#or probably any kind of unfavorable behavior

[starlitwishes]

When Dottore grabbed onto his jaw, Scaramouche tensed.

While Dottore had just meant to turn his head to examine the wound on his head, Scaramouche found himself initially resisting for a moment. Damn this malfunction, making him act like a scared little kid when he hadn't ever been a child to begin with. He eventually forced himself to allow Dottore to do whatever he wanted with his head, even if the thought brought about a choked sob.

Dottore traced his fingers on the back of his head, and pain shot through the entirety of it. He yelped, every part of his body shaking as new tears formed and streamed down his face.

Then Dottore started musing out loud, talking about how humans who sustain heavy damage to their heads often have a similar 'malfunction' he was having. Something about that sounded off when Scaramouche applied that to normal humans, but at the very least, Dottore seemed to believe him that his attempt to kill him was a malfunction.

Scaramouche didn't know what he was going to do if Dottore didn't believe him.

But why would he not believe him--it wasn't really a lie, after all.

Yet those typically soothing words brought about no comfort to him. More proof that something was wrong, that he truly was having a malfunction--such words would normally soothe him after Dottore's experiments were over. While the aim was to make him stop crying, Scaramouche only cried more. His whole body was trembling so fiercely that he wondered if he was about to lose control of himself again.

Malfunction. Malfunction. Malfunction.

He was breaking. He was malfunctioning.

While when he threw himself off of the cliff on his own accord, Scaramouche convinced himself that even his disgusting desires to die were probably a result of the malfunction. Logically, it didn't make a whole lot of sense--but he told himself over and over that it was the only solution.

So again, he begged in a soft whimper;

"Please fix me. Please."

He'd expected silence at best, not apologies and pleas to be fixed. Despite the anger still simmering within him, Dottore recognized opportunity, and he would take it, to tighten his control over future incidents such as this one.

From what he'd observed, the emotions imitated by the puppet were equivalent to that of most humans. The body experienced pain much the same way, too, even if the damage was never so permanent. Its reaction hadn't been that unusual among test subjects, reaching the very end of their sanity after surviving so long, though Dottore couldn't understand the dramatics of the weak.

It must have stemmed from far before Scaramouche threw himself from a cliff. Yet if Scaramouche came to the conclusion that him at his most panicked was a result of malfunction, then Dottore wouldn't contradict him.

Instead he would fix him.

Dottore grabbed Scaramouche's jaw to turn his head, to check the back of it, the stitch work that had been reopened by slamming his head against the table. He hummed thoughtfully, running his finger down along the lines by which he had previously pried the puppet's skill open with.

It wasn't a necessary action; he wanted to make the puppet hurt. Scaramouche had stabbed him, after all, and Dottore still didn't feel satisfied with what he'd done thus far.

"If that's the case... well, I do specialize in this sort of thing, as you know," he said, his own emotions at last returning to center. He felt back in control, and since Scaramouche was inviting him to play to help, he had no reason to complain.

"In humans, a blow to the head can cause changes in mood, disorientation, personality changes... among other things. Perhaps your own construction can sustain these defects as well, and your fall caused such damage," Dottore mused aloud. "I was focused on reviving you when I took a look at the inside of your head, so there may be minor damage of something more delicate, or a misalignment I hadn't noticed..."

No, Scaramouche's emotions were more than likely normal, if unnecessary. That was just one more irrelevant detail, however.

"There, there, now." It was a statement that should be soothing, if said by anyone else. "No need for more of these tears. If there's something in you that needs to be repaired, I'm more than capable of fixing it."

[onemustalwaysbecarefulofbooks]

RANT TIME

If I see one more person say that the reason Rhys seemed different and less likeable in ACOSF is because we’re seeing him from Nesta’s POV and not Feyre’s, I’m going to go feral.

I’m sorry, I know we find ways to blame Nesta for absolutely everything under the sun, but are we now also trying to claim that she is able to control Rhys’s words, decisions, and actions??? PLEASE BE SO FOR REAL. I do not dislike Rhys because Nesta thinks unfavorably of him and her mental commentary is somehow swaying me. I dislike him because of the things he DOES and SAYS. Nesta does not like Rhys and makes this clear to everyone. But for God’s actual sake…her opinion of him does not control his choices and actions. The story SJM wanted to tell was going to happen, regardless of who’s POV we see it from.

AND, as if that weren’t enough, there are PLENTY of scenes where he acts deplorable and the POV is Cassian’s, not Nesta’s!!! And as we all know, Cassian is so far up Rhys’s butt he can probably see out his mouth. So explain that one to me, please!

Now, does Rhys appear noticeably different in ACOSF than he does in previous books? Absolutely! I am in complete agreement that ACOMAF!Rhys would never handle Feyre’s pregnancy the way he does in this book (The conversation a lot of people are really not ready to have is that Tamlin would be the one to behave this way while Rhys would be the one who swoops in to let us all know how degrading, condescending, and chauvinistic his behavior was and that he would be the one to treat her with agency and respect and would never coddle her and lie to her about her health and her body because she was strong and she could take it).

(Tell me I’m wrong, I dare you!)

So, is Rhys different from how he is in previous books? Yes. But this is not because we are in the POV of someone who doesn’t like him. It’s because SJM’s handling of him is beyond bizarre, and at this point almost has me convinced he is her tool in some kind of social experiment she’s conducting on manipulation and brainwashing in literature. It’s as if she is testing to see how far she can push, how insufferable and hypocritical can she make him behave while still demanding through the narrative that we love and adore him. I used to swear this was not intentional on her part, that she really did think as highly of him as she appeared to, but his behavior as of late has gotten so absurd, it’s honestly beginning to make me wonder if some of this IS intentional and is part of a bigger process. I can only hope that it is.

So no, Rhys does not seem different and less likeable simply because we are seeing him through Nesta’s eyes. He seems different and less likeable because he IS different and less likeable, and a hypocrite to boot. No matter who’s POV we are seeing it from, he does and says insufferable and hypocritical things all throughout the story. But the cult following that this man has is unmatched, and so many people are literally incapable of admitting they feel any kind of distaste for him or that he may have done something wrong. So instead the response becomes “He just seems that way because we’re in Nesta’s POV and Nesta doesn’t like him.”….as if being in Nesta’s head creates some kind of opitical illusion where Rhys’s behavior isn’t real. Whatever makes you feel better, I guess!!

[leastdatablebracket]

ROUND 2, MATCH 24

Propaganda under the cut!

Dys

Propaganda

great character shitty boyfriend theres two paths to get a happy couple ending with him peace ending (with prolific parent career ending or dys dating both solanaceae (player character) and sym with sol being the unfavored in the polycule) or becoming a gardener (mass interconnected ai that both is n takes care of the planet the game's set on. he wants to become a sentient tree basically) with him (assisting in helping him bomb the colony or helping him become a gardener after he bombed the colony) all the other endings where he and solanaceae are dating Arent Great with peace ending (without prolific parent or polycule) in particular standing out to me especially in comparison with his friendship peace ending in that solanaceae is implied to be his sole source of emotional support (even if you get him and tangent to reconcile during the game) as in his platonic peace ending hes noted to have made other lifelong friends and has become a part of the community which is absent in his romantic ending and instead replaced with solanaceae stating that dys' love feels draining n dys' self destructive habits are a frequent topic in the couple's conversation but its just kind of brushed aside cause solanaceae's like "well theres parts of myself (referring to the timeloop) that other people wouldnt be able to deal with so its fine" n then also ur not really allowed to get mad at him for bombing the colony (resulting in an unspecified amount of injuries and deaths) and if you choose to say "because you cant!" as a response to finding out he set off the bomb to become a gardener (btw dys' only leaves a goodbye note if ur dating but never makes any attempts to prevent solanaceae from potentially also being killed by the bomb like you cant die during the game but he still doesnt show any level of concern that the four people he likes in the colony couldve been killed even if hes dating solanaceae) dys' response is something along the lines of "who cares what you think cause you'll be dead in 60 years" which (once again) doesnt change even if youre dating him n like the bomb thing and him always eventually leaving to become a gardener are like nonfactors in this aside from when they align with his shitty boyfriend moments such as his seeming disregard for his romantic partner's life if they dont like what hes doing i literally went into the game's files to read all of the storylines n events to see if i was missing something but no man's just a shitty boyfriend

Peter King

Propaganda

Oh I could go ON AND ON but here’s a list: He’s a stalker, he showed up late to a date HE REQUESTED, he killed either your landlord, roommate, or coworker (depending on route) and stuck them in a freezer, lied to the police about it, followed by a car ride either consisting of traumadumping about his family (valid tbh) or him talking about how much he wants to fuck your brains out, then you finding a bloody knife in his glove compartment, asking about it, and him smashing your head into the window to shut you up while he takes you to his house. He is The Worse Datable, as well as The Only Datable because well…he killed the others…and kidnapped you….

FUCK THIS DUDE!!! Country Human looking-ass bitch, I want him dead and obliterated

Many violence, Yandere behavior, cut your leg off in a semi-canon series of illustrations, smashed your head into the passenger side window of his creepy van, chloroformed you in your own house, brought you flowers that were probably tainted with his own blood, given context from another route. Generally a terrible person. Also just very strange to look at :/

He knows what he did….😒

He broke into Y/N’s house and chloroformed them. Generally a really creepy and perverted guy. TK is better :/

[chronicsymptomsyndrome]

I don’t know if I count as someone with childhood trauma. My Dad hit me before. He doesn’t anymore. He says it never happened. I have autism and recently have been going through burnout. My mom has been trying to help but she keeps on fighting others. I still flinch when people yell at me. My mom told me that by the time I reached 18 I wouldn’t need my stimming things. I just don’t know.

I will first of all say I don’t think people’s intuition about this kind of thing is ever wrong. If someone feels like they have experienced a trauma, they probably have. As for what you’ve shared here specifically, any kind of physical abuse or violence towards a minor definitely counts as childhood trauma, and I would even argue that your dad lying to you about it is traumatic as well. So sorry you’ve gone through that & are still being told that your very real experiences are false. That’s awful. But just sending this ask shows that you are looking out for yourself and looking for answers, which you should give yourself a lot of credit for. You’re the only one who can really know what’s best for you & figuring out what that is can be so hard but so empowering.

I’m glad your mom wants to help. It sounds like she really means well, but I think she might be somewhat equating stimming things with unfavorable behavior…its not my place to say ofc idk you or your parents. But its pretty common for parents to see visible signs of autism as something that they understand and accept, but that their child might be ostracized for by the outside world…which can be true of course, prejudice is an unfortunate reality. Understandably parents don’t want their loved ones to have to go through that, so they resolve to ween their autistic kids off of those things as a solution. The intentions are good but suppressing autistic traits (like stimming) generally just leads to bigger problems down the line (like burnout.)

I can’t speak for all autistics, and ofc feeling safe is always priority…but I think prejudice should not stop anyone form doing whatever they need to be their best self, at any age. Whether that’s being openly and proudly autistic by using stim toys, wearing big chonky headphones in public, using a mobility aid, having a service animal, carrying a comfort item like a plushie, asking for help, having a caretaker, weird eating habits, setting boundaries, staying home a lot, whatever it may be. This world can be so nasty to people who dare to stand out in any way, but a lot of the time standing out is necessary to be happy and healthy.

Being autistic in a world that’s not made for us is a lifelong battle that allistic people will simply never understand. And healing from childhood trauma on top of that? Its really heavy stuff. So go easy on yourself! Do what you gotta do to find what works for you & don’t let anyone take that away from you <3

.

[wsitho123]

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[s1ll13rg00s3]

Sorry if my english is not very good. I am not the same anon, but piqued did do this before, and her apology really seems like she's more concerned with her reputation than anything?

She even did the same to the people calling bi women dick worshippers and shit at first. She coddle them, say that she'll always empathize with them even if they choose to express themselves in "unfavorable ways", say that lesbians can't harm bi women anyways so what's the problem, that they are just tired of bi homophobes and we should have compassion for them, and make several excuses on their behalf like that. Message is clear she "condemns their behavior" but she is still treating them as people like the ones who need defense.

I do get why lesbian loneliness tugs at her heartstrings and I do get why that is first instinct. But first instinct is not beyond critique sorry.

I want her to understand what having our abuse belittled and ignored in turn is something a lot of bisexuals go through and also makes us suffer a lot. We also have hearts and we also have community traumas and this is an important one. So many of us are rape victims and our sexuality is used against us in response. She seems to think that attack on bi rape victims is fine thing to publish, and people should have taken her ignoring it for disagreement. i do not see how anything about the lesbian loneliness thing makes that logic make any sense, how does that make it so ignore equals disagreement?

but ok even in that alternate reality. Does she not think it is triggering for us to see comments like that? Does she not think ignoring as if it was nothing important still is really hurtful? and is still part of the the system that treats us bi rape victims as worthless and nothing? Maybe it's not what she thinks, it's how she treats that matters. She says she is sorry but I am not sure what she is sorry about if she still thinks this part is not an issue and bisexuals are being annoying and demonizing her over nothing? It very confuses her apology. Maybe she thinks her mistake is she was not clear and we misunderstand that she agrees entirely with her anon. That is one problem, but treating the attack on our trauma like is this is just relatable venting to ignore is itself very cruel and shows you don't think our trauma matters that much.

And even if she is sorry and understands now, we are still allowed to feel hurt that she treated us like that in the first place. If she didn't want us stupid bi rape victims to have strong feelings about it maybe she shouldn't have posted it. Or she could have clarified herself. That ask was up for a week before she got called out. Didn't look like she gave two shits how it affected bi people before that, she only came here to defend her reputation it feels like, and she only respond to people being positive to her like she thinks our anger and hurt is stupid and unreasonable. So adding that and her previous behavior just not sure how sincere she is even if she is very nice and polite.

I dont know much about her views beyond the single conversation I had with her a few weeks ago so I can't speak to anything she may have said in the past.

I think its fine to be upset, like it's very hurtful to see the sexual trauma inflicted upon an entire group be minimized. I do see the sexual violence against bi people as a systemic issue, there isn't a bisexual person I know (male or female) who hasn't been sexually assaulted... but even if it wasn't systemic, when is making light of sexual violence ever "punching down"?

You could be right and maybe she just wants to look good and the kindness and understanding was mainly lip service, but I don't think she has any ill will towards bi people but is just someone who doesn't want to be the bad guy so she avoids addressing uncomfortable topics. I do agree that when you do that it is up to individual interpretation what your stance on an issue is and so you will probably end up at least indirectly cosigning something you dont agree with... but it's also something I've done in the past irl to avoid conflict so I'm sympathetic, it's uncomfortable to feel torn between hurtingor upsetting someone you don't want to hurt (especially if you identify with them on a deep level) and condoning things you think are wrong, and I know I personally wouldn't want to be judged based on moments like that instead of my own words.

Honestly, my general feeling (not regarding bisexual issues or feminism but kind of anything leftism in general) is that we can be really quick to write people off who are not perfect but also who don't really want to meet us in opposition. Like I said, if you are hurt I don't think its your responsibility to be building any bridges regardless of if the harm was intentional or not. But if you're not hurt, it can really only do good to try to find common ground, you miss 100% of the shots you don't take, you know?

Given the current information I have I'm going to give her the benefit of the doubt, maybe people who have more information than I do are going to see things differently.

[flickeringart]

Planets in the 8th House

Like all the watery houses, the 8th house is mysterious and potent, yet it’s difficult to fully get a grasp of. The area of life that this house represents are usually summarized by worn out key words; death, transformation, regeneration, rebirth, sex, shared finances, the occult, hidden complexes, power struggles, trauma, crisis and the list goes on… from these words one gathers that the 8th is not a light-hearted sphere of life – it signifies struggle and emotional intensity. Having planets in the 8th, strong Pluto or Scorpio influence usually revolves around the same themes – paranoia, the striving for control and a tendency to keep things private and buried in order to sustain power.

I’m not going to discuss the difference of having strong Scorpio-Pluto placements vs. having planets in the 8th house in this post, but since the sign, planet and house are linked and are symbolic of the same themes, there’s a lot of overlap that is to be expected.

A person with planet(s) in the 8th will not act out the planetary principles consciously. Usually, the energy is felt through their aura, quiet but evident, as if the planet makes its presence known without revealing itself. For example, someone with Venus in the 8th might not openly declare affection and love, except in the most intimate of settings, but it’s unquestionably there. Picture the goddess of love living within a person as a body of water. She is there, but she is slippery and unable to manifest through conscious expression in daily life. The reason for planets in the 8th house “hiding” usually has something to do with fear of losing control, of exposing something taboo and risky that could have dire consequences.  We see this phenomenon in movies all the time – a person isn’t conscious of the fact the he or she is in love with a person but it’s obvious to everyone else – this would be typical of Venus in the 8th. One doesn’t dare to express it because it would alter the way of things, it would violate the sense of self-control and expose one’s vulnerability. Pain accompanies planets in the 8th, however benefic, because they impose themselves on the person and puts everything on the line. It’s a little bit like opening Pandora’s box – one can never go back to how things were before one fell in love, yet one resists the power with which one is pulled into a relationship. Even Venus and Jupiter, the most “positive” planets are operating in a way that makes the person feel out of control. Sure, it’s probably more positive to be invaded by love and abundance than anything else, but it can still be shocking and fearful to a person that doesn’t want to acknowledge the autonomy of the planet and has put up rigid defenses against it, only to have them be shattered. In the case of Venus in the 8th, personal love and affection is very private and usually has some kind of trauma or complex tied up with it. Looking at astrotheme’s database of people with Venus in the 8th , Miley Cyrus pops up at the top of the page with this placement. In some of her more personal songs, lyrics hint to her being afraid of love and intimacy. Even in her famous song “Wrecking Ball” she sings about falling under love’s spell and slowly seeing a relationship turn to “ashes on the ground”. If this isn’t typical symbolism of transformation through love I don’t know what is.

With the Moon in the 8th house, the person doesn’t openly express emotion – the emotions erupt volcanically from time to time, and it’s very uncomfortable for the person because there’s a feeling of being exposed and threatened that accompanies this release. Because of the fear that is tied up with emotion, the person might show dislike and defensiveness when faced with other people’s emotional expressions and needs. Sigmund Freud had his Moon in the 8th, which is very telling. He was obviously interested in uncovering the complexes behind certain reactions, presumably because he didn’t feel himself to be in control of his own emotions and inner life. He was certainly motivated to transform and free himself and his clients of the tight grip of the unconscious patterns of the 8th house. He explored the underlying mechanisms of repression, formulated the Oedipus complex and postulated the existence of libido – sexual energy with which the mental processes are invested. The Moon’s placement in the 8th would point to deeply rooted emotional and possibly sexual ties with the mother. The Oedipus complex is after all a desire for sexual involvement with the opposite sex and the presence of repressed incestuous instincts. Freud noted that he had wanted to marry his mother as a child to rival with the father and understood that it must be a universal principle among all boys in all cultures. This has not been thoroughly empirically proven, but it’s certainly reveals something about Freud’s own psychology. In any case with Moon in the 8th, the emotional and instinctual nature is accompanied with a sense of it being taboo and shameful. The emotional nature is experienced to be powerful beyond personal control.

Mercury in the 8th is a another story. Mercury is the planet of communication, thinking and deductive reasoning. When looking up people with this placement, it seems to me that it is common among people who speak up about uncomfortable topics, that which would be considered “risky business” to talk about. Prince Harry has this placement and he has been very open recently about his mental health struggles. Emma Watson has this placement and she has been an advocate for feminism and equality – preaching and advocating strongly with emotional investment when giving the famous UN speech in 2014. Lana Del Rey has this placement and she writes lyrics based on her own personal experiences, not shying away from dark topics like death, heartbreak, destructive and passionate relationships. It seems as if Mercury in this house gives the person a propensity for talking and thinking about that which in uncomfortable, for revealing difficult power-imbalances and dynamics taking place within the psyche. There’s usually a feeling of being cautious of what one reveals, of sitting on information that holds emotional power and that involves other people. With any planet in this house there’s a strong impulse to be aware of other people, in case of Mercury it’s what other people know and don’t know, what they say and don’t say. Mercury in the 8th might be indicative of a person who is controlled by what other people say and feels at the mercy of other people’s opinions – positively and negatively. The narratives and stories of other people might merge with the person on a deep level and fuel one’s own opinions. One might be exposed to challenging, discriminative and harmful opinions, even indoctrinated in them. When speaking one’s mind, one might have to summon a lot of bravery because more than likely there’s a bit of a chokehold that is being felt and effort that is required to break free from deeply instilled thought patterns. This placement could be indicative of a person that likes to think and communicate about deep and taboo topics, reveal and keep secrets.

With Mars in the 8th, one simple interpretation would be “someone who is prone to experience physical violence in intimate relationships”. Either one is the victim of it or the perpetrator, perhaps even a bystander or a protector. The violence, albeit linked to physical action, might just manifest in the form of acting without another’s best interest in mind. There’s usually a sense of being at the mercy of other people’s actions with this placement, but also of having no conscious control over one’s own motivations for doing things, one’s own drive to make things happen. Princess Diana had this placement, conjunct Pluto-Uranus, and she was far from feeling in absolute control of her direction in life. With Pluto-Mars the drive is buried and tied up with the primal survival instinct and latent rage. Her relationship with Prince Charles was anything but smooth and she felt like a victim to greater forces (Pluto-Uranus) making her act in a way that was, most certainly, driven by emotional complexes and not out of conscious will. She also behaved in a way with her compulsive eating and independent streak that was not favorably looked upon. J.F. Kennedy also had this placement, he too had difficulties on the relationship front, mostly because he had a compulsive sexual drive and had a lot of extramarital affairs. This is typical of Mars in the 8th being tied up with emotional complexes – he couldn’t stick to his wife; he had to prove himself and his masculinity through conquering women (he has Jupiter conjunct his Mars and we all know how faithful Jupiter was in mythology). His sexual appetite caused moral problems among the Secret Service agents who were employed to smuggle women in and out of the White House. His behavior was altogether inappropriate but somehow he survived politically as it was kept in the shadows. Diana certainly had her own extramarital affairs as well, perhaps to revenge Charles for his strong tie with Camilla and subsequent declining interest in their marriage. Mars in the 8th is undoubtedly indicative of action taken out of the need to retain emotional integrity, sometimes with unfavorable consequences. Notably, both Diana and J.F. Kennedy died suddenly, Diana in a car accident and J.F. Kennedy through assassination by a bullet. The 8th house is the house of death, and Mars here usually indicates a violent and sudden strike of “fate”.

Last but not least, let’s take a look at the Sun in the 8th house. The same people who shows up when searching for Mercury, Mars and even Venus, also have the Sun in this house; J.F. Kennedy, Lana Del Rey, Emma Watson and Prince Harry, which is not surprising considering that the inner planets never stray too far from the Sun. The Sun represents the ego, the sense of self-knowledge and self-awareness. The Sun is representative of the conscious center of the personality. This suggests that the people with this placement are painfully aware of death and violation, of the destructive nature of reality. While the Moon in the 8th might indicate that emotional reactions or lack thereof stem from deep seated autonomous complexes rooted in survival, the Sun might indicate a sense of self and self-expression that stems from the difficulties and hardships one has gone through. This placement can be understood in the sentiment “who am I without my trauma?”. There’s the tendency to identify with the ordeals of one’s life and how one overcame them (or didn’t). This dynamic is evident in all the people listed at the top of this paragraph. Prince Harry being a very obvious one that people make fun of nowadays – he’s coming out as a survivor of past down ancestral trauma, attempting to work through and shine a light on his personal struggles growing up within the Royal Family, attempting to separate himself from the curses of unconscious programming. Lana Del Rey certainly enjoys identifying and expressing the darker side of herself, illuminating the theme of death and emotional hardship in her songs. Emma Watson also seems to identify with the hurt and injustice present in the world and is a spokesperson for collective movements (Sun in the 8th, Leo in the 11th). J.F. Kennedy has the same Sun –Leo house setup as Emma, channeling his experience of personal hardships into his career and public life. In a sense, people who want to appeal to the masses and make a change on a large scale must be personally invested enough to fuel the movement. In the case of the 8th house being involved with Kennedy and Watson, they might feel as if their sense of self is dictated by other people’s values or that they would have to fight to remain in control of their sense of self. As the Sun relates to the father, the father figure might’ve been quite controlling, demanding and dominant. If the Moon in the 8thsays something about a mother complex, the Sun in the 8thdefinitely says something about a father complex.

[masterhandss]

Hello! Uhm… there’s something I’ve been wondering about for a long time now regarding Nicol. And I figured I may as well ask now, since S2 has started airing.

I’ve seen his wiki page. And it says and I quote: It was later revealed that his emotionless face and quiet nature is a result of extreme trauma. From a young age, people of all genders and ages would tend to do absurd things, as well as assaulting him.

I’ve been so fixated on this probably since S1 had finished, yet I haven’t really had the time to read all the light novels to know where this specifically comes from or even be sure if it’s actually true. The only thing I managed to find was a scene (I think in one of the later volumes) about Katarina pointing out this creepy guy that took Nicol’s used utensils and stared at him a lot, but she didn’t do anything about it because Sophia saw nothing wrong with that guy’s behavior and told her it was okay.

I’m not sure if the wiki was referring to that scene, or something else. And since I know that you read the light novels, I was hoping if maybe you could check that info and confirm/deny it for me. If it is true… then it really puts a whole different perspective on Nicol. People in the series have been shown to faint if Nicol smiles, but it was also mentioned how he was one of the only second year students in the student council because people would fight over him.

And to think their behavior possibly had escalated to the point of traumatizing him as a child makes me very heartbroken to think about. Especially when the wiki also mentioned how he feels very uncomfortable when he’s the center of attention… makes me wonder if the anime will even touch upon any of that.

Hello! I'm sorry if answering this one took such a long time. This one definitely caught my interest so I wanted to take my time in writing a response for this.

// trigger warning: brief mentions of assault (nothing too graphic I swear)

I'm an editor for the wiki, so I admit that I have seen that description on Nicol's page too. I don't know who wrote it (and I never bothered to edit or adjust the wording), but that doesn't really matter since it's not exactly something I can deny.

Before that I just want to make it clear first that the "assault" mentioned in the wiki is probably not sexual or physical assault, it's likely referring to a simple assault, aka any unwanted advances that is done without consent. Whether or not any advances on Nicol while he was growing up were leaning towards sexual assault or physical assault (unwanted physical contact from men and women, sexual invitations, groping etc.) has not been mentioned by the books. It used to be a very popular headcanon for the more darker and realistic depictions of the hamefura or fortune lover world to give Nicol that kind of backstory, which is why I still feel like clarifying just in case anyone might get the wrong idea.

Hamefura is a very light-hearted series so I doubt it would put Nicol is such a tough dark position. While it's played for laughs, thankfully Nicol's beauty makes him so dazzling that people can't get close to him rather than being so handsome that people would try to initiate physical contact at every opportunity lmao.

Rather than the wiki pertaining to a specific scenes, I think it might be written in hindsight instead. It could very much be referring to the guy from Volume 6 who keeps staring at Nicol and stealing his uetnsils, but I feel like it could also be referring to the possibility/likeliness of such events and advances happening regularly. Like we don't really need to be told that men and woman throw themselves at Nicol for us to know about it. I mean if its frequent enough for Nicol to be unbothered by it, then it must happen a lot (as gross as that is). Regardless, those advances can still be classified as assault (since Nicol is not a fan of it at all) and the only reason he doesn't do anything about it is because it happens so often that it might be not worth the trouble anymore. At least we do know from the StoryMe hamefura game that Nicol will act in the face of an unfavorable position if he can, so hopefully he isn't just sitting around like an animal in the zoo if he were to receive unwanted advances.

I wouldn't deny that all of these interactions hadn't traumatized Nicol though. They never really mention in the books word-for-word why Nicol is so emotionally stunted/incapable and silent, they only really mention that he doesn't talk because he doesn't want to receive any unwarranted pity. In the first hamefura anthology (whose canonicity is up for debate), they do say there that the reason why Nicol doesn't talk a lot is because people would twist his words in order to turn it around and make him sound more tragic and pitiable than he actually is. I'm no expert on what is or what isn't considered as trauma, but that sounds like a source of trauma to me. The idea of Nicol being so fed up of people misinterpreting his words and expressions in order to fit what they want to hear must have been so hard on him, to the point where he decided to just not speak at all. It can be easily link to his emotionless-ness too, since any positive reaction like a smile could be twisted to mean other things.

Realistically, having people constantly fight over you, whisper things about you behind your back, constantly ogle at you and be constantly flirted on regardless of gender sounds terrible. If that was me I'd be traumatized too. He definitely hates being in the center of attention for all the reasons previously discussed and other well-known variables; he's always in the eyes of every noble around him which makes him hate being in the spotlight (from his perspective, maybe he always feels like the spotlight is on him, like it'll just never leave. he'll always bothered by the eyes of other people even maybe when he's at home... eyes watching him with desires and expectations, haunting him even when he's alone...). It really makes you think about what kind of life Nicol had been living in without Katarina's positive influence. He would have to bear the burden alone, without being able to say a word about it because he needs to act tough for the sake of Sophia.

Like geez, Nicol is even aware that he has stalkers but isn't doing anything about because "they aren't harmful". He never even really clarified what he meant by that (at least I don't remember anyways, feel free to correct me), like is he already doing something to stop the stalker, is it happening so often that he doesn't care anymore or is he fine with it because the stalker hasn't done anything dangerous (yet)???

If you want an /objective/ answer to whether or not the wiki description was referring to the stalker man from Volume 6 or something else, that line on the wiki was added on April 27, 2020; while the JP release of Volume 6 was on March 20, 2018 vs the EN ebook release which was on June 28, 2020.

The editor is likely a JP reader, or it was just an interpretation based most-likely what-if scenarios/interpretations. That's a fun fact for ya :DD

—and since you mentioned that you haven't read all the volumes of the light novels yet, let me help you by listing chapters in the books with a Nicol POV (that I can remember, as of Volume 9)

Volume 1 Chapter 5 (Encountering Katarina) Volume 2 Chapter 4 (Remembering Katarina's Positive Influence) Volume 3 Chapter 2 (School Festival Various Vignettes - Nicol Ascart) Volume 4 Extra Chapter (The Troubles of Nicol Ascart) Volume 5 Chapter 4 (A Lady for Nicol) Volume 8 Chapter 2 (Nicol's "dream")

With this, hopefully it'll be easier for you to cross-reference if you want to look into Nicol's character on your own :DD

TLDR; the trauma and assault mentioned in the wiki is definitely real, although the extent and severity might depend on the reader('s imagination). There's no particular scene to point to as the source, explanation or example of Nicol being given uncomfortable treatment, but it's not hard to imagine given the kind of character Nicol is. He is a silent beauty who caries himself smartly and politely, which in the eyes of many carnivorous nobles is the perfect kind of prey. Whether or not he was assaulted in any way or if people's behavior towards him can be considered as assault depends on the reader, since we still have yet to get a deep dive on Nicol's life outside of his friend group.

If there's any confirmation or deconfirmation to anything I said that I have missed during my skimming on the light novels, feel free to tell me! If I got the definitions and examples of trauma and assault wrong, feel free to tell me and I'll edit this post as fast as I can!

I know this might not exactly be the response you were hoping for, but I hope it was good enough to read qwq. There's so much I could still say but I know I'll go too deep into interpretation (I kinda already did though...), which I want to avoid since the question is asking for in-canon proofs and instances.

Thank you for the ask!

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Phobia (one-shot)

Pairing: OC (female character) x Bang Chan (SKZ)

Warnings: suggestions of smut, violence, language, mentions of blood and gore

Genre: Mafia AU; Marriage AU

Word Count: 4K

Summary: He found her when she was nothing - disgraced by her family and cast aside as an outsider. Yet, Chan made her feel wanted for the first time in her life, in more ways than one, which leads to countless nights of passionate love...until their worst fears come to fruition. 

A/N: Chan, you will always be a perfect husband to me. Thank you for coming to my short Ted Talk.

This time when he came home, he was covered in blood...

I almost broke down in the foyer at the sight of him, but Chan was quick to reassure me, shaking me by the shoulders as he patiently explained that it wasn’t his blood - there was a shooting at their exchange, but neither Chan nor his men had been injured. Of course, it doesn’t stop me from leading him upstairs, drawing a warm bath in our shared en-suite while fussing over the state of Chan’s suit, or what was left of it. His pale skin was apparent behind the black fabric of his dress pants, and there were long tears in his shirt. 

Needless to say, I threw all of those blood-stained clothes away before urging him into the bathtub, carefully kneeling down onto my knees as I started dragging a soft cloth over his skin. Chan moaned in delight, throwing back his head against the shower tiles while he allowed me to fuss over him - to reassure myself that he was okay, and that the horrific image of my husband standing in front of me drenched in blood was nothing more than a terrible memory.

I softly ran my fingers through his blond-hair, working through the tangles while being mindful of his eyes, using my hand to move his head back when I used a pitcher to wash the shampoo out of his delicate curls. “Hey,” Chan said, voice hoarse from overuse as he watched me drag his hand out of the bath water, working on the dirt and grim under his fingernails. 

I paused when I fingered across his wedding band. “Don’t come home like that ever again.”

I could feel Chan looking at me, and there was a lot of regret in his eyes, but I didn’t feel any remorse over my sharp tone. “I’m sorry, babygirl,” he said. “They were shooting at Felix and I-”

“You don’t have to justify your work to me,” I interrupted him. “I know the risks, but I never want to see something like that when I’ve been waiting for you.”

Chan nodded, and I shifted back when he sat up in the bathtub, allowing sensual rivulets of water to climb down the toned expanse of his chest and stomach. Meanwhile, I used the towel holder to help myself stand up, grabbing a spare towel for Chan, and trying to ignore how red the water remained after my husband had climbed out to wrap the towel around his waist.

Afterward, I allowed Chan some privacy in the bathroom while I returned to our bedroom, crawling into bed while remaining mindful of my stomach - the evidence of life bloating the skin. I took a deep breath, smoothing my hands along the exposed flesh, and I knew that it was bad to feel any kind of stress while I was pregnant. Unfortunately, my husband’s chosen line of work never made things easier.

Eventually, Chan joined me on the bed, leaving the towel hanging loosely from his hips while he shot me a concerned glance. “Are you feeling okay?” he asked, and his eyes immediately dropped.

“I’ll tell you in the morning,” I said, and I looked over at him as Chan slid one hand around my waist, holding me and our unborn child protectively.

“You’re right about everything, baby girl,” he said. “I’ll never scare you like that again.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” I warned him, but Chan shook his head sternly, keeping me close before landing a soft kiss to the edge of my lips.

“I have a lot to clean-up tomorrow,” he said. “Work might take awhile.”

I sighed in return, looking up at the ceiling. “Wake me up before you go.”

Past

When Chan and I first met, his ledger wasn’t nearly as red. He actually served my family, taking on small cases with his friends, Jisung and Changbin, in service to my father. However, he had started to garner a reputation for being a quick hand and a good shot when it came to using guns, and Jisung and Changbin provided the perfect support for their little unit.

My father considered Chan to be one of his favorite apprentices, and he even approved of my early relationship with Chan. Despite my tendency to rebel against my father’s chosen favorites, I couldn’t resist Chan’s dark persona and contagious personality. He could probably talk the wealthiest man into giving away half of his fortune once he listened to Chan’s cunning words. 

On our first date, he showed me how to count cards in the Casino that my father owned, and after only three weeks of dating, he fucked me so hard in the backseat of his car that I saw stars after almost passing out from the pleasure.

We technically met in my father’s office because I had stormed in on one of their meetings unannounced, ready to confront my father because he had forced my youngest brother, Jeongin, to attend some lousy military school. Jeongin had cried for the entirety of the days leading up to his unwanted departure, and I had stood outside on the porch fuming as he was taken away from me.

But my father was really good at screwing over the members of his family, and I had finally had enough of his intervention. However, I also remembered hesitating when I saw Chan standing next to my father’s desk, freshly dyed hair glowing under the Chandelier. “Oh, it’s you,” my father grumbled. “What the hell do you want?”

“Nothing,” I said in return, maintaining eye-contact with Chan as I retreated from the office. 

Later that day, I asked my mother about Chan, and she told me that she didn’t know much about him, other than the fact that his parents had been killed in a raid - probably from my father’s doing - and he was serving our family. “Your father seems to like him,” my mother said, and it was only one of the very few times in her life that she had told the truth. 

Thereafter, I developed an unfavorable opinion of Chan since my father liked him, but it didn’t take Chan very long to change my mind and prove me wrong. He wasn’t blindly loyal to the man who destroyed his family - he was cold and methodical, and he told me how he planned to eventually break away from my father and form his own business with Jisung and Changbin. He spoke so passionately that it was hard not to fall in love with the burning look in his dark eyes. 

From then on, we became close to one another, sharing our deepest fears and desires, and we weren’t afraid to demonstrate our affection for one another. I was actually happy for once, which meant that something had to go wrong in my life. And it turned out that one of my father’s business partners was threatening our family because we owed them a lot of money, and my father planned to pay his debt by doing something rather despicable: selling me into their service.

It was humiliating, and I knew exactly what I would become working for a family that was notorious for its influence in the adult entertainment industry. I was enraged that my family would sentence me to that kind of life, but I wasn’t nearly as upset as Chan. We had been together for six months, and Chan had already started to include me in his future plans...the exchange was unacceptable.

So, on the night when my family planned to sell me to their rivals, Chan and I drove away in one of the cars that we stole from my father, bringing along Jisung and Changbin who fired off rounds of bullets from the windows as we escaped into the solitude of the night. Consequently, my family disowned me, snatching my last name and removing me from the family tree. But it never concerned me, especially when Chan offered me his last name instead, vowing his loyalty by exchanging intimate vows and marrying me on a warm, spring afternoon. When he fucked me that same night, he whispered sweet little nothings that contradicted the filthy way that his hips moved against mine, driving his cock deep inside.

After that, the two of us were inseparable - a dynamic duo that was ready to take the underground mafia world by storm...

Present

Before the sun had completely risen, Chan was stumbling out of bed with exhaustion written across his wearied countenance. I watched him move around the room, admiring the hard planes of his back as he dressed himself in the usual combination of black dress pants and a white button-up shirt. Chan claimed that it was important to look his best when it involved meeting with our rivals.

I closed my eyes when he neared my bedside, and I could feel him leaning down to press soft kisses to my forehead, fingers trailing across my stomach before he was leaving our bedroom with a heavy sigh. I swallowed hard against a sudden wave of emotions, remembering his appearance from the previous night, and the same restless anxiety managed to bleed its way around my heart.

Graciously, I managed to eventually fall back asleep, but it was only for a few hours because I was brought back to reality by the sound of the fire alarm blaring throughout the house. I groaned in complaint, throwing off the sheets before grabbing my dress robes and trudging downstairs. 

As I grew closer to the commotion, I could hear two men loudly arguing from one of the adjoining rooms, attempting to be heard over the sound of the annoying alarm. When I walked into the kitchen, I wrinkled my nose at the burning smell from the stove, waving my hand to clear the smoke. And standing at the center of the drama was Chan’s younger brother, Felix, as he engaged in a heated argument with my brother, Jeongin. “It’s your fault!” I heard Felix say. “You can’t cook bacon like that!”

“I told you to watch the pan!” Jeongin retaliated, and I rolled my eyes at their immature behavior.

“Hey!” I yelled, forcing both of them to pause. “Can you seriously not do this right now?”

Felix was the first to notice me, pointing an accusing finger at Jeongin. “Hey, he started it!”

I closed my eyes. “How old are you again?”

It was a surprise to me that they had both managed to live with us this long without engaging in more than just verbal altercations. After Chan and I rescued Jeongin from his cruel military academy, my husband invited him to join the organization. At first, I was hesitant of the decision, but Chan never invited Jeongin out on missions with them. Instead, he and Felix did most of the reconnaissance work from behind the scenes, and Jeongin was remarkably good with computers. Maybe he wasn’t on par with Felix’s hacking skills, but my younger brother continued to expand his skill set because she was determined to be the best.

Unfortunately, working in close proximity to one another on a regular basis inevitably led to numerous arguments. They were both strong-willed and stubborn, and neither Jeongin nor Felix was capable of flexibility, especially when it meant admitting that they were wrong. So, they often argued over trivial things, and I was usually left around to mend their bruised egos.

But a cooking dispute? At this hour? I shook my head because I didn’t have the patience to deal with them. “Leave the pan and go upstairs. I’ll take care of everything.”

Felix and Jeongin shot each other nasty glares as they obeyed, and I waited until they were gone before opening the windows in the kitchen and resetting the fire alarm. Finally, I turned my attention to the mess on the stove, cleaning with an exaggerated sigh. It was moments like this that made me long for the days when I used to accompany Chan on some of his missions...

Past

Chan only ever brought me along with him when he felt that a situation was incapable of turning violent, and he liked having me around to distract lesser men as he talked them into agreeing with anything that he said. I, of course, liked being helpful to my husband, and I always played my part well. For example, dressing in low-cut affairs that tended to produce insatiable responses from my husband who loved to drag me into his lap.

It made me feel powerful, arching my back as Chan ran one of his hands down my waist. “Look at your tits,” Chan said, stroking his fingers across the swell of my breasts. “Gorgeous.”

I beamed at his compliment, allowing him to handle as he liked while Chan turned to finally address the impatient man sitting across from us. “Are you ready?”

“I’ve been waiting all night,” the man said with a challenging stare.

“My apologies,” Chan smirked. “I’ve been rather busy.”

“I can see that,” the man said, but his smirk suggested that he wasn’t entirely understanding of Chan’s delayed commitment. Apparently, Chan was trying to sign some kind of arms deal with him, and my husband was very greedy when it came to our money. 

“I have my price listed,” Chan said, shoving the contract at the other man. “You can sign at the bottom.”

“Isn’t this a bit cheap?” the man asked. “The cost of labor alone is barely covered by your...generous offering.”

“It’s my final compromise,” Chan said, feigning boredom as he tugged at the neckline of my dress. “What do you say?”

“How about one night with your whore?” the man asked, leaning in across the table to reveal two rows of slimy teeth.

Immediately, I could feel the way that Chan tensed from underneath me, and his eyes narrowed as he looked at the man. “I hope you’re not referring to my wife.”

The man chuckled. “What difference does it make?”

Chan was quiet for a moment, and I saw a myriad of emotions reflected in his narrowed eyes. “Baby girl,” he eventually said while looking at me. “Why don’t you go get us some drinks?”

I nodded my head, scrambling to find my footing as I left the comfort of Chan’s lap to retrace my steps to the bar at the opposite end of the club. The bartender recognized me, sliding two beers in my direction with a smile before sending me on my way.

However, I suddenly paused when I started to approach our table, realizing that Chan had wanted to keep me away for a valid reason. He had also drawn a crowd of onlookers who watched as my husband smashed our target’s face into a pile of broken glass on the table. There was already so much blood, and Chan’s eyes were wild with his rage. He was also flanked by Jisung and Changbin whose fingers wrapped around the handles of their weapons. “You learned a lesson tonight, didn’t you?” Chan growled, grabbing the man by his collar to toss him into the floor. I winced when Chan’s heeled boot pressed down against the man’s throat, and his hands immediately wrapped themselves around my husband’s leg as he choked. 

There was every reason to feel horrified, watching my husband handle a man with so much violence while surrounded by blood and gore. But I didn’t feel scared. Instead, I smiled as I stood aside with our drinks, watching the action unfold with greedy eyes.

Present

It was late, and I could feel myself growing anxious. I passed the time by pacing the floor, resisting the urge to run into the other room and demand an update from Jeongin and Felix. They were playing a pivotal role in tonight’s mission, and they didn’t need my distraction.

But I could tell that something was wrong. The clock was ticking away loudly in the background, and every instinct was screaming at me to call my husband and demand his whereabouts. “Come on,” I muttered, hugging my arms around my stomach as I was prone to do these days.

Sleep wasn’t an option. Becaus my mind was a chaotic mess of restless thoughts and horrible scenarios flashing across my eyes. What if something bad happened to Chan?

I couldn’t stand it anymore. He had always promised me that he would come home, but it felt shallow on nights like this. Because life never promised any guarantees, especially when you put yourself in harms way on a regular basis.

I was approaching my wits end when Jeongin burst into my room with wide eyes. “What is it?” I snapped at him, allowing my frustration to boil over like a steaming kettle.

“We have to go to the hospital,” Jeongin said, and he somehow managed to catch me before I collapsed in the floor.

Past

But I suddenly couldn’t breathe, looking down at the seemingly mundane object in my hand. It was forecasting a fate that neither Chan nor myself had planned for our future. Something that could be dangerous in our world, and I already feared for my unborn child’s life.

However, it wasn’t something that I could hide - a secret to hold onto because it wouldn’t bear any consequences. This changed everything, and I had no idea how to tell Chan when I saw him later that evening. We had plans to have dinner together, and he looked divine as always, dressed impeccably with his hair slicked back, and perhaps to anyone else he would appear perfectly put together. But I knew better than most.

“How was work?” I asked, staring down at my dinner plate because I had lost my appetite.

“It was fine,” Chan said, shoveling another spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth like it was his last meal on Earth. “What did you do while I was gone?”

“Not much,” I said, hesitating as I looked down at the pregnancy test in my lap. “Felix kept me entertained.”

“As long as he’s staying out of trouble,” Chan said, reclining back in his chair as he looked at me from over the table. “You look beautiful tonight.”

“Thank you,” I said, and my tone was quiet and uncertain, but Chan must’ve had a billion other thoughts on his mind because he didn’t comment on my mood.

“I’m not busy tomorrow,” Chan said. “We can do whatever you want.”

It made my heart swell with affection to hear him say that since I knew that he was either lying or exaggerating. Because Chan never had any free time. “Channie,” I started, “I have something to tell you.”

Chan adjusted the sleeves of his shirt, revealing his forearms. “What is it?”

I bit my tongue, wrapping my fingers around the pregnancy test as I carefully brought it onto the table. There were so many ways that I could tell him, but nothing seemed to sound correct inside my head, and I was fumbling with an explanation. However, when I met Chan’s sweet smile and kind eyes, I managed to latch onto an inkling of confidence, finding my voice the longer we continued to look at one another. “I’m pregnant,” I whispered to Chan, watching him carefully as he listened.

His eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and I would’ve never noticed if I wasn’t paying such close attention. But then he noticed the test I had brought resting on top of the table. “It was positive,” he said, almost like an observation.

“Yeah,” I said with a nod, waiting with bated breath as he folded his arms across his chest - and it was a vulnerable position.

Eventually, Chan stood up from the table, and I shivered when I thought that he might leave the room, but he instead came to stand behind me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. “We’ll make it work, baby girl,” he said, holding me like I was something fragile that he needed to protect. There were tears in my eyes before I could hold them back, and Chan was kneeling on the floor and looking at me with so much love. “I’m gonna give you the world,” he promised, and it was a solemn declaration, sealed with a kiss to my shirt-covered stomach.

Present

Time was a social construct, and we can feel its effects most profoundly in the moments when it feels like it might run out before we can do anything to stop the inevitable. In desperation, we struggle to breach the surface of the water and take a much-needed deep breath - but there’s only so much that we can do for the things beyond our control. Yet, we still try to remedy them, and I found myself pacing anxiously outside of his hospital room, ignoring the suggestions from his other members to relax and sit down. Because my mind was incapable of settling down, and I could only chant the words, he can’t die, as they repeated over and over again inside my head, remembering how the doctor looked at me when I confronted him.

“We’ll do the best we can,” the doctor had told me, but it wasn’t good enough.

I was on the edge of total self-destruction, and maybe it was the first time that I finally realized just how affected I would be without Chan. Because the world would be so cold without him next to my side, and I couldn’t bear the thought of facing that oblivion of darkness.

He had to keep living for me...

“Mrs. Bang,” a nurse said, pulling my attention to the smiling woman approaching me. “You can see him now.”

I sniffled and nodded, following the nurse as she led me to Chan’s room, feeling my heart grow lighter with every step in the right direction. Until I was confronted with Chan’s familiar presence, watching me from his hospital bed, and I was on cloud nine as I rushed to him. Wrapping my arms around him as I cried softly into his shoulder. “Channie,” I whimpered, pulling back to press my lips against his for the necessary reassurance of his touch.

“I’m okay,” he said. “Everything’s fine.”

I shook my head because the fear was still there - lingering at the edges of my subconscious, acting as a reminder of the utter dread that I had experienced when Jeongin first told me that Chan was somewhere I never wanted to see him. “I thought you were gone,” I whispered, grabbing his hands to ground myself in this reality with Chan, surviving the impossible for another day. “This is my worst fear, Chan,” I continued. “That you won’t come home, and our kid will grow up without their father.”

Chan sighed, and I noticed that his eyes were swollen around the rims, and there were unshed tears waiting to fall. “I’m sorry,” he said. 

“It can’t happen again,” I told him sternly, hoping I looked more fierce than I felt on the inside. Because Chan needed to be explicitly told these things in the only way that he would understand.

“I’ll always do my best for you,” he said, and I realized that his tone was thick with emotion and the unsaid words between us that we were both still too afraid to vocalize.

“I love you, Chan,” I said. “I know you like the work that you do, but I think it might be time to take on less responsibilities.”

“You’re right,” he said, looking up at me with a sad smile. “I’ll do anything to make you happy.”

“I just need you,” I said, allowing him to pull me onto the bed next to him, and we both savored the silence humming throughout the room and the familiar presence of the person who we needed more than anything else in this cruel world. 

[oss-crime]

Chapter 2-Project “Ma” –Eve–; Scene 4

Original Sin Story: Crime, pages 37-48

Seth’s wound wasn’t too bad, but for safety’s sake he wound up receiving treatment at a hospital in the Twelve Royal Capitals.

He got on one of the huge automated carriages of the security force and went back with the soldier driving it.

Adam wound up staying in the village of Nemu for a time along with his bodyguard, Gammon.

Naturally their goal was to search for the “Witch of the Forest”.

And Eve…she served as their guide when the two headed out to the Forest of Held, as well as their driver for the carriage.

The fee they paid her for this service had far greater profit to her than her income selling ingredients from the forest, so she had no reason to refuse.

Eve knew of several of the villages where the people of the forest lived, and so she first took the two of them to those.

And then they tried going around to the places where the witch was rumored to be, or just moved through aimlessly.

But the days passed without achieving any particular result.

.

That day as well the three of them had been advancing along a forest path with the automated carriage.

The sky was overcast with thick clouds. When Eve suggested that it might rain, Adam replied that they perhaps ought to end things early today.

“That aside, you’re quite skilled with driving the automated carriage, Eve,” Adam complimented. “You must be, to move so smoothly through such narrow pathways.”

“It’s no big deal if you’re used to it. But as you’d expect you can’t get to the deeper parts of the forest with a carriage.”

“Still, people would seldom be going in such places. So they’re not likely to be targets of the tribesmen, and thus there’s a low chance of the witch showing up there.”

Putting together the information that Adam and Gammon had been able to obtain up until now, the Witch of the Forest would apparently make her appearances in public to rescue people attacked by the white army.

But strangely, none of the people who had been rescued by her could remember what this witch looked like.

“She has green hair, is a woman, fires lightning from a blue spoon…And that’s all they can remember, oddly enough.”

“They’re all probably in a state of shock from being attacked by the white army, so that’s understandable isn’t it?”

“I wonder. Maybe…this witch can use a spell that manipulates people’s minds.”

Upon hearing that, Eve’s eyes widened for a moment. Then she quickly chuckled. “That’d be pretty convenient, if there really were such a spell. I’d control all the big-wigs into making me the queen.”

“Haha, I guess so. You could have all the wealth and influence you want…Have you ever heard of such a thing?”

“I’ve been raised in a village of sorcerers for over twenty years, but not once, no. Do you know of anything, Adam? You’re seem pretty well educated.”

“I’ve hardly done any studies on magic.”

“Huh…That’s a bit surprising. Don’t you have all this magical potential?”

“I only learned that relatively recently.”

As the two of them talked, Gammon simply looked around at their surroundings without showing the least amount of interest in their conversation.

Over these past few days Eve had been able to learn quite well that taken favorably he was a man who was very dedicated to his work, but taken unfavorably he was a very strait-laced person with little flexibility.

Adam was also a bit too serious, but he at least was easy to get along with.

Among the people who had come over from the capital there were some every now and then who would look down upon a country bumpkin like Eve. But Adam never showed any sign of such behavior.

From what she’d heard, while he was currently living in the Twelve Royal Capitals, originally he had been raised on the coast west from there.

“Just like you…I was an orphan.”

Apparently when he was a child he had been able to make a living and fend off starvation by hunting fish in the sea.

“One day a man suddenly appeared before me. He took me back to his home in the royal capital, and adopted me as his son. Even now I’m not sure why he did that. After that I received an education as a student under my adoptive father—Horus Solntse.”

“Did you…not have any parental figures until then?”

At Eve’s question, Adam responded without hesitation, “I did have a mother. …Though she was a whale.”

“Eh?”

“Ever since I can remember, that white whale had always been by my side. She watched over me…Or so I always thought. Though she never did anything to actually help me, ha ha.”

“…”

“Do you think my story is strange?”

“Mm, nooo…” Eve shook her head, and then replied earnestly, “I’m positive that whale must have been the manifestation of a spirit.”

“A spirit?”

“There are a lot of them in this forest; spirits that take the form of animals. Robins, chipmunks…I can’t talk to them, but I know of them.”

“I see…”

Adam listened in to Eve’s story, offering neither affirmations or denial.

“I too…had times when I was a child where I felt unbearably lonely. My adoptive mother and father were very kind people. But of course they weren’t my real parents…I couldn’t stand that.”

“…I understand that feeling.”

“In the middle of the night I ran out of the village and into the forest. But it was pitch-black, and I couldn’t tell my left from my right…I sat down alone and started crying. And then…it appeared.”

Eve’s shoulders faintly shook.

A drop of water fell from the sky and hit her face.

It had started to rain. There was no roof on this carriage.

Eve stopped the carriage under the shade of a large tree to keep from getting soaked.

“It?” Adam asked.

“A bear. A frightening bear…Here, look.”

Eve suddenly rolled up her skirt.

Adam unthinkingly moved to avert his eyes at catching sight of her bare skin.

But when he noticed the large scar on her thigh, he regained his composure.

“It bit you?”

“Because it was hungry. A little bit longer and I would have ended my life inside that bear’s stomach. But at that moment—the animals of the forest all attacked the bear at once. And they saved me.”

“And so they…were spirits of the forest.”

“I never saw a bear in this forest again. The spirits might have gotten rid of them, or else directed me so that I never got close to one…In any case, the spirits are my friends, and I owe them my life.”

Eve had never really told that story to anyone.

That was because anyone who didn’t know much about the forest in particular would likely think it was just a silly tall tale.

But in that drizzling rain Adam listened to her speak with a serious countenance. Conversely, Eve started to regret having told him.

Thinking on his goals…It would be only natural for him to start to hold some doubts towards Eve, upon hearing that story.

“Eve. So you really are—"

Before Adam could continue speaking, they could suddenly hear a loud explosion from far off.

“--!?”

They all turned over there at once.

…There was smoke coming from the direction of Nemu village.

“—What’s happened!?” Gammon shouted as he whipped out the sword at his hip.

What came to Eve’s mind was the white army.

They had never once attacked the village directly…And yet, she couldn’t think of anything else it could be.

As though in support of that, several tribesmen wielding weapons appeared from the shadows of the trees and circled the carriage.

“Oh, we’re not letting you get back to the village,” said a woman standing in the center of the tribesmen, glowering at Eve and the others.

Gammon had swiftly leapt down from the carriage, and shifted his piercing gaze to the woman.

“You must be the commander of the white army…The ‘White Fiend of Jakoku’.”

“Oh my. How impressive, that you know of my illustrious title…Your henchmen serve you well, it seems.” Gammon asked her if she had come here as payback for what happened on the plains, but Raisa shook her head. “Though there is a little of that, yes. This is more—a test.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I…Or rather, all of us, are planning to let loose much bigger fireworks after this.”

Giving no indication that she would explain any further, Raisa and her cohorts started to steadily draw closer to the carriage, weapons at the ready.

“You louts, tread cautiously! This military bastard looks pretty tough. Not to mention—” Raisa glared at Eve. “—He’s traveling with the ‘Witch of the Forest’, too.”

As though in response to those words, Eve got down from the carriage and stood next to Gammon.

“…You seem to be under a misunderstanding. I’m not a witch.”

Eve maintained a calm demeanor, but in response to that Raisa laid bare her anger.

“Don’t bullshit me! Countless of my people have been reduced to ashes by you!”

The moment she spoke, Raisa ran towards Eve.

Pale fire curled around the long and thin weapon she held in both hands.

These flames were not put out by the rain; they were likely some type of magic, or else produced by a unique power she had.

“…”

Eve glanced briefly at Adam, still inside the carriage.

He looked like he had something he wanted to say to Eve.

She didn’t have time to hesitate now.

First…she would need to do something about the enemy in front of her.

And she was worried about the village, too.

--Eve took out the spoon she’d kept hidden on her person.

A blue spoon. The item that was publicly referred to as the wand of the Witch of the Forest. For Eve it was a memento that she’d received from her adoptive mother.

She turned it toward Raisa, who was still heading towards her.

And then—expressionlessly, and concisely, she chanted a short spell phrase.

“Medvedi ubit!”

And it was all over.

It was a lightning spell she had been taught by her adoptive father.

A large bolt of lightning shot from the spoon, and then Raisa and her underlings in their entirety were swallowed up in a flash of light.

.

--The lightning strike that had engulfed the area had no effect on the trees of the forest or the animals.

It was the same with Adam and Gammon who were nearby Eve.

The lightning spell could only burn up that which it had been fired at. And after the flash of light went away, all of the tribesmen that had been surrounding the carriage had been reduced to charred corpses.

…No, there was one exception.

Raisa must have taken the direct brunt of the lightning, and yet despite her body having sustained massive burns she was still clinging to life.

“Wow…I’m surprised. That’s the first time anyone’s taken that shot and lived.” Eve looked down on Raisa with a cold expression.

“Y…you bitch…”

Gammon pressed down on Raisa’s body as she tried to crawl into the forest to escape.

“What an unexpected bounty, to be able to capture the head of the white army. For now let’s get her to the village—”

As he turned his face to the village, Gammon stopped speaking.

There was still smoke rising from that direction.

Eve quickly got back into the carriage and put her hand on the control crystal.

But Adam gripped her thin arm.

“The village will be dangerous. The bulk of the white army is probably attacking it now.”

“That’s why we have to go help my father and the others!”

Gammon tossed something at the carriage as it started to move.

Adam caught the weapon.

“This is…”

It was the peculiarly shaped sword that Raisa had been carrying.

“Take it! It should serve as some protection,” Gammon shouted to Adam. “I can’t let Raisa get away. You’ll have to go on your own!”

His words were in a sense an abandonment of his responsibilities as bodyguard, but under the circumstances he must have judged there was nothing more he could do.

Or maybe he was dazzled by the potential for glory that had fallen before him.

Eve didn’t care which it was.

Whatever the case, she was focused on the situation in the village now.

Though I can’t imagine my father would be done in by the white army so easily…

The residents of the village of Nemu were a band of once famous sorcerers.

Even so, Eve couldn’t help the unease in her chest.

The carriage started to race, Adam sitting beside her.

And in this way they advanced at full speed along the forest path, headed for the village.

<<prev------directory------next>>

[spilledreality]

Trenches, hand grenades, and the Civil War as the first "modern" conflict

A common belief is that trenches were invented in the Civil War, an innovation ushering in—alongside the hand grenade and machine gun, both deployed in that same war—the beginning of the modern warfare era. This is sort of true and sort of untrue. Implicit in its narrative is the idea that in-retrospect-obvious strategies like, say, digging fortifications to secure your military position, can take centuries to catch on. This is a bit like the Scurvy theory of progress. Spanish sailors discover oranges as a scurvy cure in the late 1400s, but knowledge isn't widespread or institutionalized across Europe until the 1800s.

The history of trenches is a bit like the history of citrus as a scurvy cure—but more in the sense that shifting contextual details made the same cures more or less effective for different expeditions or eras. Trenches go back to Roman times, and were popular in medieval siege warfare, but the value and purpose of trenches has wildly oscillated since then, such that, for much of pre-modernity, they served as a poor choice of tactic. (And such that, now in the present era, they are again an unfavorable strategy.) The changing situation which is brought about by technology—technology both in the literal sense and in the cultural sense, the evolution of ideas—constantly alters the "problem state" of a military conflict, and thus the fitness of any one solution strategy. And in this constant turnover, which we call history (or ecology), inefficiences flounder, as outdated strategies are inappropriately perpetuated in the name of tradition—some merely vestigial (best case), others actively counter-productive. As the cliche goes, a lack of flexibility, or adaptability, is damning in such a time of transition. When a top-down belief cannot be altered by repeated, contradictory, bottom-up data, the belief can be called ideology.

That is, such decision-makers suffer from a lack of (either/both) empiricism and pragmatism. The former is manifests as rigidity, the latter as context-insensitive proceduralism (or "deontology"). And there is always a minefield of such inappropriate, aged-out heuristics, or deontologies, which increase in number as the pace of world-change increases. For each Chesterton's fence—a traditional structure whose purpose we do not understand, but which is loadbearing for our way of life—there is also, I think, a "Pickett's charge." The term is chosen after Robert E. Lee's catastrophic, Napoleonic-style frontal assault in the Battle of Gettysburg. The weapons had changed since Napoleon—the new rifled barrels could shoot further and more accurately, with shorter loading—which changed the calculus of an open charge��charging troops would have to face dozens of successive volleys, instead of one or two. Too many men would be killed, cross miles of open ground against a fortified position, before reaching the Union breastworks in a hope to overcome them. Some view the charge as the high-water mark of the Confederacy—the day their prospects were sunniest, and they decision which lost it all.

Even Grant and Sherman, widely considered the war's best strategists—a distinction earned primarily for their pragmatism, their rejection of traditional ideas as to what kinds of warfare were "proper," manly, or chivalrous—did not think to use trenches in the early years of the conflict. James Rhodes, in his History of the Civil War 1861-1865, writes that "it is remarkable that with an enemy estimated at from 60,000 to 80,000 and, located according to their own guess, not farther than twenty-three miles away, generals as resourceful as Grant and Sherman did not put their soldiers to work with the pick and spade." As a result, their positions were overrun by Johnston's troops, beginning the deadly Battle of Shiloh.

And yet as Sherman would later recount: "At a later period of the war, we could have rendered [the Shiloh] position impregnable in one night." As the conflict continued, and officer decisions—as well as troop behavior—evolved to better fit the territory (that is, to better fit the tested reality of the problem space), the war became more guerilla-like. Sieges lasted months, trench warfare was bitter—and both led to the widespread use, for the first time in American military history, of hand grenades.

It is probably worth pointing out that Robert E. Lee, before he became the darling of the Confederacy, was ridiculed by Richmond newspapers as the "King of Spades" because he'd tasked otherwise unoccupied defensive troops to dig breastworks around Richmond.

[jackoshadows]

The constant devaluing of Arya’s point of view and the narrative that if we could only see things from the viewpoint of other characters, the readers would get a totally different picture and see that Sansa was actually a good sister and Jeyne was a good friend and the North was actually a great place for non-conforming little girls makes no sense.  No, we don’t need a POV from the Septa instead of Arya to shown us the other side and made us sympathize with the ladies of Westeros because Arya is the main character here and we would rather get to know her and understand her as a character.

So it’s not that nine year old Arya had a very warped view of the world, but rather the world she lived in was very warped and she saw it for what it was because she personally experienced the consequences of that world and it affected her more negatively than her other true born siblings.

Arya’s POV and take on all this is corroborated again and again by other POVs, but all this is often dismissed just like Arya’s feelings of low self-worth are dismissed because the perpetrator is seen as being incapable of doing wrong.

We can accept Arya’s viewpoint in the first few chapters as being absolute, because we get corroboration about her experience from characters like Sansa, Brienne and Theon.

Take Sansa’s POV for example.

When Arya talks about being mocked for being horse-faced and ugly and other girls making horsey noises near her:

One day she came back grinning her horsey grin, her hair all tangled and her clothes covered in mud, clutching a raggedy bunch of purple and green flowers for Father. Sansa kept hoping he would tell Arya to behave herself and act like the highborn lady she was supposed to be, but he never did, he only hugged her and thanked her for the flowers. That just made her worse. (Sansa, AGoT)  

Her long horsey face got the stubborn look that meant she was going to do something willful. (Sansa, AGoT)    

“Hodor!” Sansa yelled. “You ought to marry Hodor, you’re just like him, stupid and hairy and ugly!” (Sansa, AGoT)   

Her name, she had to know her name. “Arya Underfoot. Your sister used to call you Arya Horseface.”  “It was me made up that name. Her face was long and horsey. Mine isn’t. I was pretty.” (The Prince of Winterfell, ADwD)

Here is Sansa being generally angry at and disgusted by Arya and blaming her for everything wrong:

Arya had a way of ruining everything..

She hates that I’m going to marry the prince. She tries to spoil everything, Father, she can’t stand for anything to be beautiful or nice or splendid.” 

Arya was chewing at her lip in that disgusting way she had

Here is Sansa blaming Arya for Lady’s death after siding with Joffrey against Arya despite seeing Joffrey try to harm/injure her sister at the trident:

At first she thought she hated him for what they’d done to Lady, but after Sansa had wept her eyes dry, she told herself that it had not been Joffrey’s doing, not truly. The queen had done it; she was the one to hate, her and Arya. Nothing bad would have happened except for Arya. (Sansa, A GoT)

“You’re horrible,” she screamed at her sister. “They should have killed you instead of Lady!” (Sansa, AGoT)

Here is Sansa wishing for her younger sister to suffer as a bastard because she was ugly and behaviorally deficient:

Why couldn’t Arya be sweet and delicate and kind, like Princess Myrcella? She would have liked a sister like that. Sansa could never understand how two sisters, born only two years apart, could be so different. It would have been easier if Arya had been a bastard, like their half brother Jon. She even looked like Jon, with the long face and brown hair of the Starks, and nothing of their lady mother in her face or her coloring. And Jon’s mother had been common, or so people whispered.

Despite complaining about how Arya was not sweet and kind like Myrcella, here is Sansa’s classism peeking through as she derides Arya’s low born friends. It’s clear that Sansa’s ‘kindness’ only extends to those of her group:

Sansa knew all about the sorts of people Arya liked to talk to: squires and grooms and serving girls, old men and naked children, rough-spoken freeriders of uncertain birth. Arya would make friends with anybody.

Here is Sansa wishing that girls like Margaery were her sister instead of Arya because they were more beautiful and graceful (This is while she thinks Arya is dead in book two)

Sansa had once dreamt of having a sister like Margaery; beautiful and gentle, with all the world’s graces at her command. Arya had been entirely unsatisfactory as sisters went. (Sansa, ACoK) 

Here is Sansa throwing Arya under the bus because she considers Arya to be bad:

'I'm not like Arya... She has the traitor's blood, not me. I'm good, ask Septa Mordane, she'll tell you'

In many ways, Sansa’s POV regarding Sansa is even worse than Arya’s. It’s even more cruel. So how does reading all this from Sansa’s POV make one feel sorry for and sympathize with Sansa instead of Arya? That’s why the defense squad for Sansa’s actions in book one is so weird. It’s basically cheering for the popular mean girl in high school who bullies other kids for being ugly and for not excelling in the things the popular girl is good at.

Here is Brienne’s POV showing us how Catelyn compares Arya unfavorably to Sansa:

The girl was too young and too plain to be Sansa Stark, but she was of the right age to be the younger sister, and even Lady Catelyn had said that Arya lacked her sister’s beauty.  - Brienne, AFfC 

Which basically shows us why Arya thinks this:

“…my hair’s messy and my nails are dirty and my feet are all hard.” Robb wouldn’t care about that, probably, but her mother would. Lady Catelyn always wanted her to be like Sansa, to sing and dance and sew and mind her courtesies. Just thinking of it made Arya try to comb her hair with her fingers, but it was all tangles and mats, and all she did was tear some out.“  - Arya, ASoS

So this idea, that if we had gotten Jeyne’s, Septa Mordane’s, Sansa’s or  Myrcella’s POV instead of Arya I at the start of AGoT, we would have sympathized more with the ladies of Westeros and realized that it was only Arya’s viewpoint that was warped, makes no sense.

Arya was the outcast. The outsider. We are meant to sympathize with her because the author sympathizes with her and not with Sansa.

It’s not some narrative trick that GRRM is employing where once we switch to another POV, we find out that Arya is wrong and it was Sansa all along who was the misunderstood girl feeling like an outcast because of patriarchal ideals about femininity and the role of women in Westeros society.

The reader is only reading and feeling what the author wants them to read and feel.  So maybe give readers some credit for identifying and comprehending what the writer is trying to say in his books instead of coming up with excuses like ‘sexism’ and ‘misogyny’ and Arya’s ‘warped view of the world’ to justify Sansa’s behavior towards her younger sibling and negate any criticism about the character. 

[lordseochangbin]

daydream

Yang Jeongin x Reader

A/N: I don’t think I interpreted the dilemma behind this story properly but yeet! Jeongin best boy. I-I’m kinda crying over this Jeongin fluff is superior omg. 

2k word count. Fluff (and a tad! of angst)

----

He was watching.

Every time you talked to him, held his hand, walked with him to class, Jeongin was watching. 

“Seungmin, did you finish your homework?” You asked, looking out into the field for somewhere to sit during lunch.

“I never get homework,” Seungmin simply replied.

“Lucky..”

Jeongin couldn’t help but to wonder how you faced high school alone, and he tried to approach you so many times but he found himself chickening out. 

“Grow a pair, bro” Hyunjin said, nudging Jeongin with his elbow. These boys were the most popular of the soccer team, and with the big match tonight they all sat at the lucky table with cheerleaders that Jeongin found no interest in. He only had eyes on you this entire time. 

“Yeah dude, just go talk to her” Chan agreed. Jeongin turned around in his seat to see you sitting down on the field, throwing some chips at the ground. 

“Is she just throwing chips everywhere?” Minho asked, watching Jeongin’s gaze as he watched you.

“I don’t know… I think it’s kinda cute..” Jeongin whispered to himself.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s cute that she litters” Minho snickered. Hyunjin simply pouted, gaining Jeongin’s attention. 

“I’d litter if it meant Jeongin calling me cute..”

“It’s only cute when she does it. She’s cute when she does anything.” Jeongin said, turning around to face the guys and stuffing his mouth with his salad.

“Whipped.” 

----

“Seungmin! Stop pestering me” You giggled, throwing some of your chips at him.

“Noooo” He replied with a smile, “You’re littering ma’am!”

“Littering?” You whispered to yourself, picking up the chips and letting out an exhausted sigh. “Right…”

“Is this seat taken?” Jeongin asked with a smile. Oh god.. is he talking to me? You thought. Where did Seungmin go? 

“Actually yeah.. it is.” 

You watched as his lips formed a pout, his downcast eyes low before he could look around in question. “Really? Where?” 

You looked around for Seungmin before giving in. “Fine.. you can sit.”

“Great!” You looked away from him as he sat down, a grin plastered on your face due to his enthusiasm. He was like the sun, a smile so bright it felt contagious. 

“So… are you coming to the game tonight?” You faced him again, letting down a deep gulp as you watched his features. You were starting to understand why all the girls fawned over him. He was handsome up close, and every girl would go for the soccer king.

“Um.. no. I have plans.” Jeongin let out a scoff as he put his salad aside. 

“Do you have a boyfriend?” He bluntly asked. Fuck. You nearly choked on your chips, the cheesy crust of cheetos coating your lips and fingertips as he raises his eyebrows at your reaction. 

“You don’t!” He exclaimed in excitement as you slowly regained your breath. 

“I. DO.” You pant out, taking a sip of water. 

“Damn. Well, if he wouldn't mind.. I would like to get to know you..” You smiled at his small approach. Not knowing how Seungmin would react to your new friend, you decided to take the chance. Pulling out the chocolate milk bag you had for Seungmin, you poked a straw on the side and held it out to him. 

“Want a sip?” The next second, Jeongin snatches it out of your hands, downing the whole thing as he looks straight in front of him.

“Hey!” You spurted out, reaching for the milk before realizing it was finished. 

Jeongin lifted his chin a little, a smug look on his face as he smiled at you with his fox-like eyes.. “Hey to you too”

----

The kids are dashing out of the classroom door at the sound of the bell. Everyone’s eager to get home as quick as possible and prepare themselves for the game. You, on the other hand, were waiting to meet Seungmin out in the front so you can tell him about your new buddy. 

Jeongin walked you to your locker, your next class (that you had no idea you had with him), and to your last period. His kindness made butterflies form in your stomach that you didn’t even know could form. The attention you were suddenly receiving and cold looks from other girls as you walked down the hall with him were somewhat pleasing. It was nice to be known. 

You didn’t let it get too into your head though, walking to your usual meeting spot to find Seungmin waiting there. 

“Seungmin!” You run over to the steps.

“Hey, how was class?” Seungmin was something else. He was just your type. Hair always parted perfect, teeth perfectly aligned, if you didn’t know him you would’ve assumed he was a prince. He was perfect, his existence- almost unbelievable. 

“It was good.. actually I made a new friend-”

“Hey, y/n!”

You turned around at the sudden call, surprised to see Jeongin before you.“Hey, Jeongin.. what’s up?”

Jeongin joined you on the stairs, his eyes blinking like a child as he asked, “I just wanted to ask again- are you sure you can’t make it to the game?”

You looked at Seungmin, who simply stared back at you before looking back at Jeongin. “I told you.. I have plans?”

“With your boyfriend? Who is it? Does he go here?” Jeongin asked, voice sounding exhausted as he took the defeat of an unfavorable answer.

“Yeah Jeongin, he goes here. He’s right here. His name is Kim Seungmin.”

Jeongin looked at you puzzled. “There’s no one here named Kim Seungmin..”

Pfft. Jeongin acts as if he knows the whole school. “Yeah, he’s right her-”

You turned around to see Seungmin gone. As if he wasn’t there seconds ago. 

“Where?!” 

“Jeongin, I swear he was right here..”

“No, you know what y/n? I’ve spent all these years mustering up the courage to talk to you, and honestly ever since I noticed you talking to yourself I was a bit concerned.”

“Talking to myself? I swear, Kim Seungmin goes to our school! Stop acting like you know everyone!” You exclaimed, brushing your bangs out of your face. 

“How about you just snap out of it and try to make some real friends?!” Jeongin blurted out. 

Your lips laid apart. You simply couldn’t think of any remarks. An annoyed huff left you as you faced back at Jeongin, “You know.. I thought you were super sweet coming to me and all, but that’s probably just an act, right? I thought you were super duper cute and I wasn’t sure how to talk to you, but you’re something else..” you left it at that, running down the stairs and off campus before any tears could shed. 

“Wait, y/n!” Jeongin called out, foot out to run after you before Chan could grab him by his backpack. 

“Not too soon captain, we have a game to play”

“B-but I have to run after y/n!”

“She’s not going to the game tonight?” Minho asked, grabbing Jeongin’s backpack off him and tossing it to Hyunjin to carry without permission. 

“No..” Jeongin pouted, the boys immediately going to him. 

Chan let out an exhausted sigh before giving into Jeongin’s cute sad-boy act. “You think you can get her before the game?”

“Yes! Yes I can!!” Jeongin replied eagerly. Chan nodded at the boy before patting his shoulder, “Then go get her”

“Thank you!!” Jeongin smiled at the guys, waving at them before Hyunjin could call out. 

“Remember to be here before the game!”

----

Jeongin gives your house a try, his bike leaning on the porch as your mom opened your front door. “Hey, I was just wondering if Y/N was inside?”

“No.. she said she was going out. Sorry about that.”

Jeongin is met with a closed door before he could look down at his map. It was a small map he had on his phone with places he’d seen you at before. 

He almost hated that he carried such a thing with him, making him feel almost obsessive but it was something that he slowly made by himself every time he spotted you somewhere.

“Maybe the gas station..” he says, pointing at the spot on his map before taking off. 

He remembers all the nights he found you here eating alone, stuffing microwaved noodles in a hurry and laughing at your vulgar behavior towards your food. He found it adorable. 

When he couldn’t find you there, he checked the library, the coffee shop, and the basketball courts before giving up. A notification on his phone startles him as he’s reminded of the time. 

Hyunjin: Jeongin, where are you?! We’re getting ready for practice.

He stuffs his phone in his pocket before getting back on his bike, wind blowing through the locks of his hair as he looks around your neighborhood in hopes to see you. 

The sights of the streets remind him of that one time in Minho’s car. 

“Hey, Jeongin.” Hyunjin says, poking Jeongin’s arm as he stares outside. 

“Jeongin? Jeongin, what are you looking at?” You look away as the car starts to move but he couldn’t pinpoint exactly where Jeongin saw you that time. 

A few pedals of his bike and he’s reminded of you near the park, smiling and laughing at what seemed to be nothing. 

“The park!” He gasps to himself, pedaling down the street to the park near your neighborhood as the sunset fades above him. 

Small steps are placed unnoticed as Jeongin tries to approach your crying figure. One crunch of a leaf and you quickly turn, Jeongin wide-eye staring at you. “Jeongin?” you ask, using your hand to wipe away some tears. 

“Noooo” Jeongin walks to you, replacing his hands with yours as he dries your face. “I’m really sorry, Y/n. I shouldn't have said all that stuff to you”

“No, Jeongin. It’s okay… honestly after what you told me that I really started thinking. I can’t keep daydreaming about a perfect guy-friend...”

“Y/n.. it’s okay to daydream! I remember I used to always kick the soccer ball thinking I was in FIFA or something, but don’t let it get in the way of what could be, you know what I mean?”

“Y-yeah..” you stutter, looking down at the ground before your eyes could meet Jeongin’s watch. “Jeongin, isn’t the soccer match soon?!”

Jeongin smiled to himself, looking at the soccer bag tied around the handlebars of his bike. “You came for me…” you whispered to yourself, taking Jeongin’s hand in yours.

“W-what’s this?” Jeongin asked, shocked at your sudden gesture.

You sat up in your seat, adjusting the tie from your school uniform before clearing your throat. “Yang Jeongin, would YOU like to go to the soccer match? I think the SKZ team is guaranteed to win.”

Jeongin let out a cheeky grin before standing up, “I’ll give you a ride.”

You jump onto the passenger seat on Jeongin’s bike, riding with him to the soccer match and you two laugh as you both fail to pedal in a coordinated form. 

----

The crowd is screaming and applauding in joy as Jeongin makes the winning goal, his whole team giving him a group hug before Chan could carry him over his shoulders as Minho hands him the trophy. 

Saying their final cheer, the crowd roars as their team shakes hands with the opposing and you stand up to applaud as well. 

“Y/n!! I did it!” Jeongin says, running to you and pulling you into a hug. You’re so happy at this point that you don’t even know how to react. The second he pulls you into a hug, you pressing a kiss on his cheek. 

“Oh-” Jeongin gasps as he pulls you away, his hands still on your shoulders. 

“Oh.” You respond back, wondering where the hell that kiss came from. Jeongin smiles at you with his cheeky dimples before pressing a kiss on your lips. 

“Oh.” He mocks before you two could spurt out in laughter. 

“JUST MAKE OUT ALREADY!” Chan sarcastically exclaims behind you two. Hyunjin and Minho, along with Jisung join Jeongin as you form a small circle together. 

“Our little Innie is growing up” Hyunjin says, his eyes watering as he ruffles Jeongin’s hair. 

“Stop it! I’m not babie!” Jeongin replies before all of you guys start laughing. 

“How about some celebratory dinner?” Jisung asks before you could all agree, your fingers intertwining with Jeongin’s as you guys walk side by side off the field. 

You're chuckling at reenactments that Hyunjin and Jisung make from highlights of the game. Guys from the soccer team, especially Jeongin, were friends you never thought you’d have, but somehow got. 

And don’t worry Y/n, as hard as it is to believe, these guys are real. No need to daydream about it.

[robbyrobinson]

CTHULHU MYTHOS X THE OWL HOUSE CROSSOVER: The Gods Awaken: Pt. III

It was shortly after Boscha’s expulsion from Hexside that things relatively returned to normal if there was ever such a thing considering it was the Boiling Isles. Luz and her friends were in the library in Amity’s personal section.  

“Are you totally sure that you are fine, Willow?” Luz asked.  

“Of course. Just still kind of jolted from how mad Boscha was; it’s like she was being serious with her threat.”

Amity tapped her fingers in thought unsure of what to say next. While Willow did insist that she was doing fine, she could detect a small trace of fear from the tone of her voice. If push came to shove, she would have to track Boscha down to confront her about her behavior.

“Something still doesn’t rub me the right way,” Gus announced.  

“Yes, Gus?” Luz said.  

“What was that with that whole my Amity thing?”  

They scratched their heads and turned their attention to Amity. Amity was still weighing her options, but she could sense that she was being watched. She slowly looked up from her seat. She had a frown plastered on her face.  

“Oh, that,” she said, “I didn’t hear her say that.”  

The group unanimously rolled their eyes clearly not buying what she insisted. Amity sighed heavily in defeat. “Well, remember how my parents told me to end my friendship with Willow?”  

Willow and Luz frowned from the displeasure of the thought. Amity noticed this and tilted her head. It was apparent that this would be an unfavorable discussion and she secretly wished that they would talk her out of further elaborating. When she saw that they did not back down, she continued.  

“Boscha was to be one of my friends as recommended by my parents. Boscha...was the absolute worst.”  

“But Boscha is mean,” Amity whined to her parents. It was a recurrent complaint that they had heard. She had said the same thing over and over until they eventually mentally memorized it.

“Remember Amity,” Odalia said, her voice stern, “if you do not comply, we will have it arranged that your friend’s chances at attending Hexside are slim to none.”  

Amity gritted her teeth. She hated how she had no power over her parents and always succumbed to carrying out their will as twisted as it was. She was escorted out of her home and rode with her parents.

Boscha’s house was deep within the town of Bonesborough where the mountains surrounding it were made from large bone structures. Amity did sometimes travel into the square of the town, and was never intimidated by the sights of the medieval architectures. But now, she felt her throat close up.  

Much like the other residents of the town, Boscha’s house was situated alongside the two, gargantuan arms decorating the already macabre town. It was towards the bottom base of the arms. Amity and her parents stepped out and stood in front of the house. Boscha’s house was made of a combination of wood and stone. The most striking figure of the house, however, was its architecture. Multitudes of eyes of varying sizes were scattered throughout every orifice. Amity looked up at her parents again, but they were indifferent with the design of the house.  

“Well, here we are,” Odalia announced.  

Amity took a few more passing glances at the house. She looked at her parents with begging eyes hoping that it would elicit whatever emotion that was buried down within them. Before she could say anything else, her father was already at the door. On the door’s frame was a small, wrinkled hand holding the hinge within its grasp. He lifted it and struck it against the plate.  

Klunk. Klunk. Klunk.  

A monotonous tone rung out and echoed through the walls of the house. The Blight parents stood there propped against the door with Amity a short distance from them. After waiting a minute, they heard a rustling in the house.  

“Titan give me strength,” droned a voice.

The door swung open nearly knocking Amity’s father out. They were met by a three-eyed woman with bags under her eyes. Her hair was in a disarray and disheveled. She grumbled to herself, some of her words clearly being inappropriate to the young Amity’s ears, but were roughly inaudible. In her hand, she held a mug of apple blood which she took a deep swig of.  

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance again,” Odalia smiled. She held out her hand to the mother of the three-eyed girl. The mother rubbed her bottom eyes and shook Odalia’s hand.  

“I take it that you brought your daughter here for the arranged playdate?”  

Odalia nodded. “Yes; I am hoping that your daughter takes my sweet Amity under her wing and teach her the ropes.”  

“Oh, right, right. I can assure you that she can do so.”  

“Where is she anyway?” Amity’s father asked.  

“In her room like a good girl; feel free to escort Amity.”  

He did as he was told holding onto Amity’s hand and made his way to the stairs. Amity, ever so defiant, pressed her feet down as hard as they could go. She wiggled her wrist in rapid succession hoping that would be the final nail in her father’s coffin. But he was undeterred and waited for his daughter to tire herself out. Amity’s strength weakened, and with no other option lest she furthered her father’s wrath, Amity gave in and accompanied her father up the stairs.  

They neared the last step towards the three-eyed girl’s room and stopped there. Thoughts of breaking away at the last minute while her father was distracted filled her mind but she knew it would be foolish to test her father like that.  

“Father, please don’t make me do this.”  

He sighed. “Believe me, dear, I would rather you continue to play with that other girl, but I have too much on my plate to deal with.”  

This perked his daughter’s ears. “But, but why?”  

“I have nothing but disgust for the way that her father is so...unapproachable, but he is a business partner all the same.” He rubbed his eyes before speaking again. “Besides, your mother would probably incinerate me if I said no to her.”  

Amity frowned in disgust at how spineless her father was when it came with pleasing his wife, but she saw that she was thoroughly defeated. Amity nodded in an understanding fashion and knocked on the door. She waited for a few seconds before knocking again.  

“GAH!! Mom, I told you to buzz off!” a shrill voice yelled.  

Amity backed away from the door. The door opened revealing what seemed at first to be a miniature sized replica of the three-eyed woman who opened the door for them. She wore a black shirt and pants that had the illusion of sloppily being put on presumably at the last minute. Messy wads of black polish were on her fingers. She was likely improperly trying to paint her nails as well but was less than adequate with it.  

“Oh, you’re that Blight kid my mom had been talking about.”

Amity nodded awkwardly to confirm her suspicions. Her room was a total mess: clothes in large mounds on the floor making it less walkable; food was littered and potentially became sentient, thinking beings. From what little she could make out; Amity could see a purple scroll on Boscha’s bed. She stared at it a bit before speaking again.  

“So...you use Penstragram?”  

Boscha scoffed. “Yeah, and what of it?”  

“Well, I was contemplating on getting one myself.”  

Boscha crossed her arms. “And why are you telling me this?”  

Amity shrugged. “I...I guess because you could teach me how to use it? Maybe?”  

Boscha sighed whilst relaxing her arms. “Oh, Titan, you are pathetic, aren’t you?”  

Amity looked down dejected. Boscha had all three of her eyes closed, but she opened the one that was close to her forehead. “I guess I can teach you.”  

Amity nodded again. She wasn’t really looking for any assistance, nor was she seriously contemplating on getting a Penstagram account, but at the least she did get the boulder moving. Boscha knelt down and pulled something from underneath it.  

“Boscha, what is tha-”  

She nearly fell on her words when she saw Boscha slip a small plush toy. It had spikes wedged deeply into it, some were sticking from the sides. Amity was unable to make out what the toy was supposed to be because from the looks of it, Boscha had stabbed it into an unrecognizable mess. Boscha looked at her in curiosity.

“What? I do this to relieve stress.”  

Amity gulped loudly. A nervous smile spread across her face.

[pwophet]

ji soo’s relationship with gender is, in a sense, convoluted. it’s hard to put into words as it’s not comparable to that of a “universal” viewpoint or something that the majority (namely those who identify as “cis” or anything similar.) has familiarized themselves with. for ji soo themselves, they sustain a somewhat odd relationship with gender, its concept, how society views it, and the aspects surrounding and relating to dysphoria.

they, for all intents and purposes, do not... experience gender dysphoria how many would come to “expect”. they have no known triggers that could, potentially, exasperate the potential of dysphoria, and they personally have little trouble with the idea itself. what remains as brief exceptions to the rule are, thus far, being referred to any other pronouns besides “they/them” which, admittedly, still would not incite a perceived emotional outburst-- as what would be stated by those ignorant and anything similar. being referred to with “he/him” or “she/her”, for example, will hardly garner a reaction.

by this, it’s easy to think that they will simply ignore it. and this would be correct, to an extent, in that they will take the intent to ignore seriously. calling out to them with purely gendered pronouns will garner no such reaction (be it positive or negative, potentially.) and will, instead, entice a lackluster response. they will not comprehend that they were being spoken to (their pronouns are, in a sense, one of the few things they have kept from their previous life. they hold these very near and dear to their heart, lashing out immediately if these, too, would be taken away from them.) and, quite pointedly, ignore. those that are incapable of referring to them with, to put it bluntly, the most decent of common decency will be responded to in kind.

of course, they understand if slip ups and the like happen. they have no issue whatsoever in responding to whatever pronouns, but intent remains a key factor and so, by extension, do their speed in terms of reacting. to those that continuously disrespect them, they have no issue whatsoever in ensuring that the feeling be mutual.

this relates to their understanding (or what they would call it, anyway.) of gender as a whole. they believe it to be a spectrum (which, honestly, it is in some regards.) and, as such, have come to the conclusion that they simply do not vibe with it. what “gender” is the general population is not something they, personally, believe in. gender to them is a concept that will remain as both misunderstood and mysterious-- borderline cryptic in nature, and they strongly prefer to keep it that way. additionally, they don’t generally expect anyone else to adhere to this same core belief as theirs but, rather, a basic understanding of it. friends don’t need to agree with one another all the time, after all!

occasionally, this does put them into an odd situation regarding that of how they perceive themselves and how others perceive them. seeing as “dysphoria” isn’t, technically, a part of their experience... it’s difficult to say what is dysphoric for them and what isn’t. they have a high (if you’d be so kind as to view “high” as a percentage of exactly one-hundred.) probability of lashing out (of a highly violent nature, starting at the lowest of them raising their voice to “politely” correct the offending party and eventually reaching the high of them clawing at said person, fully intending at ripping into skin and tearing it into ribbons.) at those that are capable of figuring out what gets under their skin, so to say.

they gravely disapprove of those that try to “take away” their right to their pronouns-- “correcting” them (stating that they can’t have them as pronouns, trying to exploit “science” and “logic”, or simply stating that there are only “two genders”. there are more, of course, but those are first to come to mind.) or refusing them the lowest denominator of respect, in its purest form. to them, their pronouns are very... personal, a part of themselves that they’ve yet to forget and will fight tooth and nail in order to ensure their continuous possession of them. this also relates, quite strongly and intensely, to those in similar standings with their own identities.

misgendering their god (kyo, their one and only holy. their miraculous being and the one entity that’s always graced them in their time of need-- their god, their favorite, their love, and their faith.) in particular will always yield unfavorable results. due to investing so much of their time, their dedication, their trust, and their love into their god, ji soo is particularly wary of those that willfully misgender their god. initial misconduct they will aggressively correct (as they do to those in similar predicaments, facing the potential of never receiving the most basic of respect and the like.) those and will only grow more and more irritable as time progresses, even if the opposite party works in order to prevent such a mistake from happening again. regardless of how it has progressed, ji soo will eventually feel an indescribable need to separate from the individual. be it via killing or, less messily, “chasing them” away, they’re happy with either result.

they react to instances of dysphoria with provocative actions, more or less lashing out at those around them rather than attempting to “cope” with methods of self-harming. they do engage in such actions, however-- pulling at their hair, scratching at their cheeks and thighs, and chewing so hard at their lips that the skin looks akin to that of a freshly peeled orange. what’s more common, however, is their behavior when engaging in social interaction. they’re noticeably more irritable; they tap their foot impatiently, as if to silently ask the question “when are you going to leave?” as an example. they will continue to be overtly physical but will suddenly engage in more forceful, somewhat surly behavior. their hugs become firm and tense, fully knocking the wind out of you. their “love taps” become full-on pushes and shoves, intended at making someone lose their balance with ji soo more than capable of catching them but, instead, looking on with a wry smile. in a sense, they do these things with intentions of starting a fight-- they accept the consequences fully while putting on airs of an innocent, oblivious, and otherwise naïve persona.

ji soo’s defensive nature towards generalized misgendering is both born from genuine empathy and a selfishness. they assume that those that have experience in similar topics must “relate” to them, too, meaning that their feelings are one of the same. however, they also feel for these people, too. they feel a kinship with those in the same predicament (or something similar, for lack of better word.) as them and, as such, feel naturally inclined to protect and forcefully encourage others to respect them.

as such, their dysphoria does not sporadically flair up. it’s always enticed by an outsider force, someone (or something.) they are yet unable to control and, thus, encourage them to ensure a painless and “respectful” experience as soon as possible.

[schweeeppess]

Hello! I was wondering if you have any tips on writing for the Batboys? I'm planning on writing fics for them but I don't completely have their personalities down/don't know exactly how to write them.

Alrighty, let's give some tips :D

Disclaimer: I am in no way an expert on these characters. This is my grasp on the characters and their behaviors, and I know more about certain characters than I do others. If I say something you don't like, die mad. If you think I'm wrong on something, I respectuflly and honestly say good for you but keep your opinion to yourself, please. Thanks.

Dick Grayson

Keep in mind for him the fact that he has anger management issues. It takes quite a bit to get him to snap, but when he does snap, it's a terrible day for all parties involved.

Dick isn't as happy-go-lucky as fandom likes to paint him. He is serious, he is grim, and he is realistic whenever the need for it arises. He's an optimist, yes, but he's beyond smart enough to discern a very serious situation and just how to go about dealing with it.

He is a detective. People tend to forget that, for some reason. He's just as capable as Bruce or Jason are at solving complex problems. He's not the best detective there is, no, but he's still definitely above average with observation skills and such.

He tries to be there for people, but he can get overwhelmed sometimes with all his commitments and might forget some things

Which brings up this point: He overworks himself and tends to agree to do more things than he can easily manage. Dick has an issue with that; overworking himself.

Dick is also a very emotional person. He thinks with his heart most of the time. The phrase "heart on his sleeve" was probably made specifically for him. Dick is open about certain emotions, but make no mistake about the fact that he can close off probably better than Tim whenever he wants to. He feels with everything in him.

He's smart, he's funny, he's genuine, he's protective, he's compassionate, he's dependable, and he's above all loyal and kind.

Dick trusts you until you give him a reason not to, to borrow a phrase.

I think a good song to capture his character would be "Human" by Rag'n'Bone Man.

Jason Todd

Ohhh boy. Here we go.

Say it with me: Jason. Does. Not. Enjoy. Killing.

Seriously, I don't really know where people get the idea that he does from? Jason kills, yes. But why does he do it? For the better. He kills out of mercy and justice for victims (yes that includes the Talon he killed; Talons are victims to the Court of Owls, and nothing more), not because he enjoys it. I am not justifying anything, I'm just explaining.

Jason is also a very emotional person, but he's more of a heart on his cheek kinda guy. He tries to trample them down, but they get the better of him sometimes. Take everything he did in Under the Red Hood as an example. He did what he did because he was hurt and in pain and he needed Bruce to feel the same way.

Jason is hesitant to trust people, very careful to make sure he can't let people close enough to hurt him the way he's been hurt so many times before.

Look, Jason's not a fundementally bad person. He's just been betrayed too many times for someone his age. His mom was a drug addict, and she died. His dad was an abusive father. Bruce was the first real parent Jason ever had, and Bruce replaced him when he died.

My point is, everyone Jason as ever trusted has either turned their backs on him or died. He has attatchment issues, trust issues, parental issues, and so many more I can't even list them all.

He's really fucking smart. (Keep in mind that he was top of all his classes in school.)

Jason is kind, compassionate, empathetic, and loyal. He can be aggressive, brash, and can make fucking stupidass decisions sometimes, but he's still good at heart. He does things with the best intentions (well, now, anyways. Pit Madness made him do some unfavorable things).

Everyone says Jason isn't patient or a planner, but excuse me this is the same Jason as the one who very carefully planned Bruce's death via bomb under the Batmobile, right? Or are you talking about a different Jason. He's careful and thinks things through, planning meticulously at certain points.

Hands down a good Jason song is "I'll Be Good" by Jaymes Young.

Tim Drake

HE'S NOT ADDICTED TO CAFFEINE!!! That's a fandom thing that I'm kinda getting sick of seeing everywhere!!!

Tim Drake, self-esteem issues, self-worth issues, and attatchment issues galore. He tends to think himself expendable and unimportant sometimes. He just generally thinks less of himself a percentage of the time.

He's fucking genius. Plans at least three steps ahead of everyone and anyone now, but... He's jaded at times. Very jaded.

Tim tries not to feel at all, sometimes. He closes himself off and distances himself from everyone ever since Kon, Bart, and Stephanie died. Of course, Kon and Bart came back, and Stephanie wasn't ever really dead, but that hardly means anything.

Tim is quiet and introverted, keeps to himself a lot, but that doesn't mean he's timid.

He's smart and he knows it, but he doesn't let that get to his head. He's cool but funny, he's wise but geeky, he's jaded but soft...

Tim is loose. He's still a teenager, albeit a teen who's gone through and seen a lot. He likes having fun.

He's not all shy and unnecessary apologies, he's not so jaded that he speaks down to everyone in clipped tones, he's not gonna go cry in a corner whenever his feelings get hurt, he's not going to have a fit when things go wrong.

Tim is complicated. He's a teenager.

He's serious but relaxed, strict but loose, calculating but calm, realistic but kind.

He's funny, smart, cunning, intellectual, realistic, caring, considerate, compassionate, empathetic, thoughtful...

Yeah uh let me just say there are so many layers to all of these characters it's so amazing and I really delight in them.

Damian Wayne

Damian isn't a stick-up-the-ass jerk, alright?

He's just a kid. A kid who's seen, experienced, and witnessed far too much for someone his age.

Keep that in mind.

He doesn't know what to do or how to behave. He went from the League, which was familiar and what he understood, to Gotham, somewhere unfamiliar and unknown. He had everything he knew stripped away and replaced with things he'd never even heard of, much less experienced.

He tries to hide it all behind a mask of bravado and superiority, but in reality he's lost and confused. He's struggling to adjust but is trying.

He's confused, uncertain, careful, and tentative, but he's also loyal, compassionate, funny, caring (in his own way), thoughtful, and actually charming (again in his own way).

He's struggling to adjust, but he's getting there.