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sweetvixen1996 · 10 months

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Mafia Boys & Gifts As Manipulation

Okay so I need somewhere else to exorcise my Kinnporsche brain rot, and I guess that’s you fine people. So I submit my thesis of this post:

In episode 7, we see Vegas, Kinn, & Kim all give a gift as a way to manipulate the recipient.

One of the writers (who are trash people) are very smart to do is to echo certain beats with characters through their action to hammer a point home. A good example is Kinn kissing a drunk Porsche at the end of E3 and then sleeping with a drugged Porsche at the end of E4 -both acts of physical... attraction performed while Porsche is unable to fully consent but the latter having far more serious consequences.

The manipulative gift giving in E7 really hammers home that Vegas, Kinn, & Kim really are FAR MORE ALIKE than any of them would like to think. But its all about lenses.

So lets look at it:

Vegas:

Let's start with the most obvious example, shall we?

Vegas spends this entire episode pseudo-courting Porsche. Both to mess with Kinn, and to get a competent man in the Minor Family’s control (likely under his father’s orders), Vegas is going to use what he knows of Porsche to win him over. Including this gorgeous bike. Vegas explicitly frames Porsche getting the bike as a reward for a job goes well. That, by its very nature, makes it not truly a gift. Instead its payment, a carrot dangled above Porsche's head. Also, on top of Vegas just knowing that Porsche likes motorcycles, I think this serves as a reminder of their little motorcycle ride date back from E5 when Vegas was around to (seemingly) provide comfort when Kinn was not. Basically, Vegas is saying, “Look what I can give you, look at how much fun we can have together, and look at how well I know you but you just got to do this one thing for me and you can have all of it.”

For the record, I do think Vegas genuinely likes Porsche, and is probably physically attracted to him. Everything he does in this episode and beyond is absolutely a power play, with Porsche just being another piece on the chess board in the game of domination Vegas is constantly trying to play with Kinn, but, unlike his thin veiled contempt for Tawan, Vegas seems to truly enjoy spending time around Porsche. I always think back to that hug they shared and how Vegas just sort of melted into it. It’s hard to fake that sort of react.

Maybe in a different life, they could have been actual friends.

In hindsight, I do wonder how much about the bodyguards all being happy and Vegas caring about them is a show and how much of it is real. Vegas definitely wants to frame life at the Minor Family as a better alternative to serving the Major Family, but we also know that Vegas is not incapable of caring about the people around him. In fact, he’s something he desperately wants to be good at.

On a side note, we also get the case of Vegas giving the pork skewer to Pete. It's a small thing, and probably also manipulation, but with how important food becomes in their relationship, I think it's worth noting.

Kinn:

I almost hesitate to call this manipulation, because this moment is really just so sweet. So instead I'll discuss how Vegas uses the bike as a reward while Kinn uses his favorite gun as an excuse. For these two knuckleheads, E7 is a transitional period. E6 had them admitting for their attraction and affection for each other, and the Side Story had them cementing that what they had in the woods isn't going away, but E7 here is them trying to figure out what this new dynamic means and how it can exist back in the “real world.”

Kinn is not ready to say “I love you” verbally to Porsche yet. He cannot fully put his trust in Porsche just yet. After everything with Taiwan, and just well his entire life, all the jealousy and insecurity and possessiveness is coming out in full force. Not to mention, Kinn is stuck at home recovering from his injuries, likely making him feel useless. Plus, he has to at least have a suspicion that Vegas was the one who drugged and took Porsche back in E4 -on top of actively plotting to take Porsche away now.

Yet Kinn also knows he needs to be careful. Even if he can't say those things, he knows he at least needs to give something up or risk Porsche pulling away. Specifically, pulling towards Vegas. So he gives Porsche’ his gun, the one Kinn always keeps on him. It's Kinn’s way of saying, “even if I can't be with you in person, this gun is my way of being with you in spirit.”

Then he tells Porsche that Porsche has to come back so he can return Kinn’s gun. Now this is a fun little gray area, because Kinn IS able to say Porsche needs to come back to him -not why, mind you, he’s not their yet. But Kinn is trying his best. Unlike Vegas, who views Porsche as part of a game, Ken sees Porsche as the prize at the end of the game. The only thing that matters. The thing Kinn wants to get above all, no matter what he has to sacrifice.

I love this whole interaction because it just runs the gauntlet of emotions. It's sweet, it's sappy, it's funny, it's flirty, and it's a little tense. Overall, it's a good example of both Kinn’s own emotional limitations, and Kinn trying his damnedest to show how he feels since he's not great at putting things into words. And if that involves a little manipulation, well there are probably worse things in the world.

Also I think it is really funny that this entire scene and the situation with the gun is very reminiscent of the concept of the Lady’s Favor. That being where noble women would give Knights a personal token, usually a handkerchief or a ribbon, when they went off to do something dangerous as both a token of their affections and to make the Knight promise to come back. The promise, of course being so that the Knight would stay safe, and so the Knight would have an excuse to visit their Lady again.

Kim:

The Kimchay relationship is interesting because it somehow manages to be both the most wholesome while also being the most duplicitous. One of the things that makes all three of the major couples in this series interesting (or controversial, depending on who you ask) is that there is a very clear uneven power dynamic. Kinn is Porsche’s boss and a mafia leader, and Vegas literally has Pete chained up in his house -you can't get much more even than that. And yet, both of them are in a situation in which the power dynamic difference is obvious. That's not the case with Kimchay. While it's true that there is the obvious unbalance of the Idol/Fan dynamic, and the age gap being jussssst wide enough that Kim and Chay are at different points in their developmental adult life, the real power dynamic difference comes from the fact that this entire relationship is built flat on a lie. It is a lie that Kim himself eventually comes to love and wish was true, but not one that could have ever been sustained.

There are a lot of really great metas out there about how Kim is actually the most dangerous of his brothers, and is far more willing to coldly manipulate and act for his goal, and you see a lot of that these early interactions with Chay.

At this point, I think it's safe to say that while Kim may think Chay is cute and sweet, and is charmed by him despite himself, Chay is still just a means to the end within his investigation. He's also completely aware a Chay’s infatuation with him and is using that to get through the door of Chay’s life and house -quite literally.

If the motorcycle was a reward from Vegas, and the gun was an excuse from Kinn, I'd say that Kim is using the guitar as almost a form of payment. A way of further buying Chay's trust and good nature. He may have even specifically brought it as a way to override Chay questioning why Kim knew where he lived.

And yet it's also important to point out that this episode is a turning point in their relationship, just like it is for KinnPorsche. Before this, Chay was a tool, if a very charming one. Kim doesn't even really have the patience with him to wait for Chay to finish talking and expressing his doubt about accepting the guitar before asking to use the bathroom. Not to mention further taking advantage of Chay’s feelings for him in order to get Chay out of the house so Kim could investigate the Mysterious Locked Room.

But then Kim finds the Idol Wall, and everything changes. I am 100% convinced that is the moment where Kim not only knows that Chay has nothing to do with any potential mafia dirty business, but also when Kim starts feeling some guilt over his manipulation of Chay. Both of which should make him immediately back off, and we see in the next episode that that is sort of what he does, but his initial response is instead to engage further -even outright flirting with the implicit promise of further contact with the two, even though it actually doesn't have any merit at this point.

Basically, this is when Chay starts to become REAL to Kim.

#kinnporsche #vegaspete #kimchay #kinn theerapanyakul #porschay kittisawasd #vegas theerapanyakul #kim theerapanyakul #porchay kittisawasd #kinnporsche analysis #this is my brain dump #sorry if it doesn't make sense #bring on the piles of red flags disguised of handsome men #and the messy bitches who love them #not chay though #he is a sweet sunshine child #even if he wouldn't know a red flag if it was strangling him

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sinsofsummers · 10 months

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undone

2.2k | dbf!joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel miller worships the day you showed up braless to his fourth of july party. warnings: smut (of course), 18+, mdni. no outbreak au, fourth of july party (forgive him he's from texas), joel's pov, he's a dumb bitch, masturbation (m), pervy!joel but not really, age gap (reader is in her 20s, joel in his early 40s), slight religious slander (not extreme by any means!). note: this is just me dipping my toes into the dbf!joel universe, lemme know what you think! zero editing basically, i'm so sorry, there will probably be more drabbles for this. also this is consolation for the dumb shit holiday that is independence day in the us. i hate it here.

He's anything but religious; he hasn't gone to church since he was a kid. And yet...Joel Miller worships the day you went braless to his Fourth of July party.

Even now, laid in his bed with his arm thrown carelessly across his face and his fist curled tightly around his cock, he's not sure he'll ever recover.

Muffled grunts fall from his lips with every strained tug, and he's sure it sounds something like prayer. Considering the fact that you're as close to heaven as he'll ever get, he'll call it a fair assessment. If it's sacrilege to jerk off to the thought of his best friend's daughter every night...so be it.

He's never been one with any type of remarkable memory, but he knows that the image of your perfect chest peeking at him through the thin thank you'd worn that day would stick with him forever.

You'd blinked up at him with a grin, a bowl of fresh fruit salad prepared to share with the rest of the guests in your hands. A strand of hair had fallen into your eyes and he'd had to fight against every urge and keep his hand down at his side.

What he really wanted to do was brush your hair from your eyes (ever the gentleman), and then replace the spot where his fingers would touch your forehead with his lips. He'd always wondered what your hair might smell like, what shampoo you used in the morning, and how your skin looked when the suds ran down your body, rinsed down the drain.

What he wouldn't give to be the suds running down your radiant skin, to touch every curve and crevice of your body, the spots that never see the light of day.

He hadn't seen you since you'd gone to college. Well, not for more than a few days over your Christmas break each year, and even then...he'd made sure to steer clear of you. Tried to ignore the way your smile made his own stutter, how your arms were always so soft around his neck when you gave him the occasional hug.

How your eyes had begun to linger, just enough to make his jaw clench and his cock twitch.

A strangled sigh fights its way out of his chest as he remembers the events of that fateful party, and just how he's ended up here, cock in hand, your scent in his head, and your name on his tongue.

—

"Jesus Christ," he murmured when you and your dad showed up with your dishes to pass. The backyard had been strewn with red, white, and blue decorations, the perfect image of a typical Texan backyard celebration for Independence Day.

He'd been unable to hide his groan at the way the bright colors practically bled into his skull, but there was no other way to have a Fourth of July party, apparently. Of course, this was really just for tradition, and...well, his younger brother Tommy would have had his head if there weren't at least a few American flag streamers.

Your little white tank had already begun to cling to your skin in the Texas heat, the straps thin. Before he knew it, he was hoping that the sun would do him a favor and kiss your skin where he wished he could. That it might form those pretty little lines along your shoulders and give a warm glow to your face, evidence of your presence at his house, at his party, drinking his beer.

"Drunk already?" your dad's voice roused him from his momentary lapse in judgment and then Joel was getting tugged into a firm handshake and a clapped hand on his shoulder.

He tore his eyes from you and hoped that the pink in his cheeks (that was definitely there) could be mistaken for a quickly setting sunburn. He didn't want to think of what you might take his blush for if you noticed.

He chuckled, shaking his head and returning the handshake. “Hell no,” he answered hastily, “just gettin’ hungry for that fruit salad, man.” And the angel holding it. “Need a hand?” he asked you, forcing his eyes not to wander from yours.

Fuck. Your eyes were extra bright today, with the sun seemingly lighting them from the insides. And those cheeks? Already pink and sunkissed, just how he’d hoped they would be. He might have offered you some sunblock if he’d thought it was appropriate. Might have offered to help you spread it onto your smooth skin if he’d thought that was appropriate.

Of course, he’d be condemned to the darkest circle of hell if he let those thoughts run wild. So he trained his eyes on yours and waited for your response.

You shook your head and tucked your hair behind your ear. You squinted into the sun, an action that forced one eye closed, as if you were winking at him. “I’ve got it,” you said casually, “can I put it inside for now?” You adjusted your hold on the fruit salad, making your breasts shift under your shirt.

Joel nodded—fuck’s sake, he thought with the movement of your chest—and tilted his head toward the back door that led to the kitchen. “Go for it, Sarah’s already in there.”

Your dad had been called away by Tommy, so Joel was left in your quiet company. He watched your smile widen at the mention of his daughter’s name and felt his heart twinge. You were just a few years older than his daughter, and here he was, not only willing his cock to settle down at the sight of your nipples pressing against the cloth of your shirt, but also wishing that your smile widened at the mention of his name.

Joel wasn’t quite sure what happened in the subsequent minute or how he moved so quickly. Before he knew it, you’d stepped closer to him and he’d stepped to the side, except he was really just getting in your way, and your eyes were widening in surprise, and then the bowl of fruit salad was shuffling in your grip and he was stumbling to get back out of your way and then—

“Shit,” you mumbled a curse. The juice from the contents of the bowl—mostly watermelon juice, it looked like—had splashed up onto your shirt, seeping through the white fabric and painting your chest a pale pink. You looked up, a careless smile replacing the distracted look on your face. “Don’t worry about it, Mr. M, really. I was gonna have to wash this shirt tonight anyway.”

“I—uh, I didn’t mean to,” was all he could come up with, and he could feel his face heating once more at the look on your face. “Shirt’s ruined. I’m sorry darlin’,” he mumbled—was the temperature increasing by the second?—and pretended not to notice the way your shirt clung even tighter to your chest. It was like a damn wet t-shirt contest, the way the darker shade of your nipples began to peek through the soiled fabric at him. He blinked and looked away, trying to ignore the way your smile had turned into a smirk. Have you caught him?

You shrugged and passed the bowl to him. “No, it’s not,” you reassured him with a breathless chuckle. “I’m sure Sarah’s got a shirt or two I can wear.”

He’d been left standing with the bowl of your fruit salad as you’d trekked into the house, presumably to do as you’d said. When you came out just a few minutes later, he’d been talking to your dad and a few of the other neighbors that had come over. He’d almost completely forgotten about the incident, until you were there again, standing in front of him.

In his shirt.

“Uh,” he said dumbly, not sure whether you knew whose shirt you were wearing, or if you’d gone into the wrong laundry pile.

You picked at the hem of the shirt, and he traced the lines of your long fingers with his eyes, practically seeing your sweet scent sink into the fabric. He hoped you could smell his cologne lingering on the collar as it licked against the soft skin of your neck. “Sarah found this in her closet,” you explained, “she said it was one of her sleep shirts.” You flitted your gaze to him, and he caught a glimmer of amusement in the depths of your eyes. “Smells kind of…”

Like me. He shivered despite the heat and tapped his finger on his hip to calm himself down. It smells like me, and now you’re gonna smell like me, angel.

“Like men’s cologne,” you finished with a smirk dancing on your lips. “You sure Sarah’s not bringing home any guys you don’t know about, Mr. Miller?”

He cocked an eyebrow and bit back a cutting remark. “‘Course not,” he said smoothly, “they’d never get past the front door.”

It was all he could do not to tug you onto his lap with his shirt hanging past your hips, giving the illusion that you weren’t wearing any shorts beneath it. Fuck, he had to get away from your father before he did anything he regretted. “Need another drink, anyone?” he offered, shifting his weight away from you in a failed attempt to get the thoughts out of his mind.

The others shook their heads, but you nodded. “I’ll get another, actually,” you said simply. And then he was stuck with you, his fingers itching to lift that shirt from your body and reveal that warm skin to his desperate mind.

The kitchen was empty—a small blessing—and Joel fished through the fridge for another beer. Handing one to you, he cherished the way your fingers brushed his as you pulled it from his grasp, the droplets of condensation running down the bottle like he knew the sweat was running down his back at the thoughts that swam through his mind.

“S’my shirt, you know,” he grumbled softly, not quite sure why he’d said it. Maybe it was to gauge what your reaction would be. Maybe he already hoped that you’d smile at the thought.

You looked down at the shirt, cheeks reddening. “It is?” you said quietly, the surprise unraveling in your voice. “I’m sorry, I can get another one—”

He waved a dismissive hand. “Nah, s’okay. Looks better on you than it does on me, anyway.”

“Oh.” Just one word, but he noticed the way your legs wobbled at the same time. The way the bottle slipped just a centimeter in your hand.

Gotcha, he smirked inwardly.

—

Days have gone by, and he still thinks about that blush in your cheeks every night. He can’t help it when you just look so angelic in the shirt of a sinner like him.

Joel’s hand squeezes his cock for all its worth as he strokes himself languidly, faint mumbles beginning to fall from his lips like the verses of a damn hymn. “So fuckin’ pretty,” he groans in the darkness of his room, feeling the pressure build in his body. With every muscle in his chest tensing, he lets a broken sigh escape his throat as he spills his hot seed into his hand, the picture of your face embedded in his mind’s eye. Laying there for a moment, he catches his breath as oxygen raggedly pushes itself in and out of his lungs.

And then he hears it. A knock. The front door, it sounds like.

He hastily cleans himself up, but the faint feeling of stickiness remains on his hand as he traipses down the stairs in the dark, wondering just who the hell would be knocking on his door so late at night.

When he opens the door, he’s not exactly expecting to see the face he’d just come on his hand to.

“Hey,” he chokes out, hiding his hand behind his back as if you might be able to see the evidence of sacrilege on his skin. He’s afraid you’ll be able to decipher the sweat on his forehead for the sinful act that it had come from just moments ago. “What’s up?”

“Oh!” you sound surprised at his answering the door, a fact that makes him smirk. “I’m just…I’m just here to return Sarah’s shirt,” you explain hastily.

There it is, hanging from your loose grip, waiting for him to take it. “You mean mine,” he corrects gently, his grin widening as he feeds his hand up the frame of the door, hovering over you close enough that he can see your pupils widen and pulse at the proximity of his chest to yours.

Your mouth hangs open, just enough that he thinks about pushing his thumb in between your lips, up to the first knuckle. His mind goes wild at the thought of how warm and soft and wet your mouth would be around his fingers. How perfect it would be around even more.

He shoves the thoughts away as you nod. “Yeah,” you say with a breathless chuckle. “Yours, I mean. I don’t need it anymore, though. So…” your eyes drop to the shirt between you, your words trailing off.

Joel shakes his head. “Don’t need it back,” he says warmly. “Not yet, anyway. Keep it.”

You blink. “What?”

He shrugs, the thought of you wearing it more than once lighting his mind on fire. “Keep it for now. I’ll come to collect it some other time. No reason to return it in the dead of night, doll.”

Fuck. The nickname had slipped.

But based on the way your lips curl at the corners, he’s dodged a bullet. “Okay,” you say softly, and he swears he can see the moon reflected in your eyes. “Just for a little longer, then.”

He nods and says goodnight, closing the door only when he can see that you’ve made it back to your house next door safely. The door shuts with a soft click, and he grins to himself.

To hell with the shirt. Doesn’t matter to him. He’ll get it back eventually. And when he does, he plans to have it smell like you.

this ending was so rushed ahhhh i have to go to work!!! bye!!!! ty for reading and all the love!!!!

tagging here cause i have to goooo to workkkkk!!!

@mingiast @iluvurfather @cavillscurls @cupofjoel @thetriumphantpanda @morning-star-joy @sofiparallel @elegantduckturtle @evyiione @bitchwitch1981 @disassociation-daydreams @mrsquill @littlemisssluttyknee @papipascalispunk @mumma-moonchild @marchai @mlodanatka @xdaddysprincessxx @bongsrconfusing @tlouadditc @dinsdjrn @alejaa-a @daysilva2 @worhols @jellybeanxc @struig @cherryreddarbiter

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dairy-farmer · 11 months

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I've seen it done exactly once in an ABO fic but it was GRIPPING and I think you'd love it? And this is just my take on the themes/troupes cause "Nice~👍🎉💖"? Vaguely Gothic Horror but Modern Bats! Mixed with a Civilian Tim Au! Where Tim doesn't know Bruce is batman. Oh sure he knows the Brucie Mask is fake as hell, has since he was super tiny, but NOT what he's hiding! What ANY of them are.

And the Bats are urban legends, the wealthy scoff, you don't REALLY believe there is some sort of Bat Creature running around Gotham? (Wayne tech makes the finest video scrambling tech not on the market. It will never BE on the market.) Tim of course knows there IS, but really... since his parents died? He's more concerned with keeping Drake Industries afloat. People don't have a lot of confidence in young teenage CEOs. Or even barely legal CEOs.

He's been swamped. Yet Brucie "I basicly OWN half of Gotham yet everyone thinks I'm a harmless himbo" Wayne has been religiously sending him invites to every event he hosts. As though Tim wouldn't have been eaten ALIVE and had Drake Industries stolen from him, before now. But he can't put it off any more. He's run out of fires to put out, as it were.

People are starting to ask when they'll see him at the next event. If he's, for some unthinkable reason, AVOIDING dear Brucie Wayne. The beloved brainless prince of Gotham. Both PR and HR would strangle him to death with his own insides if he said he was.

So he goes. Puts on his best GNC suit, those touches of jewelry, a bit of scent you can't tell if it's perfume or cologne etc. And he goes to be the little Dragon of Gotham. Tries to avoid getting to close to the looming, masked by only their own faces, CLEARLY hiding something Wayne's.

He fails.

Of course he does. Bruce gets him alone. Knows that Tim knows his Brucie Mask is fake. Knows a LOT more then he should, actually. Has been trying to get a hold of him since his parents accident. To foster him of course. (And in the beginning that really WAS all Bruce wanted to do. But Tim was so, so clever. Kept escaping and proving himself and fighting. Bruce was watching, ready to step in and take over. Them moment never came though. But Bruce has grown so... attached. He WANTS to take care of his boy. This brilliant soft young man, untouched by the vigilante life.)

Tim mentally calls bullshit. There is HUNGER in those eyes. And? Just as Bruce is pulling the "you know... Wayne Industries has been VERY interested in some of your company's current projects, we should sex about it." Purr and loom routine? They get interrupted by the one and only Gotham's Golden Pretty Boy: Dickie Grayson. And oh shit! Same too toothy fake smile, same hunger in the eyes, weird tension between him and Bruce. Tim takes his chance to escape.

But for SOME reason? After that party? He CANT seem to escape! (It's cause they're Bats. Professional Ninja Stalkers.) Showing up everywhere, knowing too much, circling tighter and tighter like sharks he's not entirely sure he even WANTS to fight. No one has ever been this into him. There are enough red flags to bury men alive.

He might be into that.

And they DO watch him everywhere! Both mundane life, work, and getting off when he should be in what is the privacy of his own home. They fantasize about it, about him. There are GIFTS.

Then? Oh dear, one rainy, rainy night... as he needs to fetch something from the old Manor he grew up in... which is RIGHT next to Wayne Manor? For some UNKNOWN reason his car blows a tire as it passes near their gate! Well he can't drive like THAT! And it is so VERY late! Guess he has no choice but to stay the night now.

And if the sneak a bit of pollen into his food? Well they FINALLY have their Tim HOME. Where he belongs! He'd love being part of the family, being loved, taken care off, not ALONE anymore. But they have such a limited amount of time to convince him. To open him up to the idea that being around them feels good. That they'll take care off him. The second the rain stops, he'll flee again back to lonely penthouse and isolated life. They HAVE too!

So they make him feel good. Brain meltingly good. Mouths and fingers and toys and more. They have his phone and work computer, it'll be easy to impersonate him for a while and shoulder some of that work for their boy while they convince him. They have NO idea how he got dosed they lie, but they care so much, love their Tim so much they'll GLADLY help him through it. Won't tell a soul, promise! They got you little bird, they got you~♡

i might have a fic rec for this!!!! it's incomplete but a very good civilian tim and bats/tim fic!!!!!!!!!!!!

its called the rapture, it's a hunger

the idea of the bats alll having this kind of possessiveness over tim and doing their best to integrate into his life like he's not desperately suspicious of them and their ulterior motives is so good!!!! tim may not be robin or a bat but he can still pick up and sense that things aren't fully pure and innocent from these waynes that act VERY suspicious towards him in particular. but tim is trapped because its him against basically a miniature army who all have an obsessive streak 😭

#anonymous #asks #answered asks

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mejomonster · 1 year

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Chapter 150. So much to say. I'll say a quick aside first that i love the mention of Luo Wenzhou feeling like he's right back to when he heard Lao Yang died, shaking as he grips the doorframe. Cause he's often so STRONG and keeps steady emotionally during so many crises, he earns the nickname of superhero and deservedly. But in a moment like that, despite it all, he feels as human as me and as weak as me or anyone else when the panic and fear and Crushing weight of emotions finally is ruining his ability to function like a superhero. He's just as emotionally distraught as anyone might be in the situation, fumbling just like anyone would, unable to be the Perfect hero in those moments in the hospital. Just trying to do whatever left to do while hes emotionally raw and totally unable to get out from under his emotions drowning him. I felt that scene was needed for a character like Luo wenzhou. I also liked how in retrospect he realizes the great blindspot he had for suspecting shiniang. How in a way, it parallels his huge Willful blind spot he had for Fei Du: knowing fei du was likely manipulating him, stealing info, spying, but letting him in the emotional based hope fei du wouldn't do anything harmful with it. Pained when fei du confessed to the spying, when Luo wenzhou had to finally face explicitly he'd let fei du do that for so long. He emotionally Wants to believe in the best of his loved ones. It's why he knew fei du was spying but just let him, knew fei du may well be capable of killing people but left him alone to accumulate his secret organization for taking revenge. That same trait of Luo wenzhous is why he didn't think to suspect shiniang. Why he let her HATE him so much he couldn't visit for years. Why he let her daughter, Lao yangs daughter, spy on him and play them all too.

Because once he decides "this is my family" and "I care about them" he wants so badly to keep seeing them as HIS people and trustworthy. With Fei Du it was a special case in that Fei Du HAD the red flags he might murder or be cruel for most of their relationship, what with saying he enjoyed hurting things and would like to Strangle and would make a secret org to do Crimes as both a child and an adult who really should be suspected when as an adult they're still doing it as suspicious things happen around them (and to be fair I think fei du partly desperately wanted TO be honest to Luo wenzhou and that's why Luo wenzhou heard him say such things). But even with red flags galore for years, Luo wenzhou chose to love and trust him unconditionally. So of course a man like that, to people without such red flags, who he also views as family... of course he would have a blind spot. Even if he did suspect them, like all his loved ones he'd WANT to believe they didn't have bad intentions even if they lied to him. So shiniang and her daughter proving to have lied to him? Wow that's a lot.

I wonder if it will also in the long run shake his relationship with fei du. After all, fei du is another person who DID lie to him. Who he kept choosing to trust even knowing he was being lied to, in the hopes fei du did not have bad intentions. Since shiniang and her daughter did actually have bad intentions and get people killed, I wonder if that will bleed into Luo wenzhous perception of fei du.

(However I will say in contrast... fei du choosing to admit what he did definitely earns Luo Wenzhous trust in a way that makes their relationship harder to shake, and fei du had also always been seen almost as Luo wenzhous own child. In the sense of responsibility to take care of fei du, to "save" him. Luo wenzhou loves fei du in the unconditional way you would love your own child even if they smashed your house up and screamed they wanted to kill someone. They're your responsibility to get help for, to protect even when they're being bad, to keep alive and try to make a better future for, to steer toward being a good person even if no one else believes they are worth trying to teach to be kinder. Luo wenzhous utterly unconditional love, like a parent loves almost, does mean in fei dus case I think he's unable to stop caring for him. Sure, fei du can break his trust. And certainly as an adult, fei du would face consequences now if Luo wenzhou sees he is lied to. But even if they were estranged, even if fei du full on killed a person, Luo wenzhou might feel betrayed but he'd still ultimately want to work things out. Maybe he'd even sever their connection line for communication... but I doubt Luo wenzhou would. Because fei du fears abandonment so Luo wenzhou doesn't have the heart to even temporarily abandon him, would be too worried fei du would not be able to cope if he did. And Luo wenzhou drove away when fei du confessed and STILL CAME BACK WITH FOOD AND BROKE IN AND COOKED AND MADE THEM TALK AGAIN. So even if fei du did lie more, do the Worst... Luo wenzhou would ensure they talked again. Even if fei du had to go to prison lets say lmao, Luo wenzhou would be there to visit his ass every other day and suggest counselors and suggest lawyers to help him shorten the sentence and order him around to be good and reflect on the bullshit he did and all the rest. Luo Wenzhou is WAY too attached to fei du to ever truly cut him off, even if fei du betrays him. Even if your kid betrays you, you still care for them. Even though fei du is an adult now... and you might limit contact with a violent 30 year old child the way you'd not do that to a 14 year old... Luo wenzhou isn't the type. He just couldn't. Emotionally fei du IS HIS PERSON. That's more true than anyone else in the world. When Luo wenzhou told him your MY PERSON he really meant it with his entire soul.)

#silent reading #modu #lb #meta #zhoudu

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trenchcoatbeez · 2 years

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Ranking Prairie Invasives By How Much I Would Want To Wring Their Necks If They Were People

#10 Cedars

Honestly a pretty nice guy in most situations, he likes the local birds, grows some local fungi, the works! He's from around the area, so he doesn't really seem like much of a threat, and honestly, I wouldn't even have him on this list if he didn't dabble in chemical warfare on the side. He's a big guy who grew up really fast and takes up a lot of space by putting down others, and he really does well in his own town with others like him. I would feel kinda bad watching the light fade from his eyes. 2/10 would strangle.

#9 Crown Vetch

Okay, now she seems pretty nice, and she looks super pretty! Loves being admired, and really thrives in people's backyards. Honestly, she has a bit of a problem with attention. Kinda the person that's 'any press is good press' if you know what I mean. She has the tendency to just crawl all over everything and can get a little stifling when you're next to her for a while. Not terrible... but I would feel little remorse shoving her in front of a train. 4/10 would strangle.

#8 Poison Hemlock

Now this one looks pretty normal from a ways away, and a lot of people really admire them from afar, but their intimacy issues really put them at odds with a lot of people. They have a habit of lashing out and just smacking the shit out of anyone that touches them. Also, they are on the run from the law for poisoning a string of their past husbands via laced teas, which is kinda a red flag... 5.75/10 would hold underwater until the bubbles stopped.

#7 Teasel

This fuckboy is absolutely notorious for pump and dumping anyone and everyone they can get their hands on. Like Ghengis Khan levels of sleeping around. This bitch has kids lining the highways for fucks sake. Always been very prickly, and a deadbeat in every sense of the term. Just for the sake of his kids, I wouldn't mind body slamming an elbow into his throat. 6.9/10 would smother with a pillow.

#6 Bradford Pears

Now, this guy came from the big city with the best of intentions, but if you ask me, I think the rural life drove him kinda crazy. Spring is his favorite season, and he's pretty easy on the eyes but gods he just reeks. Like someone never showed that poor kid what a shower was, he hasn't come within five feet of a stick of deodorant in his life, and was definitely on 4chan last night ranting about women and how their standards are too high. The only other good thing I could think to say about him is that he keeps bees, which prevents him from being higher on the list. Also his name is Brad, which put him up a rank from Teasel. 7/10 would snap crackle pop out of existence.

#5 Bindweed

This woman is a femme fatale if I've ever seen one. Pretty unassuming on the outside in a rich asshole sorta way, but she makes this fun little "game" of flying into poorer rural areas and absolutely devastating some people's lives by wining and dining the men of the family and finding some slight that her legal goons will latch onto to sue their generational farm out of existence. Just for the familial shredding, I wouldn't feel bad sabotaging her billionaire-ass private jet. 8.6/10 would snuff the lights from.

#4 Musk Thistle

This guy has been in and out of prison for most of his adult life. Kinda a failure of the legal system than anything. His temper has a shorter fuse than a full stick of dynamite, and he's kinda hot-potatoed all over the country's prison systems as a result. Definitely not the kinda guy you would feel comfortable with walking down the street towards at night, even if there were people around. Pretty sure he's on trial for a string of stabbings in Arkansas. Likes butterflies. 9/10 would feed to a coyote pack.

#3 Johnson Grass

Pretty sure this guy runs the local mafia chapter. He always has guys underground that are just waiting to pop up where you would least expect it, and the police have busted his ring like five or six times, but somehow he always comes back full force. Every one of his cronies (including him according to rumors) carries around a cyanide pill like they're an overseas spy ring. Maybe they are. 10/10 would feed to a hungry shark.

#2 Sericea

Oh, this fucker. She got a medal from the military when she was in her thirties for committing state-sanctioned genocide and now she has this pompous ass attitude like ma'am getting the nickname prairie killer isn't as big of a point of pride as you think it is. Zero redeeming qualities. 12/10 would send off a cliff with a loony toons sized cannon.

#1 Honeysuckle

Honestly, he's always given me Jeff Bezos vibes. This man is the CEO of a multibillion-dollar housing scheme that was given to him by his father and has the audacity to claim humble roots. Like sir, I hate to break it to you but just because you were born in Missouri doesn't give you the right to claim you know the struggles of the working farmers there. This asshole bought out a whole plot of old deciduous forest and remnant prairie and just decided to build skyrise apartments on them. Buddy. Pal. I would be surprised if you know what the term charity means. You put on a compassionate front with no light behind your eyes. Get a life. 20/10 would run through with a jousting pole

Thank you for coming to my ted talk.

#nature #climate change #invasives #climate activism #text post #fuck this is long #i have so many words to say and none of them are good #this was originally going to be educational but it turned into a paragraphs long rant #im not even kidding i have finals #someone please end my suffering #conservation #education #ecosystem #great plains #ecology #no i did not include kudzu dont make me talk about kudzu i will cry #environment #educational but in the worst way

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madcatdaderpydrawer-blog · 2 years

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What would sun do if he found damaged!moon? :(

He'd most likely find him several hours after he got damaged, and solely by accident. While Moon brooding ominously in dark areas isn't that weird, the fact that is outside of the daycare when the lights are on is definitely a red flag that something is wrong. Moon wouldn't willingly admit he was injured, and probably hide it at first. The first thing he'd say to Sun would probably be scolding him for breaking the rules by leaving the daycare. Sun would be irritated because HE'S also breaking the rules then, since he's only allowed out for patrol. He'd point it out, more just to show how much of a hypocrite he is but the statement would probably aggitate Moon because he's such a strickler for the rules and would be distressed that he is in fact breaking the rules.

Obviously he'd try to get Moon to come back to the daycare with him, but he would refuse. Sun didn’t realize he was hurt at this time, and just thought he was being stubborn. When infected Moon is very good at displaying practically any emotion as anger, even fear and pain. Despite wanting, and quite frankly needing help, he is still worried about the consequences of getting damaged this and what the punishment will inevitably be. And with how bad he had been acting towards Sun, he was scared he would laugh or something if he found out what happened. Plu,s his brother hadn't come looking for him for hours, why would he care if he was alright?

It took a bit of man handling, though Sun was able to do it with relative ease due to how little of a fight his brother could put up. He still had to basically grab him by the shoulders and roll him onto his stomach against his will, which wasn't painless with the condition his back was in but Sun only realized that AFTER he had flipped his brother over and received a strangled scream from him due to the rough handling. Sun was really worried for him, and was massively confused as to how he got so severely injured. And when he checked his brothers stats, he noticed that the alerts for the pain sensors have been going off nonstop for the past several hours. It made sense then why he didn’t return to the daycare then: the pain had gotten overwhelming, and overrode almost every other command in him.

Sun managed to pick Moon up and left him at the daycare. He doesn’t know how to repair him, and the metal plate was no where to be found, so he decided to wait until 6 am to bring him to the technicians to be fixed. But until then he was stuck just writhing in agony until then, and Sun hates seeing his brother in so much pain.

While gathering supplies he ran into Freddy, who was currently hiding Gregory in his chest. Freddy asked Sun what he was doing outside of the daycare, and why he looked so distressed and Sun explained the state he found Moon in. That he couldn’t find the missing piece anywhere, and Moon could barely talk from all the pain. Sun didn’t know how to calm him down, and it would still be a while before 6 am. That’s when it clicked to Freddy where Gregory got his new upgrade, but he didn’t know how to bring it up to the distraught Sun. He did ask how it happened, but Sun replied honestly that he had no idea, but that it looked like he had fallen from the rafters and broke open his back, injuring his head as well.

#damaged moon #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #fnaf security breach #daycare attendant #fnaf gregory #fnaf glamrock freddy #sundrop #sunrise #moondrop

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brookeolin · 4 years

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TRIGGER WARNING/TW: emotional and physical abuse and violence

Hi! I've been paying attention to the stories of assault that have been shared by brave survivors over the past week... and years... Every time a movement to share revives, I consider talking about something I've been through... but usually by the time I feel like I can, I tell myself "it's too late, the moment passed". I am finally realizing that this mentality was a stupid way of silencing myself--and it's truly never too late to speak up.

I don't have a games industry person to call out. I'm sharing my story just to get it off my chest.

A couple years ago, in my late 20s, I was dating a guy named Mike. The relationship was pretty toxic from the start, but I was naiive as hell (yes you're still probably naiive about a lot of things in your late 20s btw) and thought his mean streak was sort of... refreshing? I fooled myself into thinking that I'd finally met a guy that would be honest with me about my flaws, and who would love me despite them. Because of this infatuation with a mean streak and the emotional highs and lows that come with it, I ignored all of the red flags. Some examples related to games: If we played a new game and had different opinions about it, mine were always wrong. If I tried to make an argument for my opinion, he'd accuse me of trying to make him feel stupid. My opinions were always invalidated without a discussion. We would play games together--he would tell me I was bad at it. He wouldn't even play the games I'd worked on, and told me he didn't like them. Everything I did or said was bad or wrong, but he'd always sugar-coat it and comfort me with encouragement that I could "do better". It was a rollercoaster of emotions every day. My self-esteem was so low that... I believed he was right. His gaslighting prevented me from seeing the reality of the situation--I was being emotionally abused, constantly.

Time flew by during this relationship. I was always either ecstatically happy or deeply depressed, and so I developed intense anxiety and panic attack problems. I would have a panic attack and would try to talk to him about it, and he would get mad at me or ignore me. The next day, he'd apologize and we'd make up. This happened more times than I can count. The relationship was so all over the place all the time that my emotional energy was always spent. I got too tired to talk to friends, and cut myself off from everyone without realizing it. I was also shipping a couple games at the time, and stopped working on them in the normal way... I didn't playtest, I didn't proofread, I just hacked things out as fast as possible so I could get back to putting out fires in my relationship. Every single disagreement about games or anything else was always turned back on me, and used to further belittle me.

Things continued to escalate with Mike, and maybe... a year into our relationship, one day, he was mad at me for arguing with him about... something. I was probably mad at him about rent--at this point, he was playing games all day and not working. I was paying for our entire existence, including rent, so we'd fight about that a lot. Anyways, we were fighting and it escalated and he started to hit me. He then shoved me onto the couch and started strangling me. I couldn't get him off. I was seriously at the limit of being conscious when I managed to pry him off of my neck, and then he hit me some more. That went on for a bit, until I managed to run out of the apartment. I wandered around in the streets for a while before coming home.

Guess what! Even after something like that, I stayed with him! People aren't kidding when they talk about how difficult it is for abuse victims to leave their abusers. Why? He convinced me that he beat me up because I pushed him to that point. He managed to manipulate me into believing it was my fault. Turns out, this kind of gaslighting is pretty typical in these abuse situations, but I didn't know that at the time and was... so traumatized and fucked up that I believed him. It took me almost another year, and more physical abuse, to finally leave. I almost died multiple times while dating this guy. On the last occaision, he strangled me again after slamming my head into the wall. He stopped strangling me at my breaking point again and started running towards the kitchen, saying something about a knife. I sprinted out the door with only a shirt and underwear on.

An old guy was closing up at a bar nearby and he let me in and called the cops. Of course, the cops weren't helpful--they stood there asking me "but how bad was it, really"... even asking me to rate my fucking beating on a scale of 1-10 while I was sobbing and covered in bruises. Eventually, they finished questioning me and taking pictures of my neck, and finally drove me home. We got there and they asked... "Do you want us to arrest him? You need to decide." These fuckers made me decide if I wanted my abusive boyfriend to go to jail, outside of my apartment, while I was shaking like a leaf, with no pants or shoes on. It was the lowest point of my life, by far. I was like... seriously in disbelief that they were asking me, the victim, to make this decision. Thankfully, I said yes, and he went to jail. I went back into my apartment, alone, surrounded by broken furniture. I called my mom and a friend. I'll never forget how strange it was to just lie there in my ruined apartment, not really knowing what to do. I went to the ER the next day and the nurses there told me they see girls like me in this condition every day, and they told me that a lot of those girls go home and it happens again and again. They asked me sincerely to never speak to Mike again, and I didn't. I have not seen him since. Oh, but I was still effected by the gaslighting so deeply that I gave money to a friend to bail him out of jail a couple days later, because I still felt like everything was somehow my fault. It was NOT my fault. He chose to violently assault me. That was his choice. It took me a long time to recognize that, because his gaslighting really effected me to my core. The power of abuse is truly incredible and horrific, and the power an abuser has remains even after they are gone.

I was was lucky to come out this alive and on my feet. I am no longer in that relationship--I am safe and happy. As lucky as I've been to come this far, I've been through some very real PTSD since then, and still struggle with the physical and financial repercussions of my assault to this day. Things have gotten a lot better though, so I thought it'd be a good time to share this with folks.

I hope that anyone out there who is also a domestic abuse victim can see that they're not alone, and that they can get out of the situation... hopefully faster than I did. I can't advise anyone personally--I'm a victim, not a professional. However, I can promise you, if you're a survivor/victim of domestic abuse, that there's hope. You can get your life together, as impossible as it might seem--I am living proof of it. Trusted friends, therapy and local domestic abuse centers are incredibly helpful. I have personally literally used all of these methods to help with my own situation, when it was at its worst. There is no shame in asking for help.

If you're not a victim, or don't personally know anyone who is... I hope that you might now recognize that domestic abuse is a very real and pervasive thing. It doesn't happen to one specific kind of person--it can really happen to anyone, and often for long, drawn out periods of time. Relationships are complicated things that can be incredibly difficult to get out of, especially when abuse (emotional and/or physical) is happening. Please keep this in mind, watch out for your family and friends, and support victims as much as humanly possible.

-Nina Freeman

#domestic abuse #partner abuse #nina freeman

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cinnamonswamp · 3 years

Text

October 21

It felt good to clean.

Investment labor never made any intuitive sense to her body, it didn't give the kind of feedback cleaning, painting, shopping or fucking did. The instant recognition of an effort well placed. Investment labor, like school work or professional occupation felt misty and aimless inside her. The final click clack of a set of key strokes on a term paper. The walk up two flights of stairs at the end of the work day, and the heat stroke of fatigue and overstimulation that would sizzle sharply in contrast to the silent comfort of her home. Why. Eventually she'd get a pay off. A degree. A paycheck. But like a dog, who having pissed on the carpet at 10am and is not getting clocked by a rolled up newspaper at 5pm, scared and confused, she could never tie the two together, the work and the reward.

You have to burn through it.

But it felt good to clean. The act took nothing from her, it only gave.

She sat in her desk chair in her living room. Her phone was dirty. When was the last time she cleaned it? Not since she bought it earlier that year. She plucked a couple single serve packs of cleansing wipes from one of the pockets of a hanging organizer off the side of a nearby bookshelf. Neighboring pockets housed a ruler, checkbook, a soft measuring tape, a hook with headphones dangling, inert. She peeled the case off her phone, systematically cleaned the debris from the inside, outside.

How many times would she be made to learn this lesson, she wondered.

It's just fog. You have to burn through it.

As many times as it takes, she responded to herself. She got better each time. Each time she invested less and less of herself, stuck around for less and less time. Before this it had been only a few months. This time barely six weeks. She was learning to trust her intuition now, to catch the red flags as they passed over her head and lay them out for analysis. She used to stay for whole years. She's improving.

She collapsed into her partner's arms immediately after. "Thank you for loving me, thank you for being safe," she muttered into their shoulder. Their hand was against the back of her neck. "I'm so sorry," they said. Generous to the bitter end, they are. They didn't even like him very much. Or, more appropriately, they were saddled with polyamorous jealousy for the first time in their and her relationship and was probably feeling just the tiniest amount of relief at the news of the... "break up". But they were still sorry. Sincerely. The wonders of non-monogamy. You'd genuinely rather hurt a little bit if it meant the one you love got their joy. She knew that fact vividly and saw it reflected in her partner's tight hug.

She went back to her paper, surprisingly cool to the heart now that it was over. It took three hours. Five straight days of procrastination for three hours of moderate effort. Pathetic. She immediately went to her bathroom and deep cleaned from floor the ceiling as soon as she was done. It felt good to clean.

He didn't scare her. Maybe he would have at one point, she didn't know. She was learning to bail before that proof got into any of her pudding. Pride was suckling dully at the roots of her consciousness. She was proud of herself. Pfft. Scare her. She'd once had a dude attempt to strangle her after he attempted to rape her. It took a lot to scare her now. Both attempts were utter failures, by the way. But not really for the sake of her gumption. Had that guy been stronger in both mind and body- who knows. She wouldn't have had the wherewithal or self-preservation instincts to do anything about it, not at 19. Fortunately, it took just a short scream to crumple the boy who was already in the middle of a debilitating mental break. She'd only known him a few weeks too.

It's just fog.

Pride. What a weird reaction. But she was, she was proud of herself. Just like the last time. "You can't treat me this way,". What a concept. Pride is such a better replacement for rage. The last time this happened was three years ago and she only just discovered a dusty pearl of rage for that a few weeks ago. It felt good to clean it out, dust it off and take in its curve and sheen. But it was ultimately useless. Just decoration. Pride was much better.

To peel herself away from something that gave immediate feedback to her body, but was ultimately unhealthy, mired in confusion. That was a task and a half.

Burn through it.

She deleted the text message thread, now filled with pages of his texts and no response from her. It felt good to clean.

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