#and turn that into love? How am I supposed to turn unending anger and hatred and bitterness and just be like ‘yeah i love you’ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

myselfinserts · 5 years

Note

“if i could roll my eyes I would.”

“OW! DUDLEY, STOP IT!”

“GRIGOR’S A WEAKLING! GRIGOR’S A WEAKLING! WEAK WEAK WEAK~!”

Little Grigor kicked and clawed at his brother, tugging on his ears as he tried to get off the ground. He hadn’t consented to a brawl today. And he certainly didn’t consent to fighting with his older brother. The two looked almost exactly alike, save for the differences five years made between them. And as a result of those five years, Dudley was far bigger, far stronger, and already mastering his quirk.

Dudley Halwn. Quirk: Mimink. He can summon inky copies of himself and others, using them like puppets. And he currently had two of the miminks holding onto his legs to keep him from getting back up.

Their whole family was ink.

All of them, but him. Nearly ten years old and his quirk hadn’t manifested yet. Everyone was convinced he was quirkless. And he was sure of it too.

And that hurt more than his brother’s attacks.

“Dudley, get off him!”

Grigor looked up to see white inklings grab at his brother and tear him away, the miminks poofing into puddles of dark liquid. He slowly stood, looking around until his eyes met with the snow white figure standing a few feet away. He bolted over to him, whimpering slightly as he hid and gripped his coat tightly.

“Thank you Wyn,” Grigor whispered.

Wyn smiled, patting his little brother on the head as he released Dudley from his inky grasp. The two eldest sons stared at each other in silence. Neither moved. The silence only grew stronger.

“Protecting the little useless whelp again?” Dudley finally said. “Why am I not surprised?”

“If I could roll my eyes, I would, little brother,” Wyn snickered. “Only a coward would attack someone who can’t fight back.”

“Whatever.” Dudley walked past them, throwing a back kick to Grigor’s legs as he went. “I’m going home. Fuck off, you little bastard, if you know what’s good for you.”

Grigor winced, holding back tears. He never cried in front of his family. Never. But damn if today wasn’t a good reason to. He couldn’t fight. He couldn’t stand up for himself. He was an unhealthy, useless, good for nothing waste. He knew this for years.

And yet, only Dudley seemed to treat that like a problem.

“I’m sorry,” Grigor whimpered.

Wyn smiled, lifting him up onto his shoulders and heading toward the woods. “Come on. Let’s go for a walk. The meteors are going to be falling tonight.”

Grigor rested his chin on his eldest brother’s head, listening to him talk about the stars and their stories. His brother spoke of nothing else. But he didn’t mind. It was soothing. There were times where Grigor often wondered if his brother was actually a star put into an Elspie human’s body.

“You know,” Wyn chuckled, “I didn’t find my quirk until you were born.”

Grigor’s eyes went wide. “But…but you’re in your twenties now. You were ten when mom had me.”

“But its true. I didn’t know what my quirk was. I thought I had no power.” He smiled fondly. “It wasn’t until I saw your wee face staring up at me and your little fingers gripping my thumb that somethin’ stirred in me.” He took a turn and headed up a stony path. “I found my ink three days later. I practiced and practiced. And now I can fight. Now I’m a licenced hero. And I do enough to live comfortably and use my quirk as I please.”

“You think I can still find my ink?”

“I’m certain of it. And even if you don’t, I’ll be there to look after you.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

The two made it to a rocky ledge overseeing the town. The night sky had completely made itself comfortable in the air, and drops of moonlight began to fly across the sky. Grigor looked up and watched, making a wish on every single one.

Please. Let me have the power so I can look after myself. So Wyn won’t have to worry about me anymore.

“DUDLEY!!!”

Grigor Alberi. Hero name: Inkwell. Quirk: Inkwell Creations (as the EHA called it). Can create inky demonic entities and real life objects using ink he can produce from his body.

Today, he was facing off against Inkdrop, a villain who was using his own inky abominations to run Aeron Village into the ground. He was the leader of the villains who took the entire town over when he first met his beloved.

And back the, Aurelia was right. Grigor Halwn couldn’t defeat those villains. Too much of a moral code held him down. Too much of a kind heart held him back. He wouldn’t find it in himself to be able to kill. Though he’d never admit it.

No, it took him several years of training. Several years of facing job after job that tore him down. Several years of working up the nerve to be able to face Dudley one on one.

And he didn’t find that nerve until a week before being approached by the EHA about joining their Elemental Geodes.

Wyn had been hospitalized. The only hero who ever managed to escape Aeron Village alive after a failed attempt to clear them out. When Grigor went to see him, Wyn was blank faced. His eyes, once full of life, now had lifeless swirls where his starry eyes once were. Grigor had asked him ‘did Dudley do this to you?’, and all Wyn managed was a smile and a soft ‘my wee baby brother’ in response.

While recovery was going to be possible, but Wyn would never use his ink for hero work again.

And this was the final straw.

As his ink demons ran through the town, slaughtering everyone in sight, Grigor stormed his way to the town hall and kicked in the door, charging at the figure waiting for him.

“Grigor?” Dudley snickered. “You’re the one killing everyone outside? I thought Heroes were righteous and good-”

“SCREW RIGHTEOUSNESS! I’M DOING WHAT I SHOULD HAVE DONE WHEN WE WERE CHILDREN!”

Ink creatures filled the room as the two brothers drew their weapons. A sword for Grigor, two for Dudley. Flames began to burn through the walls as the two clashed. Despite the years and despite the practice, Dudley was far too heavy footed. Where Grigor lacked strength, he made up for in flexibility. A bend backwards, a high kick coming down on the shoulder. Sparks flew as metal clanged, echoing in the fire.

“Hope you enjoyed your quirk,” Dudley laughed. “By the time I’m done with you, you’ll wish you remained a quirkless little maggot!”

A hard kick to the chest sent Inkwell skidding back, but he recovered, how ink minions flying to his side and the miminks tried to tackle him. He charged forward, his blade going upward in sharp slice, cutting open his brother’s shirt and vest, leaving a cut on the front of his torso. Not enough to kill.

Yet.

“That was for Wyn!” Inkwell bellowed. “The brother you so heartlessly scorned when all he ever was to you was kind and stern!” Another slice, this on going diagonal and sending the left sword flying away. “That was for the people of Aeron village, especially the Alberi clan who you so ruthlessly slaughtered for your villain’s haven!” Another diagonal cut, sending away Dudley’s right blade and removing two of his fingers. “That’s for my Aurelia, who you traumatized and took everything from!”

Another slice. And then another. And another.

“Grigor, stop-!”

“For our family you betrayed! For the innocent lives you stole! For the power you abused!”

“Grigor-!”

“For the power you took from our brother!”

“Please-”

“FOR THE YEARS OF HATRED AND ANGER I HAD TO ENDURE FROM YOU!”

One last swing, and he removed the left arm.

Dudley fell forward, the miminks vanishing as the ink flowed back to him to stop the wound. The smoke clawed at Inkwell’s lungs, cutting into his chest with deathly vigor. He sent his own ink creations away, knowing they’d set to work removing the pesky fire.

Dudley smiled darkly, laughing through it all. “So…you gonna kill me?”

“…no.” Inkwell stepped forward, giving him a kick to the face before grabbing the severed arm. “No, killing you would be too kind. And if I sent you to prison they’ll use you and your quirk. I trust the EHA way less than you. And you’re a cold blooded killer.”

“You call me cold blooded and yet you’re slaughtering everyone here.”

“You’re all S-rank villains. The people your bunch killed were innocent artisans. The difference is you’re scum and the other weren’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. Because you let two of those kind souls escape. And they were the reason for your downfall.”

With a snap of his fingers, the room began to fill with the dark liquid the brothers had become known for. The ink rose, slowly encasing Dudley within its grasps. The older brother struggled against it, but Grigor simply smiled sadly.

“You had everything,” Grigor said. “You had the quirk. The health. The power. The charm. The strength. You were always papa’s favorite. And now this is where you end. You could have continued the Halwn family legacy. Instead, the Halwn family will die with us.”

And with that, Dudley vanished into the ink. When the liquid retreated, a small snowglobe rested upon the floor. Inside was a perfect recreation of Aeron, with snow falling slowly in an unending splendor. Grigor went over and picked it up, looking to the town hall and smiling as he saw the little image of Dudley laughing insanely up at him.

This was the perfect punishment for him.

Three weeks since Aeron. Wyn finally started talking properly again. Inkwell had been visiting whenever he could. He brought him sketch pads and new pencils. He loved when his brother could draw growing up. And his art skills came in handy with their kind of power.

“So,” Wyn muttered. “How’re things at home?”

Inkwell shrugged. “Alright, I suppose. Aurelia’s happy to be moved back into her old home. Didn’t like the blood but…we got it cleaned up.”

“I see.”

“What about you?”

Wyn shrugged, turning to show off the portrait of his little brother. “I’m okay. Just a little lonely. My boyfriend broke up with me yesterday.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’d rather have company that wants me in return.” He paused. “I’ll admit though…I’m a little sad. We were considering adopting a baby together.”

That stung. Inkwell knew how badly the Halwn family’s health was. Having even one child was a miracle, and the fact that their mother had six was amazing. He and Aurelia had been trying for years. And still nothing.

“I’m so sorry,” he said.

“It’s alright.”

“Do you know what you would have called the child?”

Wyn smiled. “Harper. I’m tired of color names in the family, and I want to branch out. If I had a kid, or if I had a niece or nephew, I’d want a Harper.”

“Harper, huh?”

“Yeah.” He looked at Grigor, smiling softly. “What about you?”

“Aurelia and I haven’t been lucky yet. We want to have a kid but…it looks unlikely.” He smiled. “If we do though…I can ask if we can have a Harper.”

Wyn chuckled, and all the dark feelings in Inkwell’s heart fell to the side. Things would be okay.

Inkwell sat outside, enjoying the breeze as everyone inside the Aylward house was preparing dinner. He wasn’t up to socializing. He already had to lie to Davis about both the strange light from the night before and about how he’d found the horse. He couldn’t just not tell him about Amarysso.

And now, he had to figure out how to keep this a secret from the Geodes.

If L wasn’t invovled, he’d seriously consider just letting things play out and going to war.

“Damn this all to hell,” he sighed. “I’m too old for this shit.”

“I said come one come all enjoy the show!3 to get ready, nowhere to go-!”

“Ah, finally someone my age to talk to.” Inkwell pulled out his phone and answered cheerfully. “Pay for the ink machine.”

“Hello baby brother.”

A devilish smile crossed his face. “Wyn! Oh lord its been too long. How are you?”

“I’m okay. Just came to visit but you weren’t home. Now I’m with your wife at the doctors.”

His heart sand. “Doctor? What happened? What’s going on?”

“Uh…” Wyn paused, whispering to someone ‘should I?’ before turning back to him. “Well see…Aurelia wasn’t feeling well today so she asked me to take her to the doc. She’s okay though, don’t worry!”

“What the hell is going on that she’d need a doctor though?!”

“She just found out she’s pregnant.”

The world seemed to stop spinning. They’d been trying and trying for years. They were ready to go see a specialist or see about adoption. Most avenues were closed off to them given his career and their attempts to keep Aurelia safe from the EHA. As far as they knew, she was quirkless. Other avenues of child rearing would out her in an instant. But that was a risk they would take if it came down to it.

But now those risks didn’t matter.

The impossible miracle happened.

“How far along?” he finally asked.

“Two months according to the doctor,” Wyn explained. “He’s talking with your wife now. I offered to call you. Sorry, little brother. I know this is kinda personal but I couldn’t leave her alone and-”

“No, no. I’m glad you’re there with her. I got this big thing I’m sorting out. If it weren’t life or death, I’d be there right now.” He bit back tears. “Have her call me back as soon as she’s able, okay?”

“Of course.”

“And please protect her until I get back.”

“Always.”

“Thank you. I promise, I’ll be home soon.”

He quickly wrapped up the call and hurried inside. He found everyone in the dining room, about to sit for dinner. Gary sat at the head of the table, with Étienne and Ceri to one side while Lucien and Reginald sat on the other. L and Phoenix took the other head, leaving a space between Etienne and Phoenix for him.

“Hey Inkwell,” Ceri said. “We’re about to-” he stopped, his eye wide. “You’re crying.”

“Huh?” he put his hand to his cheek, surprised to find tears that weren’t of ink. “Oh. Yeah, I guess so.”

L quickly stood up, her lips pursed. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah it is.” He smiled softly. “I’m…I’m going to be a dad.”

Everyone nearly fell over.

“WHAT?!”

“I’m going to be a dad.” The news seemed to just be settling in on him as well. “I’m going to be a father. Aurelia’s having a baby.”

L smiled and hurried over, hugging him tightly. Ceri soon joined him and both were telling him congratulations. Gary cheerfully hurried to the kitchen to get the good wine. Étienne made a note in his pocketbook and Luci and Regi turned to look at each other, a newfound softness in each other’s eyes.

But Inkwell wasn’t paying attention enough to care what everyone else did. He was too busy crying into his niece’s and nephew’s hair.

Despite the upcoming trials, he was the happiest demon in the world.

#myselfinserts #mybnhaocs #friends ocs #the au of class #INKWELL HAS SIBLING ISSUES #AND HE'S GONNA BE A DAD #WAHOO INKWELL #Anonymous

0 notes

rueco1 · 7 years

Photo

Hate has been in the news a lot lately; many do not fully understand what it is like to be on the receiving end of it and how fruitless it feels. Having grown up the object of hatred and learning to live and cope with the daily onslaught, believe I can give a glimpse behind the veil of a concept most folks understand but have not gone through personally.

While hate is learned, it is taught in many homes unwittingly and knowingly, sadly. Words, actions, they can lead to it and in other cases, it just is the default setting for someone missing the empathy/sensitivity chip, as it were, they were born that way. My monster was the latter.

Growing up hated for no reason other than your existence is a tough thing to wrap your head around as a child because kids love everything, due to everything is new to them and kids love to learn. For my first few years, I had a wonderful father who doted on me, was my primary parent, others had their mothers, and I had my father. Then one day I did not, my world would change dramatically and drastically forever and I would come to have an intimate relationship with hate, or should I say, being the object of another’s hatred.

My monster, as I call her was my mother, the woman who bore me and hated every minute of my life, which she saw as an imposition and abhorrence in her life. She was selfish and self-centered; she disliked everyone and thought them beneath her, including her family. She was her only concern and focus; everyone could just be gone unless they served her needs. She was from a close and loving family, which she wanted nothing to do with unless she needed money, period, we were all commodities in her world.

When did I become aware that I was unloved by my monster? On numerous occasions, it was not something I focused on, because you cannot live with that at the forefront of your consciousness and function as a child, but she never failed to demonstrate her level of “love” for me, I learned to become invisible, to avoid punishment, which was a daily barrage of words, actions and violence, leveled against a child for no reason other than their existence.

How did I not become like that person? Was it conscious or unconscious? Truly I cannot answer the question; other than I am just not built that way is my best explanation. Some would say my primary parent; my loving, doting father set the temperament for me. Others would say other family members that demonstrated and continue to demonstrate unending love for me, helped to bolster my spirit against the daily onslaught of hate. Honestly, I am not sure I will ever be able to answer that question, I just know I could not hate because I know what that feels like on the receiving end. Empathy, that is what saved me from being like her, my ability to put myself into someone else’s shoes, knowing how that feels, or having been there myself.

The outlier in my family was my monster, no one else could ever be so selfish, so they were unprepared for dealing with her, they lied to themselves about her for years, they turned a blind eye because they could not believe she was truly so heartless. It broke their hearts knowing that someone of her ilk was part of their family and nothing they did to teach her otherwise could be done to change her, to soften her, to make her more human, less inhuman, and less hateful.

Know for certain my Grandmother thought marriage would change her, the love of a good man, or parenthood, motherhood, would soften that hard cold heart, but neither of these did so. I also know my Grandmother never intended for me to be treated thusly, she had witnessed one instance of abuse in action and berated my mother against it, or she would have me removed. Did this stop my monster? No, she never believed herself in the wrong, she changed tack and turned that threat against me and told me if I ever spoke of what happened at home outside it, she would make sure that as sure as she removed my father, she would remove me and I knew she would follow through, because that was who she was.

When someone shows you their true face, don’t write it off, believe it when they tell you who they are, usually, they show you in actions, words are just weapons and tricks of smoke and mirrors to keep you in line. Lies drip like honey; truth hits like a ton of bricks and leaves bruises, scars, and memories for a lifetime. Someone who operates from a position of hate does not see the universal truths, they see their personal truths, the lies they have told themselves to get themselves through, that bolster their fragile self-esteems and non-existent humanity. They see themselves as other; they operate from a position of being better than, never equal too.

Unlike most folks, they do not suffer through long dark nights of the soul, they would never look that closely at themselves, mirrors are not wanted, and it blows up the fantasy they have built about themselves in their mind's eye. They don’t want fact, they want fantasy and they never really want responsibility, because then they have to face facts and look at what they have done and how their houses are built on sand and the tide is rolling in.

To make someone understand how they live in fallacy, you have to hold up a mirror to their whole belief structure, they won’t be party to that, so you have to hit them where they live to get their attention long enough to get that mirror up and for them to see themselves as they truly are, not the fantasy track playing in their heads of superiority. This is someone who will not willingly let go of their hate, it is all they have, so tread lightly and remember this.

Was I ever hateful? Not really, angry, oh yes, hateful, no, because it requires a level of loss of self that I have never achieved to succumb to hate. Anger, anger is easy, I will not lie, anger is so terribly easy and I had a lot to be angry about for a long time. Then you learn to set that down and take up other swords and pens. In the worst of it all, when I thought the pain would never end, I never gave in to hate, because love is so much stronger, even for the one who tortures you, even in the darkest hours, love wins, because I was loved, and I know that is the better option of the two. You can argue Stockholm syndrome, but I loved her, even though she tried to kill me, she was my monster, and at the end of the day, she was my mother and you are supposed to love them, even if they hate you.

I have been sickened lately, angry at what my country has become, devolved to in certain sects because I know what hate is, I know what it feels like and it makes me sick that in this nation, the one I served, has become so sectarian, so separate and disparate. My rage simmers, it evolves to action, I know where anger leads and I am just not really a party to that, so I focus my efforts to shine a light on the dark, to make sure others see and know that hate loses every time, because love is greater than all the hate, at the end of the day.

#hate lovewins

0 notes