#i do try not to upset anyone with trauma dumping or whatever but sometimes that bites me in the ass because people assume I'm not strugglin | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jaeheewillalwaysbemyfav · 3 years

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Obey Me: The Brothers Accidentally Trigger an Abused MC (Asmodeus) (5/7)

Disclaimer: I’m not an expert on abuse or mental health. I’m not portraying how one should respond to these situations, only how I think the characters might. Abuse and trauma in particular are very complex topics, and people respond in all sorts of ways to them, and sometimes it gets really bad on all sides.

I can only draw from my personal experiences as well as those of people who have shared their stories or who I’m close with. There’s no one narrative of abuse and how it affects someone, so what I’m familiar with might not be what you’re familiar with. Let’s try and all be respectful of each other.

Content Warnings: Heated arguments, reference to past abuse, parental abuse, trauma response, breaking down in tears, this is quintessential hurt/comfort y’all, buckle up, mentions of alcoholism and abuse of alcohol as well as child neglect

I know abuse is never an easy or light subject, but this also has the added issue of addiction and alcoholism, so I’d like to add a second disclaimer here: addicts are not inherently abusive. If you or someone you know struggles with an addiction to anything, that doesn’t make you a monster or a bad person. I want to make it as clear as possible the problem here is neglect, and MC’s personal triggers related to alcohol, not a grand statement about addiction.

Now then... HERE IT IS! The long awaited fifth entry in this very angsty series. I’d say, “Don’t worry, things will pick up from here!” but uh... I don’t know what to do for the twins, sooooo... I’m not gonna make any promises about timing, but it Is Coming.

Lucifer (X) Mammon (X), Leviathan (X), Satan (X), Asmodeus (you are here), Beelzebub (X), Belphegor (X)

The flashing lights. The sea of sweaty, stumbling bodies. Music that pounds in their ears and shakes their bones. The miasma of a thousand perfumes and colognes failing to cover up the smell of drunken debauchery and things MC doesn’t want to think about. For the first time during their stay in the Devildom, it really feels like Hell.

But this is where Asmodeus thrives. MC sees him on the dance floor now, a gaggle of admirers all but clawing at each other to get closer to him. His cheeks are flushed, from exertion or alcohol no one can say, all sinuous movements and fluttering eyelashes. A demon- a concubus maybe? - is stroking along his upper pair of wings and saying something that makes him grin lavisciously in response. He looks at home here. In his element. Happy.

No sudden drops in energy followed by artificial cheerfulness to disguise the slip-up. No befuddled stares when he thinks they’re not looking. No boring plans with MC to worry about cancelling again.

They should be used to this. They’ve always been a bother to everyone around them, not even their own parents wanted to spend any more time with them than absolutely necessary. More nights than not, they’d carry home the stench of the bar back with them, and MC knew they’d be paying their bus fare with the change from recycled bottles once again.

Ugh, why did they let him talk them into this? They’re so stupid, this is how it goes every single time, they can’t go anywhere fun, all because of that smell-

Someone calls their name, enthusiastic but slurred. MC turns around on their barstool and comes face to face with Asmodeus, in all his lipstick-smeared glory.

“MC!” he repeats, drawing out the syllables in their name. “What are you doing all the way over here? Come dance with me, silly!”

He paws at where he thinks their shoulder is, missing and settling for the front of their shirt instead. He tugs them off their seat and they stumble into his arms. His hands wander and the lights are flashing and he smells like perfume and cologne and that damn smell of alcohol-

MC shoves the Avatar of Lust as far away as they can, yelling, “Get OFF of me!”

On any other day, Asmo would have a) not been phased by the panicked shove of a mere human, and b) recognized the distant look in MC’s eyes as they glared through him. But tonight his blood is more Demonus than anything else so he goes flying back into the crowd. They absorb and push him back onto his feet as one, the membrane of a world he can no longer return to.

All he can think is he came here with MC, because of MC, because they make him feel something exhilarating and terrifying all at once and he’s scared. (Scared he’s too much, scared he’ll push them off, scared he’ll hurt them, scared they’ll hurt him, he wants them close, so close too close please don’t leave-)

He just wants to have a good time, he thinks. That’s all it is. That’s all they are. Except now they’re looking at him like that and he wants to help, wants to forget, too close too close too-

“Fine,” he spits, adjusting the roses on his top as he struggles to remain standing. “I can have more fun without you anyway. Go back to the House of Lamentation if you’re gonna be such a stick in the mud.”

He wishes they’d curse at him. Keep yelling, shove him again. Tell him to fuck off and never speak to them again.

Instead their eyes well up with tears and they run past him into the crowd until they reach the exit of The Fall.

###

MC: Is anyone awake?

Mammon: I am now! Why’re ya texting at 3AM?! Some of us are trying to sleep!

Satan: You’d have an easier time sleeping if you didn’t leave your ringer on whenever MC is outside the House.

Mammon: >:O

Mammon: I DO NOT!!!

Leviathan: what are you normies doing spamming the groupchat

Leviathan: im trying to watch My Demon Boyfriend Can’t Articulate His Emotions Properly So He Compensates By Acting Like A Total Jerk But I Still Love Him?

Leviathan: but i keep getting interrupted by these notifs!!!!

MC: I’m outside The Fall.

Mammon: ALONE?!

Satan: No, Asmo has to be with them.

Leviathan: lol mammon’s simping so hard rn

MC: He’s not...

Mammon: HE LEFT YA A L O N W ?!

Mammon: IM CMOIGNCONEESC

Satan: ...I will go with.

Satan: Expect us there soon MC. Stay safe.

Leviathan: text me when you find them!

Leviathan: Guys?

Leviathan: …

Leviathan: stupid normies…

###

It’s Mammon who stays with MC. Satan quickly checks in with them, making sure they aren’t physically hurt, but seeing their bloodshot eyes and shaking hands spikes his already flaring temper. He apologises and promises he will return shortly, before storming into The Fall, magical flames licking at his silhouette.

MC is curled up on the steps to the club, hugging their knees. Without a word, Mammon takes off his jacket and drapes it over their shoulders. They start at the feel of the soft leather and look up at him in confusion.

“Why are you doing this?” they ask.

Mammon blinks at them owlishly. He gestures to their current position, opening and closing his mouth as he tries to figure out how to start his sentence, before saying, “You- I- He just- You said you were out here alone! A-and then we come find you, and you’re crying in the cold! What’d ya think we were gonna do, drag you home and dump you in your room?” He blushes fiercely as he scoffs.

MC doesn’t meet his eyes as they mumble, “Kinda… S’what everyone else does…”

If it weren’t for the muffled sounds of fireballs and curses being thrown around in the club, Mammon would say he temporarily became the Avatar of Wrath right then.

“Well then those people are a bunch of scumbags!” He taps MC’s chin so they look into his eyes. “You don’t deserve that, MC. I don’t know what my stupid brother said to you or did to you that made you this upset, but I’ll be…” He pauses. “...even more damned than usual if I let you think you deserve whatever he did.”

MC sniffles as their eyes well up again, this time for a different reason. Mammon’s ears burn. He blinks back what are most certainly not tears, and holds out a hand to MC-

Just as the doors to The Fall open and two familiar faces are thrown out by a very large and very annoyed looking demon.

Satan wastes no time. “Apologize. Now,” he demands from the floor, tail thrashing as he rights himself.

Asmodeus, charred, bloodied, and disheveled as he is, can barely get his hands under him, let alone upright. He glares up at the Avatar of Wrath, something vicious and ugly dancing in his eyes. He spits at his brother, blood staining his lips red. Satan lunges at him, claws extended, but Mammon is faster.

He separates the younger demons with ease and stands between them, arms outstretched. “Enough! I don’t care what you do later, but right now we’re taking MC home!” His tone leaves no room for debate.

The walk to the House of Lamentation is silent.

MC wakes up to the pinging of their D.D.D.

###

Asmodeus: please come to my room

Asmodeus: i would go2u

Asmodeus: but I think if i get up now i wilk not make it to ur room

Asmodeus: evertyhign is so bright

Asmodeus: imcsorry

###

He’s typing more, but MC decides they’ve seen enough.

They pad over to Asmo’s room, still in pajamas and comfortable slippers. They don’t even have to flick the lights on to know something is wrong. His normally pristine bedroom is a mess. Clothes and bedsheets are strewn about as though a miniature tornado blew through his closets, and in the middle of it all sits Asmo himself, cocooned in a blanket, identifiable only by a shock of peachy curls.

MC calls his name and he springs to life, jumping up to greet them before unceremoniously falling off his bed in a tangle of fabric. They almost smile at the sight, but remember why they came here and stay in the doorframe.

“You actually came,” Asmo says in a scratchy whisper. He looks up at them and MC sees last night’s partially removed makeup smeared all over his face. His bloodshot eyes water.

“You look awful,” they reply and curse themself internally. What a way to start fixing things, MC.

To their surprise Asmo laughs, an uncharacteristically cynical edge to it. They giggle too, and it’s not long before the pair are both howling on the floor. The tension almost dissipates, until Asmo’s voice hitches and suddenly he’s crying again.

“It’s only fair, right?” he says, voice wavering. “I-It should m-match the inside, no?”

“Asmo…”

“Don’t!” he cries, shushing MC with a finger. “There is no excuse for what I said last night!”

“You were very drunk…”

“I shouldn’t have been!” He processes what he just said. “I shouldn’t have- I was supposed to watch over you! You were all alone in there and I just-”

“I shouldn’t need a babysitter. It’s not your fault I’m such-”

MC doesn’t get to finish their sentence on account of a bruising hug from a still-blanketed Asmodeus.

“Shut up,” he says, and it’s their turn to start blubbering as he continues, “I don’t know who made you start thinking like that, but you are not a bother, or a burden, o-or boring, or anything like that!” He loosens his grip on them so he’s just holding their arms. “MC, what I said yesterday was completely untrue and totally uncalled for. I… I can’t take it back, but I’ll do anything in my power to make it up to you, I promise.”

MC doesn’t meet his eyes for a long moment.

“Tell me what’s been bothering you,” they ask.

“Huh?”

“Don’t pretend with me anymore, Asmo. Something’s been bothering you the past couple of weeks. Tell me what it is, and I’ll see if I can forgive you.”

“...Only if you tell me what got you so upset before… you know…”

“...Deal.”

They leave him on read and refuse to speak to him. At first he’s pleading, apologetic, chasing them down at RAD or in the halls of the House of Lamentation when his brothers aren’t around. They finally give in on a deceptively warm afternoon in the courtyard outside RAD.

“What do you want?” MC snaps, half turned away from the demon in question even as they stop speed walking.

“Please, can we ta-”

“I think you’ve said enough, no?” They rattle off a list on their fingers, “I’m boring, I’m whiny, a prude, a stick in the mud, I need to get over myself… Do I need to keep going or have I gotten through that thick skull of yours?”

Asmo says nothing.

“I’ve done this before, Asmodeus. I get it. I’m easy to take advantage of. That’s why you put up with me for so long, right?”

“That’s not-”

“Save it. I saw the looks on your face when we were together. You were humoring me. Honestly, if it wasn’t for that night at The Fall, I probably would have let you do it even longer.” They take a deep breath. “But- I can’t… I’m not your priority. That’s fine. But I made a promise to not let this happen again. So… Stop chasing me down. I’m not interested.”

It takes him over a week to accept that MC isn’t budging, and another to convince himself that they’re just being stubborn.

Who wouldn’t want to spend time with him? He’s the darling of the Devildom, the Avatar of Lust, the jewel of Heaven - or at least, he was- he’s irresistible! So one human threw a fit out of nowhere at The Fall, whatever.

They’re not worth his time.

That’s why he’s out clubbing so much now. It’s a better use of his time.

A less painful use of his time.

If he can’t remember the nights they’re not with him, do they even count?

#obey me #obey me asmodeus #obey me! asmodeus #obey me shall we date #obey me: shall we date #mine #my writing #asmodeus

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birdhouse-of-shadows · 3 years

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Hello everyone! So here is a fic that I left in my askbox for a hot minute lol. This was all submitted by an anon who you may or may not have seen a few times. This is a compilation of all of the asks and the whole story.

My comments will be in green, any notes from the author will be in blue and the rest will be in the normal text color.

PLEAAASEE be careful if you are sensitive to the following subjects:

Tw: Child Abuse, torture, multiple abusive foster homes, bondage(kinda, quirk inhibiting cuffs), Heavy injury, blood, smoking,

im currently running on no sleep and a bottle of pepsi, sour this is sloppy asf I apologize in advance 😗

im in an angst mood, so i come with this.

Tokoyami’s biological parents abandoned him when he was four. To this day he has no idea why, and has very little memory of them. All of his memories take place in one of the seven abusive foster homes he lived in before he entered U.A.. Over the course of that time, Fumikage has accumulated a large variety of scars, from deep, jagged scars, to cigarette burns, to just really, really bad bruises. Out of all the foster homes he’s been in, none of Fumikage’s foster parents have been fond of mutants, or mutant-type quirks. In several of the foster homes, Fumikage was forced to wear quirk suppressant cuffs 24/7, since his parents “didn’t want a monster running rampant in their house.” Between his mutation, and the violent tendencies of Dark Shadow, Fumikage was basically what nobody wanted in a child. His foster parents would yell every possible derogatory insult at Fumikage, saying he should’ve never been born, even though they weren’t even his real parents. Over time, the verbal abuse would mess with Fumikage’s mind. He’d stare at himself in the mirror, wondering why he was born the way he was, and why he’s the monster everyone says he is. And just when he thought the verbal abuse couldn’t get any worse, as he got older, his foster parents would resort to physical punishment. At first, it wasn’t that bad, at least, in Fumikage’s eyes. Just a slap here and there, plus some cigarette burns on his arms and shoulders. It was painful, but he fought through it, knowing no one would come to help him. But over time, the “discipline” would get even more brutal. It doesn’t matter what he did, every little thing seemed to set his parents off. From accidentally breaking something, to giving a snide comment unannounced, it wasn’t often that Fumikage went to bed at night without being beaten sometime before then. He would be pinned down by his throat and violently beaten with whatever blunt object was nearby. He eventually gave up trying to apologize, as it somehow only upset his parents even more. Once, when he was eleven years old, Fumikage was beaten with a glass vase after pushing one of his foster siblings. The glass eventually shattered, and the broken ends of the vase dug into Fumikage’s back, leaving horrible, jagged cuts all over him. Witnessing Fumikage being beaten day after day made Dark Shadow feel overwhelmingly guilty. Fumikage was in quirk suppressant cuffs ninety percent of the time, so Dark Shadow was pretty much helpless in most situations. Those damned cuffs made it feel like an invisible wall was put up between where Dark Shadow resided, and the outside world. A wall that agonizingly sat between Dark Shadow, and Fumikage’s safety. There were nights when Fumikage lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling, his body numbed by pain. Whether he was laying in a bed or not, unfortunately varied by foster home. But it was on those nights where Dark Shadow would apologize profusely to Fumikage, saying that they’re nothing more than the monster that brought misery to Fumikage’s life. Saying that they’re the reason Fumikage gets beaten so often, and yet do nothing to help him. They vow that once they’re in a safer home, away from their abusers, that they will always protect Fumikage. Always. But by then…Fumikage had already fallen asleep.

Overall, Tokoyami’s home life…was nothing worth smiling about. Thankfully, his time at school was less painful. He often got comments about his looks, saying that he was ugly and all that, but by then, he was more than used to it. Eventually, he faded into the shadows (no pun intended) at most of his schools. He eventually was just forgotten about, which truthfully, didn’t bother him. It was a bit lonely, sure, but it was much better than constantly being beaten simply for existing. In Fumikage’s eyes, school was just a break from his disastrous home life. Though, he tended not to talk during class, and had very little interaction with his teachers, for…reasons. Even so, it was actually during his first year of middle school where Fumikage discovered his dream of being a hero. Just because he was spared from the excessive discrimination of mutants, others happened to be less fortunate. Fumikage would witness how his fellow mutants were treated by others. They had their work stolen, their bags dumped out, over were overall just treated like dirt compared to everyone else. So anytime Tokoyami saw a fellow mutant, or anyone really, being bullied, he’d go and help them, telling them that they don’t deserve to take shit for the way they look, or what their quirk is, and that quirks don’t make villains, it’s how those quirks are used, meaning that the people bullying them are more like villains than they will ever be. With his newfound motivation, Tokoyami decided that he wanted to become a hero to show others that they don’t have to fear who they were born to be, or, as he put it, “To not be daunted by their inner darkness. Instead, to embrace such, and with it, become your best self.” Love that for him honestly. One of the students he helped was a tall, slim girl with a head reminiscent to that of an elephant, her most notable feature being her long trunk that was about the length of her entire upper body. She was shy, and avoided any sort of conflict like the plague. At one point she was harassed by another group of girls, before Tokoyami came and stopped them. He gave his long winded, motivational speech to her, and saying she was grateful was quite the understatement, and the next day, as a thank-you gift, gave Tokoyami a red choker, saying that it was just like the one Dark Crystal wore, knowing how much Tokoyami admired the hero. (In other words, he never shut up about him) Tokoyami relayed his gratitude countless times to her, and the two agreed to become friends, even though they wouldn’t see eachother often. Reluctantly, the girl also pointed out the horrible scars and bruises on Tokoyami’s neck, and figured that he’d want to cover them. Tokoyami stiffened at the mention of his scars, but continued thanking her anyway. The two often saw eachother in the halls and waved at one another, on friendly terms, but strangely enough, they never spoke again.

It was also around that time that he became more interactive with Dark Shadow, and began to explore more darker concepts. He founded a love for reading, specifically horror novels and manga. He also became fascinated with poetry (specifically the edgy variety), both reading and writing it. He found that writing poetry gave him an outlet for expressing both himself, and Dark Shadow’s feelings, without having to risk angering his foster parents. Eventually, the tone found written by his favorite poets began to make its way into Fumikage’s speech patterns. He felt more comfortable with it, and it wasn’t something people easily understood, which ultimately meant his foster parents would just ignore him, thinking he was going through an emo phase. And miraculously, it worked. Although he was still physically and verbally abused throughout his middle school years, his foster parents eventually backed off, as Fumikage became more introverted. Now, he’d look in the mirror at all of his scars, and use his past trauma as motivation for becoming a hero. Though, it wasn’t easy. Those painful memories would always come flooding back whenever he looked at those scars. Since he spent most of his life surrounded by abusive adults, he believed that most adults were the same way, and refrained from speaking with adults at all, in fear of angering them. Hearing them yell would make him flinch out of pure instinct, and being stuck alone with an adult would make him an anxious mess. But he did his best to mask this fear with the brooding, edgy side of him. It was his best, and pretty much only way of coping with this fear. He tried his best to overcome his anxiety, but it was never that easy. But he managed to get through middle school mostly unscathed.

And finally, after three agonizingly long paragraphs, Fumikage makes it into U.A.. Of course, that didn’t exempt him from any of his current foster parent’s rules. He had to keep quirk cuffs in his bag at all times, and if he came home without them on, he would be beaten. Tokoyami remained obedient, not wanting to show up to his first day at U.A. beaten half to death. Armed with his scars, his motivation, and of course, Dark Shadow, Tokoyami entered U.A with confidence. And everyone… was so nice???? Almost immediately after he sat in his designated seat in class 1-A, people came up to him, talking to him. He met a variety of different students, some more…mellow than others. But overall, he liked his class. But the teacher? Well…not so much. In Tokoyami’s eyes, the man who dubbed himself their homeroom teacher, Mr. Aizawa, was completely and utterly terrifying. ‘He probably has a machete hidden in that sleeping bag ready to kill us at any moment-‘ Dark Shadow said on the first day. Tokoyami couldn’t help but agree. But not in a comedic way. Something about Aizawa was all too reminiscent of one of his foster fathers, specifically the one who gave him all of the scars on his back, after beating him with a glass vase. Any time he was around him, he was anxious. But eventually, little did Fumikage know, this man who he deemed “terrifying” would eventually become one of the people he trusted the most.

okay okay I’ll stop for now, I’ll write more eventually, but I’ll wait until this is answered so I won’t be flooding your asks, and I promise I will never submit anything this long ever again 😖

part 2 yee yee

also, as you can tell, i have heavily observed canon, and elected to ignore it :)

Fumikage’s year so far was hectic. No, scratch that. It was hellish. It seemed like everywhere the class went together, they were attacked by villains. Aizawa seemed to be getting more and more tired by the day. Fumikage didn’t blame him, as he had a class full of trouble magnets. But following the skirmish at the forest training camp, and All Might’s retirement, things seemed to be looking up, at least a little bit. However, there was rumor going around that U.A. was planning to implement a form system, leaving Fumikage with mixed feelings. One on hand, he was ecstatic. He could finally, even if it was just for a short time, get away from his foster home. The training camp incident left Fumikage shaken more than he’d like, and having to deal with verbal abuse at the hands of his father wasn’t doing him any favors. After being released from the hospital, his father berated him four what felt like hours after hearing that he’d lost control of Dark Shadow. The day he got home, without any second thought, his father grabbed him by his shirt collar (which hurt more than it should have due to the fresh bruises on Fumikage’s back) and mercilessly screamed at him. Even though it only lasted about ten minutes, it felt like forever. He was forced to stand just inches away from his father, the thick smell of cigarette smoke emitting from his breath. Dark Shadow shrunk within him, trying desperately to drown out the heinous comments that they’re directly responsible for. Following the “lecture”, as his father like to call it, Fumikage was put back into his quirk cuffs, but this time, as what his parents described as a “precaution”, he had a thick, tight quirk suppressant collar locked around his neck. It dug through Fumikage’s skin, and it felt like he was being strangled. Even so, just like everything he’d been through up to that point, he had to bear with it. He tiredly trudged back to his room, or, well, it was a linen closet. He had a small pile of blankets that acted as his bed, as well as several books lined up neatly against the wall. He’d read most of them several times already, but other that his phone, it was pretty much his only source of entertainment. The closet was always freezing, and he was rarely allowed out. But Fumikage always forced himself to be grateful for having a roof over his head at all, since he knew there were always going to be people who were less fortunate. With a sigh, he lay down on his small pile of blankets. He curled up within himself, trying his best to keep warm. Normally, one of his siblings slip whatever packaged food their parents gave them under the door. It always tasted like it went bad two weeks ago, but at this point, to Fumikage, fuck it, food was food. But much to his dismay, Fumikage’s parents told him that he was “on punishment”. And while on punishment, he knew well enough, that they refuse to feed him. Over the last 18 months that he’d been living in that foster home, he’d been on punishment five times, and during that time, he lost a very unhealthy amount of weight, and his overall health tanked. But, like he said for every terrible thing that’s befallen him over the past 12 years, he was used to it. So, Fumikage went the next three days without eating a single thing.

But it was after those three days, when Fumikage’s life changed. Whether it was for better or worse, he was forced to wait and see.

One morning, or…was it evening? It was hard to tell when you’re stuck in a dark linen closet with no sense of time whatsoever. But anyway, Fumikage woke up shivering, not that he wasn’t used to that. But he did hear the faint sound of his parents talking. However, there was one other voice. Fumikage’s hearing wasn’t the best, with him being a bird and everything, but he knew that voice. He knew that voice from anywhere. It was Aizawa’s. Fumikage forced himself up. His back was stiff, and the thick collar around his neck weighed him down. His stomach was begging for food, but that wasn’t important. He smoothed out his feathers best he could, and quietly opened the closet door. He could hear Aizawa conversing with his parents, and they talked about the newly constructed dorms. Aizawa explained that for the Fumikage’s safety, he requested that Fumikage lives in a secure dorm system. He’d have his own room, full access to a kitchen full of food, and of course, he’d have a common space to mingle with his peers. To Fumikage, it sounded like heaven, but unfortunately, his parents weren’t having it. They went on and on about how Fumikage would put his peers in danger with his destructive quirk. Aizawa, thankfully, wasn’t willing to put up with them either. He went on to tell them about how Fumikage has excelled with the control of Dark Shadow. Fumikage felt a warm feeling in his stomach after hearing his teacher, that same one he’s so afraid of, speak so highly of him. But there was one thing that left Aizawa’s mouth that his parents really couldn’t respond to. “Well, why not let Fumikage have a say in this? Where is he?” he asked them. There was something about his teacher’s tone that showed that he knew exactly what he was doing. Fumikage looked down at himself. He was still wearing the same black long sleeved shirt and blue jeans that he’d worn three days ago. His quirk cuffs were tight around his wrists, and his collar, though he’d gotten used to the feeling, was madly uncomfortable around his neck. He had two choices. Go down there and let Aizawa witness firsthand the extent of Fumikage’s constant neglect, and risk being punished even further by his parents, or play it safe, and potentially let Aizawa find him on his own. But…the world was never that nice to him, so instead, Fumikage heard an irritated sigh, and footsteps coming up the stairs. Hurriedly, Fumikage shut the closet door and sat back down against the wall. Just moments later, he watched the closet door open, and felt his father’s sultry gaze fall on him. He grabbed his arm and pulled him up to his feet. He took the cuffs off of Fumikage, and let them fall to the floor. Before taking off the collar, he leaned down, glaring daggers at his foster son. “You say anything out of place boy, and I reopen those cuts on your back, god help you.” he said in a low growl. Fumikage stiffened, the memory of jagged glass tearing his skin open flashing through his mind. He nodded, and took a breath of air as the collar was removed. He really didn’t care that all he breathed in was cigarette smoke. That feeling of being strangled by a metal collar was finally gone, even if just for a little while. His father grabbed his wrist, and dragged him down to the living room, where Aizawa sat across from his mother.

Aizawa knew right away that there was something seriously off. Tokoyami had a few feathers out of place, and his shirt hung limply over him. He looked like he hadn’t eaten in a week. But what pisses Aizawa off the most, was something Tokoyami was clearly trying to hide, and that was the dark ring of bruises around his wrists. He really needed to confront his student about how these two were treating him. But for now, he just needed to get the kid to agree to move into the dorms. He watched the avian teen sit down between his two caretakers. The boy looked very uncomfortable, almost afraid. Aizawa felt his gaze soften upon seeing his student in the state he was, but he had to do what he came here for. So he directed his gaze to Tokoyami, and asked him his thought of moving into U.A.’s dorms. It concerned him hearing how fast Tokoyami answered. “I’d be glad to.” He responded almost instantly. “It would be a great opportunity to get to know my peers better, no?” He looked to his mother, who gave him an irritated look. Aizawa held back a smirk. The kid had a way with words, that was for sure. Aizawa cleared his throat, and spoke up. “Well, it seems he’s all for it.” he said, looking at the two adults in front of him. They looked very unamused. The boy’s mother rubbed her temples, and sighed. “Fine, fine.” she grumbled. “But if Fumikage has any issues with behavior whatsoever, so let us know.” She said, giving her son a pointed look. Aizawa nodded, and stood up. “I doubt that will be an issue, he’s very well behaved.” he said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. His eyes fell to his student. He once again noticed the loose feathers sticking out from the sides of the boy’s head. There were only about two or three, but Aizawa took the initiative anyway. He leaned down toward Tokoyami, and smoothed out his feathers carefully. The boy stiffened, but relaxed. Once Aizawa was satisfied, he stood back up. Tokoyami brought a hand to the side of his head, and gave Aizawa a dumbfounded look. The man gave him an amused look, and turned around toward the door. “I’ll see you in a few days, Tokoyami.” he said, laying his hand on the doorknob. The teen nodded in response, and Aizawa left the house.

As soon as he shut the door, Aizawa clenched his fists. Of course he noticed Tokoyami’s disheveled-looking appearance. But there was one thing, one tiny little thing, that Tokoyami did. Since the moment he sat down, to the moment Aizawa left. Tokoyami rested one arm on his leg, and began tapping his knee. Aizawa didn’t think much of it at first, but then he remembered something he learned while he was still in training. Whenever someone did that, no matter the age, it was a warning sign. Tokoyami was trying to get his attention the entire time.

There was something seriously wrong.

And that’s it for part two I suppose. I feel like this part is significantly worse than the last one, but when it comes down to it, consistency isn’t my thing 🙃

i forgot to proofread part two before submitting it so uh….if there are typos to there aren’t <3

Its perfectly fine!! I never saw them~

part 3 let’s goooo

After Aizawa left, Fumikage relaxed his hand over his knee. He really hoped his teacher noticed his warning sign, but whether he did or not, he was still stuck with his parents until he moved into the dorms. A sudden wave of unease fell over him. He knew his parents were staring him down. And he knew they were not happy. He took at deep breath, and met his father’s gaze. The man’s eyes narrowed. “You got somethin’ to say, brat?” he spat through gritted teeth. Fumikage shrugged. He knew he wouldn’t be living with his foster parents for much longer, which made pushing their buttons much more tempting. He held back a smirk. “Me? Oh no. Although, judging by that look on your face, I figured you’d have something to say, no?” the teen hummed. He rested his elbows on his knees, and tilted his head. Fumikage watched his father’s eyelid twitch. It was quite amusing, really. “Just get your ass upstairs, brat. I don’t want another goddamn word outta you.” The man hissed. “And put your cuffs on too.” Fumikage let out a sigh, but nodded anyway. He’d best be obedient now, since, if possible, he’d like to make it to U.A.’s dorms in one piece. He stood up and shoved his hands into his pockets, before trudging back upstairs to his “room”.

After closing the closet door, Fumikage took another look at the cramped area he’s forced to call his bedroom. For the last eighteen months, he was stuck in this hellhole of a house. He had felt more alone than any other point in his life, even with Dark Shadow around. He had no freedom in this house. Hell, he can hardly think of a time he’s ever had any freedom throughout his life. He’s been chained down, locked in cages like an animal, abused in pretty much every way possible…he hated it. More than anything. For most of his early life, it was hard for him to tell if Dark Shadow was really his quirk, or just a voice in his head, given how rarely the two would be allowed to see eachother. But to Fumikage, quirk or not, Dark Shadow was his closest friend. His only friend. And the idea of them getting an entire room, bed and all, just to themselves, with no restrictions, made Fumikage feel more excited than he had ever felt before. Fumikage put a hand to his chest, letting out a relieved sigh, and couldn’t help but smile. Even if it was just for a little while, he, alone with Dark Shadow, could finally be free.

While he was lost in his thoughts, Fumikage’s eyes eventually fell to his quirk cuffs, laying menacingly on the pile of blankets before him, his collar just a few inches away. He felt Dark Shadow stir restlessly within him, not wanting to be trapped by the cuffs. Even though Dark Shadow never got the chance to come out while they were off, it felt liberating to not be bound by what was, in the long run, thick pieces of metal. They’d felt more relaxed for those tense twenty minutes during the conference then they had been throughout their entire time living there. But they knew, for Fumikage’s safety, that, at least until they moved into the dorms, that the cuffs had to stay on. With a sigh, Fumikage grabbed the cuffs, and, after lining them up with his already existing bruises, snapped them shut. Dark Shadow felt like chains held them back the second the cuffs came on. They let out an agitated whimper deep within Fumikage. The teen sighed, bringing a hand to his chest. He hated when his quirk felt like this, but he knew it would all be over soon. He picked up the collar, feeling the cold metal in his hands. With a huff, he threw it aside, and sat down against the wall. He looked up at the ceiling, and reached deep within himself. It was faint, but he managed to connect with Dark Shadow. “Just a few more days, Dark Shadow…” he whispered. “It’ll all be over soon. Not for long, but…things will lighten up. I promise.” That promise was a bit of a stretch, in Fumikage’s opinion. But it would be that promise that got them through the next few days. Fumikage laid down on his “bed”, and reached for one of his books. He didn’t care which one, since he’d read them all about a million times each, but he just needed a distraction. The book he’d ended up grabbing, he knew was more philosophical than he would’ve preferred, but hey, he wanted a distraction. So he opened the book, and proceeded to read.

Fumikage had gotten about 90 pages in before he heard the lock on the closet door rattle. The door swung open, letting a wave of light into the room. Fumikage looked up from his book, and low and behold, his father stood over him, an angry look on his face, as always. “Can I help you?” Fumikage asked, laying the book down on his lap. The man in front of him snorted. “Get up, brat. It’s bath time.” he said, an amused tone in his voice. If he could, Fumikage would’ve raised a brow. That tone in his father’s voice was never a good sign, but Fumikage didn’t have much of a choice. So he laid the book aside, and stood up. His father grabbed his wrist, and dragged him out of the closet. Fumikage had no idea what his father meant by “bath time”, but as the two walked directly passed the bathroom, Fumikage knew, that his parents had something else in mind…

and that’s it for part 3. i never actually have a set plan for these, i just go until I feel like stopping. These also aren’t written beforehand, I just chill in your asks for an hours writing these, making things up as I go along. I basically treat it like my notes app lmao

I'm glad my ask box has served well as your notes app! Just be careful that things save!!

part 4. this was so fucking hard to write you don’t understand 😭 and im too tired to proofread this shit so if you see typos no you don’t. enjoy.

You're doing great!!

Trapped within his father’s grip, Fumikage nearly tripped as he was dragged down the stairs. Being dragged around like a rag doll was uncomfortable enough already, but having thick quirk cuffs clamped around his wrists, digging into his skin, made the whole ordeal more painful rather than uncomfortable, but either way, whatever his parents had in store for him, like always, Fumikage wasn’t looking forward to.

Before Fumikage knew it, the two were in the kitchen. A metal bucket sat in the kitchen sink, hot water running into it. Next to the sink stood his mother, a sultry grin on her face. Thick clouds of steam rose from the basin, and suddenly it hit him. Fumikage’s breath hitched, and he froze in place. He stumbled back, pressing himself against the wall behind him. His father let out a low chuckle. “What’s the matter brat? You were all smug n’ shit earlier. Where’d all that giddiness go?” He asked, leaning toward Fumikage. The man gave a sultry grin, blowing a cloud of cigarette smoke into Fumikage’s face.

Fumikage’s eyes fell to his mother, who had her hand laid against the bucket. The painful reality all started coming together. Much quicker than Fumikage would’ve preferred, given that he’s on the receiving end of yet another one of his parent’s grueling “punishments”. His mother had a heat quirk. Not fire, but heat. She could alter the heat of any object she touches, reaching heats of up to 315 degrees celcius. Fumikage has been burned before. Several times actually. It hurt like hell, but nothing he’d ever felt before compared to the searing, agonizing pain of being touched by anything heated by his mother’s quirk. And here he was, backed into a corner, at his parent’s mercy.

He knew what was coming. As much as he hated what was about to come next, there was no getting out of it. Not with both of his parents right in front of him. As Fumikage watched that bucket of water begin to boil over, and his mother’s grin grow wider. he felt Dark Shadow begin to tremble within him, helplessly. He could feel his hands begin to shake, and without even having to look, he could hear his father chuckle in amusement.

Fumikage clenched his fists. He couldn’t just submit himself to his parents so easily. But then again, at the end of the day, he was helpless. As always. There was no escape, because when has there ever been? Fighting back was pointless. It always has been. Because to him, this wasn’t torture. This wasn’t abuse. To him, this was just another punishment. Another, grueling, agonizing, painful, god-forsaken punishment.

He was used to this.

Fumikage felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He looked up at his father. What was this sudden burst of emotion? Fumikage had never felt like this before. Was it anger? Fear? Whatever it was, it made his head spin. Either way, he planned to use his sudden rush of negative energy for something he should’ve done months ago. And the consequences that came with it?

Fuck the consequences.

A twisted, pained smile forced it’s way to Fumikage’s features. Tears rolling down his cheeks, he locked eyes with his father. “Sick bastard.” he muttered. “You know I’ll be out of this hellhole in two days, so you take every opportunity you have to put me in as much pain as possible.” Fumikage wiped a tear from his eyes with his sleeve. “Sounds like you’re getting desperate, wouldn’t you agree?” Fumikage grinned upon seeing that irritated look wash over his father’s face. Oh, how much he loved that look.

Over the years that Fumikage has been in foster care, he was never liked by this parents. They blamed it on his violent quirk. Funny enough, almost none of them had even seen his quirk. Fumikage never got around to asking about that, since a lot of the time, talking ended up getting him in trouble. Looking back on it, Fumikage realizes just how stupid it was. Talking, of all things, got him in trouble. What was next? Breathing?

And this foster home was no different. If he “talked out of place”, as his father liked to put it, he was punished. It was hard to decipher exactly what was considered talking “out of place”, since it seemed like nearly everything Fumikage said warranted punishment. So eventually, he opted not to speak at all. But there were always those times, now included, where talking back just felt so right. When Fumikage is finally able to stand up for himself, despite the inevitable consequences that came with it.

And boy, were there consequences.

Before he knew it, Fumikage’s head was slammed against the wall behind him, beak first. With how sensitive his beak was, that pain rung throughout his brain, dazing him. Then he was kneed in the stomach, three times actually, right on one of his fresh bruises. Fumikage let out a choked sob as his breath left him. Even if it only lasted seconds, Fumikage felt as though he were suffocating. And as much as he hated the feeling of air leaving him, that just so happened to be the least painful thing he experienced that night.

Through his pain, Fumikage caught a glimpse of something shiny. Because of course he would. It looked to be metal, with a sharp tip. In his dazed state, he could only guess that it was his Father’s six-inch knife. And right he was, because that exact knife tore down the back of his shirt, exposing all of the scars that littered his back. Pinning him against the wall, his father ripped off his shirt, before kicking him to the cold hardwood floors. Just as Fumikage attempted to sit up, he felt another hard kick to the back of his head. The teen brought his hands to his head almost immediately, gripping tightly at his feathers in an attempt to ease his head’s throbbing pain. But at that moment, Fumikage realized, he had let his guard down.

Just seconds later, he felt it.

That agonizing, searing pain.

All over his body.

He let out a gut-wrenching scream as he felt blisters rapidly forming all over his back and arms. He found himself clawing at his arms, in a desperate attempt to ease the stinging pain, only for thin, deep cuts to form on his pale skin. He felt his quirk cuffs reacted to the heat, getting ever more tighter around Fumikage’s thin wrists. Any and all obscenities his parents threw at him were drowned out by this unbearable pain. Through his sobs, Fumikage began to wonder, was it really worth it? Was it ever worth it? He almost didn’t care. He just wanted it all to be over.

He just wanted the pain, the suffering, the torture, all of it, he just wanted it to go away.

Once the pain died down to the point where it was at least bearable, Fumikage forced himself up on his hands and knees, struggling to keep himself stable on the wet hardwood. Between both the burns, and the quirk cuffs nearly suffocating his wrists, his hands were blistered and swollen. Fumikage locked eyes with his father, who looked down at him, satisfied with his work. Fumikage’s breathing was slow and heavy, as he tried to fight through the pain. “Is…is that all you got?” he managed to choke out. “Two kicks and some hot water? Is that your last line of defense? Seems pretty lackluster if you ask me.” His entire body trembling, Fumikage managed to get to his feet. Steam emitted from his entire upper body, and he was throbbing with pain. That satisfied look on his father’s face suddenly turned to one of pure rage. Without a word, the man walked toward Fumikage, his knife in one hand, and empty glass bottle in the other. Pressing any further in this situation, with this many injuries, Fumikage knew, would be incredibly risky. But then again, heroes are supposed to take risks.

Fumikage forced his beak back into that same twisted grin he wore before, but this time, it was more reluctant. Either way, there was no turning back now.

“Bite me.” he muttered through gritted teeth.

It went dead silent. You could hear a pin drop. But that silence was short lived.

Fumikage heard the deafening sound of glass shattering. There was a sudden flash of bright light, leaving as quick as it arrived, and Fumikage’s world became black.

i dont plan on writing any more violent scenes, simply because they’re hard asf to write lmao, so the next part is basically an unneeded time skip because im lazy <3

I'm sure whatever you will write will be perfect!!!

part 5 bitches. or is this part 6? idk this feels like a part 6. anyway proofreading is out the window, it was a long time ago, but either way this might look at but messy. fuck it it’s 3am idc anymore. enjoy.

Fumikage’s eyes opened. His eyelids felt heavy, and his back was stiff, but other than that…he felt no pain. He sat up and looked around. He wasn’t in the linen closet. In fact, it didn’t look like he was in his foster home at all. He looked to be in an apartment. It was on the small side, but it felt…comfortable. The furniture wasn’t dusty, and the air was free of cigarette smoke. Beneath him, was a dark grey couch. He had to have been sleeping on it for a while, as he had shed a single feather onto the fabric of the couch. But either way, Fumikage somehow felt…safe.

Then, he caught something from the corner of his eye. Well, not something, rather, someone. A tall figure, their face and body obscured by shadow, stood in the doorway to the kitchen. The figure began to walk toward him. Their hands were tucked into their pockets, and they stalked toward him, almost tiredly. It felt so…familiar. But Fumikage��s world felt fuzzy. It was hard to tell if what he was seeing was even real. The figure kneeled down in front of him their obscured face looking him in the eyes. He watched their lips move, but there was no sound. Fumikage wanted to speak, but all he heard was his own confused, stuttered breathing.

The figure tilted their head, and their eyebrows furrowed. They reached a hand behind Fumikage’s head, ruffling his crown feathers gently. The figure spoke again, yet Fumikage was still met with silence. The figure’s face, as far as Fumikage could see, was painted with concern. But before Fumikage could make another attempt to speak, another figure appeared from a hallway. They were taller, slimmer, and just like the first one, their body and face was completely obscured. The second figure came over, kneeling next to the first, trying to get Fumikage to say something. Anything. But the world around him was completely silent.

Fumikage felt his vision blur at the edges. What was happening? Who were the people in front of him? Why did they look so worried? His mind was runny by a mile a minute, not knowing where he was, who he was with, and why any of them were there. Fumikage looked around desperately for anything that could pose as a distraction. In the midst of his panic, he saw one of the figure’s shadowy hands reach toward him. Fumikage swatted at the hand and tried to back away, but instead was blocked by the back of the couch. His gaze went back toward the two figures in front of him. Once again, one of them reached toward him, carefully grabbing his arm. The touch felt cold, and staticky, much like how Dark Shadow felt. Fumikage squeezed his eyes shut, and he felt tears run down his cheeks, afraid of what’s to come next. But, much to his surprise, he felt a pair of arms wrap around him, holding him tight. Through the haze, Fumikage could finally make out what this person was saying. It was a faint, hollow echo that rang through his ears. “It’s okay, kid. You’re safe.” They said.

Fumikage’s breathing slowed as he lay his head on the figure’s shadowy shoulder. “I’m…safe…” he repeated, almost hypnotically. Then he heard the second figure join in. “That’s right. You don’t have to be scared anymore. You’re in a new home, with a new family.” they said. Their voice was slightly higher, and had a softer tone to it. But those words…

Fumikage lifted his head slightly, just enough to see over the figure’s shoulder. His vision was hazy, and he felt as though he were in a trance.

“Family…” Fumikage whispered. That word…that word alone. ‘Family’. It just felt so…right. As though what Fumikage saw as paradise was finally coming to pass. He felt tears well up in his eyes. But unlike before, he felt tears of relief. For the first time in what felt like years, he really felt safe. Fumikage lifted an arm, and whipped away his tears with his sleeve. When his vision cleared, yet another figure appeared. However, this one was…small. Then Fumikage realized, it was a child. His head tilted as the obscure figure carefully walked over to him. They kept their hands in front of them, almost as if afraid to hurt him. Although Fumikage had relaxed, he still felt dazed, and somehow, his movements almost didn’t feel like his own.

Just like when he reached his arm out toward the child. They were just barely out of reach, but in response, they brought both hands to Fumikage’s, and a smile came to their obscured face. They looked…happy. And for the first time in what Fumikage felt like forever…so did he. He felt a small smile form on his beak. He hated kids. Normally, anyway. But right now…this wasn’t so bad.

He felt the older figure pull away from him, still carefully running their hand through his feathers. The second also leaned back, relaxing a bit. Fumikage lay back against the couch with a sigh, before looking over the three figure’s one last time. Was this really his family…? Hell, whether they were or not, he could get used to it. He just couldn’t help it. After years of pain, years of terror, a family, a kind, loving family, was what Fumikage had always dreamed of.

He eventually felt his eyelids, as well as his whole body, become heavy. He felt his grip on consciousness slowly slip, the world around him slowly swirling into a dark grey void. That same word echoed through his mind throughout, becoming more faint each time he heard it. Family. family….family….

Fumikage’s eyes slowly opened one last time, but this time, he didn’t just feel tired. He felt cold, he felt sore, but above all…he felt uneasy. That cold, painfully familiar feeling washed over him. And painful it was. The second he dared to move, Fumikage felt a sharp pain up his back. He sighed, letting his body relax. He looked up at the ceiling, but couldn’t stop the tears from forming in his eyes.

He was home.

and that’s it. i feel like i use too many commas, but fuck it im sleep deprived i do what i want :D anyway the next part will be done…whenever the fuck i feel like writing it idk lmao

Please sleep, you're doing great!! I too suffer from overuse of commas, but I don't think they hurt too much!!

sigh. part 7. maybe. idgaf anymore lmao

toward the end I pretty much forgot how to write, so this is uh, a mess to say the least. but enjoy I guess? yea

Fumikage slowly sat up, and let his hands fall solemnly in his lap. With his level of pain and exhaustion, it was hard to keep himself stable, and his quirk cuffs acting as six-pound weights wasn’t doing him any favors. Which, now that he noticed, wasn’t the only thing Fumikage was wearing. He felt his quirk collar clamped around his neck, even tighter than before. He was surprised that it hasn’t cut off his airflow by now.

Fumikage brushed off the pain, still in awe by his dream. As abstract as it was, it just felt so…real. Everything around him felt as though it were really there. And those shadow figures….he felt their words, their touch…as strange as it was, it just felt right. Fumikage leaned back against the wall behind him. ‘Dark Shadow…’ he whispered. ‘Did you…feel that? In the dream?’ Within him, Dark Shadow stirred restlessly in response to their host’s bewilderment. ‘Mhm…but…Fumikage? Would it be weird to say I…miss it?’ they asked. That restlessness quickly turned solemn as Dark Shadow deflated a bit, wrapping themself protectively around Fumikage’s rib cage. The teen hummed quietly to himself in thought. ‘Well, as weird as it is, you aren’t alone. I don’t know why but…that dream world just felt so surreal. It was…at least compared to what we’re used to, amazing.’ Fumikage replied. He lay his head against the wall behind him as he felt tears in the back of his eyes. Dark Shadow seemed to mimic his movements in a way, as Fumikage felt them curl within themselves, hugging Fumikage’s ribs tighter. ‘I just want a new family…’ they said, barely a whisper. Fumikage felt tears slowly roll down his cheeks, soaking his feathers. It feels like every day that passes, Fumikage feels more and more isolated. More and more alone. It’s just him and Dark Shadow. It always has been. Fumikage thrives off of his quirk’s company. Dark Shadow is the only reason he’s kept a positive outlook on life throughout his last few painful years. If not for Dark Shadow, Fumikage’s life would have ended long ago. But even with Dark Shadow around, Fumikage couldn’t help but feel lonely. He wanted someone else to talk to. A human to talk to, because let’s face it, Fumikage’s social skills are…underwhelming. He never speaks unless he knows exactly what he’s going to say and when. He comes off more confident that way, because otherwise, he’d let his anxiety get the best of him.

Having a kind, caring family around, and having other people in general around, just made Fumikage feel safer. Even his foster siblings. They all despised him, but when they were around, his parents were less violent with him. There was always less expected of him when there were others around to steal all of the attention. But that didn’t mean Fumikage didn’t want attention, he just didn’t want negative attention. And every foster home he’s been in, year after year, has been exactly that.

He just wanted to feel loved, was that so much to ask?

Fumikage slouched back against the wall, only to quickly regret it as he felt a sharp pain shoot up his side. He sat back up with a groan. What exactly happened to him? He knows he blacked out at some point, but it was hard to tell what happened after. His body was numbed with pain; his back and arms were covered in burns that sting when touched, and he had a large, dark bruise right in the middle of his abdomen.

His memory of the previous night was cloudy, among other things, but he does faintly remember that sharp glint coming from his father’s knife. Fumikage put a hand to the source of the pain, feeling around for anything of interest. The closet was nearly pitch black, and as good as Fumikage was at seeing in the dark, he couldn’t do much other than carefully feel his wounds to make sure there isn’t anything too serious. But at this point, getting out of a punishment unscathed would be a miracle.

Fumikage ran his fingers across what felt like a gash along the side of his waist, approximating the length. He winced at the stinging pain, but kept going nonetheless. The wound went from just above his waist halfway up his chest. Pulling away he felt something warm and wet lining his fingers, which he could only assume was blood, given the stinging pain that shot through his body right after.

The teen let out a low groan in response, before wiping his bloody hand on his jeans. Slumping back against the wall, Fumikage looked as his blood stained hand. Even in the dark linen closet, he could still see the dark, smeared blood stain his palm and fingers. Suddenly he felt a surge of negativity rush through him, and he clenched his bloodied fist. Was it disgust? Frustration? Or just pure, justified, rage? It was always so hard, just trying to identify this one, burning, unbearable emotion. Fumikage felt it so often but could never tell what he was really feeling. Dark Shadow growled in reponse to their host, growing increasingly larger, metaphorically, desperately wanting to break free and release this unbearable surge of negativity. It didn’t take long before Fumikage boiled over, and slammed his fist against the wall behind him, causing the paint to crack and a dent to form in the wall. Fumikage looked to the wall next to him, and the result of his outburst. And just like that, he deflated, completely, and utterly, defeated. Defeated from what? It was hard to tell.

The teen choked out a sob, curling up within himself, burying his face in his knees.

Just one more day.

yeah. that’s it. short and painful sweet. no comments, bc i cant think of any. next part coming in uh….idk like a month? who’s to say lmao

I absolutely loved this!! I am so happy you shared this! The writing was phenomenal and this is such an interesting take on Tokoyami’s past. It has the perfect dose of angst~

I hope everyone else enjoys this as much as I did!

#bnha #tokoyami #tokoyami fumikage #tw child trauma #tw child abuse #tw pain #angst tw #angst #pain

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antiloreolympus · 3 years

Note

without bias from my side, I read this comic, I enjoy it and the characters to a certain level interest me. I have my issues with it, but I'm trying to understand your arguments but bringing fan bias into this isn't going to validate any argument brought forth. There's genuine issues yes, and the latest chapter brought forward is going to upset a lot of people content wise because there is no trigger warning. But with all sincerity, and no bashing towards you, This is a free comic on a app that has a lot of issues with each of it's comics, I can point out issues in majority of the popular comics on the app. Some of the point's you have are yes, valid and worth the discussion.

But the way you characterize the characters sometimes is iffy, Hades is not Persephone's sugar daddy, she genuinely tries to not get spoiled by him, returning the coat, the hair pin at first, the fact her phone is broken beyond belief and her computer was literally from a dump, wanting to loom her clothing before the shopping trip. Have the recent chapters made her relationship with him like that? Yes. It's annoying. Did we really need Hades and Persephone not taking the situation seriously and being romantic after cursing someone? We did not, It gets in the way. The romance aspect of this comic gets in the way of actual plot. It frustrates me.

And this week with the chapter going public is going to be the most upsetting and people will just purely gush about Hades and Persephone. The fact trauma is being ignored upsets me. Minthe was abusive and in terms of what actions she took to be with someone is extremely toxic. Taking someone down a peg by giving them a reality check after giving a chance to know them is what would be healthy in a sense or recommending therapy which is now, coming up. Tower 4 was a mess. She regretted it yes. But she never got to sit down with Persephone and when she did, she was extremely rude. Both parties in this situation have critics. I like this comic, I do admitting this with bias. I know what it's like to have a "Apollo" in your life who you fear. I was naïve at one point and I wanted freedom from someone so badly, that the after math that person caused, I found this comic and someone knew what it was like somewhat. At the current moment the hades and Persephone stuff focusing on a relationship is turning me off yeah. Do I still want heavy themes in this comic to be dealt with and shown so I may not feel alone in my experiences, in genuinely terms yes. I want these themes to be expressed with both sides. Do I need a relationship filler piece every episode? God no. Whatever happens, happens. If you don't like this comic, then criticize it all you want. There's things wrong with it, I don't think bringing fan bias into the conversation and possibly mock or criticize fans in a way that makes them look stupid, will make anyone have a discussion with you without anger and or pettiness. If this is what they like at the current time and want to celebrate it and praise it then let them. If you want improvement, then approach it in a way that many people with critic jobs do. Write to her possibly, ask questions as to why the quality isn't as lovely, ask why the relationship is being more fleshed out then the other stories. If anything I say hurt you in a way, I apologize. I just want to actually discuss without bias or hate.

Nah it's ok, I see where you're coming from

However, I'll have to start by saying that this blog is mostly for people to send in their criticism. I'm doing this blog for fun so I don't wanna treat this like a job. Plus, I'm not going to be able to ask RS any questions as she's both busy and can just block me in second but might try that one day.

When it comes to engaging in discussion, I don't bring any bias into it as I actually don't hate the fans. I clown on the 'stans' (the ones who get mad that LO critics even exists) but I've had civil convos with a couple fans.

I let them like what they like, I'm not saying they can't enjoy LO but there are reasons why others (myself including) are anti or neutral with LO. I don't use their tag for that reason (even though I keep appearing there).

On to the other stuff:

Hades: I agree which is why I hate that the recent chapters throw that out the window. She was so willing to just buy whatever which is why we say it gives sugar daddy vibes. He will literally buy anything for her if she asks.

Minthe: I actually don't agree with Minthe unwillingness to apologize but Persephone did end up holding it over her head as blackmail (and being flirty with her bf) so I can see why she didn't apologize after that. Is it right? No, not at all. I just understand where she's coming from. Can't remember the other times Minthe and Persephone where alone together though.

#anti lo #anti lore olympus #lo critical #lore olympus critical #anti lo art

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detectivedreameater · 3 years

Text

Trust Fall || Marley and Erin

TIMING: About a week ago PARITES: @corpse--diem and @detectivedreameater SUMMARY: Erin gets to see Marley’s new organizational method for herself and it does not bolster confidence. CONTENT: Head trauma, Head Injury, Seizure, Medical Talk

Buying up the entire stock of sticky notes from Took’s was probably not the greatest look, but Marley really didn’t care at this point. The cashier had given her the strangest look, and although she could’ve come up with a witty retort, she’d remained silent and matched his gaze instead. Now, her house was littered with them. Trash cans already full with old, irrelevant ones. They were tacked on walls and on the front door and even on the kitchen counters or along the railing up to her bedroom. And each of them was important to her. Little reminders of things she was supposed to know or do, time records kept of when she did things or went to close her eyes. There were even sticky notes reminding her about people, or with random thoughts she had that she was sure would slip away from her mind if she didn’t write them down. And in the middle of her office, printed out and pasted up, was the article about Lydia Griffin. Marley was sitting on her couch staring at it, as if somehow the answers to how she was feeling would reveal themselves if she looked long enough, hard enough. Maybe all the letters and words would mix themselves up and scramble into some sort of answer. Tell her that she should be angry, like her stomach felt. Tell her that it was okay to be upset, like her throat felt. Tell her it was okay to be torn, like her heart felt. But the longer she stared, the less things made sense.

When she came back into the present world, she glanced down at the sticky note on the table in front of her. It read: 12:47pm. Marley looked at her clock on her phone and it read 3:28pm. Fuck. That was so long. The gaps in her blackouts were getting longer. She stood up and the sticky note on the table reminding her that Erin was coming over at 3:30 today fluttered onto the ground. She scraped her way into the kitchen and grabbed an ice pack, pressing it to her temple when the door rattled and opened and she nearly jumped from her skin, giving a little yelp. “Jesus, Erin, you scared the shit out of me,” she grumbled, when she looked up and saw who it was. She shook her head, let out a long breath. “You...I knew you were coming over,” she said, looking away. It was clear she’d forgotten, but she didn’t want to admit it. She cleared her throat, looked back to the multitude of stickies she had around her apartment and swallowed. “Guess I just lost track of time.” Again.

Things didn’t feel entirely mended yet. It wasn’t something Erin expected to happen automatically after Marley showed up trashed on her doorstep a few weeks ago but it sure as hell wasn’t going to deter her from being a presence in her life. That spectacle had only proven Marley needed someone, now more than ever. From what she could tell, she’d pushed mostly everyone else out of her life. There wasn’t much for Erin to lose at this point. Her war with Roy and the aftermath had all but demolished what she still had. Her best friend wasn’t going to be one of them. He wasn’t going to take this away from her either. And she’d be damned if she let her idiocy and stubbornness drive Marley away either.

There was no answer when she knocked immediately. Wasn’t a cause for concern just yet but she pulled out the spare key to Marley’s apartment anyway, trying to make as much noise as possible when she walked in. “Anyone home?” She called out, only to earn a small yelp from Marley on entrance. But that wasn’t what caught her eye. It was what caught onto her that made the most impact. She’d already stepped onto a neon pink post-it, as a few others floated off the back of the door on her way in. “Guess so…” she mumbled distractedly and out of confusion and a little bit of anxious concern, a low laugh filled the room. “I didn’t know I’d be walking in an office supply wonderland when I got here,” she teased, picking up the notes as they fell. Little notes scribbled on them--Feed JD, Keys, Lock the door--among a few of them. Oh. Erin’s smile dropped almost immediately. “How’s, uh--how’s this working out for you?”

Marley narrowed her eyes a little as she watched Erin shut the door and pick up a few of the notes that had been stuck to it. Of the ones she remembered putting up, Lock the door and Do you have your phone? Were the most prevalent, but she knew she’d pasted a few other concerning ones over there. She turned away and went over to her little fridge, pulling out two beers and setting one on the counter for Erin. She then popped open her pain pills and dumped one out. “It works better than having nothing,” she said, flipping the cap off her bottle and holding out the bottle opener for Erin, “or trying to remember to set alarms on my phone that I sleep through anyway.” She realized that nothing she was saying would build any sort of confidence in Erin that she was dealing okay with whatever was going on with her head, but she didn’t have the energy to fight or pretend anymore. She took her bottle back over to the couch and covered up a few of the more concerning notes like Did you eat this week? with little checks under it and You left Anita, DON’T CALL HER underlined about three times. “You should try it sometime.”

Erin felt the humor leave her and the concern mounting the longer Marley spoke. And when she took her pain medication with her beer right in front of Erin, she knew this—all of this—was the closest thing for a cry for help as it got with Marley. She wasn’t even trying to hide her misery. “You know there’s way better ways to organize and remember things right?” She offered lightly, taking the beer from the counter, following her. She was by far not an expert in this, or helping people with TBIs manage their lives after their accidents. And Marley had been especially difficult, pushing away any semblance of help that came her way. But Erin had promised, she’d pushed back, and now she was here. To help. Just as she said she would. “Hey, you’ve seen my planner, right? Maybe we can get you something like that set up? One place where all of your thoughts and reminders are organized? Because this—“ she gestured toward the sticky notes around them, starting to pluck them from the various surfaces around the room. “This—is not it.”

Marley followed Erin with her eyes as she came over to the couch and sat with her. For some reason, her statements made Marley’s stomach curl and she felt that hot anger burning in her throat again. “Yeah, see-- the problem with a planner is still remembering to actually fill it out,” she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. She looked away from Erin, wondering why she felt so strangely uncomfortable with her next to her. Shifted slightly. She didn’t want to still be angry at her, but she didn’t get to choose a lot of things she wanted anymore, did she? She leaned forward and plucked one of the time stamp notes she’d written and crumpled it in her hand before flicking it away. “I’m fine,” was all she said, “this is working fine.”

It was hard not to feel that ire that rose in Marley’s words. Whether they were because of Erin or because of her own frustrations. Either way, she could understand, and she did her best to keep her temperament level. Her eyes followed the sticky note flying through the air and hit the floor, nerves starting to build in her stomach. After a long moment, she turned to Marley, finding her gaze the best she could. “You don’t seem fine,” she said quietly. It wasn’t coming from a place of judgment. Just concern. Everything she was seeing, and had noticed for weeks now, only made that fear grow more intensely. “You don’t have to be fine either, you know. I can help you if you want. You just have to let me. Even if it’s just organizing your thoughts. If there’s anything I’m good at, you know it’s organizing.”

That was apparently Marley’s last straw. Unfurling her arms, she stood up from the couch, striding away quickly. “Don’t tell me how I’m feeling, Erin!” she snapped, running her hands through her hair. She turned on her heel to glare at her, but the headache was getting worse and she pressed her palms to her eyes. “I don’t need help, okay? I just need--” she gestured around, then realized she didn’t know what she needed, words falling short, “-- I just need--” but she still couldn’t think of anything, so, instead, she turned away again and shook her head, holding her anger back as best she could. “If you just came here to patronize me, then just leave.”

Erin startled a little when Marley jumped from the couch. She didn’t think she’d be immediately onboard to accept help, that had never been in Marley’s nature as long as she'd known her, but the outburst took her off guard. “What? No. No--I’m not trying to tell you how to feel about anything, and god no, I’m not patronizing you,” she said, shaking her head, standing slowly from the couch. “But can you honestly truly tell me you’re fine? After showing up on my doorstep after binge drinking for three days straight when your friend died, or after breaking up with Anita, or being surrounded by all of this, after everything--I just don’t understand how you can sit there and just tell me that you’re fine?”

“She’s not my--” Marley immediately snapped, but the last word wouldn’t come out, “She’s wasn’t--” she tried again, but her throat closed up once more, “We weren’t…” but her fight was already giving up. She backed away from Erin when she stood, avoiding her gaze. “Well, what the fuck else am I supposed to be, Erin?” she asked, throwing her arms out. “I’m fine because I don’t-- I don’t know how to be anything else!” Her throat felt like it was closing up, and her heart hammered in her chest. Something stung deep inside of her and she had to look away again. “I just want everything to go back to normal and I can’t do that if I’m not fine.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what you are because you won’t tell me,” Erin snapped back. Of course she couldn’t force her to tell her what was going on behind her eyes, but it was just so painfully obvious things weren’t okay. Things hadn’t been okay for way too long now. Marley had every right to hate it, to want to shield herself from this difficult transition. One she knew she’d played a part in. Marley was the only reason she was still alive, standing here with just a cast on her wrist to show for it all. She stifled the emotions building in her chest, all of the guilt and pain that came with seeing her friend like this, and forced herself to temper her voice. “Things aren’t ever going to back to normal, Marley. They’re just not. I’m sorry. But the sooner you recognize and accept that, the sooner you can get to a new normal.”

“What difference would it make if you did know!?” Marley shouted back, unable to hold the pain in anymore. “Are you a fucking miracle worker? If I confess my feeling to you, can you make it all go away and feel better? Can you reverse the damage your old boss did to me?” Her anger roiled through her like a jolt and she couldn’t help but slam her palm against the wall next to her. She drew in a breath and held it for a moment, as pain pounded in her head. She was starting to get dizzy. “I don’t want a new normal! I want my old normal! I want to go back to before all of this happened! To before we were friends, to before I told Anita I wanted her-- to before all you people made me feel like I somehow deserved to be happy.” Because what a ridiculous lie that was. Marley didn’t get to be happy, that’s what life had taught her, and for those small moments where she’d decided maybe that was wrong, life had come back to teach her the exact same lesson, but harder this time. More permanent. “I don’t want whatever I am now. I don’t want--” and she gestured around wildly, to the mess of her apartment, to the sticky notes tacked everywhere, to the strained relationship between her and Erin, and she felt her eyes burning-- “this.”

There was nothing Erin could do but let Marley yell, her frustrations and anger boiling over, overflowing into the air around them. She needed this. She deserved this. Even if Erin had never felt more helpless as she let her frustrations and hands fly, she knew all of that to be true. Even if it all stung hard and deep, like a knife point slipping between her ribs. This was what needed to happen and knowing Marley, this was the only way, loud and angrily, that she would open up. “I know, Marley. I know--if I could take any of it back so you didn’t have to go through this, I’d do it. I would have switched places with you in that warehouse in a heartbeat. I would but I can’t. All I can do is try here. All we can both do is try.” She bit the inside of her cheek, shaking her head slightly. “If you’ll let me. You don’t have to, after everything, I know that but--” her jaw tightened and she could only manage a brief glance back up to Marley. “I want to be here. I want you. Okay? And not just because you’re kind of all I have left right now too. But because whether you like it or not, we’re friends. I care about you. I want you to get back to a new normal. It’s to be hard and it’s going to suck, but you can do it. If anyone can, it’s you.”

“Try what, Erin? Try what?” Marley asked, her voice already breaking. She swallowed, tried to clear her throat. She shook her head and felt it pound with each movement, rubbing her temples roughly with her palms. “Try and live like this? Try and understand why this happened? Try and understand why my best friend let me wake up alone after we were attacked and I almost died for her?” She found she could look at Erin now, a desperation in her eyes that hadn’t been there before, a look that she wasn’t even aware she was giving. “Erin...you let me wake up alone. After-- that. After I did that. After-- you-- I had no idea if you were even alive! I had no idea what had happened! Do you know how fucking scared I was? For you?” She shook her head again, the hurt evident on her face, in her eyes, as they pleaded with Erin. “ How can you-- how can you stand there in front of me and say that you want me when you let me wake up alone and afraid and terrified!?”

“Because I was afraid!” Erin snapped back. They were really doing this, right now, huh? She straightened, trying to calm herself down before continuing. “It was shitty and I regret it but I didn’t come right away because I was afraid, okay?” Even now she could feel the shame creeping up her skin. “I thought you were dead! I thought you were dead because you tried to save me and I couldn’t face it.” She was a coward who couldn’t face the consequences of her actions, not right away, but she could admit that now. “Losing you, on top of everything I’d already lost, on top of what everyone lost in my war against that bastard? It broke me. It was too much. I dropped the ball and I will never not be sorry for it, Marley.” She could feel her throat tighten, the regret burning at her eyes at the confession. She stepped forward slowly, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But I’m here now. I’m here and I’m not leaving. Not again.”

“And you think I wasn’t!?” Marley balked. “I was scared out of my goddamn mind, which is saying a lot, considering half my mind is gone now!” She felt her chest heaving and suddenly she couldn’t control the white hot tears that began pouring down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry my death was that stressful to you! I just kinda thought that maybe, I don’t know-- risking my life for you would kind of outweigh that guilt. But I guess not! So, you know what? Fine. Just-- do what everyone else in my life has done and just fucking leave,” she barked, “just leave and just stay away because I can’t go through that again. I can’t do it. I can’t have someone only to lose them because it’s happened too much and I don’t want that anymore.” Her chest heaved again and she scrubbed her hands against her eyes, wiping the tears furiously away. Her tongue felt like it was going numb, suddenly. “I’m just you don’t get to this.” Wait, no...that wasn’t right. What had she just said? Marley blinked, scrunched her face, and looked over at Erin with mild confusion.

“That’s not fair,” Erin argued weakly, almost immediately losing much of her fight the moment she heard her voice crack and the tears rolling down her face. She moved closer, shaking her head. “I fucked up. I get that. But it wasn’t because I didn’t care. It’s because I do. Because you’re one of the most important people in my life and I almost lost you, and after we killed Roy it--it fucked with my head. It was too much. I know that probably doesn’t make sense but please don’t push me away,” she pleaded and stood firm in her spot. “I don’t want to leave.” When Marley’s words came out contorted, she could only stare back in confusion for a few seconds, brows narrowed in her direction, concern swallowing the fear she just felt thick in her chest. “...Marley?”

Marley blinked a few more times, her head feeling heavy. The room spun and she stumbled in her spot, catching herself on the wall. It felt like someone was inflating her skull and filling it up with cement and she buried her face in one of her hands, the other braced against the wall. “It’s-- I’m-- not fair? That’s n-not fair--” but words were no longer coming to her. Her tongue felt thick in her throat. She swallowed. “I just n-need to--” started moving towards the couch, “--I just need to s-s-sit dow--” but she didn’t get to finish. In the next moment, her legs gave out, her eyes rolled into the back of her head, and she fell to the ground, convulsing.

That same icy fear from the day in the warehouse chilled Erin to the bone as Marley fell back. This time she moved and ran towards her, their argument the farthest thing from her mind. Was this a seizure? It had to be, right? “Marley?” she called out, trying to remember how she was supposed to handle this. Panic surged through her as she watched her convulse, rising quickly in her chest. “It’s okay. You’re okay,” she said, even though she had no idea if that were true. Don’t touch her. She remembered that much, shoving away the furniture nearby. “I’m here. I’m here,” she repeated, kneeling down to her, her hands shaking.

The world was black for Marley, and time simply didn’t exist. She didn’t know how long she laid on the floor, convulsing, or how long it took her mind to come back to herself after she stopped, but when her eyes opened next, she was laying on her side on the floor with a pillow under her head. She blinked heavily, moaning with pain. Went to move her arms up to grab her head but they felt stiff, like styrofoam. A voice echoed into her head and she tried to look around, trying to recall what had last been happening. The voice became clearer and the figure in front of her came into view. “Erin…” she breathed, knitting her brows. “What--” she wanted to ask what happened, but by now, she knew. She stayed laying on the ground, looking up at her. “Fuck…”

There was nothing Erin could do but wait for this to pass. It was a helpless feeling and she hated it more than anything. All she could do was make Marley as safe and as comfortable as possible. That was the right call here, right? Fuck. Was she supposed to call an ambulance for something like this? Or her doctor? Fuck what was her name. Queenie? She only got as far as pulling her phone out when Marley’s voice cut through her panic. “Hey there,” she called softly, running a hand over her cheek, her eyes searching over her. “Marley? Don’t move just yet, okay? Can you hear me?” She asked, trying to hide the fear in her voice.

Erin’s voice was uncharacteristically soft and for a moment, Marley wondered if she’d been out longer than she thought. Had she remembered incorrectly? Were they not just fighting? She reached up, stiffly, and pushed her hand away. Her head pounded like a drum, throbbing with each beat of her heart, as she laid her hand back over her own head, covering her eyes. “I can hear you,” she muttered, “I’m not deaf.” Although her ears were ringing, she wasn’t about to point that out, too. Erin sounded-- and probably looked-- freaked out enough. “Water,” she croaked, still not looking at her, “please.”

Almost as if Marley hadn’t seized right in front of her, she was pushing Erin away. Conveniently not forgetting the fact that they had been fighting just minutes before this. About this. Her throat felt hot and thick. God, like she hadn’t felt guilty enough before, huh? She pulled her hand away but didn’t back off until she asked for water. “Sure, yeah. Water. I can do that,” she nodded, her voice still as soft and concerned as it was before. Quickly she grabbed a glass and filled it, her eyes on Marley as much as she could. “Should I call someone?” She asked, crouching to Marley’s level when she returned, still searching over her to make sure she hadn’t missed something. “Maybe Dr. Lin-King? Or—what can I do? What do you need?”

When Erin got up to get her some water, Marley lifted herself off the floor with a great effort, arms shaking. She leaned against the coffee table and put her head in her hands, trying to calm her breathing. When Erin returned, Marley didn’t look up, but she took the offered glass and had a long sip. “No,” she said shortly, “no-- you don’t need to call anyone, I--” she rubbed her head, set the water down-- her hands shook so greatly, so did the glass, and she tried her best to hide it. Started rustling through her sticky notes again, looking for her old time records. “How long did it last?” was all she asked, ignoring Erin’s offer of help.

“Just a few minutes, I think,” Erin answered quietly, slipping down and sitting beside her. Question after question sat at the tip of her tongue, coated in a heavy mixture of concern and fear. Knew Marley would prefer if she swallowed them all, and she wouldn’t throw them all at her at once in this condition, but she wasn’t about to move on from them all either. “What are you looking for?” She asked, sitting up, leafing through some of the one sticky notes nearby. Finally, she placed a hand on top of Marley’s, holding it down. “Stop,” she insisted now, her voice firmer. “Tell me what you need and I’ll get it for you. This isn’t a suggestion anymore.” She moved to her feet, reaching down for Marley, determined, even if she was going to fight her. She wouldn’t allow it. Not after that. “C’mon. Let’s get you to the couch.”

They were here somewhere, strewn among the papers and notes on the table-- the other notes she’d written down the other times this had happened. Marley didn’t answer Erin at first, focusing on the task at hand, but then she put a hand on top of hers and Marley almost jerked away. She turned to look over at her, but Erin was standing, now, holding her hand out for Marley to take this time. She knew what it meant, if she took the offered help. She knew that the gesture was more than just that. Marley was falling apart, right before Erin’s eyes, and she’d tried time and time again to push her away, to get her out of her life, but Erin still stuck around. She’d said those words that only Anita had said to her-- I want you. It was in a capacity Marley hadn’t known very well until she’d met Erin. Until she found herself willing to die for Erin. Accepting help meant acknowledging there was something wrong with her, but what other choice did she have at this point? All she had left in this life was this. Was Erin.

Shakily, she reached out and took Erin’s hand. Her legs creaked with effort as she stood and made it the few steps to the couch, sinking back down. She leaned forward, elbows on knees, and ran her hands through her hair again. Stayed curled up for a moment, before she let out a long breath. “I’ve been keeping track of how long they last,” she muttered, “it’s on-- it’s somewhere on the table.” When she looked back up, she found Erin’s gaze-- it was full of fear and worry and confusion and Marley felt her chest squeeze again. “I don’t want this to be my new normal,” she whispered quietly.

Whether it was purely exhaustion or Marley’s way of accepting Erin’s help, for once, the relief that flooded her when she finally allowed her to walk her the few steps to the couch was unparalleled. She understood she was mad. Understood that there was validity to Marley’s stubbornness. Didn’t change the fact that this was Marley’s new normal. She needed help, if not from her, then someone else, but this wasn’t a point Marley could argue out of anymore. Deep down, Marley knew it too. She shuffled through the sticky notes, temporarily ignoring the nonchalant way Marley spoke about it. Clearly it was a regular occurrence and she hated that she was just finding this out. “Jesus Christ, Marley,” she mumbled to herself, shaking her head, the anger in her voice stemming from a very real fear. When she found the sticky note with numbers scribbled across it, her throat dried. “Marley…” she glanced over at her. “This isn’t--you can’t just--” The words weren’t coming. They were there, stuck in her throat, clogged with frustration and worry. “Marley, I’m sorry. I know. I don’t want this for you either but this is your new normal and you can’t be doing this. I don’t--I don’t know what to do but you can’t keep living like this.”

The anger in Erin’s voice came from a place that Marley didn’t entirely recognize. It wasn’t anger out of pain or hate or rage-- it was out of worry. Concern. Fear. Marley could feel it, the fear circling Erin’s stomach. She scrunched her face together for a moment and chewed on her lip, looking at the note Erin had found but not taking it. She swallowed thickly-- she didn’t have words for whatever it was she was feeling right now, but she knew it wasn’t normal. Something deep inside of her felt as if it were clawing its way out, up her esophagus and into her mouth. It made her throat itch and her tongue feel like sandpaper and the inside of her mouth tasted like metal. “Do you wish you’d never done it?” she asked quietly, not acknowledging the questions-- the concerns-- about her state of living quite yet. “Started this thing with Roy? Do you ever wish you’d just...kept your head down?”

Erin stiffened, her question throwing her off guard, immediately looking anywhere but Marley. Mouth opening, gaping like she wanted to answer her but nothing came, and she closed it again, stirring uncomfortably in her seat. “Sometimes,” she finally spoke. Didn’t think, just spurt out whatever came to mind first. Marley asked because she wanted honesty here, right? So that’s what she’d give her. “I thought I knew what I was going into, you know. I knew it was going to take chunks out of me. That it was going to take more than it gave. But I didn’t expect to take everything.” She paused, leaning forward onto her knees, running a hand down her cheek and through her hair. “It took everything. And not just from me.” She shook her head. But what were her other options? Live in fear of the law, toiling in the basement and handing off human remains for cash until the day that Roy decided he was done with her and gave her the same fate as Dale? She exhaled hard, shaking her head, fidgeting with her fingers. “I don’t know. I can’t change it now. I just know that I have to keep going or I’m letting a wishful fantasies I can’t do anything about destroy me.” She looked pointedly at Marley at that one. “It’s all any of us can do now.”

Marley listened to Erin’s words and let them sit in her stomach. Let what she was saying try and settle inside of her. There was an anger that kept trying to consume everything she said and turn it inside out and spit it back up. Step on. Set it on fire. But she was tired of the burning, and the pain and the anger. She was tired of being alone. Even if it hurt, even if she still didn’t fully trust Erin, everything she was saying was right-- Marley needed help. She was letting herself die and that-- that wasn’t what she wanted. “You didn’t...lose everything,” she mumbled quietly, not looking at Erin as she scooted her hand over and put it on top of one of Erin’s. “I’m still mad...about a lot, but you’re wrong.” She wasn’t sure what in her had changed-- maybe it was the fear in Erin’s voice of losing Marley that made her realize that she wasn’t alone, even if she wanted to be-- but something had, and there wasn’t any going back now. “I don’t regret starting this, and I don’t think you should, either. I’m-- I wish none of this had ever happened, I don’t want to be this way, but that doesn’t mean I, you know…” she rubbed her head with her free hand, “I just...all I can feel right now is anger, and I don’t want to be angry at you anymore. You’re all I have left now.”

Erin took her hand when she placed it on hers and squeezed. She wasn’t sure if it was totally reassuring that Marley wanted her there because she was the only thing she had left. Wasn’t a great feeling, but it was better than being alone, and the promise of mending their friendship wasn’t just a pipedream. It’d be hard and it’d take time but all last things were worth that kind of fight. Maybe there was something down the line that would assure her that the one for her freedom would be worth it too. “You’re kind of all I have now too,” she said quietly, a small sad smile lifting the corner of her lips. “It’s not the kind of thing you can rush and you have your reasons--valid ones--but I’d be pretty okay with you not being mad at me anymore either.” She gently nudged her shoulder, trying to keep ahold of the sobering relief that made her eyes water and her composure waver. “I miss you,” she said quietly, her eyes drawing back up to hers.

“Yeah,” Marley muttered with a hint of bitterness, “I miss me, too.” But she left it at that, because the exhaustion of being angry, of just having had a seizure, was taking over her and she had little fight left. Still-- there were things that needed to be said here, if they were going to try and mend whatever this was. Sighing, she shifted enough to look over at Erin, her eyes red and heavy lidded with her weariness. “I don’t know if I fully trust you,” she said, her voice hoarse, “it’s not something that I think will be...easy to fix. I’m angry about so much, Erin, and I think it’s because I-- because you meant so much more to me. I don’t know how to explain it, I’m not good with--” she gestured between them, “--this kind of stuff.” She took a brief pause. “And I know I’m upset with you about something else, too, but I can never remember exactly why and then that just makes me angry as well, and-- it’s this stupid vicious cycle and I just want my fucking mind back.” She felt the prickle of hot tears again but quickly blinked them away. “If you want to help me, then I need you to-- I need help feeling normal again. Whatever that might be now, I just want…” her voice simmered to a small breath, choking, “...I just need something normal.”

It was hard to hear but these were all the things that needed to be said, needed to be put out into the open if they were ever going to get past this. “This is one of the first steps to getting to some sort of normal. A healthier normal,” Erin pointed out, then added, “I think it’s pretty obvious I’m not super great at this either, honestly.” But of all the people who were hurt and disappointed by her, it cut differently with Marley. Marley, who’d been her right hand through the last six months. Who’d encouraged her to fight and who’d kept her safe until the bitter end. She couldn’t lose this. She took a breath, unable to meet her eyes now, preparing herself to throw that last issue eluding Marley onto the pile. If she had learned anything from the last six months, she knew the only way out was through. “You were upset with me about Nic. I didn’t tell you he was a hunter.” She reached for the long forgotten beer on the table and took a hearty sip.

Oh. Their entire argument came crashing back into Marley’s mind like she’d been dropped from a thousand feet in the air. Immediately, she wanted to yell again. But instead, she drew in a deep breath, counted to ten, and let it out slowly, removing her hand from Erin’s grasp finally. “Right,” she muttered, “I remember now.” The frustration Marley had felt when she’d found out writhed its way through her body again, racing down her arms and into her fingertips. She felt them tingle and leaned back on the couch, running them through her hair. “He’s gone now, though, so I guess it doesn’t fucking matter, does it?” They’d both lost their partners-- although Anita was Marley’s fault, it had still happened all the same. She looked sideways over at Erin. “I could try and explain it to you, but I just don’t think you’d ever understand.”

Erin felt the frustration from that argument return, and a sharp stab of anger from her words jolted her upright. “It matters,” she insisted, gripping the back of her neck. It was another complicated fucking issue but it mattered. They hadn’t argued for nothing. “I should have told you, I know, and maybe I won’t be able to understand, but he—“ the words caught in her throat, made her chest tight. She already hated talking about this. “He knew other supernaturals. His roommate was a selkie and he was friends with a zombie. I’m not saying your fears weren’t valid or undeserved but he wasn’t a threat. To you or anyone. I’m not that stupid. I just need you to understand that too.”

“I won’t,” Marley said, frowning, “I can’t understand that. Because you’re wrong.” To Marley, that wasn’t an opinion, it was a fact. “I get that not all hunters are the same, and sure, some of them might even not hunt-- but they’re all dangerous to people like me. No matter what they say or what you believe. And that’s what you don’t get, Erin,” she said, her tone wavering between trying to stay even and sticking with anger. With fear. “If I’d hurt the wrong person, or done just one wrong thing, can you really tell me, with one-hundred percent certainty that he wouldn’t take action? Or that he wouldn’t ask someone else to? Just because he was friends with other supernaturals doesn’t mean he isn’t a danger. It’s the same reason people like me can never trust white people in grocery stores, or straight people in rural back countries. You can at least relate to that last one a little, can’t you?” Sighing, she ran her hand over her face. “I’m not-- I wasn’t upset because he was a hutner, though. I--” she licked her bottom lip anxiously, “--I was upset-- I am upset-- because I just wanted you to believe me and not try and, I don’t know...excuse it. But I get it, okay? He was good to you. You can’t...see it the way I see it, and I can’t see it the way you do. So, no-- it doesn’t matter.”

Erin felt herself sink further into the couch. She didn’t want to talk about this. Didn’t want to think about him, even in this context. It made her heart hurt in a way she hadn’t felt before and she lifted her hand to her chest, subconsciously rubbing at her sternum, as if it would help alleviate some of the pressure. “I believe you,” she finally said after a long, quiet moment. She had no interest in discrediting or excusing away her fear and she felt terrible when she realized how it came off to Marley. “I’m sorry. I wish I could understand this all better, and with time maybe I will. I’m trying.” She shrugged one shoulder, heaving a long breath as she fidgeted with the bottle in her hand. “I don’t know how he’d react. He only hunted for money. Because he was good at it. It was all he knew, it was how he was raised. But it was never personal. And who was I to judge him when I was culling out half of the bounties he took, you know?” It was weird and complicated and shady. That was her normal. Had been her normal, anyway. She shook her head again, exhaustion seeping through her, but her words were genuine, even if she couldn’t meet her eyes still. Her chest still ached. “This is hard and I’m still getting used to this, and I don’t mean to sound ignorant. With this stuff I just—I am.”

All Marley understood was that talking about Anita hurt, and, therefore, Erin having to talk about Nic probably did, too. Especially when she noticed her rub at her chest. A pang of guilt ran through her, and though she would not take back what she said, she felt bad for addressing it, even if Erin was the one who brought it up. She reached for the glass of water again and took a sip, before curling her knees up to her chest on the couch. Wrapped her arms around them tightly. “I don’t want you to have to understand this fear, Erin. It’s not something I’d wish on anyone.” Her face drew in concern, a deep, hidden fear clouding her eyes. “That first time someone looks at you like you’re nothing, like you don’t deserve to live--” she shuddered, laying her head on her knees, “--and you’re just a child, but they don’t care. They want to kill you, because your eyes glow red at night, or because you have fangs, or wings, or turn into a wolf during the full moon.” Her words trailed off and she went quiet. “I hope you never have to know what that feels like.” It was one of the only things Marley had ever been afraid of in her life. “We don’t have to talk about him anymore,” she muttered into the thick silence between them, “I know it hurts.”

“I’m sorry. That you had to go through that,” Erin said quietly after Marley spoke. “God that’s--that’s fucking awful. You didn’t deserve that.” Not that she had a lot of room to talk. A year ago she would’ve agreed wholeheartedly with the hunter. Kill the scary fucking demon with red-eyes. It had to be dangerous, right? She learned how wrong she was, of course. Not all monsters were evil and not all hunters were right. She rubbed the bridge of her nose. Fuck, she still had so much to figure out here. She also knew there wasn’t much she could say to make it better, and instead reached out, taking one of Marley’s hands again, tentative and gentle. She was right though. It did hurt. Everything about this conversation hurt, to be fair. She sat back against the couch, letting her head loll against the back of it. “I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted.” Her head popped up again suddenly. “Are you sure there’s nothing we’re supposed to be doing after--that.” She looked at her head, nodding towards it.

“I still go through it,” Marley pointed out, “every day.” And not that she’d ever admit it, but even just knowing that Kaden was a hunter scared the shit out of her. At any moment, he could decide she was too much of a danger and come after her. She didn’t think he would, but that fear was always there-- would always be there. And it was that way with Nic, too. And any hunter. All hunters. She fidgeted with Erin’s fingers for a moment. “It was just a seizure,” she mumbled, leaning back on the couch and dropping her legs finally. She let out a long breath before scooting closer to Erin and leaning her head against her shoulder. “I’m so fucking tired,” she mumbled, “all the time.” God, she’d missed this. Maybe not specifically with Erin, just...this. Being next to someone. Feeling someone else’s warmth, someone else’s presence, their weight anchoring Marley to reality, reminding her she was real. She missed not being alone. It was her own damn fault she’d been so alone and she fucking hated it. “There’s nothing to do afterwards. Just...monitor and make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

There was a silence that fell over the room, thick and heavy. Everything was out in the open now, and they’d talked and argued until they’d exhausted themselves, it seemed. Emotions and grievances were heavy like that. They’d carried them, and though their shoulders weren’t burdened with such a heavy load anymore, the damage had been done. They were on their way to healing and it was becoming clear that this wouldn’t all be fixed in one night. There was a long road yet to go but this time Erin was prepared. It was worth it. She ran her thumb over the back of Marley’s hand, nodding. “What do you say we take a pause?” She suggested hopefully. “It’s getting late and we’re both tired and there’s no way we can work through everything tonight.” She gave a small, brief smile, trying to thin out some of that heaviness. “But if you want to keep going, I’m going to need to make some coffee.”

The motion was soothing, even if it was just small circles on the back of her hand. Marley glanced down at their hands, her eyes weary, and watched silently for a moment. The heaviness between them felt a little bit lighter now, but there was still something thick for them to wade through. But something had been mended tonight-- maybe not trust, maybe not friendship, but something. Enough of something for them to work back towards what they had before. Enough of something to rebuild. That was enough for now, it had to be. It was all they had left, after all, and without each other, they’d have nothing. Maybe that wasn’t exactly the most healthy mindset, but Marley needed something to focus on and keep herself grounded. Something to keep her from losing every part of herself. And maybe, just maybe, she’d be able to get back some of the parts she’d lost. “Let’s just watch a movie,” she mumbled, motioning to the remote sitting on the coffee table, on top of another stack of sticky notes. “We can talk later.”

#chatzy #chatzy: erin #wickedswriting #erin #trust fall #tw head trauma #tw siezure

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dragonofdarknesschaos · 5 years

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Omi Analysis Dump

I was talking recently with @rendellstreet about the events of “Juding Omi” and how Omi might have past traumas and triggers based on how the boy reacted to seeing his friends being tickle tortured. I thought Omi assumed his friends and the Ticklebot were laughing at him, this is after Omi teamed up with evil villain Chase to save them all. If Omi being laughed at is a trigger for the boy, then that means he was ruthlessly laughed at and made fun of before the new students joined the Temple. This is why Omi works so hard to be perfect in his martial arts forms, and also why Omi laughs when others don’t master forms on the first try. In Omi’s mind, if he’s not doing his best he has failed everyone. Rendell asked who would be laughing at or making fun of Omi. In XS it’s not really clear, but in XC I would assume other students from before Clay, Kimiko, and Raimundo joined. If there are other students in XC, why not XS? But one thing always bugged me about Omi’s speech right before he joins Chase.

Kimiko, going to hug Omi after his return from the Ying-Yang World: Anyway Omi, it’s sure good to have you back. Omi: But I am not back. I am not coming back. Raimundo: C’mon dude, if this is about before we’re really sorry. Omi, looking into a fire: When I tried to lead, none of you would follow. When I tried to talk, none of you would listen. Only one person stood by me, believed in me, and trusted me. That is where I choose to go.

But is any of that true? At the top of the episode, Master Fung announces that “only One will rise to the rank of Wudai Warrior.” Everyone tries to get Dojo to tell them who will be advancing, but Dojo honestly has no idea. All four Monks misinterpret Dojo’s body language and cues to mean that they are the chosen one. Dojo, realizing that all the Monks misunderstood, refuses to accompany the kids on their next Wu hunt. While battling Jack and his new “army of evil,” Omi announces that he knows Master Fung picked him to advance, and he is oh so sorry that it wasn’t one of his friends. Everyone realizes that Dojo lied to them and go to confront him as soon as they return to the temple, never mind that Jack got the Wu. This is when there’s a sudden attack and Master Fung is kidnapped. The Monks’ focus shifts to rescuing their Master.

The first thing that happens is that Kimiko insists on checking the vault, to ensure that no Wu are missing. Every time Jack has attacked in the past it was to steal Shen Gong Wu. When all Wu are accounted for Omi is the first to blame Jack, despite the lack of evidence. Clay points out that it could not have been Jack; this isn’t the evil boy genius’ MO. Rai asks Omi, who has seen the secret to destroying evil, use his knowledge to help them. Maybe what Omi has learned can help them find Master Fung, Kimiko adds. Omi refuses to share, citing his promise to Chase as a Xiaolin Warrior that he would not share that knowledge. Raimundo questions why Omi should bother keeping his word “to an evil villain” like Chase. Omi, still salty about Rai defecting to Wuya and the Heylin side almost a year ago, says that “I take my word as a Xiaolin Monk very seriously, unlike [Rai]! ... Honor is what separates us from evil.” With a looming stalemate, Clay suggests that they all start putting things to vote. Kimiko adds that Dojo will be the tiebreaker. Dojo doesn’t want the added responsibility. Annoyed, Omi says that he wants no part of this “delicacy” and storms out to spy on Jack.

A good leader listens to their comrades, takes in all that they have to say, and then makes an informed decision that is the best course of action so that the most people are happy and benefit from the decison. A great problem solver offers solutions instead of saying “no” or “I can’t.” Instead of listening to his friends and comrades, Omi jumps to conclusions based on evidence that isn’t there, then shuts down all attempts to change his course of action. In Omi’s mind, Jack Spicer is the only culprit and if his fellow Monks can’t see that, then he’ll just have to go and spy on Jack to get some hard evidence they can act upon. Unfortunately Omi walks in on Jack and company planning to take over the Xiaolin Temple.

After a narrow escape, Omi rushes to warn his friends of the incoming attack, but arrives too late. The temple has been taken over by Jack’s army of evil, and his friends are all strapped into a tickle-torture machine that looks more like a doom’s day device. So what does Omi do? Goes to Chase’s lair to ask for help. Chase makes a final plea for Omi to join the side of evil.

Chase: Remember Omi, there is always a place for you here at my side. Omi: I could never join the dark forces. Chase: Never say never. The world is a complex place. Sometimes our destiny is determined by events that are out of our control.

Through the magic of television both Chase, Omi, and Chase’s army of cats arrive back at the Temple, to the captured Monks crying from laughter. Off screen Raimundo says “I’m tired of laughing” to drive the point home. Presented with Jack’s army of evil, Chase transforms his cat army into warriors and destroys Jack’s team effortlessly. Most of the warriors destroy or defeat their opponents by doing nothing at all or in a single hit. This isn’t even child’s play to them. Chase and Omi preform Tai Chi moves in unison to destroy the remaining Jackbots. Both catch their breath as debris burns around them. Omi approaches the laughing Monks, clearly shook. The Ticklebot turns and laughs at Omi too. Angry, Omi destroys the bot, then frees his relieved friends. While that happens, Chase literally shakes Jack down for the Ying Yo-yo, then presents his find to Omi. Raimundo starts to question the situation.

Raimundo: Hey! Why is [Chase] helping us? Omi: I will explain everything later, but first we must rescue Master Fung. Clay: Whoa, whoa, whoa there partner. We don’t know hooie about this Ying-Yang place. Rai: I vote we talk to Dojo first. Kimiko: I agree. We should think about what we’re getting into. Omi: A true warrior acts first and worries later.

Again, all the Monks are asking Omi what is going on, they want him to talk to them; tell them what is going on. Omi glosses over everything--all that matters to him is rescuing Master Fung. Screw the consequences and fall out, that’s for near-future Omi to deal with! Upon returning from the Ying-Yang World, his good Chi sealed away, Evil!Omi makes his speech.

“When I tried to lead, none of you would follow. When I tried to talk, none of you would listen. Only one person stood by me, believed in me, and trusted me.”

Not once did Omi try to lead effectively. It was always his way or no way at all. Omi never wanted to talk, he did not listen to his so-called friends even once. Though he is unaware of it at the time, Chase “supporting” Omi’s decisions is just Chase going along with his own plan. While Chase believes in Omi, trusting Omi would mean that Chase wouldn’t have had to orchestrate this entire event to get Omi to join the dark forces. Omi acted alone and played right into Chase’s hands. The only person Omi should have trusted was himself. That actually might have been more climactic than whatever the rest of the “___ing Omi” arc was.

But why was Omi, filled with both his Chi, so focused and consumed by saving Master Fung? Not even Dojo--who is notorious for being unable to function correctly if the Master was missing--is terribly distraught. What’s so special about the old man to Omi?

Master Fung and Dojo are Omi’s first and only family before the new students arrived. The two effectively raised Omi since he was a baby; Master Fung is Omi’s entire world for a majority of the young boy’s life. Anyone would act recklessly if they lost their entire world. Especially a child that knew they could save their adoptive parent. If you knew you could save someone who meant the world to you, but friends that you had come to rely on as family said, “no, we need to stop and think about things,” naturally you’d be upset and try to accomplish the task yourself, right?

While that explains Omi’s actions, it also somewhat disproves my suggestion of Omi having “people laughing at him” as a trigger. He destroyed the Ticklebot out of anger, rather than fear. And if being laughed at was so triggering, why laugh at others who are in the same situation he was in that caused the traumatic event? It’s an interesting thought, but not plausible given the evidence.

One last point, if Heylin!Omi made an entire speech that was a lie, and together Omi is brutally honest, if not to a fault, doesn’t that mean that Heylin!Omi can only tell lies to a certain degree? Not even good lies; lies that are blatant as a stain on a white sheet. His defecting speech was actually an apology.

When I tried to lead, none of you would follow. When I tried to talk, none of you would listen. Only one person stood by me, believed in me, and trusted me.

Becomes:

When you tried to lead, I did not follow. When you tried to talk, I did not listen. All of you stood by me, believed in me, and trusted me.

Joining Chase is effectively a self-imposed punishment.

Further on in the next episode, Chase notices that Heylin!Omi only wants to fight all the time; there isn’t very much substance to the young one’s evil chi. Chase agrees to fight Heylin!Omi on the grounds that Omi swear his loyalty to the Heylin Warrior. “I do swear my loyalty to you.” If Heylin!Omi only tells lies, then “I don’t swear my loyalty to you,” is more likely what he did mean. However, the memory is all that’s needed to keep a wholly restored Omi at Chase’s side for the big finale. This opposite talk of sorts would also mean that Heylin!Omi actually got slang right for once. “Bring it off/on--same difference.” And if that ain’t the most opposite thing of Omi, then there must be something wrong with the writers.

TL;DR

Disproved: Omi’s trigger is people laughing at him. This is why he tries hard to be perfect at everything he does.

Omi’s speech before defecting to Chase in “Judging Omi” is a lie. Everything Omi claims the others did is what he himself did in a blind and reckless ploy to save Master Fung.

Master Fung is really, really important to Omi. The old man is Omi’s first and only family... until the others join in.

What if Heylin!Omi can only tell lies as a contrast to Good/Whole Omi only telling (brutal) honest truths? The speech he made before joining Chase is effectively an apology.

#Omi #Xiaolin Showdown #analysis #Judging Omi #_ing Omi arc #Heylin!Omi

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getinthefunvee · 3 years

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❔ #getinthefunvee

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ABOUT THIS BLOG

❕ est Dec 2012

❕ 21 or over for intermittent content which may not always be tagged; I will generally not play with you if you are under 21 as I may not be comfortable writing certain content [because I'll feel like a dinosaur]. I will not RP with anyone under 18 years old, regardless of thread content or your geographical location's 'legal age.' This is not up for discussion, though I'm happy to explain the legal ramifications (for you and your RP partners around the world) of lying about your age. tl;dr I'm not going to jail so you can have smut. Thanks.

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✅ duplicates, multiple 'canon' realities, AUs, cross-fandom, What Ifs

✅ crossovers, especially within Marvel & DC

✅ AUs: love, love, love. Give me your tropey coffee shop AU; better yet, give me your research-worthy Mesopotamian AU, time-travel AU, etc. I'm utter trash for Sentinel!verse (and if you don't know what that is, come at me).

✅ plot-development, complex characterization

✅ conscious, intentional, creative abuse of grammar/syntax

✅ any gender identity/lack thereof; sexual orientation/lack thereof; neurodivergent characters; disabled characters

✅ LGBT, non-cis/het, POC, or other minority versions of canonically white cis straight Christian etc characters

✅ female versions of canonically (cis)male characters

✅ dark, edgy, angsty themes up to and including psychological & physical torture, abuse, and character death

✅ complex and conscientious portrayals of trauma and mental health issues

NO THANKS

❎ self-insertion (omnipotent manic pixie Gary-Stu/Mary-Stu characters make me cringe)

❎ pages of ooc

❎ pages of graphic porn

❎ you RP nothing but smut of a variety that squicks me, such as (below) and don't put it behind readmores: - A/B/O, especially if it involves 'mating'/'breeding', pregnancy (esp cis male or cis female pregnancy), etc. Really major squick; - BDSM that uses an abundance of misogynistic language like 'slut'; 'daddy/mommy' themes; pet play; romanticising unhealthy abusive relationships ('50 Shades of Nope' comes to mind) by framing them as consensual BDSM.

❎ consistent grammar/spelling errors (note: ignore if English isn't your primary language; I’m happy to help if that’s something you want, and I speak a few languages so I might be able to RP in your language)

❎ lots of family/baby/child content

❎ 'child of'/'sibling of' & non-canon family member/friend characters

❎ anthropomorphic, furry, or 'real people' characters

❎ SuperWhoLock, anime

❎ gatekeeping, canon-snobbery, constant negativity

❎ erasure of any minority group (ie male versions of canonically female characters; suspiciously white FCs for canonically POC characters, etc)

❎ messianic anything; proselytizing

ABOUT THE MUN

✩ ari (aka kai), 30s, London (GMT)

✩ working in medicine, re-qualifying for med school entry; usually not around much Tue-Fri due to work (replies are sometimes queued & I'm usually happy to do short stuff like texts during the week)

✩ thoroughly spoken for; married to cap.co.vu (but thanks for asking *fingerguns*)

✩ introvert: very social at times (I tend to 'read' as an extrovert), but I need more distance when out of social energy. Feel free to ask me about this. I will love you forever if you respect the need for space, and will not like you very much if you insta-pounce 10x daily when I've gone quiet.

✩ jewitchy = unrepentantly jewish + low-key hedge witch (observant Reform/Conservative Jew; dash of pagan)

✩ grey-a + demi, greyromantic, as impossibly flirty as Tony Stark

✩ ADD, autism (psa: you can be super direct with me), major depressive disorder, EBS (epidermolysis bullosa), mild anxiety (when out of social energy)

✩ sharp-spoken, sharply-dressed, stickler for punctuation, polyglot, menace to society, method RPer, (mostly) good human being, guaranteed at least 80% carbon-based lifeform, will use elbows on the Tube, well-travelled, great ass (thanks, yoga!), hearts horseback riding, BDSM, dismantling the patriarchy

✩ ask box is always open, Discord available by request, IM/chat is gr8

If you feel like it, send me your favourite trope as a way of letting me know you've read these. I'm not going to ask for any sort of specific symbol, codeword, etc to prove it, but I will presume you have and act accordingly. If you feel compelled to acknowledge any specific parts that jump out at you or query something that doesn't sit right with you, we'll probably be bffs.

#|| mobile links #|| pls don't reblog thank

0 notes

grief-is-a-noun · 3 years

Text

ode to the ex-boyfriend

I’ve never written about jake before, in a manner where i really gave myself time to sort out the way that i feel about him. When I broke up with him I was the happiest girl on the planet. I was finally free. Free from all his lies, his manipulative tendencies, his apparent and utterly dominant abuse. I don’t care what anyone says. I don’t care what anyone thinks that they know. He told me once he loved me so much because i was the only one who really knew him. I was the only one who actually saw him for who he was and he was right. I was the only one that saw him for the monster that he really is. He said I was the only person he didn’t have a surfaced relationship with. I’m sure he held onto me because it was exhausting being the fake “mr. nice guy”. He takes after his father. I remember coming over one weekend all three days (friday,saturday, and sunday) and his parents were fighting. I asked jake if everything was okay and he said his father is “irritated” at his mother because she suggested that he should’ve taken a different tone when speaking to the technical support guy on the phone. Can you believe that shit? Like ok, it doesn’t matter that there are children being sex trafficked, people who are homeless, injustice happening everywhere in the world, i’m going to waste my energy on being upset at my wife because my life is all about fucking me and how irate i get once i’m slightly inconvenienced. Not like I believe in the bible or anything that is the pinnacle calling for living a selfless life. I believe jakes mother has been mentally abused by mr. mcfaul her entire life, but she feels obligated toward him because in some cynical dark way she contributes her faith to him. In her mind, perhaps, she believes he is the one that kept her aligned with God. she needs to give herself more credit. Mr. mcfaul was always a nice man to me, he never did anything to hurt me but he failed to teach his son the proper way to take care of a woman and for that a part of me resents him. I honestly feel bad for him because when I look at him I see a man who doesn’t know how to emotionally connect with his children and never learned his lessons, always heading for complacency. Instead he instilled fear in his children that resulted in them becoming judgemental perfectionists. a lost cause, if you will.

I wrote previously that i was the happiest girl in the world when i broke up with jake and i was. No more comments about how we were going to move to idaho or how he would rather me stay home with the kids and be a housewife than pursue a degree. I couldn’t bask in the fact that I am an educated woman with an actual functioning brain. Don’t get me wrong, there is NO hate for housewives here, women should be able to choose whatever life they want to live, however, jake started our relationship with the will to change me. That's why I wholeheartedly believe I didn't break his heart, I broke his pride. Who am I kidding, I'm too fiercely independent to just be a housewife. I can simultaneously be a housewife, a good mom, and a working woman. I can contribute because I have always been able to handle my shit, he didn’t want to see it like that because my independence was a threat, it meant a lack of dependence on him. Without dependence, it is easy to leave, or so he thought. It's funny how that fear played into our relationship. He always “bragged” about the fact that he had broken up with every girl he had ever been with and although i did not go into this relationship planning on leaving him, I know subconsciously my mind was like “bet”. I can be toxic like that. He was sweet at first, he did strive to take care of me but he got too comfortable with my eagerness to forgive him until he finally reached a point where he didn’t care anymore. I tried everything, i sought out a mentor for him, i booked us counseling sessions, i fucking tried. Even though I was unhappy I held onto the good. I do that. I fight for the reason why I started. I hold onto the good for as long as I can and then when i cannot psychologically handle it anymore I hone in on all the bad shit and that’s what makes it so easy to leave.

I could probably write a whole novel on the abusive things he did. How he made me feel crazy for believing his girl best friend had feelings for him even though she openly admitted that she did in the past. I knew they were still there. How he held a secret meeting with her while we were dating to apologize on my behalf for how crazy my accusations were and that he wanted to get the “full story” on how I approached her because we both had two very different versions of what happened. How when i found out months later that this meeting occurred he shut me down and told me i had no right to be upset at him because it was in the past and he wouldn't do something like that now. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! I should have dumped him right then and there. My only regret is not leaving his ass sooner. I still remember the apathetic tone he took with me outside that fucking in n out in Westlake. I've written before how I was like a robot to him and he just shut my emotions on and off when he pleased. He negated any feeling I had that posed to him as an inconvenience and how I feel about him is the closest thing I've ever felt to hate. Jake, you made me feel crazy. Ironically enough though not two months after we broke up is when he finally apologized to me because said girl best friend tried to get at him, again. I knew he didn’t like her in that way, jake likes girls with at least half a brain and to be honest it would be more interesting talking to a door knob than participating in a conversation with her. But it wasn’t about the way she felt. It was about the way she looked at me when he wasn’t looking. How i was uncomfortable that she would always try to brush up next to him or take my seat by his side and everyone was secretly rooting for them. Jake, you moved to idaho to get over me and start over and she fucking moved there too. God, a part of me hopes you guys get married. She's too mindless to receive any of your abuse, she will do whatever you say without a fight and utmost willingness. But I know you don’t like that, I know you prefer a fight because it makes you feel powerful, having someone you can control. I’m just thankful I recognized this, and made it out alive.

Here’s the thing about assholes, it's no secret i don’t like the nicest men if i do i get bored and then leave. Jared was an outstanding guy, he met the love of his life after i broke up with him and we check in with each other once a year or so. I have him and his girlfriend on Instagram and I'll like or comment on their pictures. I sometimes DM his girlfriend, she replies to my stories or mine to hers. Jared talks to my brother a couple times a month too. My dad and brother both really miss him. I lived with Jared for a time and he with me. We were family. The dynamic we have created is healthy and I'm happy for him. Matt on the other hand, definitely resents me. He goes through stages of blocking me then unblocking me but i don’t really care. I wrote him a letter apologizing back in 2017 and we are on ok terms. I know it's his girlfriend that doesn’t want us to be friends but I support that. I get it. He has been dating her for almost three years and I really do hope they get married. My first love has been the hardest to get on good terms with, it took 5 years. The last time I talked to Kyle was actually a few days ago. I had a question to ask him and he responded but I never texted him back. I don’t know why I’m like this. Last time I saw him was on Labor Day when he, Jadyn, and I all went to the beach after he got off work. We talked about the ocean, music, snowboarding, surfing, you know, miniscule bullshit. It was that night I finally realized I was over him. I don’t talk about him much anymore, he was my first love, that is all i have to say. We are strangers to each other now and I can only hope he likes the person he has become but I don’t know him anymore. The boy I loved is gone. It took five years of rumors among others and silence between us for me to realize we are adults, we are different people. I know we will never be friends but it’s cool that we are cordial. I will go on counting him as the first love of my life, he will go on counting me as his biggest regret, and for both, I am not sorry. Well where was I? Oh that's right, assholes. You see, Jake is the kind of asshole you want to run from. Hop on a plane and fly a million miles away. Logan is the kind of asshole you can empathize with. Jake hasn’t been through one difficult thing in his life. He is almost 26, still living with his parents (now living with them in a different state), never finished school, too prideful to put in the work, and still to this day, always taking the easy way out. He hated the fact that i made more money than him, that i paid for most (if not all) of our dinners and trips, that i had direction in my life and he didn’t. He resented me for taking care of him but I still did it anyways. That’s when you do when you’re in a relationship, it's a team effort, 50/50. I don’t see it any other way. Jake hated people with trauma or emotions. He couldn’t empathize with them. He wanted to just turn away any hardship because it made him feel uncomfortable. He hated things that challenged him, hated what he didn’t understand. This is why Jake is the bad kind of asshole. Then you have someone like Logan. Logan is confused, as we all are. And although he doesn’t like the thought of being vulnerable there’s layers to that. Reasons why. He has depth. The difference here is that when my nana died and i asked jake to leave “work” (which was him sitting at his fucking computer practicing coding or playing video games) he said he didn’t want too, on god. Added that he didn’t get why i was so sad over my nana dying when we weren’t even that “close.” i think that's when i began to resent him, took me way too fucking long. Jake didn’t want to care about me, hell, he didn’t even listen to me. If he had, he would have known my nana left everything to me and she always wrote that I was her favorite grandchild. If I really needed Logan, I knew he would be there for me. Hell, I called him in the middle of the night and asked him to pick me up in the morning to give me a ride to simi and he didn't even ask why, he just came. Not only that but he was dropping me off at a protest and the march wasn’t something he believed in, as beneficial to society, but he still took me there anyways. I know that, even now, if something really bad ever happened to me and I asked Logan to be there, he would. That is a reflection of his character that goes far beyond circumstance. I know i'm not special, I believe he’d do that for anyone he cares about because he is a good person. So ya, i put up with his impulsive petty bullshit because we all have impulsive and petty bullshit we do. However, when worst comes to worst and you're really in the thick of it, you need people that you know you can always count on. I might’ve lost that side of Logan because of my mistakes. I know he played a role in how badly things ended between us which he apologized for. I can be too sensitive sometimes and I think my lack of understanding of him fogged my judgement, actually I know it did. I mean, fuck, all three of us could’ve played a healthier role in that situation. After I broke up with Jake he’d ask me to get coffee or go out to lunch every once in a while and I agreed (why? Couldn’t tell you). I used to just cry about the whole situation with Logan and it made Jake so angry. He would tell me he hated the way I cared so much about him. How i never cried over him like that and didn’t understand why losing Logan hurt so bad. Well, it hurt so bad because I was subconsciously lying to myself about the fact that I was in love with him; but even looking beyond the way I felt it hurt so much because Logan is a one in a million kind of person, Jake is just your everyday plain old asshole. My god do I hope that he changes. He definitely needs to seek therapy before entering another relationship, I really just want what's best for him.

So, ode to the ex boyfriend. I know, not your typical 14 lined, iambic pentameter, sonnet. But here is to the man that wouldn’t kiss me when i took him to new york for my birthday because he wanted me to be just as miserable as he was (he hated cities), who told me it was my obligation to stay with him after i left because i slept with him and that meant we were already married, who told me i couldn’t pray over him because i didn’t grow up in the ideal Christian home, (my family is fucked but at least we are real, i love them) the man who lied to me, the man who went behind my back, the man who made me want to so desperately drive my car off the road. To the man who made me reach my breaking point. realizing our relationship was a choice of life or death, here’s to him.

I’m sorry i didn’t love you and i’m sorry i didn’t leave you sooner. I’m sorry i bought into your comfortability with putting a fake persona into the world and made our life together look perfect on instagram. I'm sorry it took me leaving you in order for you to buy a ring and by that time it was too late. I'm sorry that if we did get married and our relationship got worse I would've killed myself before I would've left you. I’m sorry I don’t believe in divorce. The bones in my body don’t ever ache for vengeance because I simply do not care enough. I’m sorry that you thought I was a fighter. I’m sorry because I'm simultaneously not sorry at all. I wish you the very best and if there is one thing I ask of you, it's that you don’t treat the next girl you pursue the way you treated me. Listen to her. Love her. Put her before yourself. Allow her to love herself for who she wants to be, not who you want to make her. I’m glad I broke myself, then broke you, in hopes you’d learn not to break her one day. Good luck to you.

0 notes

serahne · 6 years

Text

And now for something different ( 1/2 )

Summary : “Who is he ?”

Maki shakes her head in annoyance.

“A walking, breathing headache if you want my opinion.”

( or : Shuichi Saihara tries to make new friends, but the only person that catches his attention is a mysterious boy with a taste for mischief. )

Rating : Teen and Up Audiences

Pairing : Shuichi Saihara/Kokichi Ouma

Characters : Shuichi Saihara, Kokichi Ouma, Kaito Momota, Maki Harukawa, Kaede Akamatsu and these rest of the ndrv3 cast.

“That’s it, Shuichi, I’m taking you out tonight !”

Kaito’s boisterous voice makes him raise his eyes from the oily fallafel that a grumpy-looking waitress dumped in his plate ten minutes ago. This is the last time he lets his friend pick the place for their weekly lunch.

“Taking me out ?” He repeats. “I hope you mean it in the sense that you are going to kill me. Not that you are dragging me to another nightclub. Kaito, you saw what happened last time. I’ll never be able to watch the discovery channel the same way, thanks for that.”

“Yeah, well” Kaito shrugs his trauma off. “How was I supposed to know it was a theme night ? You are really sweating the small stuff here, bro !”

“Right.”

Shuichi gives up on his food and pushes his plate toward Kaito, who only seems too happy to engulf another greasy abomination.

“By the way” Kaito keeps going between two bites “I wasn’t planning to go back there. It’s Maki Roll’s friend -”

“Maki has friends ?” Shuichi asks, half-serious.

The other points his chopsticks in his direction.

“Believe it or not, some people are able to see what a great person she is. Anyway, her friend, Kaede. We were together back in High School, remember ? Well, she invited us to her party. I promise you that no one will be dressed as an animal.” He wiggles his eyebrows a little “Except if you count human beings as animals and…”

“Okay, okay” Shuichi cuts him off. “Are you telling me that Kaede Akamatsu invited me to her party ?”

Kaito nods.

“Sure. She likes you, you know.”

“Kaito. I think the most words I exchanged with her was in second year, when her phone was discharged and she needed to borrow mine ! We don’t know each others !”

He glosses over the fact that he dragged a crush for the pretty pianist for the three year they spent in the same class. A hopeless one, of course, one that he never even dreamed of seeing reciprocated. She was just so bright and hopeful and positive and way too good for a guy who had troubles watching other people in the eyes.

“Well she doesn’t not like you” the other says triumphantly. “Come on, bro. Kaede invited Maki who invited me who is now inviting you. This is legit. Everyone does that, and Kaede won’t mind. She is a cool chick.”

Shuichi opens his mouth to say something, but he is interrupted by the waitress who is still in a terrible mood ( Shuichi can’t help but offer her a compassionate smile that she doesn’t return ) and picks up their plates as soon as possible before going back to the kitchen. Kaito gives her an appraising look.

“Do you think she likes me ?” He asks out loud. Then he lowers his voice in a conspiratorial tone. “Don’t tell Maki Roll about that. I don’t want her to get jealous.”

Yeah, right. Shuichi rolls his eyes.

“Whatever” he replies. “I’m not going anywhere tonight.”

“Shuichi ! I’m sorry to say that but my grandma has a more interesting life than you. When was the last time you did something that wasn’t working for your uncle, reading books, or eating lunch with me and Maki ?” He sighs dramatically. “How are you even going to find a nice girl for yourself ?”

Shuichi bites his tongue instead of reminding Kaito that himself doesn’t seem that interested in ‘nice’ girls either. His friend has a point. Shuichi’s social life is deader than it could ever be. He is just not that good at making friends. Or talking to people, really. Sometimes he wonders how miserable he would be if Kaito hadn’t decided one day to be his partner in a class project, praising his intelligence and dumping on him the entirety of the workload in one breath.

Then he had told Shuichi that he could do the oral presentation if that was easier for him. And they have been friends since them.

“I don’t want to be in a room full of people I don’t know” he pleads. “You are going to be busy being your usual social self and I’m just going to sit on a chair and wait for the time to pass until it’s late enough to go back home.”

Kaito puts a hand on his shoulder, a serious look on his face.

“Listen, Shuichi. I promise that I’ll make sure to introduce you to people. I’m not saying that you are going to end the day with a full list of new numbers in your phone, but if you just talk to people, you’ll see that they aren’t scary - well, most of them, anyway.”

Shuichi feels himself falters under Kaito’s gaze. What is the worst that could happen ? Skulking around for a couple of hours lost in the middle of people that don’t even notice he is here ? As if it was something new for him.

“Okay” he relents. “But I’m taking a book just in case it’s awful.”

Kaito laughs and pats his shoulder.

“That’s the spirit !”

That’s a terrible idea. Anxiety weighs heavier and heavier on Shuichi while he climbs up the stairs leading to Kaede’s house. He can hear music and screams coming from the inside of the house, but he can also see some people wandering around the gardens : it’s the beginning of summer, and the weather is nice enough that they can stay outside after sunset despite their short-sleeves and bare legs.

“So what do you think ?” Kaito says, all smile. “Pretty nice, uh ? And no one disguised as an animal.”

“Hmm” He replies, noncommittal.

Kaito knocks on the door, and despite Shuichi’s guess that the music instead is way too loud for them to be heard, it opens a few seconds later to reveal Kaede Akamatsu, her long blond-hair that she had in high-school now cut at chin length, and still just as stunning as she was then.

“Hey !” She greets them, and Shuichi is glad that she isn’t asking him to talk, because he needs a few seconds to realize that his teenage crush is right there in front of him. “Kaito, right ? Maki told me you might be here, I’m glad you could make it. And uh… it’s your friend ?”

“Yeah, Shuichi !” He hits him behind the head. “He was in our class in High School, too.”

Kaede smiles at him.

“That’s so nice. I hope you’ll have fun tonight, there are so many people I haven’t seen in a long time. I guess that’s what summer is all about, right ?”

She laughs, and so does Kaito, and Shuichi spends a few seconds wondering if he should laugh too, but then that would be weird to just laugh after everyone else.

“Sure thing” Kaito replies, giving her a thumb up. “See you later, Kaede !”

And then there are in, Kaito guiding him through the buzzing crowd with a hand on his back until they reach a quieter spot. Shuichi feels like he is going to throw up, and Kaito stops paying him any mind as soon as a pair of black pigtails appears in front of him.

“Hey Maki Roll !” Kaito says, moving closer to the quiet. “You are super pretty tonight !”

The blush on her cheeks is barely visible, but the fact that it’s there surprise Shuichi : maybe Kaito’s bragging about how she is totally into him isn’t as far off as he suspected. Still, she offers them an exasperated look.

“Don’t you have someone else to bother ?” She sighs, before turning toward Shuichi. “Did he force you to come here ?”

“Uh” Shuichi says.

“Figures. He is the most inconsiderate guy I’ve ever met.”

Kaito doesn’t seem very happy with where the conversation is going.

“Hey, guys, don’t insult me when I’m here, okay ?” He smiles at Maki, who frowns in return, as to balance his sudden happiness. “And I brought Shuichi here to find him a nice girl ! Do you know anyone here that our good friend could try to talk to ?”

Maki raises an eyebrow in disbelief, but then her gaze wanders through the room, and stops anytime she finds someone she knows.

“... Tenko would kill you… Miu would kill you… “ she mutters for herself. “Angie is nice but…” she throws a glance at Shuichi. “Yeah, she would kill you too.”

Shuichi shudders at how serious she sounds, but then Maki sees something ( or someone ) and freezes, eyes narrowed and angry.

“What is he doing here ?” She spats, poison in her voice.

Shuichi follows her icy glare. At the end of it, a smiling teenager, dressed all in white except for a checkered scarf, is chatting animatedly with a group of people. He observes him a few seconds, wondering what Maki is so upset for, but doesn’t find an answer.

“Who is he ?”

Maki shakes her head in annoyance.

“A walking, breathing headache if you want my opinion.” She frowns. “Anyway, not that this meeting wasn’t nice, but I’m going to see how Kaede is doing at the door, so…”

“Wait !” Kaito interjected. “What about Shuichi’s situation ? You can’t let him hanging like that.”

“I really couldn’t care less about Shuichi’s love life” she says. And then to Shuichi : “No offense.”

“None taken.” He assures her.

His answer earns him the first real smile on Maki’s lips since they found her, and he realizes that she is actually someone he wouldn’t be mind being friend with. Though, as always, he isn’t the kind of person who takes the first step. And Maki doesn’t seem to be the kind either. And that’s the problem of his life, isn’t it ? He can’t keep up with people like Kaito, and he can’t bring himself to seek the company of people like him. It’s a dead-end, no matter how you look at it.

Kaito watches Maki walk away, a thoughtful look on his face, and then seems to remember why he dragged his friend in this place for it’s almost like something switches on inside him.

“So, Shuichi” he says, back to his usual self “Let’s find you the perfect girl !”

Shuichi takes back whatever thought he had at the beginning of the evening : this is not just a terrible idea, this is the worst idea that Kaito ever had. He is dragged endlessly around the room, introduced to beautiful, friendly girls he has nothing to talk with and whose he forgets the name as soon as soon as his friend find another one. None of these girls are the problem. He is. Each time, this goes more or less well until Kaito leaves them to offer them a chance to have a private discussion. Then it crashes and burns and Shuichi just wants to run away.

He takes refuge near the buffet, where he can drink and eat and pretend to be busy until Kaito comes to find him for another show. That’s not what he is after, he thinks. He isn’t interested in meeting half of the people here. If there was just one person he could feel comfortable here…

“You need to taste this one, Rantaro !” an excited voice says a few feet away from him.

He turns his head to see that guy, the one Maki doesn’t like at all, busying himself with… the tasting of any food on the table ? He enthusiastically describes everything he puts in his mouth to a green-haired boy next to him, who doesn’t do much beside trying the food the other puts in front of his mouth when he finds one he really likes.

The whole scene is pretty ridiculous, since the food the teenager is tasting can just as well be plain potato chips from a common brand than homemade brownies. And yet Shuichi can’t really find the strength to make fun of him, even only in his head : these two are enjoying themselves, that’s more than it can be said for him.

Suddenly, as if he could feel Shuichi’s persistent gaze on him, he turns toward him, a curious expression on his face and an already-bitten mini-pizza in his hand. He blinks, and Shuichi can feel his cheeks burn. That was rude on his part to stare, wasn’t it ? Quickly, he focuses on the food, praying for the two guys to just ignore him and go away.

“Oh my beloved Rantaro, maybe you could go find someone you actually like spending time with ?” He hears the boy with the checkered scarf say, biting irony in his voice.

The other doesn’t fight him on his suggestion too much.

“Sure, have fun. Don’t forget that I’m leaving at 2, if I can’t find you then, you’ll walk, okay ?” He warns. “Tries to not do something stupid.”

“Nishishi, I promise I won’t do anything you wouldn’t do yourself !”

After that, there is a few seconds of silence where Shuichi hears his blood beating inside his head and he isn’t even sure if he is scared or hopeful or confused or everything at once. He almost jumps when he feels a finger stab him in his ribs. When he turns around by reflex, he is surprised by how close the other is. Close enough for Shuichi to note that the purple glints he thought he could see on his hair weren’t the result of poor lightning. It was subtle, but the boy really had purple hair.

“Hey !” He says with a smile so bright it’s eating up half of his face. “You check me out and then you ignore me like that ? Rude !”

Shuichi’s eyes widen. He takes a step back, trying to put some distance between them.

“Checking you out ?” He repeats. “No, I was just… listening to your conversation ? Which... actually seems even more rude. Sorry.”

The boy tilts his head on the side.

“Uh ? You think I care about you listening to my judgement on this party’s gastronomy ? Nu-uh, at least you were paying attention. Rantaro doesn’t get how understand this task is, unfortunately ?”

“Really ? … How is that important ?”

Suddenly, the purple-haired boy starts laughing.

“Nishishi, sorry, it was a lie ! I was just bored and I wanted to pretend I was one of these judges on TV who can treat people like vermins just because they have all the money and all the recognition. Can you blame me ?”

“Hm” Shuichi says, not sure how to replies to that. “But does that make any sense to do that with… potato chips ?”

“Wow, you were really paying attention, weren’t you ?” The other says, delighted. “Really, it doesn’t matter. You just have to say things like ‘this could use a more parsimonious seasoning’ or ‘I do think it should be dressed with some balsamic vinegar’. See ? Easy peasy as they say !”

Despite himself, Shuichi chuckles a little at how serious the other is on this question. He is also a little curious : sure, he only exchanged a few words with him, but he still can’t see why Maki would single him out and call him a ‘walking, breathing headache’. He is… weird, that much is true, but he doesn’t seem particularly mean spirited.

“Soooooo” the boy says after a few more seconds where they both fell silent again. “Who are you, suspicious stalker ?”

“I’m not suspicious and I’m not a stalker” Shuichi replies. “I’m Shuichi Saihara. I’m here with Kaito Momota.”

“Wow, two names I really don’t care about. Is that supposed to ring a bell or something ? Why do people give their name when they are asked who they are ? Isn’t that weird ? How would a name be an answer ? I’ll ask Kiyo when I see him ! “What’s a name ?””

“What’s in a name ?” Shuichi replies without thinking, as a memory comes back to him. “That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”

The boy gives him a little round of applause for his trouble

“Eh, Shakespeare ? Are you trying to pretend you are an intellectual or did you just look up this quote on the internet before coming here, hum ?” He laughs again. “So Shuichi Saihara, now that I know your name, care to tell me what’s your smell ?”

“Ah, I…” he racks his brain, trying to find something to say. It’s troubling to have someone’s undivided attention like that. Even when he spends time with Kaito, his friend is always distracted by the first shiny object he sees. “I’m a detective.”

That answer does seem to surprise the purple-haired boy.

“Really ?” he says. “You don’t look like a detective… hum… so do you investigate people ? It’s what a detective do, riiight ?”

Shuichi nods tentatively. That’s technically what his job is about, but the malicious expression on the other’s face pushes him to be prudent. Almost more than Maki’s warning about him. And yet this is the first conversation he had that night that isn’t going immediately to Awkward Silence Land. And sure, that’s also because the other boy seems to be happy talking for the two of them.

“Great !” he says once he got his confirmation. “So let’s play a game, alright ? Investigate me !”

“What ?”

“Investigate me !” He repeats, over-excited. “Let’s see if you’re good enough at your job to figure me out, okay. Whatever info you find on me by the end of the night, it’s a proof that you are actually not a fraud. What do you think ?”

“Uh…”

“Come on, Shuichi Saihara. I’m bored to death. Entertain me, entertain me now, dammit !” He taps his foot in a commanding manner on the floor to punctuate his sentence. It’s all very dramatic.

Shuichi feels a little light-headed. He isn’t sure what the other is asking of him. Sure, he investigates people but…

“I don’t talk to people I investigate, most of the time” he replies. “I just… look at them ? When they interact with others, mostly ?”

He doesn’t really want to go on about how most of the cases he takes care of are sorrowful spouses looking for a confirmation that their husband is cheating on them. All he needs to do is to snap a few pictures and to make sure that there is nothing in the office that could be used as a weapon in a fit or rage when he announces them the truth.

The truth sucks, most of the time. He is always so surprised when people are so insistent on finding it.

The purple-haired boy taps his index against his lips, thoughtful.

“Other people ?” He smiles. “Nishishi, okay, Shuichi Saihara, we’re doing it !”

“Ah… Shuichi is fine.” He mutters.

“Sure, whatever, Shuichi” He says, and suddenly his name sounds a lot less like a joke between this guy’s lips. “You have three hours to investigate me while I’m talking to other people. Is the game on ?”

Shuichi opens his mouth, then closes it, so confused by everything that just fell on him in a few minutes. But then… he doesn’t feel crushed by anxiety again. And he can just have fun playing ‘investigation’ with this boy until Kaito decides to put him out of his misery.

He nods. The smile he receives in return makes him a little dizzy.

#shuichi saihara #kokichi ouma #saiouma #oumasai #ndrv3 #dr #my fanfictions #don't ask me what I'm doing with my life

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