#other idols and their crime sentencing

[weak-hero]

bc of one(1) random interview - i learned that:

 a) Park Ji hoon was in Produce 101 / WANNAONE

 b) he’s older than Choi Hyun Wook

and now im back into kpop era lmaooooo

[beesarekindaswag]

Jazz says fuck the Joker

“To conclude, your honour, the defendant shows clear understanding of their crimes and the consequences of them as well as, no remorse coupled with a severe lack of empathy. Overall, I would conclude that the complex nature of the crimes committed along with behaviors displays suggest that the defendant is not psychotic and thus, capable of standing trial and facing the verdict.”

The red head delivered her analysis with devastating confidence, the glint in her eyes unwavering - a woman who knows she’s right and by god, you will know it too.

When was the last time anyone actually attempted to legally charge the Joker with his crimes? Honestly, most had forgotten it was even a possibility. The grandiose schemes and fights with the bats had elevated him beyond a mere criminal, more than a man and yet, that’s all he was - a man. A man who had been forcibly dragged back to reality by a determined Jasmine Fenton - budding psychologist and one of the newest idols for young Gothamites (the other being her brother who had been videod absolutely bodying the Joker on the street just a week prior - Joker was still nursing his wounds)

The deliberation of the court was unsurprisingly short - Miss Fenton had been clear with the facts and people were more than happy to utilize and opportunity to FINALLY punish the Joker. Joker’s lawyers couldn’t do much to stop the inevitable after all that the clown had done.

“The defendant is hereby found… guilty of all accused crimes & as such, sentenced to execution by the state.”

Gotham was free.

———

Based off of the idea that the Joker is only escaping proper legal punishment by being declared not guilty by reason of insanity. Jazz would not stand for that.

[itneverendshere]

THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18) - six

request: "a rafe enemies to lovers 🫣 the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea that’s all I got you can do whatever else the rest 😛"

WARNINGS: domestic violence; blood; injuries; angst; smut;

word count: 7.6k

You saw it on the news before Sarah told you.

Ward was officially in police custody.

They were calling it the biggest crime operation in years, plastering his face on every corner of every newspaper in the country. You saw it first on your busted-up TV, the morning news anchor's serious tone making the gravity of the situation clear before Sarah had a chance to call.

He was stopped.

The man who caused so much pain to everyone you cared about was finally behind bars.

But your relief came with a bit of caution.

This was just the beginning. There was still a trial to face, and you knew how slippery Ward could be. He had enough money to buy whoever he wanted on the island if not the entire country, and the justice system wasn’t always as just as you hoped.

Trials could take months, even years before he was sentenced.

JJ cheered in the background, almost face-planting the ground as he struggled to get off his chair and call Pope. You hadn’t seen him this ecstatic in years, the hallways of your home echoing with “let’s fucking go, baby!” as he made his way upstairs.

You were content.

Was there really anything to be happy about?

Sure, a bad guy was getting what he deserved, but the destruction he left behind was still very much there.

Months ago, when the police contacted you again, you had refused to testify. What Ward did to you was terrifying, but what he did to Sarah, John B, and Rafe? They were the true witnesses to his evil.

You barely got a taste of his wrath. You were lucky. You wanted to be there, of course. Every person Ward hurt deserved all the support they could get. But watching Rafe Cameron—the boy who had idolized his father for years, now a man—sit in a chair facing countless cameras and strangers for hours as he recounted his life under Ward's control? That was a different kind of heartache.

Rafe.

You hadn’t seen him since that day he dropped by, and it felt like he vanished into thin air. You didn’t see him around town, not at the beach, and he never stopped by your job. You started wondering if he’d been cooped up in that awful house all this time.

You couldn’t shake this feeling of worry, knowing he was stuck in the shadow of his dad’s mess. Did he feel abandoned by you?

The thought of him, alone in that house, haunted you. You knew you should’ve reached out, found him as the town buzzed with the details of Ward’s arrest. More stories came out, each more horrifying than the last.

You almost gave in.

One evening, you found yourself riding past the Cameron estate. You'd forgotten how huge it was, and with the light fading, it just looked like this dark outline in the distance You almost went in, stopping by the gigantic gate, but then you saw movement inside and sped away on your bike.

You couldn’t do it. 

Whatever was between you both just felt… impossible to cross.

The sound of the waves crashing—it’s always been your escape.

You've spent so much time in the water, it felt like second nature to you. Growing up, swimming and surfing were your ways to get away from your dad’s violence and your mom being, well, absent. The ocean became your sanctuary, where you could forget about the yelling, broken furniture, and bottles littering your house. Floating out there, everything bad just… melted away.

But as soon as you stepped back on the sand and headed home, all that peace would disappear. Both your parents were long gone now, but that dread? It never left. It was like the house still held onto those old memories—the shouting, the fights. Even though it was quiet now, the walls were stained with the past. The creaky floorboards, the dim light, chipped paint—You hated it all.

You've thought about leaving so many times, but something always held you back. JJ, mostly. And, well, money.

Tonight, as you got closer, something felt off. JJ’s truck wasn’t in its usual spot, which wasn’t unheard of, but it felt wrong. The windows were shut too, which You never did—You always keep them open to let in the ocean breeze.

You called out for JJ, expecting his usual shout back, but there was just… silence. You brushed it off. Maybe he was out on the boat or glued to his video games.

You dropped your bag by the door and walked inside, calling his name again. That’s when you saw him.

Luke.

He looked even worse than before—disheveled, eyes bloodshot, reeking of alcohol. He’d been gone for a year. No calls, no messages. JJ and you paid him off, made sure he left the island, but here he was, standing in your living room like he belonged.

“You shouldn’t be here,” You managed, trying to sound stronger than you felt.

He laughed, this dark, hollow sound that made your skin crawl. “Just came to see my kids. That so wrong?”

Liar. You knew what he really wanted. “You need to leave. Now.”

His face twisted, the smirk gone. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“Watch me. Get out.”

He took a step back, hands up like he was surrendering. “I just need a little loan.”

You gripped the doorframe tighter. “No. You need to go. For good.”

He took a step back, raising his hands in mock surrender, “I just need a little loan.”

You tightened your grip on the edge of the doorframe, “No. You need to go, for good.”

For a second, you thought he’d listen, but then he took a step forward, and you could smell the alcohol on his breath.

“I’m not leaving without what I came for.”

“I don’t care,” You snapped, “Get your ass out of my house before I call the cops.”

“This is my house!” He all but screamed, the veins in his neck visible.

“Not anymore,” Your heart pounded in your chest, and every fiber of your being screamed for JJ, wishing he was here, “I’m not afraid of you,” you said, more to convince yourself than him.

He took another step forward, his face twisted in anger. “You always were a stubborn little brat.”

“And you’re a piece of shit.”

He lunged.

You barely dodged him, stumbling back into the living room. “Stay away from me!” You shouted, frantically searching for something, anything to defend myself.

Luke laughed again, that same twisted, hollow sound, and came at you. This time, he grabbed your arm, his grip painfully tight. You raised your other arm to block him, instincts kicking in.

“Stay away from me!” you shouted, frantically searching for something, anything to defend yourself.

“You little bitch,” he snarled, shoving you against the wall. The impact knocked the breath out of you, but you stayed focused.

You couldn’t let him win. Not again.

“You’re gonna give me what I want,” he hissed, his breath hot and disgusting.

“No, I’m not,” you spat back, summoning every ounce of courage you had.

With your free hand, you the grabbed the nearest thing—Mom’s old lamp—and swung it at him. The base cracked against his head, and he stumbled back, cursing.

“Bitch!” he roared, blood running down his face. It only made him angrier. He rushed you, knocking the lamp out of your hand, pinning you to the floor.

You were panicking, resorting to kicking and thrashing, doing anything to try to throw him off. “Get off me!” you screamed, clawing at his face.

His hand came down hard across your cheek, blurring your vision. “You really think you can fight me?”

He wrapped his hands around your throat, squeezing. Gasping for air, you remembred that you’d been here too many times. Your hand groped blindly on the floor, finding a heavy candlestick.

With the last of your strength, you swung it with everything you had, hitting him square in the head.

His grip loosened, and you scrambled to your feet, panting as he slumped to the side, groaning in pain.He groaned, trying to get up, but you hit him again. Harder this time. He collapsed, blood pooling around him. You stood over him, breathing heavy, barely processing what you'd just done.

But then, he stirred. He reached for your ankle.

You stumbled back, “Stay down goddamit!” you shouted, raising the candlestick again.

Luke pushed himself up, eyes wild with rage. “You’re gonna pay for that,” he spat, lunging at you again.

This time, you were ready.

As he reached for you, you twisted to the side, driving your knee into his stomach. He grunted, doubling over, and you brought your elbow down on his nose. It cracked. He roared, grabbing blindly at you.

You ducked and shoved a chair between you both, but he kicked it aside. It bought you just enough time to reach the kitchen. You grabbed the first thing yousaw—a cast-iron skillet.

He staggered into the kitchen after you, blood and sweat on his face.

“You just had to put up a fight, huh? Just like her.”

“Stay back,” you warned, gripping the skillet like your life depended on it. “I’ll fucking do it.”

Luke laughed, this sick, deranged sound that made your stomach churn. Then he lunged. Without thinking, you swung the skillet as hard as you could, the impact vibrating through your whole arm as it connected with his shoulder. He staggered, but you didn’t stop. You swung again, this time aiming for his head. The sound of the skillet hitting his temple echoed through the room. He collapsed, finally still.

Oh fuck.

For a moment, the house was deathly silent.

You dropped the skillet, your hands trembling.

Kneeling down, you checked for a pulse. It was faint, but there. Relief and horror flooded through you simultaneously. You almost killed him. There was blood everywhere—on the carpet, on the candlestick, on your hands.

You stumbled back, your mind spinning out of control. What if he dies? What if you actually killed him? This wasn’t supposed to happen. You just wanted him gone. Out of your life. Forever.

Your hands were trembling as you fumbled for your phone. You couldn’t think straight, your heart racing as you scrolled through your contacts. The names blurred through your tears. You needed help, but you couldn’t call JJ—he wasn’t here. And you couldn’t call the cops. Not yet. You weren’t ready for all of this.

Without fully realizing it, your finger landed on a contact you hadn’t called ever before. Your hands moved on autopilot, and the phone was already ringing. You kept your eyes on Luke, praying he wouldn’t move. The phone rang for what felt like an eternity.The phone rang, and you kept an eye on Luke, praying he wouldn’t move. It rang for only ten seconds, but it felt like an eternity.

“Maybank?”

“Rafe?” Your voice broke, the word barely making it out before a sob tore through your chest.

There was a brief pause, and then his voice came through, “Hey, hey. What's wrong? Are you okay?”

But you couldn't speak. Hearing his voice after all this time, after everything that had happened, it was too much. The fear, the relief, the chaos, all of it came crashing down, and your breath hitched.

You couldn’t think.

“Hey! Are you there? Talk to me!” Rafe's voice grew more urgent.

You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat, a sob escaping instead. Your knees gave out, and you sank to the floor, the phone slipping slightly in your grasp. You could barely breathe.

“Where are you?!”

You focused on his words, trying to match your breath to his timbre.

In. Out. In. Out. It helped, if only a little. The shaking in your hands lessened, but the fear never disappeared.

“I think... I think I killed my dad.”

You looked at the bloodstained carpet, the unconscious body of your father still lying there. The words felt foreign on your tongue, like someone else was speaking for you.

“Are you home? Are you safe?”

“I’m home,” you whispered, “JJ’s not here. I don’t know where he is.”

“I’m coming,” Rafe said, no hesitation in his voice. “Stay there. Don’t touch anything. I’ll be there soon.”

“Rafe—” You began, but he cut you off.

“I’ll be there soon. Just hang on, okay?”

The minutes ticked by, and you found yourself staring at the door, willing Rafe to appear. This wasn’t you. You didn’t hurt people. You just wanted peace. Why did it always end like this? What were you going to do? How were you going to live with yourself if Luke died?

Why did things never work out the way you wanted them to?

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, you heard the sound of a car pulling up outside. Moments later, the door burst open, and there he was.

“Maybank?”

He called out for you as he stepped inside.

Seconds later, he was standing in front of you, scanning the room, analyzing the scene. He rushed to your side, pulling you into his arms without hesitation. 

“It’s okay. I’m here. You’re gonna be okay.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple as he guided you away from the scene, his eyes lingering briefly on your father’s motionless figure.

“What happened?” He asked softly, leading you to sit on the couch. 

“He just showed up out of nowhere. He wanted money. I told him to leave, but he wouldn’t. He got violent, and I... “

“It’s okay.”

His warmth helped. But guilt? It stayed. The blood on your hands—it all felt surreal, like a nightmare you couldn't wake up from.

“Have you called 911?”

You shook your head, lips trembling as you tried not to cry.

“Do you want me to?”

The thought of police cars and paramedics filling the house, made your stomach churn. The fear of what might happen if Luke woke up, or if he didn't, paralyzed you. It took you a second to realize he already had his phone out, pressed to his ear.

"I need an ambulance.”

He stayed on the line with the dispatcher, giving them your address and the details. Your ears were ringing, unable to make out exactly what he was saying. 

"They're on their way," he reassured softly. "It’s gonna be okay."

You nodded, but you weren’t sure you believed it.

"They'll take him to the hospital," He murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "He'll get the help he needs."

"I... I didn't mean to..." you finally managed to whisper, your voice trembling.

Rafe’s hands griped yours, despite the blood coating it, "I know.”

The minutes felt like hours as you waited for the ambulance. You just wanted it to be over.

When the paramedics finally arrived, Rafe guided them to Luke's unconscious form while you sat numbly on the couch. They immediately went to work, assessing his condition and preparing him for transport. Police officers soon followed, asking questions, and taking statements. Rafe handled most of the interaction, protecting you from the brunt of their interrogations. After what felt like an eternity, they finally moved Luke onto a stretcher and carried him out of the house. He followed them to the door, speaking briefly with one of the paramedics before they loaded Luke into the ambulance and drove away.

He kneeled in front of you, “You can’t say here, okay? They called JJ, he’s on the mainland, but he’ll take the first ferry down here tomorrow.”

You nodded, feeling drained.

"Come on," Rafe urged, helping you to your feet. "Let's get you out of here."

He guided you out of the house and into his truck, the engine already running. The drive was quiet, the only sound being the hum of the engine and the occasional sniffle from you.

Rafe reached over, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. You slumped back in the plush seat, eyes closed, trying to steady your breathing, too embarrassed to look at him.

“I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

You didn't even register where you were headed until the truck pulled to a stop. When you finally opened your eyes, you realized you were at Rafe’s place.

Tanneyhill.

It felt odd, being there, and under such circumstances. He helped you out of the truck, guiding you inside with a protective arm around your waist.

"Sit down," he said gently, leading you to the living room. "I'll get you some water."

You sank into the expensive couch, feeling the soft cushions envelop you. It was weird sitting in his home after everything that had happened.

He returned quickly with a glass of water, pressing it into your trembling hands.

"Drink," he instructed, sitting beside you.

You took a small sip, the cool water soothing your dry throat. Rafe watched you closely.

"You need to rest," he said. "I’ll be right here."

"But I—"

"You need to rest," he repeated firmly, "We can talk more in the morning.”

There was a part of you that wanted to argue, to insist that you were fine, that you didn’t need his help. You’d done this for years, alone. And yet, here he was, offering you help. Maybe it was the exhaustion, maybe you just missed him, but for once in your life, you didn’t fight him. 

You nodded, letting him take you upstairs.

"Let's get you cleaned up," he said, noticing the blood still on your skin and clothes. "You can’t go to bed like this."

At this point, you were too tired to speak, simply following his instructions as he guided to the bathroom.

"Here," he turned on the shower and adjusting the temperature. "Take your time. I'll leave some clean clothes for you right outside the door."

You slipped into the bathroom and shut the door behind you. The sound of the water running felt comforting, like a tiny slice of normalcy in the middle of this mess. Your hands shook a little as you peeled off your clothes, your shorts sticking to your skin. The sight of the dried blood on your hands and shirt almost broke you all over again. This couldn't be real.

You just stood there for a while, letting the heat work its way into your muscles. Eyes closed, you tried to block out the image of your dad lying there on the floor. Slowly, you started scrubbing your skin, trying to wash away every trace of what had just happened. The soap smelled like lavender, and for a split second, you smiled—this was Rafe’s scent. You recognized it from earlier when he hugged you. Somehow, that tiny detail grounded you, pulling you back to the present.

By the time you stepped out and wrapped yourself in a fluffy towel, you felt slightly more like yourself.

Outside the door, Rafe had left you some clothes: his sweatpants, a t-shirt, and boxers—like he said he would. They were a little too big, but warm and soft, like a hug. And, well, they were Rafe’s. That felt oddly comforting.

You opened the bathroom door to find him waiting in the hallway. He seemed relieved to see you and you hated yourself for making him worry so bad.

"Feeling better?" 

"A little," you admitted. "Thank you."

He nodded, then motioned for you to follow. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

He led you to a guest room, the bed already made with fresh sheets. It looked so inviting, you almost forgot everything that happened tonight. Almost.

“Sit here,” he said, gesturing to the edge of the bed. He disappeared for a second and came back with a first-aid kit. Kneeling in front of you, he gently took your hands in his. “Lemme see.”

Your hands were scratched up and bruised, still carrying the marks from your dad. You hesitated but then slowly extended them to Rafe.

“This might sting a little,” he said softly, wiping the cuts with antiseptic. You winced but didn’t make a sound. He noticed though, his brows furrowing in concern. “I’m sorry."

"’M used to it. It’s okay,” You nodded, biting your lip as he cleaned the wound. 

The antiseptic burned, but you focused on Rafe’s face, the way his brow furrowed in concentration, the softness in his eyes as he wrapped your hand with practiced care. 

“I didn’t want to drag you into my mess.”

Rafe paused, his hands stilling for a moment.

“You’re not a mess.”

You let out a short, dry laugh. “Right.”

His fingers continued their work, securing the bandage with gentle precision. “I mean it.”

His tone was so final, like there wasn’t even room for doubt.

“Why—Why did you pick up the phone?”

“You know why.”

His answer made your heart hurt, the kind of hurt that came from months of trying to keep your distance. But he wasn’t budging, and that did something to you. When he finished wrapping your hands, he set them gently in your lap. “All done.”

You sank into the mattress as he pulled the blankets over you and ssomething about it felt so foreign and so… nice. No one ever took care of you like this.

“C-Can you stay here?”

He paused, adjusting the pillows, clearly debating with himself. “I don’t think—”

“Please.”

Without saying anything, Rafe slipped off his shoes and climbed into bed next to you. He pulled you into his arms, and instantly, everything felt a little less terrifying. His warmth, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the faint scent of lavender—it all made you feel safe, like maybe you could finally let go.

"It's okay. I'm here. You're safe."

You buried your face in his chest, tears finally spilling over, but this time they weren’t from fear. They were from relief. From release. Rafe held you tighter, his hands gently rubbing your back in soothing circles. He didn’t say anything more. He didn’t need to. He just held you, and that was enough. The minutes passed and your breathing synced with his, your body finally relaxing for the first time in what felt like forever. The tension started to melt away, and before you knew it, your eyelids were getting heavy.

"Thank you," Your voice was muffled against his chest. "For everything."

He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Sleep.”

You snuggled closer to him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest, and for the first time in a long time, you felt at home.

When you woke up the next morning, Rafe was gone. The bed next to you was cold, but the events of last night still pushed heavy on your chest. You sat up, your heart dropping to the floor as you realized the nightmare wasn’t over. The bloodstained clothes on the floor, the hollow feeling in your chest—it was all real.

You felt an immense amount of guilt as you remembered how you had leaned on him for support after you cut him out of your life. He had enough going on with his own family, his own problems. And now you’d dragged him into yours.

You rolled out of bed, Rafe's oversized sweatpants and t-shirt practically swallowing you whole. You had no idea where he went, so you headed toward the door, ears perked for any clue. As you walked down the hallway, you heard voices coming from the kitchen—well, Rafe’s voice, specifically, speaking in a low hushed tone.

You hesitated for a moment, your curiosity getting the better of you. Slowly, you made your way towards the kitchen, the sound of his voice growing clearer with each step.

“…I don’t care what it fucking takes,” Rafe all but spat, his tone filled with determination. “Yeah, I know the charges will stick. Just make sure he doesn’t get out on bail. I don’t want him anywhere near her again.”

You froze mid-step. What?

He paused, listening intently. You took another step closer, peering around the corner to see him standing by the counter, his phone pressed to his ear.

“No, she’s fine,” he continued, “But I want to make sure she stays that way.”

You felt your breath hitch. Oh my god. He was talking about your dad. He was trying to protect you, even now.

“Rafe…” 

He turned around, his eyes widening as he saw you standing there.

“I’ll call you later.” He hung up fast, slipping his phone into his pocket, trying (and failing) to act casual. “Hey, you’re up.”

“What were you doing?” You asked, arms crossed. “Who were you talking to?”

“Hmm?”

“Rafe,” You warned, too tired to play games, “Who were you talking to?”

He sighed, looking impossibly uncomfortable as you sized him up.

“My lawyer. Getting a restraining order for you.”

The confirmation nearly made your brain split into two.

“What?”

Rafe hesitated, knowing he couldn't hide the truth from you. Not that he even tried lately. He ran a hand through his buzzed hair, a gesture you recognized as a sign of his unease. 

"I'm trying to get a restraining order against your father."

"Why?"

“Why?”

His eyes met yours, so serious. “Because you need one.”

You stood there, completely thrown. He was really doing this—for you? He was going to bat for you, putting himself in the line of fire to protect you from the man who had haunted your life for so long. Tears welled up in your eyes, and you didn’t even try to stop them.

“I’m sorry.”

"Stop saying that," He rubbed his hand over his face like he didn’t know what else to do, "What happened last night… it’s not something you should ever have to deal with. I should’ve been here sooner. I should’ve—"

“You couldn’t have known.”

Rafe shook his head, "I should've been here.”

You walked closer, closing the distance between you. "Rafe, you don't owe me anything."

He reached out tentatively, his hand hovering in the air for a moment before he gently cupped your cheek. His touch was familiar, comforting and you leaned into it, closing your eyes briefly.

"I owe you everything," he murmured. 

You let out a shaky breath, “Don’t say that.”

But he wouldn’t let it go. He tilted your face up, thumb brushing away a tear. “You think I’d be there if it wasn’t for you? Shit—Pretty, look around. It’s just me.”

Your heart pounded in your ribcage, the sincerity in his tone making it hard to breathe. You had spent so long building up walls around your heart, convincing yourself that you didn’t need anyone, that you could handle everything on your own.

“You’ve been alone?” You all but sob, “You’ve been here all this time? By yourself?”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, “Don’t cry. Please don’t cry,” His hand on your cheek trembled slightly, “I’m okay, see?”

You covered his hand with yours. “I was so mad at you,” You admitted.

“Baby—”

“You don’t understand,” you explained, voice cracking slightly, “I just... I didn’t know what to do.”

He drew you closer, his other arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you against him. You melted into him instantly. 

"I deserved it,” Rafe muttered, trying to laugh but failing.

You shook your head, tears streaming down your cheeks, "You told me you were getting clean, that you were seeing a psychologist, and I-I wasn’t there.”

Rafe’s grip on your hand tightened, his eyes pleading with you to understand. “I was a train wreck, and I hurt you. You needed to protect yourself.”

“But I should’ve been there for you,” you insisted, your voice breaking. “You were trying to get better, and I just...walked away.”

“Jesus Christ Maybank” He let out a breathy laugh, almost like he didn’t know how to handle the conversation.. “Stop the waterfloods, you’re gonna make me cry.”

“Shut up,” I sniffled, laughing through the tears. “I’m trying to apologize—”

“You don’t have to, baby,” He cut you off, shaking his head, “Not to me, or anyone else.”

His breath mingled with yours, his presence soothing you in a way you hadn’t felt in months.

Your heart pounded in your chest as he closed the distance, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, hesitant kiss. It was as if he was testing the waters, ensuring you were okay with this, and when you didn’t pull away, the kiss deepened. His hand moved to the back of your neck, holding you gently but firmly as his lips explored yours.

You felt yourself give in to him, your hands gripping his shirt to make sure he was real. You’d dreamed about him for too damn long to understand the difference. The kiss was slow, deliberate…loving.

When you finally broke apart, gasping for air, Rafe rested his forehead against yours, breath ragged.

“Can’t believe you made me fall in love with a pogue.”

Oh.

You blinked, caught off guard.

“In love?”

He bit his lip, looking nervous all of a sudden. “Yeah.”

You could see the anxiety roaring inside him. The way his shoulders seemed to squeeze back in, eyes dropping to your lips. 

You smiled, brushing yours fingers against his cheek. “Never thought I’d fall for a kook.”

Rafe groaned, dropping his head onto your shoulder, teeth grazing against your skin, “Don’t play with me.”

“I’m not,” You whispered, tilting his chin up so he had to look at you. “I mean it."

His eyes examined yours for a long moment as if confirming your words. Then, without even saying anything, he closed the distance between you again. This time, no hesitation. None of that uncertainty from before.

His hands roamed over your body, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t get enough. The kiss was so different from the one before. You could feel the heat building between you, that undeniable chemistry pulling you together.

His hands slipped under your shirt, his shirt, the touch of his fingertips on your bare skin sending shivers down your spine. Rafe’s lips trailed down your neck, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin there, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You gasped, tilting your head to give him better access. His hands were everywhere, exploring, caressing, making you dizzy with need.

“I need you,” your voice came out all breathless, your fingers clutching his shoulders.

He stopped for a second, lifting his head to look at you, those blue eyes dark with desire.

“You’re hurt,” he muttered, swallowing hard. “Last night—”

“I don’t care,” you replied, shaking your head. “You fucked me after I got shot.”

“That night was different. We were different.”

You nodded, the memory flashing in your mind. The urgency, the desperation, how you clung to each other like you were drowning.

He hesitated for a split second longer, his thumb brushing over the bruise on your cheek. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You won’t,” you promised, pulling him back to you. “I trust you.”

That was all he needed. His restraint melted away, and he kissed you like he couldn’t help himself, lifting you easily and carrying you upstairs. When he laid you down on the bed, it was so gentle, like you were the most precious thing to him.

Rafe hovered over you, his eyes locked on yours as he stripped off his shirt. Your hands traced the lines of his muscles, loving the way they moved under your touch. He leaned down, capturing your lips in another kiss, hot and deep, as his hands started unbuttoning your shirt.

Everything blurred after that—clothes disappearing, just the two of you, skin to skin. His hands, his lips, everywhere.

“Do you know how much I missed you?” he murmured.

You smiled, cupping his face, “Tell me.”

Rafe’s breath hitched, “Every damn day. Every fucking minute. I’d close my eyes and all I could see was you.”

His voice faded, but his hands kept moving, tracing soft patterns along your sides. He was rediscovering you, like it had been forever.

You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer. “I’m here now.”

Rafe smiled against your skin, his hands sliding down to grip your hips, holding you steady. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked again.

You nodded, pressing a kiss to his jaw, “More than okay. I want this. I want you.”

His kisses trailed down your neck, slow and deliberate. “I love the way you laugh,” he whispered against your skin, his lips brushing your collarbone. “How your eyes light up when you talk about something you care about. How strong you are, even when you don’t see it.”

You shivered at his words, your heart swelling with love for the man holding you so tenderly. "Rafe..."

He kissed your lips softly, silencing you.

"I love the way you look at me," he continued, his hands slipping under your shirt, caressing the bare skin beneath. "Like I'm the only person in the world. Like I matter."

You could feel tears welling up in your eyes, overwhelmed by the intensity of his words, his touch.

"You do matter," you whispered, your voice breaking. “You matter to me.”

Rafe's hands moved lower, teasing the waistband of your, his, boxers.

“I love how brave you are," he said, his voice husky, "How you face everything, even when it's terrifying." He slid them down, eyes never leaving yours. “Last night… I was terrified. I thought I was gonna lose you.”

You reached for him, fingers tangling in his grown-out hair, pulling him closer. “I’m right here,” you whispered, lips brushing his. “Right here.”

Rafe's hands found your hips, his touch firm and reassuring. "I love you," he said again,  "And I need you to know that. Shit, I need you to feel it."

You nodded, tears streaming down your cheeks. "I do. I feel it."

He kissed you again, this time with an urgency that made your heart race against your ribs. His lips, his hands, everything about him was showing you just how much you meant to him. You could feel him holding back though, his body tense under your hands. You trailed your fingers down his back, feeling every inch of him, and it wasn’t long before he pressed against you, letting you feel just how much he wanted this too.

His lips found your breasts, kissing and teasing, his hands caressing your sides, your hips. You moaned, arching into his touch, your body trembling with need. "Rafe..."

He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire, "I love the way you say my name. Like it's the only word that matters." He kissed his way down your stomach, his hands sliding lower, teasing you, driving you wild with anticipation. "I love the way you taste," he breathed, hot against your skin. "The way you feel."

You gasped, your body arching off the bed as his fingers found you, teasing, exploring. 

"Rafe, please..."

He kissed his way back up your body, "I've got you. I'm here. Tell me if you want me to stop."

You shook your head, urging him on. "Don't stop.”

He kissed your hip bones, his hands gently spreading your legs wider. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, and the intensity in them made your breath catch. He moved lower, his lips trailing down your inner thigh, his fingers lightly caressing your other leg.

When his mouth finally reached your pussy, you gasped, your body arching off the bed. His tongue flicked out, teasing you, tasting you.The sensation was electric, sending jolts of pleasure through you. Fuck you missed this. His grip on your thighs tightened, holding you in place as he continued his slow, deliberate assault.

He explored you with his tongue, each movement precise,intentional. He found a rhythm that made your head spin, alternating between gentle flicks and firm strokes. You moaned, your fingers tightening in his short strands, pulling him closer, needing more.

Rafe responded to your silent plea, his tongue delving deeper, his hands gripping your thighs harder, fingernails digging into your skin.

The pressure built, an overwhelming pleasure that threatened to consume you whole. He groaned against you, the vibration sending you even higher.

"Mmm," you gasped, your breath coming in short, desperate bursts. "Don't stop. P-Please, don't stop."

He didn't.

He increased his pace, his tongue moving faster, his hands sliding under your hips, lifting you slightly to give him better access. You could feel the heat pooling in your core, the pleasure building to an unbearable peak. Rafe’s mouth never left you, his tongue driving you to the brink. You cried out his name, your body trembling as you teetered on the edge. He sucked gently, his tongue flicking rapidly, and that was all it took. You shattered, not a wave, but an entire fuckcking ocean of ecstasy crashing over you, your vision going white as the pleasure consumed you. He continued his ministrations, guiding you through your orgasm, his tongue and lips never slowing, drawing out every last bit of pleasure.

When you finally came down, your body spent and trembling, Rafe kissed his way back up your body, his hands soothing the aftershocks with gentle caresses.

He hovered over you, his lips capturing yours in a deep, passionate kiss. You could taste yourself on him, the intimacy of it making your heart swell.

"My perfect girl," he growled against your lips.

Your bruised hands roamed over his broad shoulders, feeling the tension in his muscles, he shifted, pressing his hips against yours, letting you feel his arousal. You moaned into his mouth, your hands moving lower, wanting to touch him, to feel him inside you.

Rafe’s breath hitched as your fingers brushed against the waistband of his boxers, teasing him.

“Are you sure?” he asked one more time, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I’ve never been more sure,” you answered, and that was it.

He cared so much it nearly sent you into an emotional spiral again.

In one swift motion, he shed his boxers, and you took in the sight of him, hard and ready. He moved over you, positioning himself between your legs, his eyes never leaving yours. He took his time, teasing you with his fingers, making sure you were ready for him.

You gasped at the feeling—God, you missed him. Every inch of him.

He paused, forehead resting against yours, giving you a moment to adjust. “Fuck, I missed this,” he groaned, his voice strained.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him to move. “Don’t hold back,” you whispered, almost begging. “I want all of you.”

Rafe didn't need further encouragement.

He started moving, slow at first, but each roll of his hips had you feeling like you were losing it. Every time he pushed deeper, you swore you could feel him in your bones. Your nails dug into his back, leaving marks that you knew would be there tomorrow, but right now? You didn’t care. You just needed to feel closer to him.

His kiss was intense—like he was pouring everything into it, his tongue matching the rhythm of his hips, making your whole body shiver. His hands were all over you, one sliding under your back to pull you even closer, the other tangling in your hair, keeping you exactly where he wanted. You moved with him, your bodies syncing up like you’d never been apart.

Rafe’s pace picked up, and you could tell he was losing control, his thrusts coming faster, harder. And then, his voice, low and rough, sent a chill straight through you.

“Don’t stop, baby. Fuck—don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” he growled, his words barely audible between breaths. “Never.”

That was it—he completely let go, moving even harder, like he couldn’t get enough of you. The sound of your bodies crashing together, the moans and gasps—it was all so intense.

You didn’t understand the sudden urge, but suddenly, without even thinking, you pushed at his chest, flipping him onto his back.

“Your turn,” you whispered, climbing on top of him, straddling him. He looked up at you, a little surprised, but the way his hands landed on your hips made it clear he was all in. And God, you’d never seen him look so good.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, his hands sliding up your sides, cupping your breasts gently. “Every part of you."

You leaned down, brushing your lips against his stubbled jaw. That roughness on your skin sent a rush through you, especially when you felt him brushing against you just right. You let out a soft moan, then pulled back, grinding down on him. The way his eyes darkened, the way his fingers tightened on your hips, it was like you were driving him wild.

“You like that?” you teased, your voice low, your fingers running down his chest.

“Fuck, yes,” he groaned, gripping you harder. “You feel incredible.”

You reached between you, guiding him back inside, both of you gasping at the sensation. You started moving, slow at first, taking your time with it, loving the way he filled you.

Rafe’s hands were everywhere, caressing you, teasing you, making you lose it a little more with every touch. “God, you’re perfect,” he murmured, his eyes locked on yours. “Ride me, baby. I wanna see you come again.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, spurring you on. You increased your pace, rolling your hips, finding the angle that drove you both to the edge. Your hands braced against his chest, your nails digging into his skin as you rode him harder, faster.

“Fuck, Rafe,” you gasped, your breath coming in short, desperate bursts. “You feel so good inside me.”

He groaned, “You can’t be real,” his hands guided your hips, urging you to move faster. “This can’t be real—Shit, keep doing that.”

The pleasure built with every movement, your bodies moving together like they never parted.

You could feel the heat pooling in your core, the tension building, ready to snap. Rafe’s hands slid up to your breasts, teasing your nipples, sending jolts of pleasure through you.

“Come for me, baby,” Rafe urged, his voice rough with desire. “I want to feel you come around me.”

His words pushed you over. You cried out, your body arching, your vision going white as the orgasm crashed over you. Rafe groaned, his hips thrusting up to meet yours as he followed you, his release filling you, pretty hisses and groans filling your ears.

You collapsed on top of him, both of you completely spent, still trying to catch your breath. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close, and you buried your face in his neck, overwhelmed by how intense everything felt.

When you looked up, the way he was staring at you caught you off guard. There was this softness, this disbelief in his expression, like he was seeing you for the first time.

"What?" you asked softly, a smile tugging at your lips despite the slight confusion.

He blinked, like he was snapping out of it, then gently traced your cheekbone with his fingers.

“I just… I can’t believe you’re real.”

“Rafe…”

He silenced you with a soft kiss, his lips barely brushing yours, but it sent a wave of warmth through you.

“I love you, Pretty Maybank,” he whispered.

You smiled, heart full. “I love you too.”

[star--nymph]

I think people forget with Cullen, and characters like Cullen, that indoctrination is a thing. We're lucky to live in an age where we have a surplus of access to resources that allow us to think critically on the structures around us, to the point where we overlook that most people won't and haven't. Cullen was raised in a backwater village where the main educators and leaders were Templars. He was likely taught scripture by Chantry Sisters, he possibly learned to read and write through them. From the day he was born, he was being taught to love and obey the Chantry with out question--and the Chantry teaches that Templars are a force of good.

So I ask you, how the hell was Cullen, at eight or thirteen years old, going to learn about the crimes of Templars? How was he going to unlearn propaganda that was fed him to him every day by people he respected and possibly loved? How was he supposed to be aware that this idolized image of Templars being the saviors of the people and even mages was a lie?

And then he gets shipped off, happily, to be trained a Templar. Again, he's put into this position where he's fed nothing but propaganda. He doesn't get a real taste of the Order being corrupted until he's out in Kinloch and he's not sure what the hell to do because what he's seeing isn't jiving with what he's been taught for nearly two decades. So yeah, he tries to justify it, he tries to have his cake and eat it too by reasoning that mages should be treated like people but also the Order wouldn't lie to him, so they must be right to act like this. The Maker always had a plan, right?

If Cullen had been lucky, maybe he could have realized earlier on that the Order was abusing mages, that he had been tricked, he could have gotten out and unlearned the bigotry that was planted inside him.

But then BAM! the Broken Circle happened and I don't see how no one gets how perfect this is for the Order? They now have a templar that is so traumatized by mages, he will literally do and say anything to justify their abuses because now? Now he's afraid.

And remember, after Origins, Cullen becomes so erratic, he has to be sent off to a Chantry to 'even him out'--where he was more than likely manipulated even further by the Chantry to be this blood thirsty agent for them. When he's shipped to Kirkwall, they could have not delivered to Meredith a better second in command.

So yeah, is it really surprising that he says shit like 'mages aren't people like you and me' when we meet him in Kirkwall? Man is sleep depraved by the looks of him, swallowing all Meredith's frenzied rhetoric on blood mages, he's seeing for himself the damage these mages are doing, he's isolated from his family, he has no actual friends, and he's living with C-PTSD among other issues. Even under the best of conditions, none of what he says or does in DA2 is surprising when you put it all together.

And yet, the man still had enough of that idealistic child left in him to realize see that Meredith was going off the deep end and that he should be protecting the mages. That's text. That's in World of Thedas. The reason why Cullen is able to turn on Meredith in the end is because he was able to see, even clouded by his fear and hatred, that what she was doing was wrong.

And all this isn't to excuse Cullen's wrongs. It's weird how every time someone brings up Cullen's history, it's assumed that it's just a justification for his actions. It's not, it's an an explanation. Cullen was a victim of the Order that became an abuser, a tool, and he is responsible for his actions.

But the thing is, by DAI, Cullen is well aware of his sins and he actively works to better himself by leaving the Order and getting off lyrium (which for most people is a death sentence). People can argue all day about whether or not Cullen's arc in DAI redeems him or was satisfying, or if he did enough to 'prove' that he was sorry or--good god--does he deserve redemption in the first place (which is such a Catholic way of looking at shit by the way; no one 'deserves' redemption; you do it to be better or you fucking don't) but the fact is that Cullen says that he wants to be better, that he sees the Order as--at the very least--flawed.

That, yes, he's still unlearning all the bigotry he held as a younger man and he's ashamed that he was like that to begin with.

You can hate him all you like, and whatever, but Cullen's story--intentionally or not--is about a man born into an oppressive society, raised to uphold its beliefs, used and abused by it, and then awakening to those lies and trying to free himself from those beliefs so he could be a better person.

And sometimes I genuinely wonder if the reason so many people hate Cullen is because they themselves might have dealt with something similar in our own oppressive society where they also had to unlearn harmful bigotry and maybe, just maybe, he hits too close to home.

[voidbeomgyu]

ALONE (Teaser)

In which you meet your bias in the worst circumstances.

PAIRING Idol Jake Sim x Fan Fem Reader

GENRE Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Slow Burn, Romance/Strangers to Lovers, Suggestive (Maybe smut, not sure yet.), some fluff

WARNINGS 18+ MDNI, Descriptions of violence, death, blood, etc., All members except Jake died so keep that in mind (I'm sorry), Cursing, Crimes, Mental health talk and experiences, Death, Sickness (Throwing up), Making out, Smut(?), It's an apocalypse!au idk how else to warn about that LOL

SUMMARY The group Enhypen get on a plane to the US and when landing are met with the worst. Jake makes it out alive... but alone. Since the dead are attracted to areas where the population is saturated, your best bet is to stay low in the areas usually considered dangerous (alleyways, abandoned buildings, etc). He made his way into the country and found a nice cabin alongside a lake. His further inspection led him to believe it was abandoned for whatever reason, maybe it was a vacation home? Little did he know his inference was correct, and soon he was met face to face with a member of the family who owned it. How would she react to seeing her favorite artist rummaging through the cupboards of her new--hopefully permanent--home? And how would he be able to explain to a loyal fan of his that he was the only member left?

TEASER WORD COUNT 1,625

RELEASE DATE To be determined.

TAGLIST Comment on this post or send an ask to be added. (Have your age on your profile or you will not be tagged)

Endless walking while trying to find a suitable place to stay was slowly driving Jake insane. The exhaustion from travelling, fear of death, and anguish from the scene at the airport was weighing down on him heavier and heavier every second. Having watched his best friends, his brothers, his family all being taken away from him without being able to do anything but listen to the oldest’s words, “Run”.

Jake had not yet cried, there was no time for it. It’s been almost thirty six hours since then, he’d stolen a bike around a mile away from the airport. It’s helped him a lot on his journey to safety. He never stole, he wasn’t like that, not that type of person. But in the moment he didn’t have the time nor energy to feel guilty about it. 

Jake didn’t know exactly what he was looking for, but he wanted quiet. Not knowing wether or not it’ll be safer in the city or the country side, he chose the latter. Cities are crowded with people, meaning they must be crowded with the dead by now, right? No matter; either way he knew he’d feel much better being in the middle of nowhere, or at least in the middle of what looked like nowhere. All alone in an abandoned farm house, maybe a lake house, any house on the country side would do. He was being too optimistic, he knew, but he couldn’t help it. Finding a safe home to live in alone with no one around for miles sounded comforting.

The Jake from two days ago would’ve shivered at the thought of being completely alone. Though no extrovert, he needed people. He needed that connection, that interaction. His reasons to smile and laugh were mostly based around the people around him or the entertainment he consumed. Entertainment was out of the question now, and it seemed like people were too. Most dead, and others probably too violent to give Jake a chance due to the circumstances. 

All he held on him was his and Sunghoon’s carry-on bag from the flight. Note to self, don’t try to save your friend by holding onto their bag. Thoughts like this crossed his mind every few minutes, tragedies sentenced as jokes but he wasn’t laughing. What’s wrong with me? How could I think something like that? Maybe it was the dehydration, starvation, overall fatigue? He hadn’t eaten anything since the flight and was savoring the small amount of water he had on him. Either way, thinking of his beloved friends didn’t do much to help his mood. Trying to think of the good times? Those good times will never happen again, they’re gone forever and I’ll never get them back.  

More days passed like this. With a stop at a gas station probably being the reason he’s even alive right now. It was abandoned, for the most part. It was the early morning, and he was literally starving now. The cashier was still there, but his neck was chained so tightly to the wall that it was on the edge of ripping his head clean off. Oh, he was a living corpse too. Jake could tell that much by just looking at him, muffled grunts and groans coming from the pale body every minute. Luckily, he didn’t seem to care much of Jake’s criminal activities there. Stuffing whatever foods and drinks he could into the bags he had on him. They were even heavier now, but he couldn’t feel anything. He was numb to all feeling, mentally and physically. 

At day four he had started keeping track of how many days passed with a calendar he found on the wall of the gas station that morning. He didn’t stay there though, he didn’t have it in him to kill the cashier, and he knew that if he somehow got loose while he was sleeping it would all be over. The past few days he hadn’t slept or rested much at all actually. Napping for at most an hour at a time, waking up to the slightest noises and scurries of nearby wildlife. He knows he’s incredibly lucky to not have encountered any of the dead, besides the one at the gas station, but it’s a little stressful to not have seen any either. Where could they all be? He had made it out of the city, the once bustling streets on day two, he knew many people weren’t out here to begin with. But knowing there are creatures that could kill him in seconds lurking while having no idea where they are was terrifying. 

It’s been six days. His legs started feeling numb just hours after finding his bike due to the frantic pedaling, now he felt like his legs were asleep all the time. The feeling of pins and needles covered his lower body as they worked on auto pilot to keep him going. His back felt horrible, slouched from his broken spirit. Endless cramping and soreness of his hands and fingers from gripping the bikes handles for hours at a time. His knuckles were white, and now so was his once tanned and alive skin. 

His lack of proper meals, sleep, and rest was now obvious. Jake hasn’t seen himself since that day in the airport, but from looking at his now thinner, paler, vein visible arms, he could take a guess at what his face looked like. Hell, he could feel the bags under his eyes whenever he blinked now. 

It’s been quiet and empty for a few miles. Nothing but grass, and a dirt trail he’s been following in sight. How long is this damn trail? he thought. Jake started following the trail at the sunset of day five; he remembers because of his calendar. It was coming to the end of day six, the sun starting to set in the distance behind him. He found a flashlight at the gas station and used it to find himself a place to “rest” for the nights he faced, it neared the time to find a spot to sleep.

Trees were all around him now, the area looked more alive here, not dried out and dead like the miles before. He must be getting close to some sort of building, forest trails usually have a building as a starting point, right? Unless this trail wasn’t made for hikers, in that case he was hoping in vain. 

It was almost completely dark now. Jake had usually found somewhere to stay by this time, but something was telling him to keep going. Using the flashlight to illuminate the shadowed forest, he heard his friends voices cheering him on over and over again. 

“Keep going Jake!”

“Just a little longer!”

“You’ll be okay!”

Tears were unconsciously streaming down his face now, though he still didn’t feel anything. His body just gave up on the effort of keeping them in. 

Jake pedaled faster. He couldn’t hear anything but his heavy panting, it felt like someone had covered his ears with their hands and muted the sound of everything around him. He saw something in the distance, the roof of a building; he padaled faster. A house, the roof made of wood, looked like a cabin; he padaled faster. He could hear the muffled sound of streaming water; he pedaled faster.

Face to face with a cabin, going so fast he couldn’t stop himself from crashing into the wet grass below him. Still struck with adrenaline, he pulled himself up quickly and dragged his bike to the front door. His broken and unused voice sounded through his pants as he tried frantically to open the damned door. 

The door handle had a key hole but was locked with a rusty padlock. He could turn the handle and wriggle the door, that padlock was what he needed to remove. He pulled a hammer out of his bag; he grabbed it from the gas station floor, it was covered in dried blood. Obviously used by someone prior to leaving it there. Jake slammed the hammer into the padlock, over and over again. The loud bangs from striking the lock were null to Jake’s ears, his desperation coating over all his sense. 

Smash. The padlocks body is broken away from its handle and the door is free from it’s hold on the wooden frame. 

Jake shoves his way inside, throwing the bike onto the hard floor of the entry way before turning to lock the door. It was locked from the outside but had a perfectly working lock on the inside, though he didn’t care to question it. He made it, he was safe, he felt like he could faint.

He had no time to think, let alone find a good source of light before he threw up. Keeling on the once clean floor, liquid from his stomach poured out from him. His throat burned and ached at the feeling, like his throat was made of sandpaper. Falling back he sat on the floor, staring at the door and the mess he made on the ground. He laid back and let his eyes rest for the first time in nineteen hours. Jake fell asleep there on the hard floor, knee propped up on the backside of a couch.

If he was thinking clearly, he would’ve checked the entire cabin, then scavenged for any foods that may be there. But he was broken, body and mind. Luck had been on his side since the beginning though. The home was completely vacant before he entered, and when he wakes up he’ll have found himself a place to live in safely. Away from the corpses living in the surrounding cities, and away from any still living people, all alone.

(A/N: Hello friends! I'm finally writing LOL I've had this wip since December and I'm finally going to finish it. This post is just to see if people would even be interested lol. The total fic word count I don't know yet because I haven't finished it, but I am close! I won't give y'all any hints but I will apologize in advance for the angst I'm about to put y'all thru<3 sorry love you guys muah. Don't know exactly when I will publish the full fic, maybe right when I finish it, maybe a month after I finish it IDK I haven't written seriously in months so I'm not too confident anymore but I am excited. Hope y'all are as excited as I am :D )

[babyspacekwid]

PERSONAL ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS 💕💕

Not a professional astrologer, just a girl obsessed with her own chart and other people’s signs :)

Sagittarius moons/stellium are the most unbothered people I have ever met (unless other aspects suggest otherwise) My sag moon friend walked into class not knowing there was a midterm and just thought to herself « it is what it is » while this can be a benefit because anxiety just doesn’t exist for these people, it can often cause problems like being too aloof, which can affect those surrounding them

Speaking of Gemini moon they are high strung all the time. There is no mental rest here, also good chances of developing crippling anxiety as a mutable moon sign. I’ve also noticed these peoples minds working so fast?! Like finishing your sentences kinda thing. The whole stereotype of Geminis being two faced needs to go though, these people are adaptable chameleons, they will mirror you, essentially they are very different with other people because they want to make everyone they interact with, comfortable.

Sagittarius rising have common features that I’ve noticed like big round eyes, big smiles and big teeth. I’ve noticed most also have crooked teeth, it’s really charming. Smart and wise people they are.

Cancer moon with cancer rising, I lived with one and let me tell you, I’d have to open my door at night so she could cry and listen to sad music because she was away from her childhood cat. Also these people may have alcoholic tendencies, but I’ve noticed this with every water moon, Pisces, Scorpio, and cancer, may have substance abuse issues.

Mars in Aquarius, when you get angry, you’re unpredictable, but most times you give the silent treatment, not because you’re ignoring the person, but because you’re deep in thought.

Libra risings have really pretty eyes, every libra rising I’ve met has this alluring charm, like their eyes have this duality of being intimidating to look at but when they smile it’s like their eyes shine like stars. Charmingly pretty people, but also may have dealt with body issues as they are most of the time bigger bodied, they can be chubby,curvy and well rounded, or just in general have a broad shoulders and a big butt. They’re not small framed. Very balanced features though.

8th house mercuries the type to listen to true crime while literally doing anything. Cleaning? True crime. Sleeping? True crime. Eating? True crime. You guys just like getting into the minds of criminals, what made them do what they do? It’s like looking at a criminal as if they were a creature to dissect, don’t get these people wrong, they don’t idolize murderers, they just have a deep understanding of the taboo.

Im just doing this for fun but I hope some of you guys related haha💕

[sl4sh3rs]

Competitive Love

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

: ̗̀➛ Joker x villain!Reader

CW: obsessive joker, stalker4stalker, m*rder/harmful topics, degrading Batman, fluff;

He thought you two were competing for the spotlight. Competing for his attention… Bruce was dumber than he looked. He thought blowing people’s heads off was a signal of someone trying to get his attention. For the Joker, sure it was, but for you.. You just really wanted to annoy the bat.

The Gotham moonlight illuminated on your face as you taunted the masked man. He could hear your mind-numbing voice, just couldn’t see you. It made him quite angry. “You’re an angry man aren’t you?..” Your voice echoed through the street. “Let go once in a while..” A chuckle added onto your sentence.

“You’re just like him.” The Bat uttered. You seemed to know who he was talking about. An idol of yours, the person he thought was your competition. “Is that a good thing, or bad thing?” You spoke softly, finally meeting his gaze, emerging from the shadows.

“Are you really asking that question?” He looked at you, squinting his eyes. You shrugged your shoulders and the sounds of your footsteps echoed. “Theres no such thing as a dumb question, right?” Your head cocked to the side. A smirk plastered on your face, and he absolutely hated it.

He hated it so much that his fist had to come in contact with your face. Your head jerked back and your feet stumbled on the ground. You touched your bleeding lip, smearing the blood on your lips. “Am I making you mad?” You asked, your gaze focused on his eyes.

The Clown Prince of Crime had eyes for you. His goons would show him the chaos you caused to this city whenever they found new information about you. Seeing yours and his face plastered next to each other on the news always made him grin widely.

Sure, you felt the same exact way. Before you stepped into the spotlight, you were watching the news each night seeing what he did to Gotham that day.

He made sure his goons always had an eye on you. He knew where you were at all times, and you always knew where he was. You two always planned to crash where the other was going, the bat absolutely hated it. He could barely deal with 1 Joker, he couldn’t deal with 2.

“C’mon.. Hit me like you mean it!” You said, shouting at the vigilante. “You don’t want to, do you?.. You know he’s going to show up.” He growled at you. His posture adjusted and he started to leave. “Now that I mentioned him, you’re leaving? You’re a pathetic hero. If you’re just gonna walk away, should Gotham even trust you to protect them?” He ignored you, or at least tried to.

Clapping could be heard in the distance, echoing through the alleyways. You could hear his laughter, the sounds of his goons laughing too. “About time you joined the party.” “Oh I’ve been watching the show for a while..”

“You adore me that much, huh?” He chuckled and walked closer, staring into your eyes. He grabbed your chin, making you look at him (like you already weren’t (ｰ ｰ;)) before wrapping his other arm around your waist.

“I think you already know that answer.” He said, adding a chuckle onto his sentence. You wrapped your arms around his neck, one hand messing with his hair. You could hear one of your female henchmen in the distance whisper-screaming, “It’s about to happen!!”

You grabbed the back of his head and pulled his lips into yours, his grease paint smearing all over your lips. You felt his hands travel up your back into your hair, before he dipped you into another kiss..

Finally, you knew what his lips felt like. His scars felt nice, felt comforting.. Your lips separated from each other and you felt lovestruck, “I’ve wanted to do that for a while.” He stated and you looked at him with a smile.

“I know.”

[writing-heiress]

Seven Seas AU: Heartslaybul

Crew Name: The Hearty Pirates

Total Bounty: 1.06B Madols

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

Epithets: The Crimson Tyrant, the Prince of Hearts, Tyrant of the Sea

Bounty: 810M Madol

The only son of Queen Elizabeth of Hearts & King Consort Reagan, making him the first Prince of the Queendom of Roses. Riddle idolized his mother the most and wanted to be like her. He did this by memorizing every 810 of her rules from such a young age. Once he learned about Queen Elizabeth’s time as one of the Seven Warlord Pirates, Riddle asked his mother if he could learn how to be a pirate captain from her, to which she gladly accepted.

TREY CLOVER

Epithets: The Tyrant’s Mad Hatter, the Loyal Club

Bounty: 98M Madols

Trey was the eldest son of Queen Elizabeth’s favorite bakers, who practically live in the Hearts Castle. This means that Trey grew up pretty close to Riddle. Him & Che’nya would sneak Riddle out of the palace and have him explore the capital town as a young boy rather than the Prince. After Riddle got the Queen’s approval to become a pirate captain, he asked Trey to be his first-mate to which the young baker’s boy agreed, wishing to stay close to his childhood friend (and make sure that he doesn’t kill his crew or give them a reason to mutiny).

CATER DIAMOND

Epithets: Splitting Diamond, the Socialite

Bounty: 77M Madols

As the first and only son of a high-ranked banker, Cater is nothing short of an expert of how the noble society operates. He joined the crew mostly to get away from his rather mundane life. Away from the nosy nobles and their gossip. Away from his sisters who has used him as their living doll since he could walk. As part of the Hearty crew, Cater could finally be himself.

ACE TRAPPOLA

Epithets: Trump Card Ace, the Magician

Bounty: 30M Madols

Ace’s recruitment was honestly quite the story. See, Ace came from a middle class family despite his brother being heavily favored by the QoH. But regardless Ace grew up pretty like any other kid. That was the case until he stole from Riddle, who had just collected lots of Madols. Anyways, he was caught and tried for the crime of stealing from not just a pirate, but the Prince of Hearts. Ace was about to lose his head when his brother Jack asked Queen Elizabeth to at the very least lower his sentence to not death. Good news is that it worked and Ace got to live. Bad news was Ace was now part of the Hearty Pirates, which was his new punishment.

DEUCE SPADE

Epithets: The White Rabbit, Stone Cold Duke

Bounty: 45M Madols

Deuce, much like Ace, came from middle-class. He was a delinquent, a rather tough one at that. His speed was something no one his age could ever match. Deuce continued his delinquency for years until he heard his mom crying to his grandmother about how Deuce has been. That was when Deuce was about to quit his delinquent lifestyle for good until he saw some other delinquents cornering someone. After defeating and scaring off the gang, it was then that Deuce just helped Prince Riddle himself. As a way to pay him back, Riddle offered Deuce to be a member of his crew to which Deuce readily accepted.

Masterlist

Tagging — @adrianasunderworld @mangacupcake @fair-night-starry-tears @the-trinket-witch @the-weirdos-mind @queen-of-twisted @liviavanrouge @abyssthing198 @yumeko2sevilla @yukii0nna @boopshoops @achy-boo @kousaka-ayumu @ice-cweam-sod4 @twsted-princess @starry-night-rose @tragedytells-tales

[unamusedcyclone]

Kurama The Retired Monster: A Look at Kurama's Canon Characterization and Impact

Kurama is one of the most popular characters in the decades old Yu Yu Hakusho fandom. Published in 1992 and dubbed into English in 2002, Yu Yu Hakusho is one of the most influential battle shounen anime. References are everywhere for this wonderful story about a delinquent that surprised the heavens and saved a little boy at the cost of his own life.

The series is my favorite of the old Toonami anime with its rebuke to the strict norms of Japanese society and its message about the grey tones of life.

It's in every character in one way or another, but Kurama tackles a trope I'm personally fascinated by: the retired criminal that is dragged back into his old life by circumstance.

This doesn't seem to be a common read of the character, though all the tropes are there. Youko Kurama was a vicious criminal who, after he was taken out of commission, essentially retired due to the love of a woman. While it was not planned, Shiori showing him love and a life outside of what he knew is what canonically happened and shaped his life. He chose, after she cut up her arms to save him from broken glass, to be the son she deserved rather than leaving as he planned.

When Shiori gets sick, Kurama is contacted by Hiei to join him on a heist in Spirit World for the Three Treasures. Given Kurama's nature as the exposition fairy, he is clearly aware of what those treasures are: The Orb of Bast, the Forlorn Hope, and the Shadow Sword. So, Kurama uses his experience as a thief and gains the Forlorn Hope for himself. As we know, the Forlorn Hope has a rule: It will grant your deepest wish in exchange for your life. Kurama considers this cost fair, since he clearly still feels guilty about stealing the son Minamino Shiori was supposed to have. In the dub, he comments about how some parents are devoured by their young, hinting at blaming himself for the condition Shiori is in. It is only because Yusuke intervened that Kurama is still alive, pulled out of his suicidal guilt spiral by Yusuke offering part of his own life to the mirror after seeing his own mother mourn him.

Kurama chooses to help Yusuke defeat Hiei, cementing him as one of the good guys and beginning his friendship with and repayment of Yusuke.

The Four Saint Beasts arc can be explained as part of Hiei and Kurama's parole. I won't linger on it, but I truly believe this is part of Kurama trying to be good, serving his sentence for what is likely the least of his crimes. In his fight with Genbu, Hiei talks about how he brought Kurama on because he'd rather have him as his ally than his enemy. This is one of the first instances of what Kurama's prior life looked like to others. He is a ruthless and intelligent fighter, and he is known for it. Before Two Shots, this implies Kurama had a reputation prior to his human life, one that lasted long enough that Hiei would have heard about it. (Based on later information, Hiei is less than a hundred years old and Kurama may have left Makai a thousand years ago, making Kurama's reputation incredibly significant.)

This reputation continues to assert itself in the Dark Tournament. The audience of the tournament continue to jeer at Kurama and Hiei for being demons fighting alongside humans, implying that they are well-known enough for this to be an issue. (In the manga, we get a page that shows that demons are total gossips and I love it.) We also have Kurama's fight with Ura Urashima, where Urashima comments that he believes this Kurama, our Kurama, might have taken on the name of the scary bastard that they still tell stories about. He is mistaken.

However, it is also in the Dark Tournament where we get his fight with Touya, where he asks Touya to be better than he was. This is where we see, wholeheartedly, that Kurama regrets who he once was. He regrets being the monster that Hiei and Yomi idolize. The nature of the series is that he needs to tap into that ruthlessness to survive, which is why he connects with Suzuki before the fight with Team Toguro. It is his desire to survive Karasu that returns him to that self.

Another scene that is incredibly important is the battle with Amanuma, the Gamemaster. As we know, for Amanuma to be defeated, he must be killed, as per the rules of his territory and the video game he uses. Amanuma is also eleven years old, manipulated into joining Sensui's crusade to destroy the human world for its evils and hypocrisies. Amanuma is a child, unaware of what Sensui's plans truly mean and as much as Kurama tries to say Amanuma chose this with the full understanding of an adult, it is clear he does not really believe it. Kurama is clearly upset by his choice, but he still makes it. There is no way out, no magic solution at the time. After Amanuma dies, Hiei implies that Kurama has killed children before, in his past life, but Kurama's grief is obvious. He reacts ruthlessly to Elder Toguro. His hands are bleeding from how much he hates the fact he made that choice and how much that decision is linked to the past he's clearly trying to leave behind.

The Three Kings arc is when this really begins to show up, though due to its truncated nature, it seems to go unnoticed. Yomi is essentially the end result of what happens when someone adopts Kurama's old views. Yomi is introduced to us as untrustworthy and brutal. Kurama's patience and ruthlessness became a guide to him as he became a king in the notoriously vicious Makai, after a botched assassination attempt left him blind. To be called to serve Yomi, Kurama has to face what he once was and how it impacted someone. Yomi didn't just look up to him, but he was also Kurama's victim: Kurama is the one who paid the assassin to kill him. Kurama also has to balance facing that with his desire to keep his mother and the Human World safe. Kurama's choice to betray Yomi and go along with Yusuke's cockamamie scheme can be read as a rejection of that past self as well as reinforcing that Kurama does not want to live that old life ever again. He chooses the human world, the world where he's not a vicious bandit and has loved ones.

The anime expands this by setting Kurama up against Shigure, the demon surgeon who gave Hiei his Jagan. This fight originally felt incredibly random: Shigure and Kurama don't have anything to do with each other. However, the fight with Shigure clicked once I realized that Shigure offers to restore Kurama back into who he once was. The entire fight is Kurama choosing to fight as who he is now, not rely on that past self he hates so much. At the end, Kurama even tells Yomi he doesn't throw anything away, but what he says in his little monologue is that he'll never be that version of himself again.

Kurama spends the whole series having to depend on the reputation and ruthlessness he cultivated as a bandit. He does it in life-or-death situations, not just randomly or for shits and giggles. He doesn't seem to enjoy his reputation, especially after living as Shiori's son. He looks more contemptuous of it, his face blank when he has to tap into it. He hates that he has to be that guy, that he was that guy. With the series over, it seems like he'll choose to stay human, to stay in the Human World for as long as he can.

Kurama's canon characterization draws him more in-line with the story's theme of growing up and healing due to the power of human connection. He is mostly retired from being a brutal monster and shows regret and guilt over the past, but by the end has mostly accepted who he once was, warts and all.

[kindheart525]

What are Nee and Dur’s adult lives like?

I’m so glad you asked, thank you so much! I previously joked that Nee and Dur were “in and out of jail and fleeing from the law” as adults, but that’s not exactly true. In reality they’re doing very well, no longer going on grandiose Mr. Frog-style rampages that make national news but now settled down and running a humble little laundromat. They’ve really turned themselves around.

That’s what the public sees, anyway. The real story is that their antics got them in a lot of trouble that only mounted as they got older. Their habit of biting people as children evolved into serious criminal offenses as they entered adulthood, in a lifestyle that was not sustainable. See, their childhood idol Mr. Frog can get away with such extreme violence because he’s a beloved TV star and former President of the United States, but ordinary citizens like Nee and Dur don’t enjoy such immunity. It eventually came to a point where the law caught up with them and they were facing life in prison, or even the death penalty.

They got out of it, of course. Daddy Pim had to blow his life savings on legal fees, but he managed to get their life-ruining sentences whittled down to 5 years + community service, because money fixes everything in this society. However, the experience made both Nee and Dur realize that they couldn’t carry on committing crimes in the open like this, because Daddy Pim was now dry on legal funds and next time they wouldn’t be so lucky. Knowing his boys needed help getting back on their feet, Pim suggested they establish a charity or business of sorts that serves the community in a positive way, much like the Smiling Friends company does. It would teach them how to care for their fellow citizens and grow as critters, he reasoned. 

So here they are running a laundromat, helping the community keep their clothes clean while keeping their images clean. It totally isn’t a money laundering front. I mean, laundromat, money laundering? That’s too on the nose. They aren’t that dumb. And so what if customers randomly disappear sometimes? They just operate in a bad neighborhood! It’s just a coincidence that everyone who’s disappeared had a particularly bad experience with the laundromat, or perhaps expressed unfounded suspicion about the business’s integrity. All of that has nothing to do with Nee and Dur. No, the Pimling Brothers are better than that. They’ve changed!

In all seriousness, Nee and Dur could never truly live a life free of crime. They would rather die than be deprived of the thrill of immorality. After Pim inadvertently planted the seed, it was Nee’s idea to establish the laundromat and he is also the one who interacts with the public the most. He has a certain charisma that easily deflects suspicion and makes folks believe he’s trustworthy and innocent. It’s how he got himself and his brother out of trouble with their dad, teachers, and other authority figures when they were young, and the skill is still serving him well now. You’ll often hear of Nee offering free laundry services for the local fire department or paying for dinners for the local hospital staff. In this way he’s spreading smiles like Daddy Pim wanted, and he does genuinely enjoy it. Not enough to quit crime, but it’s a nice bonus. While Nee came up with the idea, Dur is the muscle behind it, working behind the scenes to keep things running, including engaging in all the shady business deals that are the true reason this laundromat exists. He’s the Saul Goodman type, able to weasel his way into all the best deals and to keep the exorbitant amounts of money flowing no matter how much he’s screwing over others. 

While Nee’s people skills would not amount to much without Dur’s undercover dealings, Dur would be nowhere without Nee’s ingenious ideas and excellent deflection skills that allow him to do the work he does without trouble. It’s what makes them such a great team, knowing exactly what the other needs to succeed without even having to say so. It’s that twin intuition. And of course, when their work makes it necessary to kill (the definition of “necessary” being VERY loose), they’re both all in just like their childhood hero, just with better cover-up skills.

Does Daddy Pim know what’s really going on? Or their sisters? How would this affect the Smiling Friends if the truth came out? None of that matters because they won’t get in trouble. They’ve learned from last time. Plus, their family members know better than to ask questions. Sure, Pim might start to worry a little when he reads an article about the latest unsolved murder in town, but that could have been anything. He ought not to be so mistrusting of his darling boys. They wouldn’t do that anymore. But if they did, he can’t save them this time, so he’d rather not know.

[ladylynse]

Secret Trio/Secret Quartet three sentence fics below the cut! For more like this, see my other three sentence fics/crossover three sentence fics, my tumblr fic masterpost, random WIP scenes and snippets, fic ideas, or find me on FFnet and the AO3! Also, take a peek at the fanart and fanfic I’ve been gifted.

If you like my work, you can consider buying me a coffee. (I write thank you snippets–which could be an expansion of a three sentence fic if you like!)

Adrien and Plagg (”watching idols”) Jake and Adrien (”painting” x2) Jake and Randy (“trapped”) Randy, Jake, (Danny, Adrien) (“rat”) Danny, Adrien, Randy, Jake (”Hide”) Adrien, Jake, Danny, Randy (”Jake, who is Rose?”) Jake and Danny (”TUE happened”) Marinette/Ladybug and Adrien/Chat Noir (”failed over and over again”) Adrien, Jake, Danny, Randy, Marinette (“redemption/corruption”, ”path of destruction”) Marinette, Jake, Danny, Randy, (Adrien) (”shoulder to cry on”) Adrien, Marinette, Danny, Randy, Jake (”Hello, Ladybug” x2) Danny, Adrien, Jake, (Randy) (”hey, guys, where’s ---?”) Adrien, Randy, Jake, Danny (”I-I can’t hear his heartbeat”) //death alt (more painful) version | follow up Marinette, Danny, (Adrien, Lila, Elliot) (”Lila and Elliot”, “liars”, ”two peas in a pod”) Lila and Elliot (”partners in crime”) Jake, Randy, Danny, Adrien (”power/mind swap”) Randy, Jake, Rose, (Danny, Adrien) (”meeting Rose post Hong Kong Longs”) | related Jake, Randy, (Danny, (Adrien)) (”80 word challenge”) Randy, Adrien, (Danny, Jake) (”ghost king au”, “ghosts vs magical creatures”) Danny, (Randy, First Ninja, (Adrien, Jake)) (”ghost king au”, “Danny helps Randy remain the Ninja”) Randy, (Danny, Jake) (”about being mind-wiped”) Jake, Danny (Randy, ((Adrien)) (”there’s no one left”) Jake, Randy, Adrien, (Danny) (”Danny tells them about Dani”) Randy and Marinette (”Ladybug mistakes one of the SQ for an akuma”) Marinette, Adrien, (Danny, Randy, Jake) (”SQ post ML reveal”) Adrien, Danny, (Randy, Jake, Plagg) (”temporary power swap”) Danny, Adrien, Randy, (Jake) (”identity reveal of Danny Phantom”) Susan, Jake, Jonathan, (Danny, Adrien, Randy) (”parents find out”) Adrien, Danny, (Randy, Jake) (”legacy”) Adrien, Jake, Danny, (Randy, Luka) (”snake”) Danny, (Jake, Randy, Adrien, Jack, Maddie) (”Fentons find out”, “angst with a happy ending”) Randy (”Randy remembers”) Adrien, Jake, Randy, (Danny) (”bee”) Randy, Jake, (Danny, Adrien) (”comic book”) Danny, Jake, (Randy, Adrien, Vlad) (”Uncle Vlad AU”) Danny, Randy, (Adrien, Jake) (”broken sky”)

Adrien, Danny, Randy, (Jake) (”siblings”) Jake and Adrien (”Rotwood”) Ladybug, Adrien, (Danny, Randy, Jake) (”reinforcements”) Randy, (Adrien, Jake, Danny) (”prophetic dream”) Randy, Danny, (Adrien, Jake, Ghostwriter) (”true friendship”) Jake, Plagg, (Adrien, Danny, Jake) (”that was you?”) Randy, Adrien, (Jake, Danny) (”frostbite”) Danny, Randy, Jake, Adrien (”first date help”) Adrien, Randy, (Danny, Jake) (”apocalypse”) Danny, Jake, (Adrien, Gramps, Haley, Fu Dog, Susan, Jonathan) (”escape from NYC) Randy, Adrien, (Danny, Jake) (”Stabby the roomba”) Randy, Adrien, (Danny, Jake) (”love square”) Jazz, (Haley, Howard) (”evil clones”) Adrien and Danny (”discovered”) Adrien, Randy, Danny, (Jake) (”war zone”) Jake, (Adrien, Randy, Danny) (”Miracle Queen”) Debbie, Theresa, (Adrien, Randy) (”cartwheel”) Heidi, Jake, (Howard, Randy, Danny, Adrien) (”busted”) now expanded  FF | AO3 Jake, Randy, (Danny, Adrien) (”nasty sauce”) Bunnyx (”Chat Blanc”) Jacques (”inspiration”) Danny, Plagg, Adrien, (Jake, Randy) (”Box Ghost”) Plagg, Danny, Randy, (Jake, Adrien) (”blood magic”) Gabriel and Desiree (”be careful what you wish for”) Adrien, Jake, Randy, Danny (”what are you?”) Randy, Jake, (Danny, Adrien) (”he treats us well”) Randy, Jake, (Danny, Adrien) (”mermaids”) Jake, (Randy, Danny, Adrien, Gregory) (”arrogance”) Ladybug/Marinette and Adrien (”confessions”) Marty, (Randy, Danny, Adrien, Jake) (”entire world”) Danny, (Randy, Adrien, Jake) (”fire”, “reveal”) Jake, Danny, (Randy, Adrien) (”grenade”) Jake, Danny, (Adrien, Randy) (”mercenary”) Randy, Debbie, (Danny, Adrien, Jake) (”Debbie/Randy”) Adrien, Jake, Danny, Randy (”new year”) Jake, Adrien, (Danny, Randy) (”fallout”) Danny, Adrien, Jake, (Randy) (”stargazing”)

Now on the AO3 Randy, Debbie, Adrien, (Danny, Jake) (”Kangham”, “hide”)

[gavroche-le-moineau]

Today's Les Mis chapter describes Jean Valjean's sentencing and subsequent journey as a part of a chain gang to the galleys of Toulon. Published from 1782-1788, Louis-Sébastien Mercier's work, "Tableau de Paris" is a multi-volume book in which he paints a picture of all aspects of Paris and Parisian life. Here are some excerpts from his eye-witness account of a typical galley chain gang leaving Paris:

"The Chain of Galley-slaves.

It leaves twice a year, on May 25th and September 10th. The galley slaves are held at the Château de la Tournelle until their departure for Toulon, Brest, and Marseille."

"On the departure day they are placed in long carriages. The same chain connects and binds them all to the wagon.  Eight policemen lead 120 wrongdoers this way. They leave, imploring help from their fellow people, towards whom they were violent and unjust. They leave; and the conscience, that indestructible judge, cries to many that their torture is light, and that they escaped the death that they have merited."

Mercier then goes on to ruminate on his feelings seeing the men bound for the galleys:

"Oh! How I would like to be able to read to the depths of their soul which is the most criminal or the most innocent! I would like to know why, how, and to what degree they have shown contempt to virtue. Is there, in these individuals, as in others, an equal balance of virtue and vice? Human laws are so heavy handed! And then is the moral perfection of society possible, and to what point?"

Noticing an older man in particular, he wonders how he came to be there, with some distinct parallels to Jean Valjean:

"Is he a hardened criminal who has escaped the justice of men all his life? …  Is he a poor soul thrown into the abyss for a partridge, a pinch of tobacco, a few pounds of salt; for among us Christians, the law of taxation is the most sacred of all; and we know that a partridge or a rabbit is worth infinitely more than a man, even if he is the father of a large family! This is what tears my heart, but the wagon is going to take them away, and with them their justification and the mark of their trial."

He ends with his views on the death penalty and the morality of sentencing men to such a fate for these crimes:

"Maybe one day we will feel it less necessary to take away the life of a man who is only guilty of the crime of theft, and rather conserve a citizen than make of gold an idol to which we sacrifice human victims."

The volume of Tableau de Paris that contains these excerpts can be found on the Internet Archive.

[lokisasylum]

WTF IS GOING ON AT HYBE???

[SPOTV News = Reporter Jang Jin-ri] A man in his 20s who impersonated members of the group BTS was sentenced to prison in the first trial.

On the 19th, Criminal Division 27 of the Seoul Central District Court (Judge Ham Hyeon-ji) sentenced Mr. A (29), who was indicted on charges of violating the Act on Promotion of Information and Communications Network Utilization and Information Protection, to one year in prison.

Mr. A is accused of approaching producer B as if he was Suga of BTS and receiving unreleased guide music from August to September 2022.

In November of the same year, it was discovered that he impersonated Mr. B and contacted Suga to collect album-related information and military service-related information related to the time of enlistment.

Mr. A is also accused of impersonating V and receiving more than 10 unreleased guide sound files from other producers.

The court said, “There was a possibility that the victims and the affected company would suffer significant financial and social damage due to Mr. A’s actions,” and “It appears that the victims who passed on undisclosed information suffered significant psychological damage.”

In particular, Mr. A has a history of being sentenced to prison in the past for crimes using the same and some similar methods, and he committed the same crime while being investigated and tried for the same crime, so the court judged that the crime was "not good."

Mr. A is said to have participated in the song production process of a famous idol group in the past. He filed an appeal against the first trial ruling.

▤■▤■▤■▤■▤■▤■▤■▤■▤■▤■▤■▤■▤■▤■▤■▤■▤■▤■▤■▤■▤■▤■▤■▤■

The real disturbing part here is that this is apparently NOT the first time this has happened.

According to a moot, this situation happened to Jhope in a previous time. And lets also not forget about that "lil27club" persona on X and Insta proclaiming to be a "BH Producer" that kept leaking "teasers" to songs in BTS' last 2 albums and even songs from members solo albums.

( EVERYONE knows what happened during Jimin's solo debut, so I won't go into it again because we've been at it for 10 months, but its THERE and the piss-poor management is STILL happening to his newer releases)

Or that scandal with that one "choreographer" who worked closely with Jungkook during 7, 3D ect. The guy turned out to be a con artist and managed to scam a hefty a mount of money not only out Hybe, but other choreographers as well.

And who knows how many more issues are brewing up behind closed doors that we don't know about and could potentially harm the members in the future. If after all this you still stand with the company and defend it? Then you're a lost cause and I will not hear your reasons, 'cause what more do you guys need to see that BH/Hybe have always been just like any other company?

Especially after hearing those documentaries and interviews where Bang PD openly admits to gaslighting and grooming the members (since trainee years) to work harder than they needed to or to question their fame at all times to create ridiculous expectations that if they didn't win Blah award they weren't good enough. Or if one member dared to surpass the others during solo debut they would disband the group? I DARE YOU to tell me after reading all that, that there isn't something fucked up going on with that company...

[bap16]

in south korea you get life sentence for weed, but if you sexually harass women you're free 😀 south korea really hate women

the judges that let himchan go won't be happy 'til his touching becomes rape rape

and the girls still standing him and defending him are pick me girls 💩💩💩

THAT'S WHY the first victim asked for money, it's easier than going on trial and being assaulted again by the haters, it's easier than wasting time and money to see the so called justice system letting a pervert keep drunk driving, groping and filming women

if being drunk is excuse to commit crimes, then I'll drink a six pack of vodka and assault everybody I see on the streets

being alcoholic is an addiction Not a victim with free card to sexually harass women, but since south koreans are so proud of their booze there's no such word like alcoholism

most idols and actors that do drugs or weed don't hurt women or anybody else except themselves so it's crazy shit they get severe punishment more than the ones that actually hurt others

himchan needs jailtime to reflect for real, partying and drinking is escaping not facing his acts

the same with all the criminal idols and actors, I'm sick of their fake apology letters, they should reflect in jail, not with letters

[stonegoldsxcrxt]

ppl argue that Vader is “redeemed”— I guess I can see where they’re coming from, but really I think Vader is forgiven by Luke, and the narrative is kind enough to forgive him too. This is helped, of course, by the prequel storylines and our extensive understanding of Anakin’s character, which is that rarely was Anakin presented with very many choices, and he often chose wrong when he was, sometimes out of anger but mostly out of a very intense love and desire to protect those around him that he cared about. They don’t say that “the road to hell is paved with good intentions” for nothing, after all. Luke seems to understand his father at one point thought he was doing what was right, and has the kindness to forgive him, but not absolve him of all crime. The original trilogy, being largely about Luke and generally following Luke’s feelings, offers Vader a lenient sentence for a lifetime of crime. For example, you might expect that if Han was the ‘main character’ you’d be presented with an entirely different point of view. Even Leia at the end of rotj— knowing full well her father is Anakin/Vader and her brother is hosting his funeral pyre— doesn’t seem to care, laughing and enjoying the Ewok party, and she doesn’t have to care. We aren’t mad at Leia for presumably not feeling the same way about her father that Luke does. Thus my argument is that Vader is forgiven by Luke after a selfless act which saves the latter’s life, not washed of all sin and guilt from the narrative. Anakin and Vader are the same person, condemned to death to deal with the sum of his choices, but forgiven by a son who loves him, who he died for.

This is where the sequels fail to convince me I should offer the same treatment to Kylo Ren. In a film trilogy that largely ends up being about him (much to my and many others chagrin), I rarely find myself understanding why he repeated chooses evil. Perhaps in tfa the lines from Leia about snoke whispering to him as a child were meant to imply he’s been being corrupted since birth, but in theory when snoke is killed in tlj, shouldn’t Kylo’s behavior also become altered? As in, he should be able to think more clearly about his decisions? There’s wobbly logic throughout— in tfa Leia says it’s snoke, in tfa Kylo claims his choices are largely motivated by the fact he worships his grandfather, then in tlj the narrative tries to push us to sympathize with him by telling us Luke tried to kill him (at 23, btw— common misconception that the incident happened in his childhood, which it did not).

Arguably, if I were to be led to believe snoke corrupted “Ben”, then the events of tlj— wherein Kylo kills snoke yet remains Kylo instead of reverting to Ben— suggest Kylo actively is choosing evil of his own volition. If I were to believe Kylo is acting out because he idolizes his grandfather, Vader, then Kylo is actively seeking to chose evil of his own volition. If I were to believe Luke attempting to kill “Ben” caused Kylo’s fall, I would still believe Kylo is choosing evil simply to choose evil, seeing as how an attempt on your life is scarring, but not grounds to murder others. Where Anakin’s misguided actions were motivated by fear of those he loves being hurt, Kylo… kind of just seems like he wants to be bad. All of this would be fine, compelling even, as a villain, but outside of tfa, the narrative absolutely refuses to let Kylo be what he wants to be— a villain!

For some reason, starting in tlj, the audience is repeatedly expected to excuse Kylo’s behavior. Sympathizing with an antagonist isn’t always bad, per say, but it generally comes with some sort of buy-in as to why we should care. Absent that, it kind of just seems like the narrative is bending over backwards to forgive a guy who doesn’t really seem to want forgiveness. Mutilating Rey’s character in particular to have her insist there’s good in him when he never hesitates to stalk, physically or emotionally torture, or gaslight her any chance he gets becomes baffling. Unlike Luke with Vader, she really has no reason to care this much about Kylo, or even believed Kylo IS CAPABLE of earning her forgiveness— so the narrative starts spewing more ridiculous premise to try and force a reason for her to forgive him, when he’s done nothing to indicate he WANTS to be forgiven. Though subtle, even Vader visibly has hesitation when confronting Luke— he deals him serious blows, but no where near what we know is the extent of his power. Kylo doesn’t hold back from hurting Rey any chance he gets.

Also bizarrely in comparison to Vader, Kylo is weirdly absolved of his responsibility regarding the devastation the first order has caused and allowed to revert back to “Ben” before actually facing any consequences in terms of story. It comes down to this: he is stabbed, hallucinates his father (who canonically CANNOT be a force ghost— Han in tros is NOT a force ghost, supported by both his lack of glowing blue appearance and the fact that Han doesn’t have the force), hallucinates his father forgiving him and thus forgiving himself via Han’s imagined proxy, then is suddenly Ben again. He has made no choice up to this point which allows us as an audience to understand why he deserves forgiveness from others— just an abrupt 180 in character. It comes off clunky and gauche because it is; Kylo, after a lifetime of choosing evil willingly, using his autonomy to hurt others and gain power for himself, suddenly thinks better of it for no reason. We as the audience are suddenly also expected to do a very quick 180– see! He’s good now! It is no where near as natural as seeing Luke’s journey with Vader because there is no realistic way to interpret the scene; we are forced as the audience to accept this random new “Ben” character as if he’s a different person— an affliction I might also add that doesn’t befall Anakin until he dies, meaning we see a broken Anakin still scarred and wheezing in the Vader suit— again, lasting, permanent effects of his behavior. Where as Kylo is just suddenly “Ben”— new wardrobe, no facial scarring. As if woken from some sort of trance that narratively speaking, if you wanted me to be more compelled, he should have woken from a whole film ago. It’s as if nothing he did as Kylo mattered at all, which is nigh impossible to accept when it involves literal genocide. It’s implied at the end of tlj that he Made. His. Choice. by not only remaining with the first order after snoke is slain but becoming the supreme leader!

In fact it’s the entire opposite of Vader— Vader rises up against his master and chooses to save his son. Kylo rises up against his master and chooses to clench power for himself.

I could only dream of a world where tros was brave enough to allow Kylo what he wants— to be truly corrupted and evil. I could only dream of a world where the sequels explored the impact and importance of that choice, and how to confront an evil that is no longer forgivable

[tetsunabouquet]

Can you explain in a thread why you don’t like Marco?

First of all, I wanna give you a quick shout-out, whoever you are! You're the first person outside of my main fandom (KNB) to send me a request that's civilized and actually something I'd like to talk about so thank you! Reason number one would be, well, on my blog I've already mentioned various times that I don't like characters who abuse kids, and Marco is definitely not without corporal punishment himself. Whilst I like Ren and Jun, I also dislike the rest of the Tao family and Hao as he was mentally an adult throughout the story who didn't mind hurting and killing children (attempting to eat the souls of the Hana-Gumi waitresses for one, when two of them were still young girls is just unacceptable to me). Reason number two would be his brainwashing of Iron Maiden Jeanne and turning her into a murderer. That she forgave him for it doesn't means the audience has to. Children have a certain loyalty to their parents/caretaker figures that in abusive situations can be rather binding and making the child in question creating excuses, forgiving their parents when they shouldn't and see them with a loving kindness because they are the kid's rolemodel in life. Which brings me to reason number 3, the way Marco got absolved of all the sins he has done. Sure, he repented... By becoming a literal angel. That's rewarding him for repenting, and that is something I see as fucked up. That's one of the reasons why I respect Joco as a character- he literally blinded himself, and turnt himself in to serve time in prison for everything that he had done, continuing to carry the stamp of his prison sentence with him on his records for the rest of his life. Joco chose to repent, with no rewards, only more drama, awaiting him. That takes a whole lot of courage. Meanwhile Marco on the other hand, went on to power up in an attempt to say sorry for everyone, whilst Jeanne paid the price for the sins the X-Laws had comitted with her life. The only thing I could possibly say about that is, "Screw you Marco. I don't care if you soul 'could have shattered' because did that happen? No. The only price you actually had to pay was becoming a boy all over again. Oh boo hoo." However, I do think the Shaman King series has a problem with accountability in the first place. Children who were essentially brainwashed or didn't knew any better were held fully accountable for their crimes and didn't blame any of the adults for teaching them these things and blame themselves instead. Whilst the adults had to pay little to no price for the shit they did. I do find that harmful and victim-blaming. Reason number 4, his obsession with Jeanne. I mean, that Jeanne watch that Reiheit tried to give Teruko because he didn't have an engagement ring implies the X-Laws have Jeanne-merch. They have their own 'X' chant, which is more used as a Jeanne fanchant in the series, then it is a thing of everyone (including Jeanne) does. The way Marco himself admits he probably would have shot Ren during his wedding with Jeanne had he been there. Having been around the K-POP scene since 2010, Marco very much reminds me of a toxic fangirl that's one step away from becoming a full blown sasaeng. Just that scene of Lyserg faking Jeanne with an oversoul, and Marco being like, "the chastity belt was incorrect, that's the most important part", is seriously creepy to me. I mean, he considers the most important detail of Jeanne's appearance her chastity belt?! For fuck's sake. I can definitely see that a Shaman King reader who doesn't knows much about idol culture and how Marco is clearly written as if he were a toxic idol fan, to be like, 'Wait, the chastity belt is the most important thing? Hold on, the X-Laws are Christian coded... Do they touch little kids?!' (considering the Church's massive cover up of child sexual abuse). That scene definitely reads capital ICKY either way. Being actually obsessed with a little girl's purity as a grown man is just disgusting. So... Overall I find Marco to be an abusive creep who got off too easy, and that is why I don't like him.