fighting this battle for the rest of his life. He can never hand off the reins to a younger generation. He can never retire. He can never heal. He can never stop, and he's now doomed to do this until he dies/Capcom stops dragging his now 50-year-old ass out to star in every single game.

Leon's Campaign

THE GOOD:

The first 20 minutes or so of Leon's campaign is genuinely the best part of the entire game. By the time I got to this point I was already heavily fatigued from the above horseshit so I don't think it hit me like it should have, but the Tall Oaks University section is pretty great.

I like Leon being a mentor of sorts for Helena. It's a role we haven't seen him in before and it's interesting.

THE BAD:

I find the exploitation of Deborah Harper to be really gross. Helena gets blackmailed into starting an outbreak that kills the president for the sake of her sister. By the time we reach Deborah she's already been infected. Which is FINE... but making her a moaning, writhing, voluptuous monster vamping nude around the boss arena in a clear attempt to be sexually appealing to the (presumed male) player feels really icky to me. She could have just been a regular monster? Helena would still have every reason to want revenge on Simmons?

Due to the shitty pacing and structure, Leon and Helena both come off as super incompetent. Helena won't say shit about what's going on, leading us blindly into situation after situation and promising to explain "later." Leon's inability to drive reaches parody status as he crashes like 6 different vehicles in the course of this campaign. Leon and Helena's mere presence is a deathknell for every single person in the vicinity-- every time they encounter a group of civilians, every single one of them dies horribly. If this all happened once or twice then it wouldn't be so egregious, but this whole campaign feels like these two bumblefucks fucking up and getting innocents killed.

What in the FUCK was with the underground Skyrim dungeon section? Why is this area here? Aren't we in fucking Massachusetts???

Derek Simmons is Diet Wesker and he's terrible at it. He's not scary, he's not sinister, he's not even campy fun like Wesker was. He's supposed to be this grand evil mastermind, but he's doing all of this because Ada broke up with him or put in her two weeks notice or whatever? What a fucking loser.

The whole "oh no, a secret illuminati is running the world behind the scenes" plotline. I've been calling these guys the "Failluminati' for so long I can't even remember their real name. Having an omg secret evil organization running everything in your plot is not a plot twist, it's a fucking copout. This is so stupid Capcom has never again mentioned it, with good reason.

Ada's Campaign

THE GOOD:

The one and only actually scary part of the game, the Carla boss fight. Oh my god, is that some psychological horror? In THIS shitshow?

This is my favorite Ada character design. That open jacket is really stylish.

For about 2/3 of the previous campaigns, it looks like they have finally, actually done something interesting with Ada. Oh my god, is Ada an outright villain this time? What's her motivation? Are we finally going to learn who Ada works for and what her goals are? Why is she doing this? Chris has very good reason to be angry at Ada, but Leon's going to defend her just going by his gut? That's juicy! Wow! The boys are fighting!

I think it's extremely funny that Leon never technically finds out about the existence of Carla, so he watches a video of "Ada" hatching out of a fucking egg and assumes that's really her. He never gets corrected on this notion. As far as we know, OG Leon still thinks Ada hatched out of an egg. That's hilarious.

THE BAD;

They didn't do anything with Ada at all actually! The Ada/Carla switcheroo is really obvious once you realize it's happening, and would have been a cool opportunity to actually define something about Ada. Oh no, this evil scientist releasing the C virus on the world is claiming to be Ada? We all know the real Ada would never... um.... well... To me, the frustrating thing about OG Ada is that she isn't really a character. She shows up from time to time to save Leon or be mysterious or be a pair of boobs to look at, but she has no goals. No motivation. We don't know what she's really thinking or why she does things. She's taking orders from... SOMEONE? But we never find out who, and even when we think we know who, it turns out she's betraying them. Ada deals in bioweapons for cash, while also having an apparent soft spot for Leon. She's morally gray, but to no actual end. We can't say that she would or wouldn't do this or that, because nobody knows who Ada is or what she's trying to accomplish, and the script just has her coyly alluding to her alleged "goals" without ever explaining what those are. So yeah, imagine my disappointment when it finally looked like we were going to really get a look at Ada, only to find out that everything she does in this game isn't really her, it's an angry evil scientist who's been cloned to look like her. They have this whole fucking plot set up to do something, ANYTHING with Ada, and she ends exactly where she starts because none of it was her at all. The bit at the end where Ada winks at the camera about her "true employer" and her "real goals" made me literally fucking scream at my TV.

Hey sorry Capcom, I don't actually feel sorry for Carla at all. When you fuck around with bioweapons and cruelly torture people for the sake of your experiments, I don't really shed a tear for you when you get fed into the proverbial woodchipper of your own hubris. Carla is a great villain but I don't feel any sympathy for her whatsoever, and I really don't see why Ada ought to, either. If anything I'd think Ada should be more grossed out and offended that Simmons is THAT obsessed with her.

Okay so my last complaint is actually something that ONLY could have happened in the weeks immediately following the game. You know how AGENT is just, a stupid blank slate character who feels really out of place? That's because he didn't originally exist. He was patched into the game a few weeks after release, I think about the same time they added the ability to play Ada's campaign without finishing the other three first. Originally, you played Ada's campaign solo, as ONLY Ada. It made the psychological horror-y segments around the Carla boss fight a lot scarier and more impactful. There was, however, a slight problem in that RE6 was designed to be co-op from the ground up. Which means the very mechanics of the game are not designed for a solo character. Because recovering from near-death requires a second character to revive you. So for the first few weeks after release, when you played as Ada and got badly injured, you were forced to just sit there and watch her limp around for 20 seconds and die. Get hit by an enemy? Limp around and die. Injured by a trap? Limp around and die. Fail a QTE? Limp around and die. No recourse. No revival. Fall into the red and Ada suffers a slow, prolonged, unskippable death that you cannot escape from. At this point I had spent 40something hours playing the rest of the game, getting increasingly angry at the bad pacing and the worse story, so the extra frustration of Ada's literally broken gameplay in her campaign absolutely drove me over the edge. I managed to beat her campaign before the Agent patch that would have fixed this problem, but by that point I had come to terms with the fact that I absolutely hated RE6 and was deep in my mourning period for my prior anticipation.

Anyway, that's my tragic beef with RE6. Is it as bad as people say? Oh yeah. I think so. Is it as bad as I remember? Probably.... maybe? Does it deserve a second look from my initial impressions at launch? Yeah, probably. But the sting of that first playthrough still haunts me and I don't know that I'm ever going to sit through it again. I'd rather just take the lore notes and the little plot details that I did enjoy and run with those than force myself through the rest of the slog again.

I like how I said I was gonna be brief but then I ended up probably typing 4000 words about the plot anyway. AH WELL.

[rethinqing]

12/17/24 3:14 am

Two parties and a lot of new friends

woke up trying to wake up early, but laid there sleepy til 9. Got up 40 min before class and went to climb a tree on campus while I waited. rediscovered the indie underground unknown hit pleaser by wallows

Sat through a class learning about the Russian conquest of the Mongol steppe and Kazakh lands, which was pretty cool if you're a real one, and then I rushed home to prep for my lab. instead of prepping, I rushed to finish off the end of hazbin hotel which I had almost completely finished the previous night. the ending was amazing and the songs were honestly peak. And then I had to rush to study for my lab. my laptop broke earlier in the week, so I had to print out all the instructions as well as the datasheets, and then I spent the next 3 hours turning knows, typing numbers, writing results, and drawing diagrams. fun times. but it went pretty quickly luckily. 5pm turned the corner and I got out as quickly as I could. with a single bar of gas left, I meant to go get some gas on the way home, but as usual passed it and completely forgot. lol. I got home and began trying to shape the rest of the night. After some unremarkable time staring at screens, I ended up attempting to get dressed for the party I was going to for the evening. I invited someone I'd met recently in complex circumstances, but it ended up not plausible, still the night was to go on. The initial theme was lace and leather, but my only leather jacket is unreasonably large on me, so non viable

but then I went to ask advice from roommate and girl friend, only to find out during the convo that they are coming to the second party, one where he would end up coming I contact with another friend who invited Mr to that same party (his ex)

now pretend I said all of that very concisely and eloquently.

Anyway so I decided to come to make sure she was okay if they came into contact, but the party was one that started much later, a rave at that. In the meantime I put together a unique outfit primarily aimed to show of my dragon emblazoned fishnets, and stole a skirt from a friend such that I had two to wear, nicely layered with a suede jacket to match. Then I took it all off, including the ~10 chains I put in for fun (with some assistance), changed into salsa clothes, and rushed to make it to campus before 8pm. sadly, the 1 bar of gas came back to haunt me when I was almost there, so I had to turn around and get gas.

at that point, the timing simply made no sense any longer, so I chose to go back home, get showered, and then rush to get dressed in time to pick up a sturdy flock of lesbian friends. I make it back to campus and after a wait, get my car loaded up with all the girlies, and head off to the first concert/party. We get in, and then immediately all scatter. I put on one of the relationship status bracelets, and then depart to corral my friends. Ironically, I made a lot of friends while searching, and met a ton of cool people. Even better, only one of them thought I was trying to flirt and looked at me weird, the rest got the memo and were really fun to talk to. After meeting a group or two of people, I would find a stray arrival party member, and then promptly lose them again. This went on steadily as I met more people, one or two being people I knew from classes, and one was a friends little brother out trying to get over his ex. He dropped something, and after I turned on my flashlight to help, another girl came to help and asked what was lost. I chatter a bit more while looking but was about to give up when the girl found his ring in the dirt. I introduced them and they realized they live in the same dorm, which looking back I wonder if this was a coincidence or if that girl was playing the long game. Anyway I talked to them for a bit longer and then left to find other pastures, meeting plenty of other cool things. I talked to a blue haired girl and made a joke about how I love having lesbian friends and she was like 'yooo I'm a lesbian' and then we got hype. I wandered around more and met someone I recognized but neither of us remembered where, so we made jokes about when we re-meet in the original context and remember that convo, so I'm curious if that will pan out lmao. I talked with a few other cool people, one guy who I could not read at all he acted like a frat bro being mean except the things he said were never mean, they just sounded like they were going to be until you heard all of it lol but that's hard to explain absent context. but that's honestly just a nice twist on standard man operating procedure

and then the cops showed up, and the music got shut down. Everyone started flowing out and I finally reconvene with the initial colle(s)ction, and eventually wrangled everyone such that we could walk back home.

Upon arriving back, I brought el horde back and let them meet shar and em, before they eventually decided to go home instead out further, which worked out since I wouldn't have to be d.d. anymore. I drop them off, get back to the other house, and find that they're all gone. I call mak and realize a miscommunication that occurred. To my luck, shar left her phone, so I got to bum a ride after all (after searching all inside, it was laying on the ground outside...)

We tear off to the second party, and upon arrival I realize it's $20 at the door which would be a nice fee to avoid, so I used some sneak and deception and managed to get past both security guard layers.

notable at this time is the fact that this party was taking place in a HUGE old factory building with motorcycles and punching bags and graffiti and particularly one that I HAVE BEEN TO PREVIOUSLY. somewhere in my old journals I described coming here probably more than 2 years ago, with a friend and a drug dealer that was unilaterally interested in my friend.

we go in to a crowded room with flashing lights and hella loud speakers,

I had WAY too much fun watching the dj mix the songs and transition them smoothly, and dancing was cool for a little while I guess. a guy asked if he could touch my skirt which was nice because at least he asked. but I said no and then he made a joke that I didn't understand and then he giggled and ran away. I saw a bunch more people I knew there, some people I hadn't even seen since high school which was interesting. after a little while standing listening to music, I left to explore more.

I suppose this is a good time to mention that the party theme was BDSM 💀 luckily my previous party outfit mostly worked

see? innit slay? Anyway I found some hanging rings and decided to try and hang upside down from them. This coincided with the start of a brutal pattern where my glasses KEPT falling off and coming apart, but I had fun swinging and people cheered when I did a quick flip so I felt cool. lol. I then offered to take some pics of some girls on a motorcycle, and went all out getting angles, and then they offered to get pics of me. however, instead of just taking pics of me, two of them stayed on and we took pics together which was super slay lol

I don't want to include their faces or mine but imagine a dozen more photos with me & them like this lol. I also had them take the obligatory photo of me awkwardly just standing up on top of objects, as one does.

I went downstairs and made friends with a dude who was around that place fairly often apparently, he offered me a shot so that was timely, and then I continued to journey around. I found a fire outside and met some more really cool people, one who I'd known from college but never quite spoken to lol.

The rest of the night was bouncing between friends, talking to strangers, and then eventually chaotically finding our way to our uber home.

[mazzastick]

Zen12 Meditation

Over 10 million Americans regularly practice meditation, according to Psychology Today magazine.

The benefits include enhanced brain power, massive improvements in health, and increased happiness and energy levels.

Yet, with so many profound benefits, the real question is... Why aren't more people doing it?

Why Meditation Can Be So Difficult

If you're anything like me, you probably already know the answer: Meditation can be challenging!

The main problem is that most people don't have the time.

For best results, meditation requires 45-60 minutes of daily practice. The results are only sometimes immediately visible, too. They typically build up over time.

But those aren't the only hurdles. Quietening a busy mind and calming a restless body are two of the biggest reasons people don't give meditation a fair go.

However, there may be a solution in sight.

The Scientific Answer to Meditation Woes

I recently got hold of a program that claims to be the next generation in meditation. It's called Zen 12.

Zen12 is an audio meditation program that uses special "brainwave" sounds to take the hassle out of meditation.

They claim that listening to one of their Zen12 sessions is easy. There are no rules, emptying of your mind, or special positions. You just hit play and let the session do the rest of the work for you.

They say the special sounds will automatically relax your mind and body. And each session lasts just twelve minutes so that it won't strain your day.

I wasn't convinced. So, I decided to try it out for myself.

Home Labs: My Twelve-Minute Experiment

I signed up for the Zen 12 Meditation Program for myself. I went for their full package, consisting of twelve full levels.

You listen to each level for a month, then move on to the next. Each level is also available in different "flavors": guided meditation, relaxation music, sounds of nature, and so on.

I opted for the relaxation music. Per the instructions, I hit play on my iPhone, sat back on my sofa, and chilled out.

Twelve minutes later, I was coming round again.

Wow! I felt refreshed. I was calm and relaxed while also focused. I felt like I was "on form," perhaps even "in the Zone" if I were being cliché.

I decided to credit my experience to the smoothie I had that morning and went about my daily business. My day was productive, joyful, and better than usual in so many ways.

After discrediting my smoothie theory a couple of days later, I tried the Zen12 session again—the same results. Then, the next day, the same results were seen again.

It was astounding. I was finally discovering why everyone raved about meditation!

Brainwave Sounds Help Me "Cheat" at Meditation

It's all down to our brainwaves.

Normal meditation requires you to access deeper mental states, which can take years of meditative practice to reach. Zen12 uses special 'brainwave' sounds, which take you there quicker.

That means you get to "cheat" at meditation and enjoy the results quicker than ever before.

So, by playing a simple MP3 and chilling for 12 minutes, I could instantly enjoy the immediate benefits of an hour's meditation.

Every day I used Zen12, I felt more productive and positive overall.

I felt fresher, happier, more focused, creative, and energetic than usual. And I'm told there are dozens of cumulative brain power and health benefits, too.

There was no battling with a busy mind or constant fidgeting. I "Zenned )ut" and got on with it. There was no issue with time either. It just takes 12 minutes, and you don't have to do it daily.

Following in the Footsteps of Gandhi

Zen12 has genuinely changed my attitude toward meditation.

It's at the cutting edge of a new wave of science that is helping us make our lives easier while tapping into the natural resources of the human mind.

This is meditation, as it should be. Meditation 3.0. Mediation for the microwave age.

Whatever you want to call it, this works -- and even though you don't have to use it every day, I just might.

And I'm reminded of Ghandi, who once said: "I'm so busy today, I may have to meditate for two hours instead of one."

But forget an hour. How about ... twelve minutes?

Rating: 10/10

Pros: Instant meditation results in just 12 minutes; it works!

Cons: No telephone support.

Conclusion: Buy it! Zen 12 will change your meditation experience forever.

Thanks for reading my Zen 12 Review

[angsty-omi]

you get jealous of their manager

suna rintarou; sakusa kiyoomi

angst to fluff, hurt/comfort.

suna rintarou

when rin told you about the new manager, you didn’t expect her to be blonde, curvy, and absolutely gorgeous. honestly, just looking at her made you insecure. the way all the boys gawked at her everytime she walked by. you didn’t care about the boys though, you only cared about a boy, your boyfriend rin. she’s with him longer than he’s with you. practices take up most of his day, so you only saw him once he got to your shared apartment where he was too tired to do anything that exterted energy. to be fair, you were fine just staying in, but imagining him with her during practices made you uncomfortable.

it was even worse when he’d go out to dinner with the team and her. you couldn’t remember the last time he’d even ask you on a date. you hated the way he stopped trying once you started dating. starting to reach the AMs when you called him.

“y/n?” his slurred tone showed that he was drunk.

“suna? where are you? it’s almost 12 am.” you scolded. how could you not? he’s drunk and with a girl that you were very envious of.

“first of all, can you chill? i literally told you that i’d be out with the boys, i don’t understand why you’re getting so upset,”

“upset? you’re literally out with a girl who’s very attarctive” you frustrated.

“oh i see what this is now, you’re jealous and you don’t trust me.”

“it’s not a matter of trust, it’s just i fe-feel uncomfortable and i oh i don’t know wanted to talk about it?” you started to raise your voice. the attempt to set a boundary has failed, and rather was replaced with you being the enemy.

“she’s my friend y/n, get over it because you’ll be seeing a lot more of her,” rin hissed.

“i’m not telling you who you can be friends with or not, but you have to understand where i’m coming from” you murmured.

“just leave me alone, i can be friends with whoever i want, and the last thing i’m going to do is let a bitch dictate that.” suna argued loudly.

it was followed up by silence, with a girl voice cutting in, “rin-rin let’s do this song together!” in a high pitch squeal caught the mic.

“oh so you’re rin rin now huh? i can’t be surprised considering how much time you spend with her!”

“well maybe i like hanging out with her. did you ever think of that y/n? it’s nice to have someone who wouldn’t nag or bitch about me, she doesn’t pry for me to open up,” he attempted to justify his actions.

“okay fine then, if she’s soooo perfect than just date her” words just started spilling out of your brain, and it was too late to take it back.

“maybe i will!” he roared. after he sunk in what he was saying, he followed up with “w-wait i didn’t mea-” trying to save his relationship.

“do whatever you want suna, whether you’re with her or not it’s not my problem anymore, i’m done.” you ended the call, tears freely flowing down your face.

you couldn’t sleep that night. pathetically, you’d hope that suna would at least give you a call back, or any sign that he still cared for you. but he didn’t, and you assumed that was your answer. you would reevaluate the relationship after a good nights sleep on the couch. you couldn’t sleep on the bed due to suna’s lingering scent.

when 4am rolled around, the door opened as quietly as possible. suna assumed that you were asleep in bed, and was prepared to join you. when he walked in the bedroom and saw the bed still made, he panicked. did you really leave? were you actually done with the relationship? he checked everywhere, the bathroom, kitchen, the basement, and not the most obvious place ever. he dialed your phone, and heard loud ringing from the living room. he slapped his forehead in stupidity and made his way over to you. his heart broke at the sight. the way you tried to fit your body with the throw blanket, unaware that you were shivering at the cold. your face was also pale, with dried tears on them. you looked so broken and so drained. immediately, suna carried you off the couch bridal style, and tucked you into the soft king sized bed. he then, moved onto his side and slid under the sheets. it’s only when he grabs your waist is when he feels safe enough to sleep.

five hours later, you awake with dried tears still in your eyes. you wiped them with your arm, and felt weight around your waist. once your eyes were cleared, it was suna. you let yourself comfort in his warmth for just a bit more, knowing that there’s a huge argument to come.

“suna we can’t just not talk about this,” you whispered into his ear, knowing he was awake. he hid in the crook of your neck, “i’m sorry. i’m so so sorry, please take me back.”

“i can’t just accept your apology blindly, we have to set boundaries or else we’ll never move forward.” you sighed while tracing circles on his bare chest.

“i’ll never even look at her again,” his face deadpanned. your laugh vibrated against his chest, “that’s not needed, it’s not really her fault anyways. how about, we spend more time on dates and devote days for each other?”

“anything, princess.”

sakusa kiyoomi

sakusa hated physical touch, the spread of germs with a single handshake grossed him out. that’s why he built a cold exterior to prevent many from getting close. however, when he met you, you happened to be the exception and you took pride in the fact that he was only comfortable with you. he’ll never admit it to you though, and claims he only ‘endures’ your hugs. although, you knew your limit, you would never show affection in front of people. if there’s one thing sakusa hates, it’s PDA.

so you couldn’t really blame the new cute manager for flirting with him, because it seemed like he was single. listen, you trusted sakusa with your whole heart, but you just wanted to see how he would react with a girl flirting with him.

you hid behind the door, eavesdropping behind the door.

“sakusa-senpai, can you please help me up?” the cute manger whined.

“can you not get up yourself?” sakusa groaned.

“no i think i twisted something,” as a girl, you knew exactly what she was doing and her execution was poor. you rolled your eyes, assuming sakusa too would know what she was doing.

but he didn’t.

“thank you, sakusa-senpai!” she squealed, and then what you can assume, she hugged him. because then it caught him by suprise, and they both fell together, with her on top of him. you didn’t hear him scolding her, rather he was laughing. he was happy with her presence when he wouldn’t even physically show it with you. you decided to just walk in and stop this.

amidst of their laughter, both heads looked up at you. “sakusa, don’t you have to get home soon?” with an eyebrow raised.

“uh actually sakusa-senpai it’s getting dark, mind if you could walk me home?” she babbled.

“fine, y/n you can walk yourself right?” he said casually, while packing up his things.

“y-yeah i guess” you stammered.

on your walk home, you were reevaluating what just happened. no longer did you feel special anymore. your brain started to overthink itself, why did they look better as a couple? and why was he so relaxed around her? was i just not the right person? has he found his true love? all these scenarios made you start to tear up. you were in love with the germaphobic man, for god sakes.

when you got the shared apartment, you immediately took a shower, knowing that sakusa was going to nag you anyways when you got home.

then, you started on dinner and chopping up some vegetables when you heard the door open. he nodded at you, acknowledging your presence and was waiting for the hug you gave him everytime he came home. but you didn’t, and he awkwardly just stood there for good minute or two. to your suprise, he was the first one to make the move. he wrapped his arms behind you and resting his head on your neck. immediately, you shrugged him off.

he furrowed his eyebrows, “is there something wrong?”

“i don’t know, is there something wrong?” you repeated his question.

“i wouldn’t know, that’s why i asked.” he bellowed.

you put the knife down and faced him, “you know i love the double standard of how i have to shower before i get to touch you, but that whore gets to touch you whenever,” you ranted.

“our new manager? you can’t be serious. we fell, it was an accident.”

“maybe you thought it was, but i know what she was doing because i, too am a girl. if you guys just ‘fell’ why did it take so long for you to get back up? why’d you let her touch you for so long?” you questioned.

“i wasn’t thinking about it, not everything i do in life is rotated around germs-”

“except when it’s with me” your voice cracked. “right? it’s when it’s with me, that must be it. that’s why you never show any affection, but it’s okay for you because you’ve gotten tons from me and her!” you raved.

he tried to wrap his around you, but you moved out the way.

“don’t touch me with that whore’s filth,” you muttered, turning off the burner and stomped to your shared bedroom, slamming the door. your insecurities were roaring on the inside. sakusa chose to sleep on the couch, thinking you needed space. but, that was the least thing you wanted. you wanted him to beg, or to at least apologize.

over the following days, you didn’t wait for him outside of practice. in fact, the only time he saw you was in the morning before classes and at night when you left leftovers for him in the kitchen. after the argument, he pushed everyone away, especially with the new manager. he only wanted one person’s touch, yours. and to achieve that, he had to put in some effort. that night when he got home, he went straight to the shower. you assumed it was just a normal silent treatment day, so you went to bed scrolling.

you felt the weight on the other side of the bed. knowing who it was, you continued to aimlessly scroll on tiktok. sakusa abruptly grabbed your waist and coddled you, drowning you in pecks all around your face.

“mh.. sakus.. sa.. mh..” continuously getting cut off with his cute pecks on your lips. you decided to let go of the whole manager situation, and let yourself to just be happy. you wrapped your arms around his neck and put him even closer to you. he then pulled away and you dramatically groaned.

putting his face close to yours, “i love you y/n l/n.” before continuing.

a/n: if you like this series please request some characters you’d like to see!

[burnedbyshoto]

good little omega

— He was an alpha, you were an omega. Can I make it anymore obvious? He was a crime boss and you were a movie star. What more can I say? Oh, he wanted you, really wanted you, but you swore you would never, ever need an alpha.

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pairing: alpha!shigaraki tomura x omega fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, abo/omegaverse, chad alpha!shiggy, virgin celeb!reader, kidnapping, drugging, sex slave auction, biting/marking, belly bulge, knotting, sex toys, heat, implied murder (lol rip shigsters last omegas), mind break, breeding, degradation, finger fucking, fucking in front of a crowd, modern world!au

word count: 6,174

a/n: this goes out to my shiggy stans. I never understood you until recently and now I blush like a schoolgirl when I see him. mondays are so busy, are they not? ive been home for 6 hours today wtf????

kinktober day 12 main kink: abo/omegaverse | kinktober masterlist

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You sat before the mirror, your eyes intently staring at your reflection. The people around you running around, chaotically bringing brushes and pencils to your face, the smell of chemicals in the air, tickling your overly sensitive nose. 

“Are we ready?! Is Y/n ready?! I don’t think she’s ready?! We need to be out of here in five minutes, people, let’s hurry it up!”

Breaking your gaze from your reflection onto your agent in the background, you sighed softly at the growing sour and distressed omega pheromones. Oh, you realized suddenly, your nose unable to keep from scrunching at the mildewy detergent scent, they were really stressed out.

Today was the night of the biggest award show one could attend as a movie star celebrity in Japan. The Motion Picture Awards gave only the most prestigious and prodigious actors and actresses their due. A night of fashion, alcohol, and nervous pheromone pumping alphas and betas in a single room to reveal who was the best this year. Working in an industry such as your own, you had become quite the living legend already at the mere age of twenty-two.

As an omega, you grew up in a society that banned you from enlisting or attempting to join the ranks of the best in just about every field of focus or study. So that even included the area of acting. Casting Directors had always said the same thing each and every time you were forced to present your secondary gender to them all when being called back for auditions.

‘Omegas can’t be movie stars, your heats are too often and too long, they cause rifts in filming schedules this project cannot afford.’

‘We have too many prime alphas on set. Our film's projected main character is an alpha, we wouldn’t want to be caught up in a lawsuit should she find you to be too… fertile.’

‘Omegas can only be good, suitable nurtures and well, mothers. This movie just seems a bit too intense for a little omega like you!’

Omegas can’t do this, omegas can’t do that. Alphas, the pride of society, couldn’t be made to hold themselves back to your alluring scent and occasional heats. Betas, the majority of the population, didn’t feel a challenge when working alongside omegas. Omegas? Well, if there were any that actually existed within the film industry, they were for sure never heard from, or seen of.

At the age of eighteen, you had nearly given up on your long aspiring desire to become the first omega actor or actress to ever grace the scene. But just as you were ready to tell your agent that you were tired of all of the same, repetitive bullshit, a gentle alpha had approached you with an exciting role in mind for you.

Movies and cinematic films had always showcased omegas as sweet, nurturing individuals. For the most part, you agreed that that’s how you omegas were. You enjoyed hugging your close friends, scenting them softly as means of a small pack you had created as none of you were mated this young, yet didn’t ever wish to be bothered by self-righteous alphas or betas. Through many, many biology courses revolving around your secondary gender, you knew that the hormones that made you an omega also affected the brain to accept and view things in a… softer light. But unlike what they taught in school, and unlike what the alphas in society knew about omegas as they could never honestly watch an omega in heat while alone, was that omegas weren’t always the most nurturing or kind.

The week before your heat, the week of, and the week following your heat, you were always irritable, angry, almost cold. You’d flash your small fangs at anyone who dared to approach you with a scent you hated, your heat room never once escaping with everything torn to shreds, and you definitely did not wish to seek any fiber of soft love.

So when the alpha male sat in front of you, a single fang poking out of his lip as he exposed his neck in a motion of vulnerability and conceding to you — the omega — you knew he was serious.

He explained to you his plan on creating a more realistic movie surrounding the brutal truths of what being a single omega was like. Films had, after all, had always depicted omegas as being mated the moment they presented and going as far as saying that there were others means to be coupled to other alphas without actually being marked. It was atrociously wrong of the omega lifestyle, and it always made your stomach curl to see that it was an alpha or a beta actor putting on the role.

But he wanted to focus on the realities. The anger, sadness, and horrors you could face as a single, unmated omega. The director raved that you were the face for that movie and had a soul that made him come seek you out. And without so much as consultation from your agent, you agreed on the spot.

The title of the film had been an ironic one. Good Little Omega was what it was called in the end.

All in all, the movie had done poorly in the eyes of the critics. Many individuals — namely alphas and betas — claimed that the depiction of omegas within the film had been horribly wrong. Omegas were never sad, never homeless, never abandoned by society! That’s what they had all cried the moment the trailer flashed with bright letters:

AND INTRODUCING: Y/L/N Y/N (Ω)

Still, the movie made billions as many went to watch it because they ‘needed to see how horrible the movie was.’ They wanted proof that omegas weren’t cut as movie stars because how could someone who was out of commission for a week every two months be proactive on set. But all they got was a cinematic masterpiece.

You had taken a claim in the industry, one while small, that hadn’t hurt that much because you were much more focused on the fact that you now were a household name. Well, that is until you were nominated for the awards ceremony you were currently about to attend, only that it was the one from four years ago.

You were the first omega actress and now the first omega nominee. You hadn’t won, but that had solidified the step you had in the door. After that, the interests to hire you in omega roles came pouring through the door.

But you were brought back to reality when the setting spray splashed against your face, your eyes fluttering when they covered your scent glands with the flesh-colored band-aids they got for you. Alphas could never complain about you being a distraction if you smelled the same as betas. 

Rising to your feet, you smiled graciously to your makeup and styling team, thanking them profusely as your agent placed her hand at the small of your back and began pushing you towards the exit.

“Goodluck!”

“Thank you!”

.

..

.

Shigaraki glared down the table of averted eyes, and his hands brought up under his chin twitched at his annoyance.

“Are you going to say anything, or are we going to remain silent?” he asked, his voice quiet yet heavy in all of their ears as they flinched. “Don’t think you’re going to get away without giving me an answer.”

The sour smell of fearful alphas should have corroded Shigaraki’s nose. It should have done something to unsettle the way that the young head sat on his black leather seat. But as a matter of fact, the young alpha had to resist the way he wanted to bare his teeth in a bloodied smile, his red eyes slit in his cruel lust for fear.

“O-Of course not, a-alpha!” croaked one of the smaller alphas down the table. Shigaraki snapped his eyes towards the yellow-haired croony, his neck exposed for the alpha, eyes refusing to look at his leader. “I-It’s just that, um, I — I mean, we don't know w-what happened to your mate!”

“I thought I gave clear and distinct instructions that you were supposed to have found them by this meeting,” Shigaraki stated, his voice somehow growing colder, meaner yet never once changing as his hands dropped from his chin to rest on the arms of his chair. He tilted his head, watching the pathetic alphas quiver like some scared, stupid omega. “Useless. Get out of here before I change my mind on killing you all where you sit.”

The crowd of alphas left quicker than Shigaraki could blink, leaving behind the reeking smell of scared alpha pheromones. 

“Tomura-kun, you killed your mate,” came the singsong giggle from behind him, and Shigaraki didn’t bother turning around, his nose and ears sharp enough to pick up exactly it was behind him. 

“They’re all a bunch of pissy lackeys,” Shigaraki simply stated, his eyes rolling as he slowly fell to the back of his chair, red eyes meeting golden ones that shone with mirth and joy. “What do you want, Toga?”

Toga leaned against the leather armrest, uncaring that Shigaraki hated his personal space invaded. The young female was an alpha, much like most of the people within this gang group, but unlike the others, she had a distinct, almost terrifying way to change the way she smelled. She could smell like anyone or any secondary gender. She often preferred to smell like an omega too. 

“We have a guest visiting us today!” Toga chirped, her fingers clasping together. “I wanted to introduce him!”

“Bring Giran in,” Shigaraki snapped, his eyes narrowing with no real malice for the alpha next to him who simply pouted at the surprise — not a surprise — being ruined. Giran reeked of cigarettes and cheap body sprays that, when wafted with his distinct omega pheromones, made Shigaraki want to throw up. “Hurry up.”

“UGH!”

Shigaraki’s mouth was set in a firm line, his eyes watching as one of his most trusted allies walked to the table, and taking a seat in the abandoned chairs as Toga purred in happiness, sitting on the armchair of Giran’s chair, arms enveloping him. 

“Shigaraki, how are you doing?” Giran smiled, the cigarette that seemed to take a permanent residence in his teeth moving with his words. “I came bearing some great news.”

“What do you have for me?” Shigaraki simply states, his eyes focusing on the letter that is unpocketed from Giran’s pockets and placed onto the table. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to sell me your omega niece again.”

Giran chuckled, looking at Toga, who was smirking softly, “I guess he still hates that joke, huh?”

“Absolutely livid!” Toga laughed.

Shigaraki growled, his mind and his inner alpha snarling at the lack of respect to the command of his question. He outranked them, outpowered them; they needed to respect his orders. 

Giran took a deep inhale of his cigarette, sliding the card over to Shigaraki, his eyes averted, but his stance still firm. “I know you go through omegas faster than a teenage boy goes through a pack of tissues, but I think this can answer the pleas you have at night.”

Observing the card in his hand, Shigaraki scowls, unsure of how to feel about the print on the invitation. 

“Say the word, and I’ll get you a seat,” Giran whispers, like a sinister god begging a mere mortal to sign over their life for something completely worthless. But Shigaraki knows his worth, and more importantly, he knows in this game he outranks Giran, who would never betray him. In the slightest. He huffs, his back hunched, and his eyes looking with subdued excitement. 

“Who else is showing up?”

Giran knows the seat will be wanted that instant.

“No one who could hold a candle to you, alpha.”

“Don’t make me regret this.”

“Of course not, my liege.”

.

..

.

The award sitting in your hand feels almost fake as if the entire night was nothing more than a heat-driven fever dream. You had won, had actually won the most significant award of the night that an actress could win!

“Oh my gods, okay, okay,” your agent muttered beside you. Her eyes glued to the shiny gold statue between your legs. “Well, I know your heat starts tomorrow, and I’ll leave you alone for a week. But I swear, y/n, as soon as your mind isn’t a full-blown lusty heat brained bimbo, we’ll reconvene, and we will make sure you are nothing but the greatest!”

“Yeah,” you breathlessly state, eyes transfixed on the prize that felt like it could melt away any second right now. “That sounds wonderful.”

The car you were in pulled up to your front door, and you felt meek excited the car in nothing but a silk robe and slippers. The dress you had worn that night had already been put back into a plastic bag to be returned to the stylist who had offered to style you for the night. You waved with an almost transfixed look in your eyes as you closed your front door behind you, your heart hammering as adrenaline still coursed through your veins as if you had just been declared the victor of the category yet again.

Placing the trophy onto the table, you sighed in a wondrous, dreamy way.

You had done it.

You had won.

Fuck all those directors who had ever said anything different.

Still deep in your thoughts, you almost missed the knock on your door, and you figured that you must have left something in the car. Walking back over to the front door, your nose curled at the lack of scent, was it a beta?

Opening the door, you don’t remember seeing faces or even a scent of a pheromone. A single cloth wrapped over your head, and before you could send out your painful, fearful moments-from-heat omega pheromones, you were knocked out.

Cold and lifeless, you sunk against their arms, bile rising up to your throat as you know exactly what was going on. You were being kidnapped. 

No… please not… not after all of this had happened.

.

..

.

You wake up to the sound of moving feet, sneering laughter, the feeling of coarse, hot, hands on your ass and wet, simmering tongues on your lubricated cunt. The sense is vivid. You can feel the very littlest touch on your body, the layer of scented pheromones on your glands, and slick from alphas — you know it's alphas imprinting themselves on you as a mark of a claim.

You knew about this from high school; it was an extremely outdated and frowned upon version of mating and claiming as it simply turned away any sort of pursuer who wasn’t the thick pheromone individual. You also knew it was frowned upon because if multiple individuals sought mateship with the typical omega individual, it would result in a massive, unsolvable death match. But these alphas, even with layering their scent on you so thick you thought you were turning crazy, didn’t attack. No, they took languid stripes of your fresh, intoxicating slick and growled to you, maybe, how that was how slick was supposed to be. 

You wanted to move, to kick the stupid, demeaning alphas in the snout before running away, but in a twist of horrible realization, you soon figured out that despite your alert mind, you couldn’t move your body. Couldn’t shift it even the smallest of bits. 

“I hope all you wonderful clients have been able to taste and smell your potential mates out here!” A loud, commanding introduction voice echoed from somewhere where you couldn’t see, his voice vibrating into the straps of your legs, but you couldn’t make a sound or even open your eyes. “As you know, we have such an arrangement for you all, the best of the best, really! We don’t wish to rush, but as always, all of these events are incredibly time-sensitive, so if you would, please alphas, please come and sit down, and we’ll begin bidding on our first of seven beautiful, fertile omegas tonight!” 

The words sounded foreign in your ears yet at the same time, something so familiar because this was something you omegas were always warned about. This had to be some sort of omega mate auction, and by the stench of alphas who smelled like they owned millions and killed millions, you were in no doubt somehow caught up in one of the worst ones imagined. 

Two long, completely hardened fingers suddenly entered your cunt, and as if for a single millisecond, your mind and your body were able to work in tangent, your hips bucked at the sweet feelings. Oh, your eyes tried to flutter, enjoying the way the two fingers circled the walls of your long lonely cunt.

“Please, alpha, please refrain from touching the merchandise for now, please join us so that we may begin!”

The two fingers buried within your cunt as if it was their right, slowly withdrew out of your pulsing walls, and you heard the sound of sneakers against the hardwood floor and felt relaxed and sickened at how you sort of liked it.

Heat brain, you reminded yourself. Just your stupid, horny heat brain.

You were a celebrity, you mantra, a dignified star who didn’t need a beta or an alpha unless you saw it fit. Right now, as you had repeated many times to the countless amounts of reporters who had asked, you had no interest in someone to share your heat with.

“Alright, and to start off our night in a rolling go! Please, everyone put your hands together for the fertile and beautiful thirteenth in-line the Princess of Cabodia: Dayanara!”

This auction was insane, all six omegas before you all sold from a price that ranged from 198 hundred million to the one right before you who sold for one billion dollars. You were a prideful omega, and you saw worth to your abilities, smell, and looks, but were you even worth anywhere in that range?

The entire time you had been set up in who knows what, the small, overwhelming pound of your heat sinking into the depths and pores of your body was becoming heavy. You couldn’t move a single muscle still, your body still refusing to respond to the call of your body, but the seep of your slick running down the innards of your thighs, undoubtedly beginning to pool on the ground, must be embarrassing of you. 

Suddenly someone spread the skin below your ass out, and you couldn’t react as something sharp and prick stabbed into your flesh. You howled in the surprising pain, and you were fast to find that whatever they had injected you with had allowed systematic movement within your body. Your eyes fluttered open as two, impossibly huge alphas grabbed you by your forearm and hoisted you to your feet. 

Your neck was far too weak to carry the weight of your head, so your eyes were transfixed on the white silk of the slutty dress they dressed you in. It showed off your cleavage with no regret, and by the feel and look of it, it barely passed the bottom of your ass. Your vision swam, the alphas all over the room distorted and melting within one another as you stepped onto a stage, the spotlight on you feeling deliriously hot and melting your skin.

Your hormones, already going crazy with your heat, seemed to intensify at the small of so many capable, potent, possessive alpha pheromones that suffocated the room. Handcuffs slapped onto your wrists, and you moaned pathetically at the sting of cold metal on your skin, and you obediently followed the command of one alpha to go on your knees. 

A nail slammed between the metal links of the handcuffs, practically stapling you to the wooden floor, and you whimpered at the feeling of a stuffed pillow mount being placed beneath your lower stomach. You were in a forced and easily accessible mating position with your slick and cunt exposed for all the alphas to re-smell and see. 

Moaning, you shifted against the mount, your body not able to have the full movement you needed to ward off that building, insufferable heat in your core, but nothing you could do seemed to satisfy it.

“And for our biggest prize of the night, we have the one, the only, the beautiful sensation Y/l/n Y/n!” the auctioneer roared. His voice echoing in your ear as he walked over to you, exposing your dripping cunt to the crowd of alphas who had all gotten a sweet taste of your essence already. His hand came down to slap your ass with a chuckle. “Where do we start the bidding on this one, alphas? She needs no introduction, and none of you better be pussies because we know this bitch of an omega won’t take any tiny cocks as her alpha! She needs to be broken in, fucked to submission. No one likes a trailblazer… someone needs to remind of what fucking trail she’s supposed to be on. Besides, the bitch is in fucking heat, and if you don’t claim her, I just might do it myself!”

“75 million!” someone started the bidding.

You stiffened.

“75 to the man in the back!”

“90 million!” someone challenged.

“We’re up to 90!”

“125 million!”

“Do I hear another offer?”

“250 million!”

“250 million!”

The number climbed and climbed, the same voices coming to challenge each other until finally, they rounded out to a quantity that sounded bizarre even to you. 

“950 million!”

If it had been possible for your knees to give out, you would have been collapsed onto the floor, the pool of slick that continued to lubricate your cunt without a doubt drowning you as you craved the need to be fucked by someone with undoubted alpha pheromones and cock in this room. 

“950 million?” the auctioneer repeated, his voice for sure carrying a shark-like grin. “Going once, going twice—”

“Five billion.”

The gasp in the crowd was undeniable, and the omega in you crooned, knowing that this alpha valued you and your omega to be the price of five billion US dollars. 

“Fuck!” screamed the man who had presented the 950 million deal. 

“Wowee, five billion dollars, everyone! Anyone think they can beat that?! Going once! Going twice!” The crowd remained in silence, and you shook against your restraint, the heat emitting from your cunt almost demanding to be seen and fucked through this heat week. “SOLD! The virgin celebrity, Y/l/n Y/n sold to our own Shigaraki Tomura!”

The cheers of amaze weren’t nearly as loud as the smell of reeking petty alpha.

“Come and pay up, alpha, and then you can show us… a demonstration of how you’re going to break this omega.”

“Shut up.” Shigaraku growled, his footsteps heavy in your ear as you feel him climb up the stage, and you weakly tilted your head to look at the white-haired alpha boss hand over a simple credit card before walking over to you, his eyes unreadable as he looked you dead in the eye.

He reached out a finger that raised your chin up for him to study your face, moving and tilting your head as he pleased as a small, sinister smile pressed to his lips as he dropped your head. A sharp, uncomfortable pain fell on your chin as it crashed to the floor, and you shivered at the feeling of his calloused and rough fingers running down your exposed back.

“You’re such a small omega, still stupidly tiny. I bet you’ve never thought your first knot would come from someone like me,” Shigaraki laughed, his fingers and voice ice cold. His words were soft, spoken in a way that had your omega stupidly cooing for having secret conversations with your alpha who promised to fuck you till you were carrying a litter of pups. “I hope you realize that this is real life, that I will break you, and no hero in this world will be able to fucking save you.”

“Fuck the omega!” someone from the crowd screamed, and Shigaraki glared upwards. Still, you shivered in the thought of this alpha who spent five billion dollars to make you his claiming you, fucking your stupid heat brain into mush in front of these smaller, irrelevant alphas. 

“I’ll do what I fucking please,” Shigaraki snapped, but the fingers you remembered to have been the last ones to enter your slicked crazy walls seemed to be his. They moved deep within you, curling and spreading your tight, sopping wet cavern apart, letting your pathetic, chirping cries echo powerfully in the room as lusting, near rutting alpha pheromones filled the room. “For fucks sake, omega, your pussy’s fucking tight as shit! Don’t you have any real knotted toys?”

You couldn’t respond back, your body on the road to a complete shut down at the feeling of something other than silicone deep within your body, fingering and dragging against your pheromone soaked walls.

“Alpha, y-your fingers feel so good!” you gasp, your hips thrusting backward, enjoying the way his fingernails press onto your warm velvet walls. “So good, you make me feel so good already.”

“I’ve seen you all over the news,” Shigaraki growled low into your ear. “Talking about how you didn’t want an alpha, how you never needed to feel the tightness that a fat knot could bring you, and look at you now. I’ve barely touched you, barely begun to make you mine, and yet you’re already begging for me, omega.”

Your arms tug at the handcuffs, pathetically wanting them off. Exasperatedly seeking more friction from your newly bought alpha. You can’t think straight, can’t come up with a single response except the stupid apologetic, “I’m so sorry alpha, I didn’t know i-it would be y-you!”

“Don’t be shy on her, Shigaraki! Fuck the slutty omega already! Fucking knot and claim her in front of us, I want to hear the omega whore scream. It’s always hotter when it’s the first claim ever!”

“You better learn how to shut the fuck up, or I’ll kill you for interrupting my fucking session here,” Shigaraki seethed, his red, smoldering eyes ripping from yours and glaring at some loser alpha behind you. You couldn’t care. You only wanted what looked like the growing cock in Shigaraki’s pants; you wanted to feel the cock fill up your cunt, and his knot to lock you both in place.

You drooled at the thought, your loud, whimpering cries unable to keep from pouring out as the slick from your core seemed to pour endlessly from your pussy, demanding attention and a knot. “Breed me, fill me with your pups,” you begged fingers taking in his dirty fingers in your mouth, tongue wildly and uncontrollably flicking across his fingers in hopes it would be a sinking prayer of your promise to be good. “I want your knot, alpha, I want these stupid alphas to know you’re so much better than them~!”

Shigaraki’s once snarl fell when he looked at you, a slowly growing smirk falling on his face as his lips spread into a cruel smirk, one that had you moaning around his fingers as he pinched the pink muscle in your mouth before disappearing before you.

“I smelled your distress when I put my fingers up your sloppy little cunt right before the auction happened; I could tell even with your growing heat that you hated the feeling of my fingers up your pretty pussy. But look at you now, I haven’t even set you on my goddamn knot, haven’t stretched that tiny cunt to its max. You’re smelling better than a bitch in heat,” Shigaraki growled in your ear. His clothed chest pressing deliriously into your exposed back, the huge cock outline in his pants grinding incessantly into your wet core, undoubtedly leaving a damp patch where his cock ground into you. “You’re an actress, aren’t you, little omega? I bet you just needed this audience cheering your name to break your mind over this. How. Pathetic.”

And the pressure on your tongue is gone, the drool and saliva sticky and cold on your chin as you whimper for your alpha. You promised that it wasn’t right, it was just that you had been scared before, but your alpha was so strong, his pheromones so scary and mean, he could protect you and fill you up with so many pups you couldn’t help but to be excited now.

The smell of Shigaraki seemed to brighten, and you moaned when his hands pressed the white dress up, allowing for your naked ass to be seen by him and everyone who stayed to watch. Shigaraki squeezed your asscheeks away, chuckling at the way your small asshole clenched in your embarrassment and pain at how your hormone-driven heat demanded that he fuck you and knot you now.

“So fucking wet,” Shigaraki observed, his fingertips tracing the slick on your folds before a small pop told you that he licked you clean from his fingers. “Such sweet slick too, you really are a prime omega, little one.”

You whimpered, ass shaking for him to continue to touch you, to continue to fuck you more. 

“I don’t think you’re ready for my knot, precious omega,” Shigaraki taunted, and his words were a sealing deal in your lusting mind. Your hips knocking backward in some sort of desperation for more.

“She won’t,” commented the auctioneer.

“I will!” you scream, eyes filled with painful tears that could only be resolved with your alphas knot and claim. “I can take your knot, alpha!”

Shigaraki makes a small noise, and you choke at the feeling of something huge, nearly monstrous, shift into your cunt. You were a virgin, but even you knew that it was merely the head of his alpha thick cock, not enough for you to be satisfied, not far enough in you to breed or fuck you properly. All the moans in your throat were slightly painful, and the tears in your eyes continued to fall as you rocked your hips backward, trying to sink yourself further on his cock, wanting him deep in your womb.

You craved him.

“Ah, good, you can take more,” came the airy, almost insane driven coo of Shigaraki, the lack of humor making your cunt flutter against his thick, long cock. “Cry for your alpha, little omega.”

With that, Shigaraki slammed into you with no mercy, his cock bottoming out into you with a powerful, edging thrust. You screamed in pain, tears leaking from your eyes, and even with the pool of lubricating slick, his cock was far too big, incredibly thick that you felt your inner walls splitting in two as he fucked you as if you weren’t in delirious pain.

Drool and tears covered your arms, your painted fingers digging into the floorboards with crazy strength that you clawed scars on the floor as Shigaraki rutted deep within you.

Shigaraki commanded you with every thrust he gave, and soon the omega in you was cooing, howling for more, the pain of having your virginity ripped from right under you having become bubbling, glowing pleasure. You screamed in pleasure, Shigaraki grabbing onto your rolling hips to slam you back onto his cock, allowing for his thick cock to hit deep within you over and over again. The angle and power he possessed with every thrust were almost inhumane, nothing your lonely heat filled nights could ever dream of recreating ever. Shrill moans and pleas drowned out the annoying commentary of your onlookers, Shigaraki’s chest still flushed against your back, his hips landing heavily on your ass that was at this point raised because of the mount beneath you. 

“My alpha,” you babble, eyes unfocused, hazy, and incredibly heavy as you stared at some point on the wall, overwhelmed with the feeling of Shigaraki’s hot cock pounding in you. “My alpha, such a good alpha. His cock is making my tummy feel funny, making my pussy feel so tight. Please fill me with your children, I’ll be a good omega to you and them, I promise! I promise — I — oh myyy goddd — I promise, alpha!!!”

Shigaraki puffs up with the praise, but he continued to fuck into you roughly, mercilessly, as if you were nothing more than the breeding whore omega that he had purchased you for. The wet slaps and satisfying squelches rang in the blazing heat room, the smell of the pleasured and heat insane omega saturating deeply within his nose, and in the other's nose, the prideful smell of a satisfied alpha.

Your spongy walls clenched and spasmed against his penetrating, pounding cock, sometimes even forcibly because, by god, it was hot when his cock would twitch within your womb, especially against your cervix.

“Fuck, you’re so damn annoying,” Shigaraki snarled into your ear, his teeth biting and scraping along your neck, and you wailed when his teeth dragged over the sweet scent gland on your neck. The one and only place for mating bites to go. His hand gripped your hair, tugging your head back so that you could feel his rough facial skin rub up against yours. “If you want me to fill you with my pups, you better be the best fucking omega on this goddamn planet.”

“I can be the best! I’ll be the best!” you cried, your ass shifting backward to meet his drilling hips. 

The delirious sensation of his cock rocking against your cervix slowly begins to inflate the knot on his cock, restricting his still barbaric thrusting as he made to move faster. He wanted you to cum before he knotted entirely within you. 

The pressure in your stomach is scorching and impossibly tight, and he takes another long stripe at your scent gland. You tremble with need, your fingers tearing into the wooden floors. You can feel the knot on his cock swelling up, catching onto the opening of your cunt with every successive cunt, and you begin to cry, shake, and tremble as the knot becomes too big.

Your eyes cross, your tongue falling out of your mouth as you babble his name. Your walls clamp around his knotted cock with the ferocity of a vice, and your body jerks violently as you cum hard around his cock. The slick essence of your orgasm slipping out of the few lasting places open before Shigaraki’s knot fills you out entirely. Despite his cock unable to move, the swollenness of his knot preventing him from moving out of you, Shigaraki still shoves his weight into his hips, the inflated knot stretching your cock out so widely, your vision went white, and you came yet a second time.

A small pop was heard, and suddenly with a rush of thick, hot, and heavy white cum exploded within your womb, his teeth sink around your scent gland, marking you — mating you. He filled you, filled you, and filled you. His cum wouldn’t stop until your belly was swollen with his hot cum, and he eventually fell off of you with a shaky, shallow breath.

You still remained on the mount, your eyes unfocused, breaths mumbling to your alpha, a promise to carry out every single pup he gave you and would give you. You were his omega, his good little omega, and you would never disappoint your alpha. Not now, not ever.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

The next week, you opened your door with a broad smile, your usual clothes replaced with a dress Shigaraki had picked for you and a frilly white apron on as your agent was standing outside of your house, eyes wide, mouth gaped at the still bleeding mate wound on your shoulder.

“Ah, how funny!” you laughed, waving your hand as you sighed dreamily, your eyes fluttering at the thought of your alpha who was on a business call right now. “I’m actually going to be quitting! My alpha and I have many plans right now, I gotta produce as many litters as I can, being an actress would never give me this sort of meaning in life!”

“B-But, you’re doing so much?! You have so much to do! You can’t give up?!”

“Oh, my love, we both know that I look much cuter with a pregnant belly! Don’t worry,” you smile, taking your agent's hand, brightly smiling at her one last time. “I’m sure all omegas will eventually find their alpha so they won’t be so depressed and angry like I was!”

Your agent doesn’t get another word in.

You slam the door in her face, your hands already resting on your belly that you knew was already growing the life of your first litter of pups. It had been known the second Shigaraki filled you up anymore.

You were a good little omega, and your alpha needed you!

[petri808]

For my tumblr bestie @random-rave 🔥⭐️ a Nalu birthday gift of smut 🎁

Before opening her birthday present from Levy, Lucy read the attached card. She was quite curious about its contents ever since she’d been warned to open the gift at home and not at the guild where she’d received it.

‘Follow the instructions on the potion for a kinky fun surprise. I’ll tell you later how I found it. Have fun you two!’

Kinky surprise? Lucy’s brow raised. She opened the box next and pulled out a small green bottle filled with an unknown liquid.

‘Draconian elixir for mages only. Drink contents to transform into a faux dragon slayer. Heightens sense of smell, taste, and touch along with physical features. Magic possessed by the user may be intensified. Effects are temporary and will wear off in 12 hours.’

“Why would Levy think this is kinky?” Lucy wondered aloud until a recent conversation jogged her memory. Right... she’d mentioned the biting thing... Lucy laughed and tucked the bottle into her pocket. This will make for a very kinky surprise indeed! Natsu was due to arrive home the next day from a quick mission a couple towns over from Magnolia. So, that gave Lucy some time to prepare a delectable meal they’ll never forget. ‘Happy birthday to me!’

When Natsu arrived at Lucy’s apartment, he found a note on the dining table that simply read: Meet me at your cottage and tell Happy not to follow. Well, he knew what that meant, but why his cottage? He shrugged it off for the time being and informed the Exceed who had plans of his own anyway with Carla.

It was a curious thing to meet at his cottage now that they’d officially become a couple. He’d moved into her apartment while his home remained a storehouse for his collectibles and her growing book collection. Though the second part of Lucy’s message made more sense since the cottage provided a lot more privacy for their rambunctious encounters.

The closer he got, a brighter bounce in his step took hold as his imagination ran wild. Once they’d made the leap to a romantic relationship, it opened a whole new world to them. It’s true Lucy had to explain a few misunderstandings, like the where human babies actually come from thing, but what came surprisingly naturally was the sex. It was as if his dragon instincts were awakened, and primal urges became his teacher. They were both nervous in their first encounter, but once the pheromones had hit, it was all over.

Wait a minute! Natsu paused a few steps outside of his cottage and put his nose to the air. Lucy’s scent had changed somehow, stronger, headier, with a bit of dragon essence woven in. Was there someone else inside?! Another slayer?! His eyes shifted into a serpentine pupil and a growl escaped his lips as he raced to the door and threw it open. “Lucy, what’s go—!” Natsu stopped dead in his tracks.

“Welcome home, Natsu,” the blonde grinned, flashing the longer fangs the potion had given her.

The scent was coming from Lucy?! “Why do you smell like a slayer?!”

“Well,” she sauntered closer, “Levy found a temporary potion that gives me some slayer features for 12 hours and these,” she tapped a fang, “resulted from that.”

“Anything else?”

Lucy shrugged, “my senses are also heightened, but I’m mostly excited for the fangs because now I get to do some marking of my own.”

So, of all the things they’ve tried out, biting was a kink Lucy never realized she’d like receiving or Natsu in giving. When he bit her the very first time and broke through the skin, they were both washed over with a strange sensation akin to the connection she’d felt when she had written in the END book. But when she’d asked Levy if they’d had a similar experience, the answer was no. Lucy surmised she and Natsu’s bond was much deeper than they’d ever realized.

“Awww,” he pouted, though a smirk stilled curled at edge of his lips. “That’s my thing.”

“Pfft, well too bad.” Lucy grinned and ran a finger down his chest, then trailed it back to his neck. “I’m gonna make sure to put one right,” she presses on his nape, “here, so everyone will see it like you’ve done to me. Property of Lucy.”

“Mmm,” his own fang flashed, “that’s kinda turning me on.”

“Oh, yeah? Then why don’t you show me just how much?”

Natsu swept Lucy off her feet and walked to the back of the cottage where a bed was set up, placing her down while pulling at her clothes and coveting her lips. Hands were everywhere, both sets yanking and stripping away fabric to reveal the flesh beneath like a runaway train with no intention of stopping. Her excitement that afternoon was increased, be it the potion itself or the exhilaration it brought. Though his scent was something she’d come to love, it was toxic this time due to her heightened sense of smell. Oh, how the taste of his smoky saliva made her salivate and her fangs almost tingled! She moaned against their molded mouths in bursts, chasing his tongue with her own and mewling when he sucked the hot flesh.

Her passions and mixed scent served to fuel a new wave of lust in Natsu as well. He would have shredded Lucy’s clothes if he didn’t wanna hear the ending of it. His growls and grunts melded with her purring rumbles like two wild animals in ardent throes to rival a fight for dominance. Natsu wasn’t sure if it was the potions effects, but she was sure straining his muscles tonight to stay in control! He pinned her down momentarily. “I won’t let you win!”

Lucy cocked an eyebrow with a hedonistic grin, “challenge accepted.” Oh, she has no plans to physically dominate him tonight, her goals were simpler, to leave the first and last marks of the evening romps. Of course, Natsu didn’t need to know that. She wrapped her legs around his thick thighs and pulled his pelvis flush against hers, relishing in the heated length pressed against her core. “Now get on with it, dragon.”

“Tch,” he smiled back, “impatient, are we?”

“I feel him throbbing, so don’t act like you ain’t feeling it too.”

That was true. Natsu’s inner dragon wanted nothing more than to fill its mate up and re-stake its claim. If it had its way, Lucy would be spread multiple times every night until she fell asleep with him buried all snug inside. Their mating had truly released an inner beast in Natsu that only by willpower he could control... but not tonight with how fucking amazing she smelled. “Don’t blame me if you can’t walk tomorrow.”

She giggled, “I don’t have any other plans.”

“Well too bad.” Natsu moved in faster than Lucy could react and bit down on his mark. Despite gaining extra abilities, she didn’t have the same kind of control he did.

“Damn yo—” the words cut short from a burst of heat flooding her body and an overwhelming wave of lights dancing behind her eyelids. Heaven help her, the bonding effects were so much stronger! She couldn’t even think straight, just abject lust surging through her body. Lucy ground her hips desperately to rub herself against his cock, smearing the growing slick coating the area. “Burns…” she mewled, but in a delicious way. Things weren’t going to plan!

When he let go of the skin and kissed his way down her chest, Lucy took note that Natsu’s eyes were turning serpentine. The last time she’d seen this change was their first time. “Na…tsu…?” she moaned in a slow questioned tone repeatedly.

He stopped and looked up, unsure why Lucy was trying to get his attention. “Yeah?”

Tit for tat, Lucy caught him off guard and latched her mouth onto the junction of his neck and shoulder causing Natsu to cry out, a moaning growl as her fangs sank deep into the skin. “Fu—ck—” ‘Wow!’ His hips buck uncontrolled as her bite triggered a stronger reaction by his inner dragon. Without waiting for her to pull away, Natsu let his dragon take control and maneuvered his hips, pushing his cock in through her folds to the hilt. His eyes rolled back a second, relishing in her warm embrace. It felt so much better connected like this!

Lucy broke away and head craned back in a deep moan, but Natsu didn’t let up. Seated and grinding, he bit her a second time to ensure a longer euphoria, then coveted her lips, licking at the iron-taste coating them. Was it weird to taste his own blood? Somehow, it only added to the high. No thoughts, just carnal instincts taking control as he fucked her hard two ways. His pelvis pivoting slow, but rough, and his tongue stealing every moan leaching out from Lucy. He usually paid her other body parts some attention, but not this round— not when the only thing that could satiate his dragon was a good fucking.

“This is your fault…” Natsu growled heady and low as his lips teased along her jawline towards Lucy’s neck. He licked at the marks on her skin, already turning an angry red, rocking his hips so hard in an upward angle it lifted her clear from the bed, gaining a small yelp. “This is just round one.” He leaned in nibbling her ear as he spoke. “Don’t be surprised if you end up pregnant after this.”

“Worth… it,” she moaned in response. “But you know what?”

“What?”

Lucy opened her eyes to reveal they’d turned serpentine too. Semi-surprised, Natsu grinned at the change, but was caught off guard again when she suddenly grabbed him, wrapped her legs, and flipped them over in a power roll. His eyes flashed wide in a mix of shock and awe— Hell yeah! Now on top, Lucy locked her heels around his thighs to hold her position and bit down a second time. Natsu responded by grabbing hold of her pelvis. He wasn’t about to lose his stride! If she wanted to bite, let her, because he had something else to finish.

He continued pumping his hips from below, chasing his end. But the position hit upon Lucy’s buttons too, and the more he rocked, the harder it was for her to maintain control over her senses. Something feral inside broke free and she started biting sloppily along his neck and shoulders, wherever she could reach. Being on top was supposed to be a power move for Lucy, but the combination only fueled each other to drive harder and faster towards the inevitable conclusion.

Natsu grunted when he felt the squeeze against his shaft and Lucy’s body enter a spasmodic stiffening. Her moans and hyped-up pheromones made the area surrounding them thick, stifling like breathing in drug-laced air. That was it for him. He quickly rolled them back over and pounded fast and rough, timed with each milking pass until only a dry heave remained.

“Where’d Levy find this stuff again?” Natsu panted out as his body dropped onto Lucy’s in exhaustion.

Still trying to catch her breath too, Lucy giggled. “You like it, huh?”

“Fuck, yeah.” Natsu leaned down and kissed her with a gentle pressure. “Happy birthday baby.”

Lucy returned the kiss with a brightened smile. “Best birthday ever.”

“Oh, it ain’t over yet.”

“Rounds?”

Natsu flashed a cocky grin. “Round—s…”

[hannahhook7744]

Everything has Changed;

Summary; 12 year old Hannah Hook gets invited to come with the core four to Auardon. This is her reaction.

Trigger warning; Some Mal bashing because this is Harry Hook's sister and pre Mal leaving the isle. It will get better over time.

🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️

It was proving to be an inauspicious morning for the young duo who just couldn't seem to get any studying done, no matter how hard they tried to. Which was why they were currently sword-fighting instead of rereading the book that Hades had assigned them for their test.

Hey, don't look at them like that. Studying is hard! Especially when you have ADHD, dyslexia, and a short attention span. What else were they supposed to do in this situation? Not sword fight? Ha, as if that'd be a viable option. Besides they'd get back to the whole studying thing when they grew bored of their little duel in an hour or two. Maybe.

Hannah made sure to keep a firm grip on the hilt of her sword as she dodged a blow from Skia's sword with ease. Swiftly maneuvering her way out of the blade's reach with far more grace than she ever exhibited in anything else other than writing. Smiling with mirth and allowing herself to let out an enchanting laugh that just seemed to radiate warmth as she did so.

The brunette then made it look as if she was going to perform a high guard maneuver only to switch to the pillow guard maneuver at the last second. Only for Skia to deflect the move, as if she had seen it coming. That was no good; that meant that she was becoming predictable. Hannah made a mental note to herself to work on that before shaking off her shock and thrusting her blade towards her friend once again. Only for it to be blocked.

Hannah (rightfully) swore in frustration at the fact that she wasn't doing so hot. Knowing that Cj would never let her live it down if she were to get word of how poorly she was doing against someone who didn't have the sea in their veins like they did. Hannah decided that she was gonna have to try harder than she already was and practice more until she improved. She couldn't let herself get sloppy. It would reflect poorly on her crew and her family if she did that, and that simply wouldn't do.

The point of her blade barely missed Skia, only adding to her frustration because she knew just as well as the Bluenette did, that niether of them would stop until they either drew blood or got interrupted. Everyone knew that. Because most of the kids were the exact same when it came to dueling-- whether or not they were just practicing. No one stopped till someone was minorly injured or until they got interrupted by someone. That's just how things went. On the isle at least.

Hannah wasn't sure if that was the way it was off the isle. She had never been off the isle to know if it was or not. No one else had either because of the stupid barrier that was keeping all of them trapped there. Oh, how Hannah longed to be free from this blasted place. Free from the hellish isle that posioned all that lived there in one or another. Free from Gaston and Frollo and Ratclifee's IQ-lowering ranting and raving that no one ever really listened to.

She longed to see healthy grass and to play in and drink clean water. She longed to taste fresh food and to bask in the sun's light for the first time. She longed for the safety and care free life that she saw on tv but also for the thrilling adventures the pirates from the before times told of as far back as she could remember.  And she longed to experience it all with her friends and family, and maybe even a lover if they were funny enough for her liking.  But she knew that it would never happen because it simply wasn't possible and that was a fact of life. One that wouldn't change.

Because the facts of life never changed. People lived and died no matter what you did. You can't save everyone. Cruella is nuts. Her (Hannah's) brother was nearly as bad.  Half of the adults on the isle are narcissists. All of these were unbeatable, undebatable, and unchallengable facts of life. Even if she wished that they weren't.

Skia lifted her sword, only to pause as she glanced at something over Hannah's shoulder. Hannah didn't even have to glance back to know what/who Skia was seeing. The half grimace, half snarl on her friend's face was enough for the brunette to know that the undesirable had boarded their ship without permission once again. 'Son of -- I really have to start pulling up the gang plank when we're on board to prevent the dictator from boarding' Hannah thought to herself, just barely suppressing an irrated sigh as she sheathed her sword and turned to face their enemy.

She, however, allowed herself to scowl since she knew that the animosity between the two of them was perfectly mutual. And because she wasn't sure that it was physically possible for her not to scowl at the purple haired fairy that had caused her brother and his crew so much pain over the years. Not that she was willing to try and find out if it was. That would be a bigger waste of energy than Hannah was willing to give to Mal of all people; Mal wasn't worth that.

"Hello little miss dictator " the younger girl greeted, making sure to put extra emphasis on the 'dic' part of dictator just to rub in how much she hated the elder in front of her. "Who exactly gave YOU permission to enter MY ship because I sure as hell don't remember doing it"

Mal rolled her eyes-- how dare she-- cocking her hips in a way that made her seem far too arrogant and confident for Hannah's liking. Hannah and Skia both narrowed their eyes, both equally unamused with the balant disrespect that the brat was showing. God, it was so hard to believe that her and Skia were related. She was just so fucking annoying and hauty all the fucking time. Hannah would never understand how anyone can stand her and her stupid holier than thou attitude that seemed to toxify whatever room she entered.

Before Hannah could even think about throwing the older girl overboard for her insolence, Skia spoke up.  Purposely keeping her eyes on her to clearly show that she was addressing Hannah and not Mal "It seems her ego has gotten so big that it's negatively affecting the way her brain functions. Assuming she ever had one, that is" Hannah smirked, biting back a laugh.

She loved Skia's quick insults and quick thinking. It always came in handy. "Let's hope it stops growing before it weighs her down, then, shall we?" Hannah replied, adding in her own two cents. Making sure to keep her eyes focused  on Mal's face the entire time so she could see just how much it pissed her off.

Unfortunately, she looked unbothered and blew at her nails, like their inconvenience was pointless to her. "You're going to Auardon in a few hours, fishhook. So start packing " Hannah froze and was distantly aware of the thud she heard from behind. Probably from Skia dropping her sword from being equally as astounded as her captain was. "Uh what?"

Hannah had not expecting that. She had thought that Mal had come to stir up trouble or steal from them again. Or to leave a message for Harry or Uma as usual. But instead she got this-- whatever  this was-- and she didn't know how to react to it. Mal laughed, far more amused than the situation called for. "People from Auardon are coming to get us so grab your shit and meet us at the gates"

Hannah took a step back, feeling all of the confidence she had accumulated over the years drain from her with that mere sentence. Fear gripping her heart for the first time in forever at the thought of leaving home without her family and crew. "What do you mean? Why should I go with you? Why are they coming for us? Is this a prank? What did you do?" she knew that she was rambling but she didn't care. She was scared and confused and wary, and felt as if all the air in her lungs had been sucked out of her. Why did that always happen when she was afraid?

Mal rolled her eyes once again, no doubt finding her emotional reaction overdramatic. Like always. There was a reason she didn't like her after all. Well, more like several. Several reasons but this topped the list. Hannah wanted to scream in frustration but Mal didn't give her the chance. "Prince Ben wanted to take some Villain Kids and show Auardon that we aren't like our parents. Silly right? It's about the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

Skia hummed, no doubt thinking of charge laws and loopholes that would allow her to accompany Hannah to Auardon. Since Mal hadn't addressed her at all, which meant that she likely wasn't technically allowed to come with. Which was just stupid because it was a well known fact that wherever Hannah went, her friends followed. "And he chose you? Of all people? WHY?! You are like the WORST person to show that!"

The Purplette just shrugged in response, still somehow managing to look bored throughout all of this. Hannah wondered how she managed it. Though she didn't think she'd ever really know the answer to that. Mal certainly wouldn't tell. She never did. "Becuase my mother was the most powerful and baddest of all villians. He probably wants to show that if I can change, anyone can". Hannah wouldn't admit it but that made sense. That didn't mean that she wasn't skeptical,  however.

"And how do I know that this isn't some ploy to capture me and hold me hostage as a bantering tool or something?" Call her paranoid but she wasn't about to take any chances. She had learned her lesson the first 3 times she had decided to give the purple haired fairy the benefit of the doubt. She wasn't going to make that mistake again. And it seems Mal knew that because she came prepared. "There's a letter"

Her word alone wasn't enough to convince Hannah. Not after the many bad interactions between the two of them. Not after the many bad interactions between her family and friends and Mal. It just simply wasn't good enough. She had to see some actual proof or she wouldn't be going anywhere. "Do you have it on you?"

Mal reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out the fabled letter, holding it out to her. The younger girl quickly snatched it and gave it a quick once over-- and sure enough, it was real. Or at least, it looked that way. Complete with a signature from the soon-to-be king himself. Her jaw dropped instinctively-- something she didn't notice until Skia elbowed her in the side. She swallowed heavily before clearing her throat and tightening her grip on the letter. Trying not to show just how rattled she was by the whole situation.

"Okay. Got it. You can go now. I'll let you know whether or not I decide to go after I've discussed it with my family and crew" Mal looked offended and crossed her arms. "And why would I leave?" It took every fiber in Hannah's very being not to snap at her right there and then. Why did she always have to push her buttons? "Because I never invited you on my ship in the first place and you've done your job so you can leave now. Since I assume you have better things to do than just sit here and watch me read"

Mal rolled her eyes once again, scoffing. Hannah bite her lip, just barely holding back a snarky reply about how her eyes would get stuck that way if she kept doing it. She knew it would just start another argument or fight, and keep Mal here longer if she did. And she didn't want that all. She just wanted her to go so she could read the damn letter and discuss it thoroughly with her crew, and family. Was that too much to ask for? Apparently it wasn't because Mal left as soon as that thought entered her head.

As soon as she was sure Mal was gone, Skia muttered"Bloody show pony"-- No doubt just as frustrated as Hannah was by the whole ordeal-- before turning towards her and asking "so what's it say?" Hannah glanced at the letter and let out a sigh "alot". "Well, time is ticking. So I guess we better start reading" was the (unamused) reply she got. This was gonna be a long day.

[xpeachesncream]

hi my dearest nikki <3, for Valentines season, Idk if someone already requested this but I wanted a Tae x y/n vacation somewhere abroad with some spicy steamin' lovemaking and a marriage proposal perhaps? hahaha i am forever in love with these two and your playlist in PW is my everyday playlist,just a tmi :)

perfectly wrong | drabble [12]: when the love is real, and right.

word count: 2.7k

warnings: cussing, mature language/implied sexual content, sweet taehyung, unprotected soft sex as you try and cater to your man, straddling, some breast play, nothing too bad really - this drabble is meant to be cute af! (highly recommend music linked above lol)

note: imma make ya’ll cry with this one. lmfao, jk 😂 please don’t cry! happy valentines, loves! you are all beautiful and strong ❤️ you’ve come so far, please don’t ever give up! keep on keepin’ on, baby! i’ll always be here rooting for you!

update: please read this announcement!

School graciously provided another week of freedom in February, which so happened to fall right by Valentine's day. You were excited to relax and sleep in, be lazy with Taehyung and do absolutely nothing.

Except, not. Because all of a sudden, your man is rushing into your apartment, telling you to pack your things so you could make it in time for your flight later that evening.

"We gotta go, love." He pulls the luggage out of your closet and starts throwing your undies and bras from your drawer into it.

"Taehyung, please. What are you doing?" You looked over your covers, too lazy to move and do anything about it right now. You watched as he started rummaging through your pajamas and your socks, for whatever reason. "Tae, hello?"

"Come on, you need to pack. We have a flight to catch."

"Says who?"

"Says me." He smiles toothlessly, his bread cheeks poking out from either of his face as he holds up two airline tickets. Because you have terrible eyesight, you can't even make out the destination on the tickets and you don't even try to. It would be useless.

"Where are we going? I thought we were just going to stay home all week."

"I mean, that's always nice, but I saw that flights were cheap so I just bought 'em."

"So you just bought 'em? Really?"

"Miss girl, I don't have time to answer all of your questions right now. I can do that on the flight." He tilts his head and starts motioning for you to get up. "Come on, pretty please? It'll be worth it, I promise." You slightly whine, but you get up anyways and start to get ready for whatever this was. You throw on some comfy sweats and Taehyung's hoodie, then begin to pack your things. He says it's a tropical area [but 'not really,' he also says?], it's mainly humid and you'll be going into the water majority of the time. So, you pack a few bathing suits, a few light kimono type cardigans, shorts, crop tops and light jackets and call it a day. You've left whatever pajamas, underwear, socks and bras Taehyung had throw into your luggage cause at this point, you've learned that he does pay attention to what you pack and bring along.

And so that's what happened before you found yourself in a 1-bedroom Villa overlooking the ocean in Disney Aulani 8 hours later. You began to think this was planned all along, being that Taehyung had snagged a fancy room, with an ocean view and a fat bouquet of roses just waiting for you on the king-sized bed. Happy was an understatement.

Taehyung had made sure your entire week was filled with things to do, being that you both didn't know when you could go back to Hawaii like this. He rented out a jeep, driving you around the entire island of Oahu within the week's time, sight seeing, taking tons of pics together, stopping at food trucks, shopping small towns, and pulling random, small hikes together. He even made sure to take you to the Dole Plantation so you could grab that dole whip you had been raving about for so long and to the flea market to grab tons of cheap, fun souvenirs. He knew just what you liked, and he knew what would make you happy. He was happy to see you happy. Some days also were more lowkey, where you'd spend it at the various pools in Aulani's backyard, going snorkeling or paddle boarding, or even just going down the street at the ABC Convenience Store to binge on the cheap hot food [like $2 spam masubis!] and milk tea.

If it was easy to just snap your fingers and live somewhere else with Tae, it would be right here. Days moved so slowly on the island and you loved every minute of it. People really appreciated taking things slow here. Just imagining your life with Taehyung on an island like Oahu was *chef's kiss* - imagining your man in his shorts and fluffy hair in a loose shirt, waking up to the sounds of the beach every day. God damn. You truly loved him, and you'd go anywhere with him.

And Taehyung felt the same exact way, which is why he had one last thing planned before it was time to head back.

He had gone downstairs to grab some things as he says, but he had asked you to get dressed so he could take you on a fancy, romantic dinner. He had thrown on some slacks and a button up short-sleeved shirt tucked in, his curls messy but also not? Whatever you call it, he was fine as hell and you wanted nothing but to eat him up. Truthfully. You sat on the couch in a simple black, off the shoulder, mesh-like dress, which Taehyung also wanted nothing but to eat you up with the way you were swaying your hips in that dress. On everything, he almost wanted to call dinner quits just so he could have you instead.

But, he needed to stick to the plan for specific reasons. You sat on the couch, flipping through the channels when Taehyung had walked in and straight into the room. He had something tucked under his arm but you couldn't figure out what else he was fiddling with in his hands. Then, you heard him on the phone, faintly responding behind the walls with a 'sounds good, thank you!' before he opened the room door with a smile on his face.

"Ready for dinner?"

"Sure, weirdo." You laughed as you walked towards him, getting on your tippytoes to plant a kiss on his lips. He took your hand and led you inside the room, only for you to see the balcony lit with candles and a table for two set up, with a simple rose in the middle as decoration and soft music playing in the background. You had placed your hand over your mouth, speechless as to how he even did this right under your nose.

The best part [besides Tae himself] was the view of the ocean with the sun slowly setting in front of you.

"Welcome to Maison de Taehyung." He giggled with that deep, nerdy giggle of his that you love so much, making you playfully shove him away. Before you could make your way to the balcony, there was a knock on the door. Taehyung had welcomed Room Service in, allowing them to wheel in the food to the balcony and set the rest of the finishing touches before leaving you both to your privacy.

"Baaaaabe." You whined, almost in tears. He pulls you close, his large hands cupping your cheeks as he plants a kiss on your forehead. Your nose. Your lips. The butterflies.

He leads the way, pulling out your chair before sitting himself down. The food was amazing, the main course being a specialty the chef had whipped up just for Taehyung pulling his charm downstairs with the front desk. Typical Tae, really. You didn't need dessert, being that the main dish was super filling, but you ate it anyways because fuck it - you're in Hawaii with the love of your life and it was a bomb ass chocolate cake. You don't skip on that.

You sit on the bed as room service is quickly cleaning out the balcony, taking the plates and the table cloth along with them. You were full and satisfied, and you couldn't wait to just be in bed in Tae's arms. Dinner was special because not only did you get to eat this food with that view, but you got to talk to Tae about everything and anything. He indulged in every minute of it, giving you his undivided attention while the colors of the sunset bounced off of your skin. He loved you more than you even knew. He loved that he was here with you, and that you had taken a chance on him because this is where he wanted to be. This is the life he wanted, and this is the person he wanted to share it with.

"I'll be right back, baby."

"What are you up to now?" You giggled.

"Mmm, it's probably best you just wait." You nod silently as you watch him walk out of the room.

You stepped out into the balcony again in hopes of Tae joining you when he gets back, getting the last few bits of the sun right before it sunk into the horizon. Your phone began to buzz in your hands, signaling a call coming in.

"Jeon Jungkook." You answer his facetime call.

"Let me see Hawaii."

"You're too late, the sun literally just went down." He clicks his teeth.

"Maaaan. I would have liked an invite."

"Don't get mad at me fool, I didn't even know we had a flight until Taehyung busted into my room trying to pack my things." He laughs.

"What a guy."

"What do you want?"

"Jeez, that's no way to talk to your bestfriend."

"I'm on vacation, you should be lucky I didn't send your ass to voicemail. What do you want?"

"I just wanna talk to you guys. I'm bored."'

"Where's Hobi and Yoongs?"

"Being boring at their own homes."

"Jin?"

"Cafe."

"Jimin and Namjoon?"

"Jimin is home, Namjoon is downtown."

"Then sucks to suck, loner."

"You're a real piece of work, even in Hawaii." You laugh. "Where's Tae?"

"I don't know, he ran off again. He's been busy trying to surprise me with things left and right."

"Has he now?" Jungkook bites his bottom lip, knowing full well what's about to happen next. The whole reason Taehyung stepped out was to call him and calm his nerves. Was this Taehyung's bestfriend, or yours?

"Yeah, he's the best." You say, smiling to yourself as you fiddle with the top portion of your dress. You hear the front door close, assuming Taehyung had gotten back from whatever he was doing. "Uh, I think he's back, I should--"

"No, can't you just talk to me for like 5 minutes, Y/N?"

"Why are you so needy?" You chuckled.

"I just told you I was bored. I wanna say hi to Tae."

"Well when he comes here, I'll let you say hi."

"What else did you guys do today?"

"Uh, we took it pretty easy and played around at the beach."

"Cute."

"Baby, can you help me find something?" You hear Taehyung's voice right behind you.

"Sure." You say, keeping your eyes on Jungkook, who's chuckling to himself. You furrowed your brows at the camera. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing. Go help him."

"Okay, hold on." You say, putting the phone down by your hip. You turned, only to jump back in surprise. "Taehyung!" You gasped, your hand over your mouth. Taehyung had been behind you the whole time, his 100 watt smile shining as he bent down on one knee, holding out a small case that held a fancy diamond ring.

"Look, you know I'm pretty bad with speeches but I think you already know how you make me feel. I just, I--" He did a slight head tilt as he chuckled and took another deep breath. "I really, really love you, Y/N. It's always been you. You've become my better half and I truly can't see my life without you." You begin to cry heavily, forgetting Jungkook is still hanging on to dear life by your hip. It all makes sense now.

Why the hell would Jungkook call you at this time?

"Will you spend the rest of your life with me?" He asks, tears welling up in his eyes watching you cry in front of him. Your words can't escape your mouth because you really don't even know what to say. You're speechless, and you didn't even expect this to happen right at this moment. You knew you loved him, and you knew you were set with him. But to have him propose on a night like this in Hawaii? Unbelievable.

You nod and he shakily slips the ring onto your ring finger before you wrap your arms around his neck tightly as he hugs you. You pulled back to kiss him, only to be startled by all the screaming coming from your phone. Taehyung laughs as he holds you and watches you bring the phone back up to your view, seeing Jimin, Namjoon, Hobi, Yoongi and Jin all in one frame with Kook.

"You fucking liar!" You yell at Kook, making him laugh his loud, elmo laugh.

"We love youuuuuuuuu!" Jimin yells from his position, with Jin blowing kisses into the frame.

"You planned this all along." You turn and say to Taehyung softly. He just nods and shrugs, making you bite your bottom lip as to how attractive he was for pulling all of this shit right under your nose. "I'm gonna have to call you guys back later."

"Ooooooh, ew." Yoongi says before you abruptly hang up the call and jump into Tae's arms.

He brings you into the room, you tossing your phone onto the dresser, causing Taehyung to laugh into the kiss. He sits on the edge of the bed as you grip his face softly, your tongues fighting each other for dominance as the kiss intensifies. You feel his hands start to unzip your dress from the back, causing you to bite his bottom lip and gently pull back. He lets out a small moan as he fiddles with the rest of your zipper and successfully gets the dress to fall from your shoulders, exposing your breasts from underneath. You arch your back slightly, allowing Taehyung to plant kisses down your neck and to your breasts, using his tongue to toy with each nipple one by one. He sucks on it gently, pulling back with a pop before he blows onto them, goosebumps rippling through your body. You quickly unbutton his shirt as he's kissing your neck, causing you to let out a small hiss feeling his tongue against your skin.

It doesn't take long before both of your clothes are scattered across one side of the room, Tae holding you close as you continue to straddle him. You grind your hips into his, feeling his hardened member rub against your throbbing pussy.

"Fuck." He whispers. "I can feel how wet you are." You bite onto your bottom lip as you position yourself onto his hardened member and slowly sink yourself down. You watch as his head tilts backwards, eyes shut while his mouth is slightly opened to let out a moan. You began to slowly rock your hips into his, his arms wrapping tightly around you. You loved feeling his warm skin against yours and his strong arms holding you close. "Baby." He moans. "God, I love you." He says as you start to pick up your pace, rocking your hips a little  quicker.

"Nnnnng--Tae." You let out a breathy moan, tilting your head back in pleasure. Your back slightly arches along with it, allowing Tae to let his hands roam up your back while he kissed you softly along your chest, down to your stomach and back up to your breasts. He loved every bit of you, and he wanted to show you. Every. Single. Inch.

"If you keep moving like that, you're gonna make me cum." He whispers, nibbling onto your earlobe while his hands guide you, pushing you to ride him faster. In which, you do. You grant your man's wishes and pick up the pace quite a bit. The least you could do is cater to him after what he's done for you this week. He's moaning your name, calling you baby and whispering how special you are to him in your ear, making it incredibly difficult for you to keep holding on while he does so. "You're so beautiful."

"Babe, I'm close." Your nose is touching his, his eyes locked onto yours. "Fuck, babe. I'm gonna cum." You whine the more your hips are working his cock. You feel every inch of him inside of you, tickling your core enough to send you hurdling over the edge in a matter of minutes. "Ohhhh, fuck!" You yell, your body tensing up as he holds you close with your hands tangled in his hair. It's not long before he fills you up, your walls pulsating around his member being the cherry on top for him.

"Mmmmmshit! Baaaaby." He elongates his moan, no other noises coming out of him as the sensation completely takes over his body. You wrap your arms around his neck while regulating your breathing, his member beginning to soften within you.

"I love you." You whisper in his ear.

"I love you too, fiancé." He says, causing you to giggle as he places a kiss on your shoulder before allowing you to get up and get cleaned up.

So, we're really doing this thing, huh?

This thing called life with Kim Taehyung.

Absolutely, yes. 100%. 

You'd do it over and over again, just as long as he was by your side.

[isimpoveryou]

hi guysss. pls pls pls if anyone of you are from indonesia or anywhere i just want to urge you to read this article. i know if your not indo you are probably confused but this arcticle is about 3 kids probably 10 or younger who got SA by their own father and the mother is trying to report everything about what happen to their kids but the police but the police doesnt even believed it. SO PLS PLS HELP THIS BLOW OUT EVERYWHERE

english translation:

WARNING: This article contains explicit content that can trigger emotional and mental stress for readers. We recommend that you do not continue reading it. We recommend that this article be read by the Indonesian police.

if you wrote it,” he said, “what would change?”

“We rely on the police. We reported it. So what? The perpetrator is still free.”

Lydia reported the rape of her three children, all of whom were under 10 years old. The alleged perpetrators are her ex-husband, their own biological father, a state civil servant who has a position in a regional government office.

The police investigated his complaint, but the process was strongly suspected of being fraught with manipulation and conflict of interest. Only two months since he made the complaint, the police have stopped the investigation.

Not only did she not get justice, Lydia was even accused of having a vengeful motive for reporting her ex-husband. He was also attacked as a person with a mental disorder. This attack was allegedly used to delegitimize his report and any evidence he collected alone to support his quest for justice.

Lydia isn't her real name. A single mother, after a divorce, her three children came with her. They live in East Luwu, a border district in South Sulawesi, a 12-hour drive from Makassar City.

Even though she is divorced, her ex-husband still wants to be involved in co-parenting. Her ex-husband is free to pick up his three children when they come home from school and give him pocket money or toys.

The situation seemed normal until Lydia realized the hidden truth: While helping her daughter take a bath, she found several bruises on her son's thigh.

The child reasoned, the bruises were due to falling while playing catch. Lydia advised them to be careful. However, not only bruises, but the behavior of the children changed drastically, preferring to be silent, often hitting them. Lazy to eat. Frequent dizziness and vomiting.

On one night in early October 2019, while Lydia was washing the dishes, her youngest child screamed that her sister was complaining of vaginal pain. Lydia immediately approached her eldest child, hugged her from behind while rubbing her shoulders.

"Son, what did you say earlier?" said Lydia.

"No, Mamak," replied the eldest son.

He coaxed, “I love you so much. Too bad. If there is a problem, tell Mamak. I became a helper and protector ta. Don't you dare to cook with Mamak?"

"Say, son. If a child is sick, Mamak doesn't know. Does it hurt, kid?"

The eldest was silent for a long time. Then cry without tears. Lydia was shocked, panicked. The eldest, in a low voice as if choking, said: "Mamak... my father na anu pepe' . " Mamak, daddy did something to my pussy, he said.

Lydia cried, leaning on the back of the sofa, “Don't play games, kid. Don't play around."

"Yes, Mama. Yes."

He asked his two children, "Is this true, son?"

"Yes, Mama. I also had my butt crushed,” said his son.

"Me too Mamak," replied the youngest child.

She grabbed her three children, crying together. His head seemed to explode, wanting to scream. While trying to get up to go to the bathroom, to let go of tears, he fell. His legs felt bone loss.

The kids helped him inching his way. He slid over to the sofa. He raved. And began to realize when his children scolded, "Why ki, Mamak?"

He slowly released his emotions. Then examined the children, found wounds in the vagina and anus. On the night that seemed to go by slowly and long, he looked at his son sleeping. Confusion. Fatigue. He couldn't sleep until morning.

In the second week of October 2019, with her three children, Lydia went to the office of the Integrated Service Center for Women and Children Empowerment, East Luwu Social Service. In this unit, ideally, a person who complains of a violent case can get protection.

The Head of the Service Center Division, Firawati, received Lydia in a small partitioned room. Meanwhile, her three children are in the game facility in the unit. Lydia told Firawati about the chronology of her child's confession to being sexually abused by her own father. Firawati admitted that she knew the alleged perpetrator because she was "a fellow state civil servant."

Instead of prioritizing a safe room for Lydia and her three children, Firawati instead contacted the alleged perpetrator, reporting that there was a complaint regarding an alleged molestation case, so Lydia's ex-husband came to the Service Center office.

Firawati argued that the reason for bringing the alleged perpetrators together with the three children was to prove whether they were traumatized when they met their father. Firawati also argued that her actions were with Lydia's permission. "Right, fellow ASN. I want confirmation," he said.

"Do you know? All the children hunt to their father. Instead, his mother was abandoned. Even the children find it difficult to leave their father when called by their mother," said Firawati.

Lydia, when I repeated the claim of Firawati's story, listened to it and gaped.

“How could he talk like that? The first day I reported and asked for assistance to the police, but Firawati immediately called the [suspected] perpetrator when I came with the children,” said Lydia.

“After he called, he told me that I was teaching the children to slander the [suspected] perpetrator.”

"If I ever meet Firawati again, I want to see how she lies."

Not only were Lydia and her three children in a vulnerable situation when the alleged perpetrator came to them, her ex-husband immediately lashed out at Lydia for teaching her three children to complain, babbling that Lydia was incompetent to take care of the future of her three children.

The complaint provided no protection for Lydia, instead she was cornered, sent home to wait for further news.

The next day, Lydia and her three children were asked to come back to Firawati's office. From this process, the three children were psychologically examined by an officer from Puspaga, an acronym for the Family Learning Center, a work unit at the Integrated Service Center for the Empowerment of Women and Children. It was later discovered that the officer did not qualify as a child psychologist.

The examination resulted in a claim that Lydia's three children "showed no signs of trauma" and said "the relationship with the parents is quite considerate and harmonious" and that they are "in good physical and mental condition."

Firawati's act of bringing the three children together with their father--to check whether they were traumatized or not--and reinforced by a psychological examination that Lydia's children did not show any signs of trauma was later used by the East Luwu police to stop the investigation.

Handling at Polres Luwu Timur: 'I was forced by the police to sign the BAP'

Hoping to be accompanied by officers from the Integrated Service Center for the Empowerment of Women and Children, Lydia was finally alone when she reported the alleged sexual abuse case to the East Luwu Police. (Firawati from the Service Center reasoned that at that time she was in a meeting with the regional parliament, while other assistants were preparing to move their office.)

The police received Lydia's report on October 9, 2019. A female police officer took her three children to a health center for a post-mortem, without any assistance. Then, the three were questioned by uniformed investigators, without being accompanied by Lydia, legal counsel, social workers or psychologists.

Lydia was asked to sign the examination report (BAP) but was forbidden to read it first.

Five days later, the East Luwu Police notified the progress of the investigation results, reported that the report had been received and would be investigated by Aipda Kasman.

Lydia went to the police station to ask about the results of the post-mortem for her three children. At the same time, he also gave her a pair of pink panties that had blood on them on her own initiative.

On Friday, October 18, the police reported the results of the post-mortem from the Puskesmas and according to one investigator claimed “nothing was found.” On the same day, Lydia was interrogated by investigators without being accompanied by legal counsel.

“I was only asked about everyday problems. Then, the investigator said it would be continued. He will fill in the other part because he will pray Friday,” he said.

“I was asked to sign at the bottom of the report. I said I would sign later after this was continued. However, the investigators forced me. And I signed. Because it's noon and I want to go home to make food for the children."

"Well, I think now, I'm so stupid why I signed," said Lydia.

The following week, the East Luwu Police informed the development of the case; that investigators have interrogated Lydia, the alleged rapist, and three of the victim's children; have medically examined three child victims along with the results of visum et repertum; and the next plan is that the three children will be examined medically and psychologically at the South Sulawesi Police's Medical and Health Division (Biddokkes) in Makassar.

Victim's Mother's Mental Health Condition Used to Delegitimize Rape Reports

On October 28, one of Lydia's children complained of rectal pain. Lydia photographed some of the wounds. And, again on her own initiative on November 1, Lydia brought one pair of underwear with green liquid and one leggings with blood on it to the East Luwu Police.

A day later, police investigators contacted him if there would be an examination at the South Sulawesi Regional Police Biddokkes on November 6. At that time Lydia received threats from her ex-husband, the alleged rapist. The threat was that the alleged perpetrator would stop the monthly income for their three children if Lydia continued the examination process to Makassar.

Lydia with her three children, accompanied by one of her siblings, went to Bhayangkara Hospital Makassar. Here Lydia and her three children are taken to the waiting room of the mental clinic. His brother who brought him was also checked.

Inside the examination room were two doctors, an investigator, and a staff member of the East Luwu Women and Children Empowerment Center for Integrated Services.

During the examination of her three children, Lydia recorded secretly through a cellphone camera. His eldest child was seen on the lap of a Service Center staff who was sitting on a sofa. There was an investigator, a woman and a doctor in the examination room. The doctor then asked Lydia to leave the room.

During the examination of Lydia and her brother, they were asked about the family's mental health condition. Her brother was asked about Lydia's psychological condition since childhood and when she got married, did any family members have a history of mental disorders? When it was Lydia's turn, two doctors asked if they had any “disorders” before divorcing their ex-husband, as well as the condition of their household. The interview with Lydia only lasted 15 minutes.

The results of this psychiatric examination were published on November 11. Lydia is said to have "systematic delusional symptoms that suggest persistent delusional disorder."

On November 15, a physical examination letter for the three children was issued by the Forensic Biddokkes team of the South Sulawesi Police, which stated that there were no abnormalities or signs of physical violence against Lydia's three children.

The East Luwu Police then issued a letter notifying the progress of the investigation results on December 19. This letter refers to the investigation process and the trial on December 4. The letter contains the police's decision to stop the investigation process dated December 10, 2019, without any details on the consideration of termination.

"So the time span for reporting and stopping the investigation is only 63 days. This is very fast and we think it makes no sense. Moreover, this is a case of sexual violence where the victim is a child, why is the process rushed?” said Rezky Pratiwi, Head of the Division of Women, Children and Disabilities of the Makassar Legal Aid Institute.

Go to Makassar City to Get More Competent Access to Justice

At the end of December 2019, Lydia drove her own car with her three children from East Luwu to Makassar City. The journey took him 12 hours. This long and windy journey brought Lydia to the Makassar City Integrated Service Center for the Empowerment of Women and Children, where she hoped that justice would be granted to the victims.

Different from the handling in East Luwu, Lydia was given a referral to report her case to LBH Makassar. From here, LBH Makassar, through the Coalition for Legal Aid Advocacy for Sexual Violence against Children, became its legal advisor when the case was terminated by the East Luwu Police.

The Makassar City Service Center also provides psychological assistance to Lydia's three children. In his psychological report, through observation and interview methods, the three children “were not traumatized but were anxious” and all three of them consistently told and strengthened each other's stories of being sexually abused by their fathers.

Their story of being sexually assaulted, possibly more than one suspect, is consistent with what one victim told her mother when the investigation was being handled by the East Luwu Police. The victim's story is reinforced in the photos and videos that Lydia keeps, which depicts the physical abuse of her three children.

The police at the East Luwu Police and the South Sulawesi Police ignored the stories and evidence.

"At the Makassar City Service Center, child psychologists who examine children believe that sexual violence has occurred," said Rezky Pratiwi from LBH Makassar.

Pratiwi said that the East Luwu Police investigation process was "procedurally flawed" from the first post-mortem to the taking of information for each child.

Children should be accompanied by their parents as well as legal assistants, social workers or other assistants as mandated in Law 11 of 2012 concerning the Juvenile Criminal Justice System, he said.

"So the East Luwu resort police are very unprofessional," he said.

“The police are instead focusing on [Lydia's] mother, who is said to have other motives. The victim's mother was examined by a psychiatrist whose procedure was not proper. Information on children was not investigated and other witnesses were not examined to find new clues. For example, information from neighbors or people who know them,” said Pratiwi.

Polda Sulsel Supports Investigation Stopped

On December 26, 2019, LBH Makassar together with Lydia visited the South Sulawesi Regional Police and asked for a special case to stop the investigation at the East Luwu Police. Attached to the letter were photographs of the wounds to the anus and vagina of the three children.

Furthermore, on 10 and 13 February 2020, the legal team sent a letter to file a case, but there was no response. On February 19, the Head of Public Relations of the South Sulawesi Police, Kombes Pol. Ibrahim Tompo, even told the media that they had "conducted an internal case" and that the termination of the investigation was legal and according to procedure.

Then, on March 5, the South Sulawesi Police team informed LBH Makassar that a special case would be held on March 6, at 13.00, at the Polda office.

The sudden news made the legal advisors completely unprepared.

"The time is very short for preparation," said Rezky Pratiwi from LBH Makassar. "The child psychologist who accompanied the victim from the start was unable to attend because of the clash of activities."

On April 14, the results of the case study stated that the South Sulawesi Regional Police recommended that the East Luwu Resort Police continue to stop the investigation process into the sexual abuse report.

Urge Police Headquarters to Continue Investigation

On the second floor of the East Luwu Police Office, connected by a ladder, there is a room where Aipda Kasman, the investigator who handles the case of Lydia's children, works. Kasman boasts of his work, “We have done a post-mortem to forensics. Until there are results from his mother's psychiatrist."

"Can I read the copy?" ask me.

"I can't convey that because that's what we're holding," he smirks.

The so-called psychiatrist's results from the Bhayangkara Makassar Hospital, which are kept secret, are apparently considered "truth" by many people in East Luwu. That his mother is "crazy", is not a case of alleged rape that people talk about and remember. "We know about the case, but it's her crazy mother," one resident told me. "That's why the case is not continued."

During the interview session with Kasman, the investigator immediately sat nervously when I handed him the tape. He wanted to speak more openly after being allowed by his superior, East Luwu Criminal Investigation Unit Head, Iptu Eli Kendek.

“If it is stated that we are maladministration or administrative defects, that is the perception of LBH Makassar. But we still adhere to professional principles. We act according to the rules, according to the law,” he started the excuse.

"We have also clarified to all institutions that LBH Makassar has written to," he claimed.

LBH Makassar has sent a letter of complaint to a number of institutions in July 2020, including the National Police Commissioner, the Ombudsman, the Head of the South Sulawesi Women's Empowerment and Child Protection Service, the Luwu Regent, the Director of General Crimes at the National Police Headquarters Criminal Investigation Unit, and Komnas Perempuan.

To these institutions, Kasman claims, the East Luwu Police have clarified and "everything is safe."

Komnas Perempuan, in a letter of recommendation sent to Police Headquarters, Polda Sulsel, and Polres Luwu Timur, dated 22 September 2020, instead asked to resume the investigation of the criminal case.

The process, Komnas Perempuan wrote, "must fully involve parents, legal counsel, and social assistance for victims, provide safe house facilities, counseling, and other special facilities for women." Next, "The police need to coordinate with the Makassar City Women's Empowerment and Child Protection Service to facilitate these special needs."

This recommendation was precisely what the East Luwu Police did not do when handling complaints about the molestation case against Lydia's three children.

According to Rezky Pratiwi from LBH Makassar, the police and the East Luwu Service Center took sides with the alleged perpetrator. “If there is a child's testimony, it should start from there. First, dig up the supporting evidence.”

"It looks very biased. In other cases of sexual violence that we assist, the police are usually silenced. If this is the case, an administrative termination will be made.”

On one cold morning ride, Lydia sped off. Past the bend, overtook some trucks. Since the incident of sexual violence against her children, she has left her future home and preparation for old age.

He wanted to sell the house because he wanted to burn the bad memories. His children didn't want to see the house. The children refused and cried when Lydia asked to visit the house.

Lydia, gave me access to watch several videos on her cellphone that showed traces of the alleged violence of the alleged rapist. Some of the footage shows the injuries on the bodies of the children which made it difficult for me to see them through.

A few weeks after the abuse, her children complained of pain. At a puskesmas in East Luwu, Lydia asked for a referral letter to take her children to a hospital.

In the letter of reference was written a diagnosis of internal thrombosed hemorrhoids + child abuse. Damage to the anus due to forced intercourse.

Other diagnoses of abdominal and pelvic pain. Damage to the vaginal organs due to rape.

The next diagnosis is vaginitis or inflammation of the vagina and constipation or difficult bowel movements.

At the referral hospital, the children demonstrated what their father did after the doctor asked what caused the injuries to the anus and vagina.

The initial diagnosis, photo documentation and video recordings, as well as the results of the examination to the hospital were ignored by East Luwu Police investigators. The police did not take these violent findings seriously.

"If the police post-mortem results say that there were no injuries and nothing happened," said Lydia, "why did the police refuse when I wanted to give this photo and video? They said just keep it, there's no need for that."

“Then how come my child's buttocks and vagina are injured until they are swollen white like white flesh?

“Why do my children cry in pain every time they want to urinate and defecate? Why do my children say their father is a bad person and don't want to see him again now?”

“If the perpetrator is indeed innocent, why doesn't he come looking for his son, asking for clarification from the children?

"If people say this is slander, why are the children slandering their father like that?"

“If that question is not answered, will the police help find the answer?

No, right.*