#she's gotta be faking as a coping mechanism | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

devious-bliss · 2 days

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Coping Mechanism

Author's Note: This is partially based on a true story of mine and I never really got over it, but writing about it seemed right and it fills me with confidence that everything will be just fine, despite how much you think it's all over. Gotta add some tickling stuff to it cause, obviously. Hope you enjoy it! ^^ P.S.: I'm gonna be posting more stories cause I will have more free time and motivation to do so, so... YAY!!! --------------- “Hey… so you remember when you told me that you loved me a year ago?”

“Y-Yeah!? What about it!?”

“Well… I’ve had enough time to think about it… and… I think it would be best if we stayed friends”

I knew what the answer was, but it doesn’t mean I was ready for the answer… I couldn’t even respond with any of my feelings, they weren’t even there. Just emptiness, emptiness that I couldn’t fill with anything.

“Are you gonna be okay?” To be honest, I’m not sure if I will

“I’m fine... for now, I’m just… gonna need time to digest it”

“We’ll still be friends though!”

“Y-Yeah…” Yeah… that’s what I thought… if only it was true….

——————————————————

July 4 10:27 am:

🎇 Happy 4th of July! 🎆

July 28 1:57 pm:

🌅 How’s your summer going so far?

August 14 4:39 pm:

School starting soon? 🏫

September 9 7:42 pm:

How have your first days of classes gone?

October 31 9:18 pm:

Happy Halloween 🎃 Did you dress up as anything?

November 23 9:45 pm:

Happy Thanksgiving! 🦃

December 25 10:12 pm:

Merry Christmas! 🎁 Get anything exciting?

January 3 11:11 pm:

Hey… how’s your winter break been going?

March 17 12:07 am:

Hey…

Sigh… It really hurts, you know? A year later… and still nothing…

“Still thinking about them, huh?”

“Yeah… I can’t help it. The first one always stings the most.”

“If you don’t try again then they’ll be the only one.”

She’s right, and always has been… and I love her for that.

I leaned in for a hug as she opened her arms to me, comforting me a little before my suppressed emotions pushed out some of the bad thoughts out of my mouth.

“I’m a fool…”

“You’re no fool… just… inexperienced” Ouch… that did NOT make it better…

“Hey…cheer up. If you keep moping around, then I’ll forget what your smile looks like.” She chuckles, putting a slight smirk on my face before it fades away again.

“Come on, lighten up!...please…” I can try…but that’s not gonna last long…

“Let’s listen to some music! That usually cheers you up!” “It’s worth a shot I guess…” I already know, it’ll work for a little while before it hurts me too…

“I want a perfect body, I want a perfect soul, I want you to notice…” And there it is…

“Alright now, you’re doing it on purpose!” Her words meant nothing, it may be true but I accepted that long ago.

“We can play some games, that’ll take your mind off of things”

“Sure, we can play Sorry cause I’m sorry for my failures, or we can play Guess Who where I can guess who’s more successful than me, or we can play The Game of Life where I can feel the fake life that’ll be better than mine-”

“You know what!!!” She interjects as she grabs me by the shoulders. That sarcasm definitely struck a nerve with her.

“H-Hey, what are you doing!?” I pull, kick, and struggle as much as I can without trying to hurt her. It’s not her fault… it’s mine… I can’t fight her for that… but she’s not real…

I slowly stop resisting and she loosens her grip as I sit there, stuck in thought.

“She isn’t real, she’s a figment of my imagination so why….” I snap back into reality, scrambling away from her again.

“Who are you? What are you!?” Her face grows tired of this game of resistance as frustration is all over her face. I wasn’t able to get that far before she climbed up the bed and planted her arms on top of mine. Her strength is now unimaginable, completely unable to stop her.

“Just let go and let me take control!” Her voice firmed up as she guided me to lie back down.

“B-But I-”

“Shhh….it’s okay. Trust me~” Her playfulness brushes away bits and pieces of my hesitation until all that is left is intimacy.

“I’m here for you… I always will be~” She lightly drags her hand down my cheek and around my chin, sending tingles that I couldn’t ignore.

“H-Hehehehey nohohow! That sehehehems a bihihit of a-a-a stretch now, don’cha think?”

“A stretch? Why is that? I’m a part of you after all~” I want to resist but… I can’t. She holds some sort of power over me, leaving me a giggling mess… at least for a few seconds which felt like an eternity. Not even five minutes and I’m gasping for breath as my brain seems to mush.

“What’s the matter, babe? Can’t handle a few tickles~”

B-B-Babe!? I-I-I don’t know about that! I-I-I-I mean…why not? A-A-And she wants to *tickle* me!?

“U-Uh…no?…”

“Oh? Is that so? Oh well, too bad!”

Before I could protest, she skittered her fingers over stomach

“Nohohohohohohohoho!!! Dohohohohoohohoon’t!!!”

“Oh? Why not? Can’t handle my teasing~?”

“I-I cahahahahan’t!”

“You can break free anytime you want~ You just have to want it.” I hear her words but there’s no resistance. I could feel each and every finger pressing into my skin, stimulating the nerves, causing me to squirm every which way to hopelessly try to get away

“…or perhaps…you enjoy having me all over you~?” Why am I doing this to myself!?!?!

My frantic thoughts were stabilized once the tickling faded out almost completely, leaving me dazed and a bit confused.

“You know what? You look really cute when you’re laughing uncontrollably, hot even~”

“You…*pant…pant*...think so?”

“Of course~ It makes me wanna-mmmm!!!”

Before she could finish, she was getting involved in some affectionate kissing. Her lips burned with passion which traveled through her and into me, and soon enough, I couldn’t stop myself either. The urge was too strong and neither of us wanted to back out…until…

“Looks like someone liked what he was given, huh~?” I could only nod in response, like a deer in headlights.

“Well…good cause we’re going into round 2 with a little something special~” And with that, she was back at it again with her passionate kisses. I was so overwhelmed that I couldn’t focus on her hands moving straight for my ribs. As she scribbled her nails, her lips held mine hostage as I instinctively sprang up. I could feel her lips curl into a big, mischievous smile with each muffled squeal that entered her mouth.

It only took me practically running out of breath before I was released, left gasping for dear life. I take a look at the one that nearly kills me, nothing but a sweet and innocent smile which makes my face burn like nobody’s business. I look away again to regain my composure (and breath) which gives me the strength to sit up.

I smile brightly looking back at her, ready to ask all of the questions that plagued my mind with a goofy grin plastered over my face and she reciprocated with a loving gaze, ready for anything that I would say to her. What do I ask? Which one first? Does she know the answers I have questions to?! But there was only one thing that I REALLY needed to know… “When can I be with you?” Her confidence faded in an instant, unsure of what the answer actually is or will be. My face sags back down too. M—Maybe I said the wrong thing. Did I mess up? Don’t go away!!!

“I… don’t know… I’m just a construct of your imagination…” The sad truth of her words pierces me, and the depressing reality sets back in as I sink my head down. “BUT!!” I look up again, awaiting the light at the end of the tunnel.

“Don’t let that stop you from finding someone who IS real, and who knows, maybe you’ll even find someone just like me~ But just remember, they won’t be as cute as me~” My face burns up again as she starts to fade from reality, with a newly burning passion resonating within my heart. “See you…soon…”

#tickle #tword #tickling #tickle thoughts #tword thoughts #tickle story #tword story #self love #love story #f/m tickling #female ler #male lee

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polychaeteworm · 6 months

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Feel free to delete this if you'd like, but your post about endo systems reminded me of a conversation I had with my therapist years ago. I have diagnosed DID from trauma and I told her I often fear that maybe I'm just making it up. We talked about how DID is a response/coping thing and how, regardless of if I "actually" had it or not, it helped my mind through a lot of hard shit. So in the end she asked me if it truly made a difference, I said no.

I'm almost 28 now and frankly have seen plenty of life experiences that are so different from mine, so how could I ever know to tell someone if their experiences are valid or not, ya know? So basically thank you for that post because it made me really think.

No problem! You're very welcome. I write these posts to make people think and to kind of inject nuance even if my nuance isn't always effectivly communicated lol. I appreciate asks like this because they give me an excuse to info dump, so here I goooo..

I unfortunately have a lot of experience with running away from my DID label and needing to frame my system in a way that doesn't cause some alters distress while still healing and being in touch with reality enough to be functional because a lot of my coping mechanisms are tangled inseparably from maladaptive daydreaming.

This would (and still does) have me defining and presenting myself in ways that would make my system look fake. I was the "in denial trauma system" these people say endos turn into and frankly this doesn't make me doubt the validity of endos any less. If they are in denial traumagenic systems, that is sooooo personal! You are absolutely correct about the variability of the human condition and how much it really doesn't make a difference how it all looks in the end as long as someone is coping and healing!

To me, the structure, presentation, and way a system forms is such a sacred and sensitive thing that is so different from person to person that it really can't be picked apart and fully understood by strangers in the way people seem to want to do with Syscourse on Tumblr.

I spent most my life (literally childhood on into college) telling people very non ironically that I am an alien. Because I am autistic I was just traumatized by existing in the world, I was born traumatized, and my autism was received as a supernatural occurrence by my abusive mother (a fun story for another day), so I truly have zero memory of ever being a singlet, or even feeling like a human. Therapists and authority figures outright refusing to engage with this aspect of my condition is what actually did me harm.

I didn't actually heal until I found the therapist who approached me with "ah, ok you're several aliens, how interesting! So let's make sure you can human as best as you can while you're here on earth." Instead of "you aren't an alien, and you are one person, grow out of this." And I've tried! I TRIED SO HARD to be a single human and failed, all I have left of that struggle is a nice mask and invader zim-esque "the humans are onto me!" levels of imposter syndrome.

Why would we, after all these years ever tell someone that they should "just stop pretending" because we don't agree with the way their disorder presents? I'd rather just say something like "hey -specific toxic behavior- is causing me distress, if you don't stop I gotta stop interacting with you" and not attack the basis of their entire mental health journey. It took me a while to learn that one so that's why I'm like "young adults please wait till your brain is done cooking before attacking people".

Deep down though I think my opinion on Syscourse and why I spend so much time writing about this comes from the fact that a core component of my systems trauma is being told that I don't really know my(our)self. And to be seeing takes that endos are "lying" by tons of people who are so much younger than I and the people they fake claim is... honestly unsettling to my system for a number of reasons.

And it's not that I ever think of these people as "stupid kids" it's that I think a lot of younger folks with an anti endo stance have yet to develop an understanding that their experience with mental health isn't universal and that life is not black and white. That latter realization being a hard won understanding, especially if you have mental illness of any kind. I just feel so crazy when people on Tungle hell site think their opinion of someones mental health is more important than what that persons therapist says. Like why. Your disordered need to express pain through negativity because you were hurt badly is showing fam.

But yeah in closing, I had a similar conversation with my own therapist about faking and he had a similar "does it matter" take. He also has been very straightforward with how he believes that if there is something someone is doing as a coping mechanism that psychology hasn't explained yet, and that mechanism is working as intended while conflicting with the DSM, there is just more research to be done.

Im reminded of a Ted talk where a linguist basically explained that a word not being in the dictionary, doesn't make it not a word, it just makes the dictionary incomplete. What makes a word a word is it serving a function in language. Humans police the dictionary, not the other way around. My therapist agrees that the DSM and mental health as it happens to people irl is in a similar situation. It's not a mental health Pokedex, it's so your health provider has a road map to go off of and can charge your insurance properly. It's the collection of what we know and we don't know everything.

I really just dream of the world where we don't have to introduce ourselves as systems with a performative defense of a lived fact.

#orn rambles #forgive me for the wall of text #autism #discourse #Syscourse #actually did #did #anti endo #pro endo #there are definitely typos in here

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wulfstarbane · 2 years

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𓃢 🦴Greetings!🦴 𓃢

So like I have no idea how this works but hello ⁉️⁉️

I go by StarBane on here, I’m still figuring stuff out BUT. Here’s my lil about me thingy because yeah.

Don’t expect me to be active here, just testing different social media platforms out!

BYF!!

Please ofc read my DNI before you follow. I am darkkin, and do follow some satanic related beliefs. I sometimes do negative rants and vents, but nothing hugely around the topic of SH or $€w€r$lid€. I am also a minor, under the age of 16. If you are uncomfortable with these, don’t follow!

Therian identities:

•Coyote (psychological/questioning spiritual

Otherkin identities:

Zombie dog (spiritual/psychological), White werewolf (still sorta questioning identity as a whole)

Fictionkin identites:

Vanny (fnaf), Bonnie (fnaf), Huggy Wuggy (Poppy playtime) +questioning more

Otherhearted identities:

Cat (all breeds/types)

⚠️DNI LIST⚠️

•basic DNI, aka racist/homophobic/transphobic/abelist, ect

•K*nnies. Copinglinks+synpaths are fine!!

•Lesbian boys/gay girls

•people who kin IRL people (factkin)

•ZOOPHILES.

•ANYBODY, AND I MEAN ANYBODY WHO IS A MODERATOR/SUPPORTER OF THERIAN GUIDE OR A LYCANTHEORY FAN/FOLLOWER. I never want to interact with you guys again.

•Wild.Banjo supporters. We all know what she did and yet we pretend to forget about it.

•Opal.n.friends fans are cool, just please don’t talk about him here cause I ain’t the biggest fan of him.

•anti-Neopronoun OR harmful neopronoun user (Ex; BLM/BLMSELF, drug/drugself)

•Don’t talk about christianity on my page please. I’m fine with y’all following, but don’t do that dumb “God loves you, turn to him before it’s too late 🥺❤️✝️” shit.

•talking about weed/marijuana/any drug usage on my page

•People who are strongly against SFW petplay OR regression, or say that it does not exist. If you don’t like petplay I’m fine with that, but if you don’t like regression then FUCK OFF!

•people who mock harmless coping mechanisms

•NSFW accs (which I doubt any will be on here but- ya know. Gotta play it safe👍)

•POSER THERIANS!! Ya’ll make our community look like shit. Being a therian is NOT about masks and tails and running on all 4’s.

•Greymuzzles who mock/tease the newer/younger members of the community

•those who say therianthropy is a coping mechanism, or a disorder. It makes me uncomfortable and strongly invalidates us.

•those who invalidate other peoples therianthropic experiences

•Cavetown listeners.. (/j, Idc if you like his music lmao)

•people who misuse, mock, or OVERUSE tone indicators (ex; “LOL I will bite you! /j /lh /hj /pos /nsx /f” OR “tone indicators are stupid. /srs”)

•Openly talking about disorders on my page. NOT saying that people WITH disorders can’t interact, I’m saying that I don’t know how to respond to it when talked about. Hope ya’ll can understand!!

•endosystems/people who fake disorders. Aka abelism.. it’s just wrong lmao. I was stupid and genuinely thought I had disorders before without doing barley any research. I’m embarrassed to even think about it. Just- don’t 💀👍

•fake claimers/reality checkers

•against safe cropping and docking with dogs/supports obesity in dogs

•ANTI-abortion. Idc what you say, it’s a clump of cells. Fuck off

•openly venting to me or others with no permission what so ever.. it’s weird and can make us all uncomfortable

✅please interact!!✅

•Therians, otherkin, furries, ect!

•Stranger things or Heartstopper fans! Stranger Things currently being one of my hyperfixations el em ay oh :)

•Fnaf fans, Poppy playtime fans, or really any video game fans!

•so called “Cringe” people. Cringe culture is DEAD!

•2010’s otherkins!! Ya know.. pre-TikTok online therian community :)

•FELLOW TEEN WEREWOLVES!! 𓃦

•basically everyone who isn’t apart of something on my DNI!

Idrk know what to say next help.

Have a good day/night I guess! :)

#therianthropy #therian #otherkin #alterhuman #werewolf #werewolfkin #coyotekin #therians #therian community

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cinnamon-notes · 6 months

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tw: depression, ed, sh

alarm goes off. postpone it, you're too fatigued to get up right away. it goes off again. postpone it until you're really late for work. alright, get up. get dressed. pack your bag. hurry! run! “goodmorning ma'am! have a nice day”, no, not now, old woman who lives down the street, you're gonna have to cut her short. you're fucking late, kiddo! cut her short for god's sake! and walk faster! you show up at work three quarters past your shift supposed start. put on your best-faked smile ever. do your tasks right away, have them done in a short time. help everybody. please your boss, joke around with your colleagues. look as happy as possible. maybe they won't get mad at you, maybe they'll like you better. nobody will notice that you are sleep deprived and emotionally exhausted, anyway. nobody will have their thoughts and concerns linger on the bags under your eyes, nobody will know what you're actually meditating while you're pretending to type things on your laptop. nobody will know it hurts and that your wrists itch. they do that a lot when you're stressed or depressed and decided not to give in any toxic coping mechanism. it's some sort of recall from your teenage years, when you used to self harm. your body is still convinced it will get those scars it expects to get, but it isn't. you're not giving them to it anymore. but they itch and it's quite annoying. your colleague offers you a bite of their snack. you look at it. you thank them but still turn down the offer. you're ashamed. you binged all through your afternoon yesterday. you gotta starve now. you're still thinking about it although the conversation has long since moved past this topic. you're taking a break with your colleagues, and some other topic emerged. “yes, i was at the grocery store down your block yesterday!” you're still thinking about your last binge-eating session. “oh, you've got a flat tire and you don't know what to do. sure, i can fix it for you!” your tummy is too big, your waist is too large. “i'm sorry to hear about your unsuccessful purchase of a new phone” your hips are enormous, your thighs are just huge. “yeah maybe we should get back to work” you're such a disgusting thing, you obsessively put an absurd amount of food in your mouth, and compulsively and repeatedly eat it. “you wanted to talk to me, boss?” you should seriously give your wrists a reason not to itch anymore. “oh, wow, thank you for saying that! i'm glad you liked my work!” he gave you a promotion just because he pities you. you suck. you get back home, workday's over. you skip lunch. you lay in your bed all day, with cookies and chips beside you. you feel depressed because your past is haunting you and you are unable to focus on your present achievements. you dissociate. you live a virtual life because you dive into movies and tv shows. and you do that all day long. you get up and leave your bed because you have to use the bathroom. once you're up, you stop by the kitchen. you take some leftovers off the fridge and eat them as soon as possible. you still feel that void in your soul, binging gives you the illusion of filling it. you get back to your bed, you cry. you panic. you get back to your movie. you binge again. you cry. you're in crisis. you're having a panic attack because you can't feel yourself and you don't know anymore what's real and what's not. you binge. you're having a panic attack because you don't understand why she left, and you don't understand why it still hurts. you binge. you're having a panic attack because you are convinced that the past is your real life while your present is just a lame tv show you're passively watching. you can't crawl out of this.

rinse. repeat. binge

#tw disordered eating #tw ed #tw depressing thoughts #tw depression #tw sh related #tw sh implied #txt #txt post #cinnamon notes #cinnamon darkness

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f0restkid · 1 year

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I have a lot of different feelings and thoughts about a lot of different things in my life so I opened tumblr on a godforsaken computer so I could write it out as a read more.

First thought it that it really fucking sucks no one from my family thought to like get me anything for Christmas?? I started painting my brother’s and sister’s presents in September and it took all the way through November to get them finished. That’s the gift, the gift isn’t the money I spent it’s the forethought and effort I put in for months to make sure they both got something really beautiful and heartfelt and homemade. And neither of them thought to do SHIT for me. And my sister I can almost excuse because she just moved into her first apartment December 1 so she’s actually very broke and been quite busy but my older brother saying he’s too broke when he lives at home with my parents and has medicaid and works full time and is saving to travel Europe?? You couldn’t have idk bought me some piece of vermont apparel and sent it my way? He works in a ski resorts retail area like get me a fucking Stowe sweatshirt I dont CARE just show that you think about me. And my sister is a big painter too so idk I thought maybe she would do something homemade. One year I bought her the macrame rope and she made me a wall hanging with a stick from my childhood home’s yard and like even though I literally BOUGHT THE PIECE THAT COST MONEY it was a great gift and I cherish it. My baby brother I really didn’t expect anything and I just sent him a lego set so idk it still sucks but I genuinely didn’t have expectations there. But the lego set was sick and he loved it so success. AND THEN MY PARENTS?? Nothing at all. I was just going to ask for an REI gift card bc I want some outdoor equipment but like I dont think they got me anything. Which idk is fine I guess but I know they got Renee and Frank stuff bc they’re there and I’m not so I just got nothing. And that Mom bought Renee a bunch of new apartment stuff. And I also think it’s bc mom and Frank got in that fight and I refused to call my mom and be a part of it. So anyways it just feels sad that I put time and effort and money into their stuff but it wasn’t returned in the slightest. Not that I got them gifts to get a gift back but it’s my second christmas across the country I just thought someone would try to send me something to remind me they care lol. And they didn’t and it makes me sad.

Got caught thinking about how my very serious suicide attempt was nearly 2 years ago. Time feels so fake. I’ve been permastoned since that and the police fiasco and I’m afraid to stop smoking next month. Gonna try but just scared for the fallout. It’s literally me self medicating. Hopefully it’s fine and I’m like a year and a half clean from SH and have been working to get the gym into a place where its a coping mechanism for this shit but IDK!!!! I just feel nervous. I dont want to relapse with self harm, I dont want to backslide into active suicidality, I dont want to fall back into a lot of disordered eating and exercise patterns. If weed keeps me from doing all that perhaps it’s not the worst thing ever. My bank acct disagrees so doesn’t matter, we’re gonna take a longish break.

So many goals recently are just me trying to prove to myself I can do things if I put my mind to it. Participating in a 12k race, quitting weed, reading more again. I just gotta prove to MYSELF that I am in control of myself, I’m so stuck on autopilot hopefully some of these new things help break me out of that.

The other real like text post thing I wanted to do was list out my new year goals. Idk not resolutions bc I never stick to those I just want some concrete goals for the year. Resolutions are always so abstract and also tbh are always to lose weight and I’m not DOING that anymore so here are the goals for 2023:

Finish 10 books

Participate in Bloomsday Race

Do a dozen hikes

I don’t want to add anything else bc these are all hard things but things I’m excited to do and would feel very proud of accomplishing. Hopefully I grow and learn and regulate this year. Challenge and surprise myself. Belong wholly to just me. The second half of 2022 was really good so just gonna carry that energy into the next year and feel some security with myself.

#em rambles #long post

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thisandthat-whatever · 2 years

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This is what I saw on an anti blog->

“Z doesn't ever go to London, and when Tom comes to LA, it's always for work. But let's say he comes and it's work and they hang out. Why have they been "hanging out" for nearly 5 years at this point and don't even know the basics about each other? I know more about friends I've had for only a few months than they seem to and they're supposed to be madly in love? I hate to bring up Timmy/Z, but that is a perfect example of a real relationship that exists outside of the public eye. You can tell they actually get along, and talk outside of the movie they share. They have inside jokes, and know things about each other that people who are your friends in real life would know. IDK the longer this pr sham goes on, the more and more I'm convinced that Tom and Z aren't even actually friends IRL. Like before I was like "oh, the relationship is fake, but at least they're actually friends", but with every new interview I'm like "....are they even friends?"

What is their obsession with Tim and Z? It’s weird and desperate!

I already addressed them saying her not going to London for him (not for work) being false. If they were not so stubbornly ignorant towards accepting actual information and didn’t want to stay that blind to old receipts, they would know about our actual proof (with picture) of her visiting London by herself (and we know this not just by the word of the fan in the pic but because we have proofs of Darnell, Law and Claire (from their own IG posts and stories) all being in USA at the time) for New Years’s during the first time they dated…

As for tom and Z not having any inside jokes…uhmmm, every other interview was full of inside jokes with Tom and Z.. This person doesn’t even know what an inside joke means.

As for Timmy and Z, I think antis are trolling with those comments. As I said before, Timothee didn’t even know her middle name and in one interview (Josh interview) he asked her what it is, and she said it. Then in another interview (bestie interview) he said it because he had freshly found out about it in another interview. She also didn’t know his favorite food and hesitantly guessed “I guess fries?”. And him saying her biggest celeb crush is Tom should tell antis that we have no problem with Timmy as he is not blind to facts like them. But of course they think the PR scheme made Timothee say it , lol. According to them everyone is behind this big PR plot, even Timothee . 🤪🤪😂.

To suggest Tim and Z know more each other than Tom and Z with their vast history is idiotic . I mean forget that they dated but even if one thinks they were just friends, the time they spent together in Atlanta before even filming started and time they shared during and also after the filming (which antis ignore but we have bazillion receipts of them hanging out when they were neither filming nor promoting anything) and most of those receipts have pic and video proofs and all the number of years they have known each other, etc, so to say Timmy knows her more is simply moronic. Like you have to be embarrassed to even suggest that because that opinion severely lacks logic.

So, I think that you gotta let the antis make up shit to make themselves feel better. They resemble people who experience something that they subconsciously feel is very unacceptable and unpleasant to them and they create an alter reality or an alter ego to cope with it. And antis just created this strong belief that it is all PR (no matter what T and Z do or don’t do) and that is their coping mechanism when they are adamant about not accepting the reality.

That is why I don’t care to know what antis say or write any more, because it is just so pathetic and sad to see them go down this rabbit hole they created in their minds and it will only get worse for them in the upcoming years. So, just let those sad beings be that way. T and Z thankfully ignore the hateful, negative remarks about their integrity and their relationship, so let the antis stew in their hatred and bitterness on their blogs. Like I said, they will NEVER accept reality, so you can only pity them at this point.

Therefore, please don’t bring up any anti stuff in the asks any more , because there is no point in trying to talk sense into those nonsensical people; and laughing at them or rolling eyes at them is not fun any more when you start really seeing how severely they have turned into sad beings in their deep denial and only sharing bitterness about a celeb rs. If they feel they must talk about a celeb rs, then maybe they should find a rs they enjoy and spread positive vibes towards them, as that would have been a healthier direction for their free time online rather than the negative downward spiral they are on.

#tomdaya #t*mdaya

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fromthedeskofelizabeththird · 3 years

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Habanero

You're a good girl, well behaved.

Absolutely not the type to rail random guys in nightclubs.

Until you are.

Fandom: BNHA

Pairing: Aizawa x Reader, eventual polyamorous Erasermic x Reader

Rating: Explicit. Minors BE GONE

Trigger Warnings: None in this chapter.

AO3: Here | Want to support me? I have a Kofi

Chapter: 1/16 (all chapters)

“Oh my g-“ You whined, tightening your grip on the sink. “Harder, I’m gonna…”

You caught your reflection in the bathroom mirror as you came undone; took in your smudged makeup and disheveled hair.

Pleasure rippled through you and you moaned into it, pushing yourself back onto the stranger’s dick and taking as much of him in as humanly possible. You could feel every inch of him and he groaned at the feel of you tightening around him.

“Oh f-“ You murmured, holding onto the sink and grinding yourself against your lover in time to the spasms of your body.

You were so overwhelmed by the sensation that you lost all coherency, body acting of its own accord. Your lover sucked in a single breath as he continued to fuck you and you could do little else but stare at your shoes.

You were doing this.

You were doing him . In a bathroom, no less.

How on earth had you gotten yourself into this situation?

━

Whenever you looked back over the course of your life, one detail stood out far more prominently than the others.

You were a good girl.

You had never broken the law, had always adhered to the proper dress code, had never had a filling or broken a bone. You could, and very often did, define yourself by the roads you had never dreamed of taking and the decisions you had never made.

Never was it more obvious than the day you suffered your first real heartbreak.

You had followed the rules carefully; had dressed respectably for every date; had taken care to listen to your boyfriend’s every problem. You’d learned to cook his favorite meal; had faked more orgasms than you could count to feed his ego.

You were sure you would marry that man and had mentally mapped out your next five years. You would have a simple ceremony and a child one year later, then another two years after the first. You’d named them in your imagination and frequently lapsed into daydreams about your future perfect life.

On your fifth anniversary he took you to dinner and you could barely hide your excitement. You knew he had been keeping something from you and you were so sure he was going to propose. You put on your best dress and favourite heels and spent an hour on your makeup and hair. This night was going to be perfect and your stomach fluttered as he reached for your hands across the table.

“(Name),” he said, squeezing your hands in his, “I’ve been thinking about our future.”

“Me too,” you said, squeezing back, willing yourself to hold it together. You wanted this moment to be so perfect and romantic that you would repeat it over and over to your future children and grandchildren. “I’m so happy we’re on the same page.”

“It’s been on my mind for a long time,” he said, smiling softly. “I’ve enjoyed all of our time together, but I think we need to move forwards.”

All you could think about was your future children; the length of their eyelashes and warmth of their hugs. You could almost smell the flowers in your wedding bouquet.

“I just...I think we’ve had a lot of fun together,” he said, “but I’m scared that if we stay like this we’ll fall into a rut. I don’t want to be married with a bunch of kids before I’m forty.”

And just like that, your stomach fell through the floor.

“Wait, w-what are you talking about?”

You snatched your hands from his, heart racing. Was this some sort of joke? You had shopped together for a new mattress only two days before. You glanced around the restaurant, looking for cameras or any sign that this was staged. If it was a prank, it was cruel.

“(Name), it’s not that I don’t love you, it’s just that, well… you’re like...how do I put this…”

He scratched his chin, searching for the right thing to say, even as your eyes filled with tears.

“You’re vanilla,” he said, “you’re safe, and sweet… but we’re still young and I keep thinking that I might want to try habanero or cayenne.”

“You think I’m...boring?” the words left your lips as a whisper and, while his reaction was to instantly reach out to you and apologise, the damage was already done.

“I can be habanero,” you said before you realised it. “I can be whatever you want me to be.”

“I know,” he said, “and that’s the problem.”

━

That night you stood in your shower for almost three quarters of an hour, staring into space as the water soaked you through.

His words circled your brain like vultures.

Vanilla.

He thought you were vanilla. Perhaps the worst part was that you could not disagree.

It haunted your every action for the following week. All you saw when you got ready for work was your simple wardrobe and comfortable shoes.

You were a good girl, mild mannered and meek, and everyone seemed to have noticed before you.

Shock made way for despair. Despair turned to denial and denial quickly turned to anger. You hated your ex boyfriend almost as much as you hated yourself, scouring your apartment for everything he had ever touched.

It didn’t take long for your friends to get worried about you. Normally you were all too busy to constantly check in on the group chat you shared, but since the breakup everyone had something to say.

However kind they might have been to spare your feelings, they genuinely did seem surprised that you had broken up. You had been a couple since your college graduation and one of the only constants in the past few years as everyone’s lives took different directions.

As was to be expected, your friends had multiple different opinions on suitable coping mechanisms. Yuiko came over with food; Hana brought wine. Sayaka called you every evening to trash talk your ex.

Then there was Rei.

Rei was the most boisterous member of your friend group, full to the brim with the kind of self confidence that was obnoxious on other people, yet suited her perfectly. Her reaction to the breakup was not to hand you tissues. She posted exactly one message to the group chat and it had haunted you ever since.

To get over one dude… you gotta get under another ;)

You had known Rei for years and never once taken her advice, but something about that statement stuck with you. You would never have come up with such an idea on your own and it left you blushing a bright scarlet. Rebound sex was not something girls like you did, which was exactly why you had to do it.

“I’ll show you vanilla,” you muttered as you put on another layer of red lipstick and pulled your dress just a little lower to tease the lace of your bra.

━

You met up with your friends at Ego , a nightclub you had heard a great deal about, though never actually gone to. You had never had any reason to; you already had a long term partner and didn’t enjoy the idea of dancing in full view of strange men.

You wondered if you’d made a mistake even as you took a seat at one of the tables.

“Any lookers?”

You glanced around the room, trying to make out faces in the darkness.

“I…” you said. “I…”

You swallowed hard, feeling more than a little overwhelmed.

“I’ll get the next round!”

You thought that by going to fetch another round of drinks, you would be able to catch your breath and avoid drawing copious amounts of attention to yourself. You’d never spent much time at nightclubs, though, and realised your mistake once you got within twenty feet of the bar.

Dozens of people in various states of intoxication crowded it, packed like sardines and all trying to get the attention of the bartender. You took a deep breath and took a step into the crowd, only for someone closer to the front to move and send a wave of movement through everyone else. Someone’s shoulder caught you in the chest, leaving you even further back than you had been before.

Normally you were too polite to even contemplate shoving your way through a crowd, but tonight you weren’t yourself. You took a deep breath and put your weight into your shoulders, pushing against the others as forcefully as you could without actually hurting anyone.

At first you seemed to be making progress, though you soon regretted your decisions. As you got within a few paces of the bar, a guy in front of you slipped, the numerous drinks in his hands heading for your face.

Before they could make contact, however, someone reached for your wrist and yanked you towards the bar, out of the line of fire. The drinks hit other partygoers and they cried out in shock; the glasses shattered as they hit the floor. You, however, remained untouched.

“Th-thank you,” you stammered, turning to your saviour.

He was tall and lanky, with black hair tied back from his face in a ponytail. He wore a black shirt, black pants, black shoes- a complete contrast to the Blue Hawaiian in his hand.

“Don’t mention it,” he said, looking away from you and taking an indifferent sip of his drink.

The bartender was in the middle of clearing the shattered glass from the floor and so you waited in an awkward sort of silence, finally turning back to the man who had saved you.

“You look as happy to be here as I am,” you said. He looked the type to sit in shady bars with three fingers of whisky, not dance with inebriated strangers, which Ego was better known for.

“Wasn’t my decision,” he said. “Someone’s gotta babysit.”

He pointed towards the dancefloor, where a small group of people danced along to the beat. You couldn’t make out most of their faces, except for one, and you were sure your eyes were deceiving you.

“Is that...Present Mic?”

The stranger followed your gaze, to the man with more than a passing resemblance, who was currently wiggling his hips in time to the beat.

“Him? Nah. I don’t know him.”

“But he’s waving to you,” you said, as the man who looked like Present Mic waved his arms over his head and shouted something in your general direction. You couldn’t hear him over the music and the stranger next to you pointedly turned in the opposite direction, taking a long sip of his drink.

You had been so nervous about approaching strangers. Rei had made it seem so easy- merging into a group and catching someone’s eye. You had always had a boyfriend and never possessed the easy confidence of your friends. It was strangely reassuring that speaking to this man came almost naturally.

“My name’s (Name),” you said. “Listen, you really saved me there...this dress is hand wash only.”

“Shouta,” said the stranger. “My name is Shouta.”

“C-can I get you a drink or something? I really owe you one.”

You realised after saying it that he wasn’t even halfway through the drink in his hand.

“You don’t owe me anything,” he said. “It wasn’t anything special.”

He picked the pineapple from his drink and chewed at it thoughtfully.

“Listen,” he said, “I don’t like playing games. What is it you want?”

You were tongue tied, mortified at being caught out so quickly. You fought to keep your composure.

Under ordinary circumstances, you would have stammered some sort of apology or explanation, but tonight you weren’t you and there was no point in denying that you had an ulterior motive.

“Fine,” you said, gathering your nerves. “Do you want to go somewhere more...private?”

You cringed the moment it left your lips, suddenly all too aware of how forward you were being. You couldn’t believe you’d all but thrown yourself at the first guy you saw. What was wrong with you?

He climbed down off the stool he had been sitting on, taking one final sip of his drink.

“Let’s go.”

━

And so it was that you wound up in the nightclub washroom, back against the door and Shouta’s lips on yours.

You had half-heartedly discussed with your friends what to do on the off chance you found someone. You were to post to the group chat with a photograph of you and whoever you left with. You hadn’t expected to leave with anyone, much less decided on where you would go if you did.

You would never have guessed that you would wind up in a washroom, with the door sealed shut behind you. Shouta crushed his lips against yours, one hand pressed against the door, the other on your waist.

Your heart raced, heat rushing through you and pooling in your core.

“Say,” said Shouta, lowering his hand and running a thumb over your lips, “you sure you want this? Right here, right now?”

You moved before you realised what you were doing, opening your mouth and running your tongue over his thumb, looking him dead in the eyes as you wrapped your lips around it.

He hadn’t expected it, but seemed to approve, for he smiled, pulling away and dragging you into another crushing kiss. One hand he positioned above your head; the other grabbed at your clothes, pulling down your dress to expose your bra before heading south.

He lifted your skirt, slipping his fingers into your underwear. You gasped as you felt his hand against your folds, planting your own hand against the door to brace yourself. He caught your eye, tracing a finger around your clit before slowly sinking it deep into you. You reached for his shoulders, hooking one leg around his waist and pushing your lips against his. You pulled him tighter and tighter as he pushed his finger in and out of you, dragging at his shirt and belt.

He squeezed in a second finger and you bucked your hips into his touches.

As if in response, he pulled his fingers out of you and ran them over your clit- the warmth and wetness sending pleasurable shivers down your spine. You had never felt this way before; this man was as good as a stranger, yet you wanted him so very badly. You had never felt this kind of desire before, never known how it felt to have such a growing pressure inside of you.

“Please,” you moaned into his mouth, not knowing exactly what you were begging him for. “Please—-"

“Come here,” Shouta growled, pulling you towards him and then across to the sink. You caught a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror, unkempt and wide eyed- a complete transformation from when you stepped out of the house.

You watched through the mirror as Shouta unfastened his belt and fly, lowering his pants low enough to give you a clear view of his hardened dick. He was far more muscular than his skinny physique let on, with a deep scar beneath his belly button.

You were trembling from need, squeezing your legs together to try and fill the void his fingers had left. He smirked and walked towards you, taking hold of your hips and slowly, almost torturously slowly, pushing himself into you.

He was bigger than you expected and you gasped at the feel of yourself stretching to accommodate him. He stopped in place, waiting for you to push back against him before pushing in further. At first his pace was slow, inching in only a little at a time, teasing an increasingly sensitive spot deep inside of you.

“Faster,” you whined, digging your nails into your palms at the pressure inside of you. It was overwhelming your every sense, a coil winding tighter and tighter with every touch. “Please...please…”

He slapped your ass and drove in deeper.

This new pace was faster, his hips slamming into yours with such force that it sent you barreling forwards across the sink. You clung on for dear life, taking in the wet sounds as your bodies clashed; Shouta’s groans of pleasure and exertion.

“Oh my g-“ You whined, tightening your grip on the sink. “Harder, I’m gonna…”

You caught your reflection in the bathroom mirror as you came undone; took in your smudged makeup and disheveled hair.

Pleasure rippled through you and you moaned into it, pushing yourself back onto Shouta’s dick and taking as much of him in as humanly possible. You could feel every inch of him and he groaned at the feel of you tightening around him.

“Oh f-“ You murmured, holding onto the sink and grinding yourself against him in time to the spasms of your body.

You were so overwhelmed by the sensation that you lost all coherency, body acting of its own accord. He sucked in a single breath as he continued to fuck you and you could do little else but stare at your shoes.

You were doing this.

You were doing him . In a bathroom, no less.

He gathered your hair with one hand and pulled backwards, arching your back as he fucked you even harder. He was getting close and you could tell; his thrusts were getting erratic and the hand that squeezed your hip was so tight that it left bruises later.

“(Name),” he said, raspiness of his voice betraying his desperation, “where would you like me to...cum”

He groaned and you blushed a bright red.

“In...inside me,” you murmured, the depravity of it all too clear. This was a man you didn’t know; you were risking pregnancy and worse.

In that moment, though, it only added to the appeal.

Shouta pulled you even closer, slowing right down to an almost painfully slow rhythm. He held you in place as he came and gasped for air; the heat of his breath leaving goosebumps against your skin.

You could feel him twitching inside of you, his warmth dripping from you as he pulled out.

You took a deep breath and stood up straight, Shouta letting go of you to pull up his pants. He rinsed his hands under the tap and splashed cold water on his face before grabbing a pile of paper towels.

“I’ll guard the door,” he said, motioning towards the same door he had pinned you against only a short time ago. “Knock when you’re ready.”

“Oh,” you said, watching him leave, “okay.”

For the first time all night, you were alone, the nightclub music in the background your only clue to your surroundings.

You walked towards the sink and took in your bedraggled appearance-bra on full display and cum on your thighs.

You couldn’t believe you were thinking it, but Rei was right. For the first time in weeks you weren’t thinking about the ex. For the first time in years you weren’t thinking about anything.

Habanero, you thought as you switched on the tap.

This was how it felt to be habanero.

━

6 Months Later

You were still a good girl.

That said, you no longer followed the safe roads. Not so long ago, you believed that your breakup was the end of everything, but it had actually been a new beginning.

Two months after the night at Ego , you cut your hair and quit your job. You had been there since graduation and your colleagues were more than a little desperate for you to stay. You had taken on the workload of about seven of eight people while earning only a pittance for a salary.

You had a new job now; something fresh and exciting and challenging to boot. It made you nervous, but that feeling only spurred you on.

You’d never been to UA before and it was much bigger in person. You could already tell you were going to get lost and found yourself grateful that the Principal had taken it upon himself to show you around.

“These are the first year homerooms,” he said, pointing out the doors on your left and right. “1-A and 1-B. I hope you pardon my presumptuousness, but I thought it might be useful to have you shadow one of our homeroom teachers for a couple of hours...get a feel for our curriculum and the kinds of students you’ll be working with.”

“That would be wonderful,” you said, eager to take notes.

“Wait here,” said Principal Nezu, “I’ll be right back.”

He knocked on one of the doors and stepped inside, presumably to fetch the teacher.

When he returned, it took everything in your power to stop your jaw from hitting the floor.

It was him, and he was just as shocked to see you.

“Professor Aizawa,” said Principal Nezu, “this is (Name), our new guidance counsellor.”

He glanced from you to Shouta, taking in your identical expressions.

“Oh… do you know one another?”

#aizawa x reader #eraserhead x reader #aizawa shouta #shouta aizawa #boku no hero academia #habanero

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shinyphantomsalad · 3 years

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Back from hiatus + updates

Hey yall I'm back! I know the hiatus wasn't that long but I decided to cut it short from how long I previously had intended it to be because I finally came with terms with myself. I started to question my gender identity and my sexuality going from "am I lesbain" to "am I a trans guy" over and over and I have concluded that I am trans. There is no doubt about it. Ever since I was a child I always beloved I was a boy and I always thought I was one. I always viewed myself as a boy and I feel more than comfortable being referred to as a man. Previously in middle school I used to identify as a lesbain and I was outed in school which lead to me experiencing pretty harsh homophobia. Back then I thought I was just a butch lesbain so I dressed pretty masculine and for that I got called derogatory names, got pushed into girls locker rooms and some girl even tried to sexually assaulted in gym once. During the hiatus I started to ask myself am I really trans or am I just calling myself one because the word lesbain triggers me and by calling myself a straight man I'm just protecting myself. I ask my other trans friend who was 5 months on t about this and he said that no real lesbain has done this, if a real lesbain were to went through what I did she would still call herself a lesbain nonetheless. He also said that just because I used different lables in the past past doesn't mean I'm faking being something else right now. He helped me a lot along with other trans mutuals who also helped me come to my true trans self. Now that I'm finally back online i want to talk about something else. I realized that spreading an old very harmful ideology (truscum) was very wrong from me. Gotta be honest I mostly did it for nostalgia. During thr rough times in middle school I used kalvin garrah, flop accounts and lgbt discourse as my coping mechanism and considering I'm not not doing so good aswell right now I thought I could do the same thing to cope. I now realized that it was wrong and that I should find new ways to cope instead of arguing over who's more valid or not. So instead of making this a truscum/discourse blog I was thinking on remaking it into a trans journey art blog where I talk about my experiences and struggles as a trans guy. It would be a much better improved from my previous posts and it would be less problematic. I want to sincerely apologize to everyone that I have maybe hurt. I know that I mostly argued with terfs but I do realize that my introduction post has maybe invalidated some users. For that I am deeply sorry and I should have known better instead of forcing discourse in fandoms where people turn to for comfort. Those upset by my previous ignorant content don't have to forgive me if they don't wish so but for those who do please understand that I only did it out of ignorance and by blindness from nostalgia. I invite you to join on my new journey of positivity and trans acceptance. I want to move on from my truscum phase and finally mature as a trans person.

One more time, for all of those terfs who tried to convince me I was actually a lesbain and who misgendered me and called me a gi you are no longer welcomed here. I was a fool to think I can have civil debates with you people and possibly change your minds but all you guys do is purposely make fun of trans people by misgendering us and when we get angry you play the victim. Maybe if you guys just let trans women and trans femme people live their life freely from harrassment maybe you wouldn't have to whine about "mean" trans women calling you out on your transphobia. I'm so glad I had my trans friends to help me bring me back to my transness because I was literally about to start calling myself a lesbain (no offense lesbains) and maybe start listening to terf and radfen bs. Luckily I didn't fall to their trap.

Anyway if you have read through all of this thank you and have an awesome day 🏳️‍⚧️

#trans #transgender #ftm #mtf #truscum #tucute #trans discourse #trans guy #lgbt #lgbt discourse #terfs dni

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internalsealpanic · 4 years

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Better Die Than Doubt

Summary: You wince knowing he’s already noticed. You feel the tiniest bit more at ease as he approaches your booth but it didn’t stop your eyes from flickering and searching for something off in the environment. The creeping sense of being watched trails up your spine. You’re sure.

A/n: To no one’s shock, this entire fic was unplanned. I was possessed by the urge to make it (translation: I got the urge to write this and one of my enablers said do it). This story should be treated more or less as a horror story. Nothing is being glorified here except how dorky Jason is. That being said, PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS. This fic contains quite a few triggering things and I really don’t want you to be blindsided. Also thanks to @knightfall05x for helping me write this whole thing. Thanks to @batarella (HOE) for action writing tips.

Warnings: graphic violence, stalking, emotional manipulation, unhealthy coping mechanisms, drugging, nongraphic description of rape, and rape aftermath

masterlist

You press the heels of your palms into your eyes. You could practically feel the oncoming headache the way you could sense someone coming down the hall. This is what happens when you’re running on just 5 hours of restless sleep for the last few days. This headache was also not helped by the fact that this was your fifth coffee in the past 30 minutes. You probably should not be drinking this much caffeine this late but intelligent decisions weren’t exactly your strong suit this week. You rub the sides of your forehead feeling another wave of nausea.

You check the time again and groan. It’s been one-and-a-half hours since your agreed upon time had lapsed and yet one Jason Peter Todd was nowhere to be seen. You curse, nerves edging, and mind fraying. To be perfectly fair to him, he is a busy guy, vigilante, and all. You understood that fairly well- and this was sudden to say the least. You can’t really fault him for being a bit late but the long wait was ratcheting up your anxiety. Again, the coffee didn’t help but considering it was the only thing you could keep down since last night, you didn’t have much choice.

Last night.

Your stomach tumbled. You cup your hand over your mouth feeling your coffee traveling back up your esophagus. You let out a long exasperated breath, letting yourself sink into the booth. You look out the window, eyes flickering wildly searching for Jason. Your hands tighten around your mug. The feeling of being watched made you bristle.

Jason, well, Jason wasn’t hard to spot. The man was 6 feet 4 inches of pure muscle and leather. Having a handsome face and a ‘fuck you’ look in his eyes also helped. In short, the man was hard to ignore. You wave weakly to him as he dismounts his bike, a gesture far too small for your usual bombastic self. Jason’s smarmy smile greets you as he returns the gesture with his gloved hand. The motion is slow and cautious, rickety in a way. You wince knowing he’s already noticed. You feel the tiniest bit more at ease as he approaches your booth but it didn’t stop your eyes from flickering and searching for something off in the environment. The creeping sense of being watched trails up your spine. You’re sure.

“Jesus, y/n, you look like Timbo” Jason chuckles sliding into the booth his green eyes shining with scrutiny. You look at him flatly not having enough energy to properly respond to his jab. He winces seeing your lack of reaction. “Rough night, huh?” He asks flagging down a waitress, who looked quite pleased to get away from her previous table.

You nod weakly, slowly as if the fact that it had been a rough couple of days had just sunk in. “Yeah,” you reply, your voice small and a little threadbare. You drum your fingers against your increasingly cold mug. The waitress sets a couple of warm mugs in front of you. Her soft smile makes you uneasy. You and Jason mutter a thanks as she tells you to wave her over if you need anything else. Her warm brown eyes boring into the stark purple bruise on your face. You shrink and smile sheepishly at her.

“I’m fi-”

“I am going to throw these sugar packets at you if you say you’re fine.”

“Damn, ok, Mr.Kettle,” You laugh. His concern startles a genuine laugh out of you. You’re sincerely surprised how lively the sound that comes out of you is. “You know if you keep sounding like that, Jay, you’re gonna wreck the whole stone-cold badass thing you got going,”

“Y/n..”

You huff running your hand through your disheveled hair, trying in vain, to soothe your mind. What was the best way to put it? You swallowed, gathering your lapsing thoughts. “Sooo uh-” The collar of your shirt suddenly felt tight around your neck. “-I-” You breathe. “-I found around 4 or 5 of Blackmask’s boys and Deathstroke-No, I’m not shitting you- in my- my apartment for- well- the third time in the last two months, can I crash at your place? Just ‘til I find a new place. Oh and also how do I get rid of them?”

He blinks as his brain takes its sweet fucking time digesting what you had just said. He leans back groaning and running his hands over his face. He looks like he’d like to deck you if he wasn’t too busy being concerned for your welfare. You shrink again, feeling bad for springing it on him. The decision to leave out the gory details of your hectic week suddenly felt like the wisest choice but you had no doubt he’ll get it out of you at some point.

“I’ll skip the obvious ‘why did you wait three times before moving’ question because I feel like I’m probably going to get an aneurysm from your answer,” Your reasoning wasn’t quite that stupid. You were mucking about Sionis’s operation. The fucker decided to branch out his little enterprise into your city and like hell, you were gonna leave well enough alone. After you had set fire to one of his warehouses, you thought that would explain the False Facers. But Deathstroke? Deathstroke was a mystery. You’ve also been mucking about his business but you two have always been civil if not friendly. Frenemies of sorts, you guessed. You’ve been encountering him a lot in the last few days. You had figured that Blackmask had hired him but considering he threw two men out of your apartment window last night, you’re not entirely sure. You make an affronted noise that Jason elects to ignore.

“What did they do?”

“Aside from necessitating a visit to IKEA? Nothing.”

“Did they take anything? Leave a message?”

“Nope, nothing-” You furrow your brow trying to recall. You shake your head. “-They just made sure I knew they broke in.” You add, shrugging your shoulder. You wince at the movement. Your shoulder still aches from being hit with a bat. Jason’s shoulders shift, moving as if to reach out to you but stops himself. Instead, he continues with his line of questioning. “Sweetheart, there’s gotta be something missing.”

You frown, biting your cheek. Jason rests his chin on his hand, green eyes watching you and urging you to think back. It was either the weight of his gaze or the lack of sleep that was making it hard to recall. You close your eyes and catalog your belongings, analyzing the mental picture you have like a crime scene like how he taught you months ago, breaking it down into the smallest pieces of information and bringing it back into a bigger picture. Still, nothing. Nothing of note was missing. You shake your head and shrug your uninjured shoulder. Jason glares at the immobile one. You shake your head silently telling him it wasn’t from last night which just made him clench his jaw.

“Evidence?”

You shake your head. He frowns baffled.

“Tech?”

You shake your head again.

“Anything personal?” He asks jokingly.

“I-” A cold horror washes over you trailed by embarrassment. Your vibrator had been missing and so were a couple of your lingerie sets. You feel your stomach drop to the floor. “Oh god, Jay- I- Please, let me stay with you.”

“And have them steal my stuff?” He chuckles.

“Please, Jay, like you have anything worth stealing.” Jason frowns at you scrutinizing your face. You level him a glare but it was more in an effort to fight down a blush than anything venomous. Jason’s jaw unclenches and his face breaks into a shit-eating grin. “What color was it?”

“Wha-”

“Bzzzzzzzt ”

If you weren’t blushing before, you are now. Heat climbs up your spine. Your mouth felt dry.

“Well, what color was it, sweetheart?” Jason drawls, his voice dropping an octave. You shiver but bristle just as quickly. You bite your cheek and glare at him. “HA. HA. HA. Funny, Todd.”

“Was it Red Hood Red?” Jason teases, winking and raising his cup of coffee to his lips.

“Nightwing blue” You deadpan. Jason coughed into his drink. You preen with satisfaction.

“Does it make stupid puns while you go at it? ”

“Yup,” You say, the ‘p’ popping. “That’s part of the appeal.” You joke smiling into your mug. Jason snorts. “How is that supposed to be sexy?”

You shrug, a sharper less tired smile cutting across your features. “Dunno man. Nightwing is pretty sexy if you ask me.” You wink.

Jason makes a fake gagging noise. Well, it seems fake with how theatrical the gesture is but with bats? You never could tell. You roll your eyes and giggle. Jason’s shoulders loosen at your bubble of laughter, his face slipping into one of his sheepish smiles. “In all seriousness, y/n, you can stay at my place.”

You smile at him, your usual fluorescent smile.

Click

A man from across the street watches you intently through the lens of a camera.

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Slade throws the photos across Roman’s desk, each glossy piece of paper containing a candid photo of you looking increasingly frayed and anxious.

Roman marvels at how your usually larger than life figure shrank into your puffy coat, how small and malleable and inexperienced you looked. He notes the panicked look in your eyes in every one of the photos and savors it. He couldn't wait to see it for himself.

In one photo, you're looking over your shoulder as you enter your office building.

In one, you’re tracing circles on a child’s hand with your thumb, beaming brightly as you told some wild tale to distract the child.

In another, you're slumped in your desk chair as you think over a case looking absolutely exasperated but determined.

In yet another one, you're locking lips with a man, his hand trailing up your shirt. Roman made sure to give the man some swimming lessons a few weeks prior.

In the photo in Roman’s hand, you're at the emergency room looking like you haven't slept in 2 days. Your face was bruised and your clothes were torn in several places where Slade had managed to land a blow. Your delicate skin marred with cuts and trickling blood. Absolutely gorgeous.

He examines it closely. The photo was taken just a few hours ago. You look like you're going to cry but your shoulders and jaw are squared more frustrated than scared. There's a fire in your eyes that threatens to level the city. A thrill rides up his spine at the prospect of extinguishing it.

“This is why you wanted to throw my men out the window?”

Slade hums. He shrugs and the edge of his lips curl into a smile. “It was the only way to convince the kid that we’re both after her-” His eye drifts to your face. Appraising but impassive. “The kid’s scared out of her mind and exhausted at this point.”

Slade had a point. Roman had to give him that. It wouldn’t be obvious to the casual observer but it would be plain as day to anyone like Roman who had been studying you for a while. You weren’t quite as meticulous with your appearance as Roman thought you should be (He would work on that later) but the dishevelment in your appearance was obvious. The slight dip in your shoulders in place of the prim posture that you usually employed was a blatant indication of your weariness. And the falter in your smile, the flickering in your eyes, and the number of times you let yourself bite your cheek showed the cracks in your fearless image.

Who knew weeks upon weeks of chaos could weather Minos City’s own budding hero?

In the photo next to Roman’s hand, your laughing face is stark and lively against the drab atmosphere of the diner, bubbling laughter carving life into your exhausted features making you look more like the shining paragon your city has come to rely on. The man sitting in front of you is laughing too. The sharp edges of his grin softened by the fondness in his eyes. It was hard not to recognize him even with such a foreign expression plastered onto his face. Roman crushes the photo in his hand.

“BUT NOW SHE’S WITH THAT SCUMBAG RED HOOD”

“And she’s now with the Red Hood. In his secluded safe house. Weakened and far from help. Most likely thinking that she’s safe under his protection and blissfully unaware of the tracker I put in her arm.”

“I see… It seems like you are worth the pay.”

Slade made no effort in hiding his smug grin.

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“Jay, I really am sorry about this.” You mumble for what seemed like the fifth time in the past half hour.

“I sincerely hope you’re apologizing for the fact that you neglected to tell me you had bruised ribs before getting on my bike and not the fact that you’re staying with me because two crazy assholes decided your place needed remodeling.” Jason exasperates, pinching the bridge of his nose. You feel kind of annoyed by the gesture but he did have a point especially with your city’s less than smooth roads. You were also pretty banged up. As it turns out, facing off against a bunch of goons plus a master assassin is not good for your health. You swore viciously under your breath. Now, you weren’t expecting Deathstroke to go easy on you despite your rapport but the guy really didn’t have to throw you around like a rag doll. Even with your power to adjust the odds, it was a miracle that you escaped intact.

“Well, Mr.Pot, you ride your bike all the time even with broken ribs.” You bite back. Jason rolls his eyes unaffected by the distilled venom in your voice.

“Well, one of us is a stone-cold badass- ”

“And the other is a sasquatch with a stick up his ass.” You sneer snatching the beer bottle from Jason. Your tone was far too fond and playful to have any actual bite. Jason chuckles at you and ruffles your hair before snatching it back and handing you a bottle of water.

You huff taking the bottle from him and following him to the couch. He sits down on the couch patting the seat beside him. You plopped on to the couch, placing your sock feet on his lap. He grabs your ankles and throws your feet back at you. You just as quickly throw them back on and this time you do it with an absolutely delighted smirk on your face. “Rude,” He mumbles but doesn’t attempt to extricate you again.

“So Deathstroke, huh?” Jason starts, side-eyeing you over his beer. You adjust yourself to sit up a little straighter.

“You mean the asshat who broke my favorite lamp last night?”

“Who the hell has a favorite lamp?”

“Me! And get to your point.”

“Have you two- yanno?” Jason jokes, his eyebrows wiggling and hands gesturing vaguely. Your eyes grow wide and heat creeps up your neck and face. You scowl at Jason throwing a pillow at his face for good measure. He catches it with ease much to your frustration giving you his trademark triumphant grin. You kick at him with no real force.

“NO! What kind of soap opera shit is that?” You giggle into your drink. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it before. The guy was skilled and pretty witty. You also had eyes and the man was handsome but something always felt strange about taking it further. You were civil but you kept your distance.

You pout at Jason again causing him to chuckle. “What? I’m just saying it’ll air out some tension~” He suggests winking.

“Oh my actual god, I hate you. I sincerely, truly hate you.” You laugh, kicking at his thigh. Jason makes an obviously fake hurt noise which draws out even more giggles out of you. Some tension in Jason’s shoulders releasing upon hearing the bubbly sounds.

“You speaking from experience, Jay?”

Jason shakes his head and coughs. “Catwoman-” Cough. “Talia Al Ghul-” Cough. “Sorry, sweetheart, seems like I have a really bad cough this week.”

And that is how you spend the rest of the night questioning Bruce’s love life.

“Food is in the fridge,” Jason says pointing to the said fridge which was sorely lacking magnets, sounding like a somewhat tired single parent.

“Do I look like I can keep anything down?”

Jason snatches the water bottle you had abandoned on the side table next to the recliner. “With that big mouth of yours? Sure.” Jason teases lightly booping you on the nose with your water bottle. “Get some rest.”

“Yes, mother” You sighed, burying yourself into the thick comforter he’d given you, crumpled water bottle in hand. He ruffles your hair.

“You know you’re safe here, right? ” The question startles you. You shift uncomfortably, pulling the comforter tightly around your shoulders. You shrug at him, not entirely certain how to answer. You know Jason’s safe house is, well, safe but you also thought your apartment was too. Your stomach twisted.

Jason squeezed your shoulder probably sensing the spiral of your thoughts. He smiles down at you, probably. It was hard to tell with the helmet.

“If you want, I can-”

“No, Jay, I’ll be fine here. You can go on patrol. I’ll be fine. Promise.”

The thing with Jason was that even when he was so big and bulky and hella intimidating, his empathy towards others had a bad habit of always shining through despite the layers of armor and sarcasm. You squeeze his hand, pressing little circles into his palm, and smile up at him. It was forced but it was the best you could do. Jason ruffles your hair again before letting go and making his way to the window.

“Get some sleep.”

“Aye aye cap’n” You yawn settling into a slump on the couch. Jason can’t help but smile fondly at you. You wave him a sleepy goodby before he sets off.

You passed out on the couch, an old habit you never grew out of. You always slept on the couch when you felt uneasy. It may have been some sort of way to separate stress from your bedroom. It sure as shit wasn’t for safety reasons. Your equipment was dispersed throughout your apartment but your weapons were usually stowed away in your room.

You feel a hand running gently through your hair, smoothing away all your apprehension.

“Jay” You grouse, your hand halfheartedly swatting at the hand stroking your hair. You bury yourself further into the warmth of the comforter feeling the need to shrink away from the touch. You feel a soft prick on your neck.

Your eyes fly open.

Shit.

The hand tangles in your hair. It throws you to the wall. The air is knocked out of your lungs. Your ribs scream. You scrabble to your feet. Your limbs fail you. They flail uselessly. Your breaths pick up. Your chest feels like it's caving.

"JAY" You shriek. “HELP.” A large hand grasps your throat. A rush of adrenaline kicks in. You thrash. You kick. Your hit lands. Another grasps your ankles. You scream. You swear viciously. Another grabs at your wrists. Something rough winds around your wrists and ankles.

The world tilts into an odd angle. Your head feels heavy so do your arms and your legs and everything.

"Jaaay" You slur, the air in your lungs becoming sluggish like everything else. "Jay" you sob again, knowing he wouldn't come. Not when he was so far away.

"Shut up you ….. bitch" You feel a swift kick to your stomach. It barely registers above the haze.

"Hey man-"

"What? The …. man said we …… rough her up."

"We can?"

"Yeah, ……, said so"

Your eyes blink, stupid, and uncomprehending. Distantly, you hear yourself grunting and whimpering. You can feel their blows but your body is too far away, too inaccessible. It was strange to physically feel yourself drift away.

Roman traces the sun shaped scar radiating on your shoulder with a leather-clad hand. The one shot he’d managed to land on you the first time you’d stormed one of his warehouses. You were all cocksure and quick wit and boisterous laughter. You really had the devil’s own luck but it seems to have run out. Not that Roman’s got any complaints. Not when he’s got you laying at his feet, tied up and vulnerable.

He crouches down, hand on his chin. His eyes roam appreciatively over your sleeping form, appraising you like a premium cut of meat. You look pretty against the black silk sheets he’d chosen. He sighs content with his prize. He traces the tip of his knife over your cheek, a dark purple bruise maring your features stark against the stainless surface of the blade. Slade really was quite careless when handling you. Not that Roman has any plans on being any gentler.

He lets his blade drift down, trailing down your neck down to the flimsy protection of your oversized shirt. Your steady breaths falter. You keep your eyes shut trying to gather more information but it’s hard not to focus off the tip of the blade cold against your warm skin even as the blade cuts through the thin fabric of your shirt. A large hand grasps your face roughly.

“I know you're awake, baby-” You blanch still not opening your eyes. The grip on your jaw tightens. You grin like a madman. “It's rude to keep daddy waiting.”

“Sorry, Sionis, I was really hoping not to have to wake up you’re ugly mug.” You sneer, voice thick and raspy with sleep but still full with your trademark confidence. Roman looks more amused than irritated. Your body and mind are still at the cusp of sleep. You wriggle and almost cry out with joy when you feel them move. You mind the hand on your jaw and its tight grip.

“Baby, I won’t tell you a-” You spit in his face, cracking an eye open to see his reaction. A bloody grin spreads across your face like wildfire when you see the annoyance on his face.

“You’re going to regret that” He growls, wiping his face with a torn piece of your shirt.

“Oh please-” Something cracks across your jaw.

“The next time it’ll be the other end,” It takes a moment for your mind to catch on. You stare at the hilt of the blade for a moment before letting loose another smarmy grin. His violent reaction spurs you on. Yeah, you can definitely see why Jason thinks you’re going to age him twenty years. “Oh please, You like my face too much for that.”

“You really wanna test that?”

“Nope,” You say, spitting into his eye and landing a punch square in his face. You cackle like a madwoman when he goes down. You don’t bother hiding the delighted chirps that escape your chest.

Being petty, you give him a swift kick to the face before dashing towards the door. You launch yourself, feeling like you can fly. The copper taste in your tongue almost feels sweet.

Your hand grasps the door when a hand tangles itself in your hair.

Roman throws you back onto the mattress, the springs digging into your back. You scratch and claw and thrash against the large hand wrapped around your throat. You snarl as Roman leans closer, his body pinning yours against the mattress, his weight immobilizing your fatigued limbs. A sweet-smelling cloth covers your mouth and nose, you gasp in surprise, inhaling the scent. Your mind is already sluggish by the time it catches on.

Your vision dims.

You feel hollowed out.

Your limbs fall away, arms drooping and pliant against the silk-covered mattress. The cloth feels too much against your skin. Vaguely, you feel horror prickling up your spine or maybe it was just the springs again.

Roman pulls away. You think you breathe a sigh of relief, feeling the weight of him lifted. He straddles your body, grinning down at you. Your mouth falls open to say something. You want to say that you curse him out or that you threaten him. The sound you make is small. Your tongue feels too heavy. No, something is pressing it down, you think.

Above you, Roman is a towering colossus. You’re vaguely aware of the shifting of his hips. He removes his gloved hand from your mouth and caresses the side of your face with mock gentleness. His movements are sluggish and syrupy. You make another noise when you realize to some degree of horror that isn’t. Your mind felt heavy and useless.

He snaps his fingers. The sound is dull like it's contending with water. A muffled set of steps approaches you. A man, you realize. You don't think you’ve noticed him before. His dark shape is messy and incomprehensible. A red dot flashes stark against his form. The mechanical sounds of a shutter drift in and out of your mind. You turn your head back to Roman at the sound of shifting fabric.

Above you, Roman, already without his suit jacket, loosens his tie, eyes staring hungrily at you. The pit of your stomach feels painfully cold. You blink at him stupidly. He chuckles, grasping your chin to make sure you’re looking at him. You protest against his touch.

“Don’t worry, baby, you’ll be the star of our little show like the filthy attention whore you really are. ” He laughs. It rumbles like thunder in your ears.

The world falls away.

Click

One

Two

One

You feel a prick on your neck.

Hot breaths fan against your face.

Your body is too warm.

You don’t want to know why.

Twenty-five, you continue counting.

You feel fabric shift against you.

Something sharp digs itself into your flesh.

One

Two

Three

Three?

Something’s crushing your windpipe.

Your body is aching. You’re not entirely sure whether it’s from use or disuse and by who.

“Good girl”

Thirty

Twelve

There’s something scraping against your flesh.

Is it a knife?

Hot pants fan against your skin.

Teeth

Four

Fifty-six

“Boss, I-.... going a …. bit too far?”

Smack!

“Do …. You…. to think?”

Two sixty-eight

A hand strikes you. You think your jaw is broken. It hurts but then again everything hurts. All you can do is take it and whimper.

Tears sting against your face.

“That’s right. Just like that. Like that, you little whore.”

Your body is warm again.

You still don’t want to know.

Two

Two?

You’ve counted two before.

You blink.

The haze of your mind lifts.

The coldness of the room seeps in your bones. You’re bare. You take stock of yourself, running your hands over your skin. Everything is still there.

Everything and a few other things. You let disgust and shame roll over you. A sob tears its way out of your chest. Your breath picks up. You feel your mind slipping. You press the heels of your palms into your eyes, calling your mind back and steadying yourself.

You take stock again. This time moving your limbs and jangling your joints. They were weak but workable. You’re surprised to find yourself unbound aside from the collar around your neck. You suppose Roman’s confident in his drugs. How long have you been here? You press lightly against your neck, feeling the higher than normal pulsing of your artery. You shift yourself waking your legs up.

You stiffen, gooseflesh spreading over your skin as light filters into the room through the door. Your eyes snap shut, stinging from the sudden intrusion of light. The pulse beneath your fingers jackrabbits. You think you’ll keel over.

“Shhhhhh”

All the strength in your veins floods out, leaving a feeling of cold horror in its place. You scream or you try. Your body feels impossibly rigid. Roman stalks towards you, his footfalls slow and deliberate and too loud. Your heart jumps up to your throat with each step. You inch yourself away from him, drawing yourself up to make yourself feel bigger. He coos at how adorable you are, trying to look defiant. The mattress dips under his weight. Your mind begins to slip away from you again. The world falls away from you. You anchor it, digging your nails into your palms. He cups your face, thumb caressing your bottom lip. You glower at him and bite out something witty. He laughs amusement lighting up his features, the sound grates against your ears.

“Not gonna fight back?” He taunts, pressing his thumb down on your bottom lip. Your body recoils but then goes slack as he runs his hand up and down your side. Shame blankets you but the fear etched into you keeps you still.

Roman loosens his tie.

Your mind falls out of your reach.

“Such a good little slut.” He murmurs against your lips.

You wanted to say.

Instead, your mind starts counting again even as you hear the rustle of fabric.

BANG

A gunshot rings through the thick atmosphere of the room.

Roman curses.

His men stampede.

Another round of shots fire.

Something- No, no. Someone tears Roman off of you.

“Deathstroke?” You croak, your voice sounding foreign and absurdly brittle.

“Do you know anyone else walking around looking like this, kid?”

“Ravager” You snark, lips twitching into a smile. He rolls his eyes underneath his mask. The familiarity of the exchange breathes life into your body. Roman’s hand grips your wrist with bruising intensity. Your breath catches.

No. No. No.

The word loops in your head like a constant rat-tat.

Slade’s foot makes contact with Roman’s head, the force of it unnecessary but satisfactory. The sounds of bone-cracking fill the air. The man falls uselessly to the grimey floor. He shoots him with a couple of rounds for good measure, each shot instilling a pang of finality in the back of your mind.

You scrabble towards Slade, wide-eyed and shallow breathed. You cling to Slade as he bundles your body in silken sheets. He hoists you easily into his arms. You bury your face into the junction between his neck and shoulder, closing your eyes, the image of Roman’s bloody body on the floor pressed into your mind. You sob in relief. Your hands clasping onto Slade, white-knuckled and shaking.

"I've got you, sweetheart," He rumbles, running his hand through your hair soothingly. The tight knots in your body, loosen. You whimper a quiet thank you. “I’ve got you.”

You lift your head only to see Roman twitch.

Your breathing falters.

Fear pricks your spine.

Your mind falls away from you again.

Distantly, you feel Slade’s grip on you tightens.

Distantly, you hear him murmur something.

Everything is too far away.

Your eyes blink sluggishly. The world becomes dimmer with each blink.

A warm spray of water drizzles down over your aching skin. Your open wounds sting but the warm water pooling around you soothes the aches of your bruised flesh. Your eyes focus on the soft off-white of the tile on the wall opposite you. You don’t let yourself about the thin, rusty red film swirling in the water. The air in the room is thick with steam and the scent of lavender.

The absence of grime on your skin makes you feel lighter and gauzy and immaterial. You felt naked and obscene like you had been taken apart and now someone was examining pieces of you. You almost miss it.

“Lean back” Slade grumbles as he lathers your hair with some lavender concoction the hotel provided. Your body follows automatically, eagerly, obediently. You tell yourself you’re just tired. You tell yourself nothing’s wrong with your response. You tell yourself you’re ok. You wince. The warm water around you shifts. You hear it splash against the tile. You flinch at how loud it sounds. You take a deep breath and lean into his touch. He’s handling you delicately as though you would fall apart any second. You might.

Blinking away tears, you watch his face, aware that by leaning back, you’d be giving him a good view of the hickies, bite marks, and knife wounds Roman ‘gifted’ you. There’s a slight twitch in the corners of his lips. He must be disgusted with you too. You want to sink into the hot water and let it burn you anew, but you don’t trust yourself not to drown.

You close your eyes as another spray of warm water pours over you. You melt into it hoping it’s enough to wash the last few days- weeks?- away.

Your hands grasp his face, pulling him towards you. His hands brace against the tub, keeping him from falling in with you. Your arms loop around his neck, your hot breath fanning against his lips. You press your lips against him, searching and wanting. For what exactly? Comfort? Safety? Stimulation? His lips press lightly against yours, not quite a kiss. Slade actually looks taken aback.

The rest of the world floods back in. You peel away, your eyes wide with terror. “Shit- I’m- Fuck! Fuck! Shit, Slade, I- I’m sorry. I- Shit! I didn’t-” Your breathing ratchets up, becoming shallower as the pulsating in your ears grow louder. There’s a tightness growing in your chest that makes you think your ribcage is about to implode. You cover your face with your hands not caring how it didn’t help your shallowing breaths. You can’t look at him. You just can’t. You know you’re disgusting.

Your body wants to come apart, dissolve, and if it can, evaporate. You can’t breathe. You curl into yourself, into the water. A hand grabs at your wrist. You flinch. The hand carefully pries your hand away, forcing you to uncurl. Slade’s other hand cups your face gently, guiding you to look him in the eye. The lack of disgust in his face rattles you.

His thumb brushes against your lips making your stomach twist and your spine curl. He dips his head closer to yours. You kiss him eagerly. He lets out a pleased hum and smiles against your lips. Something cold licks at the bottom of your stomach but it’s overtaken by the need for connection, to fill in what had been hollowed out.

You press closer to him than strictly necessary as you watch the news, chewing on your cheek. He pulls you close, shifting you on to his lap. You don’t protest, eyes glued to the TV.

“Businessman, Roman Sionis, was found with several gunshot wounds to the stomach in one of his warehouses here in Minos City. He is now in stable condition. Authorities say...”

Your jaw falls slack in mute horror. Your stomach tumbles to the floor. You’re hyperventilating. Your teeth are digging into your cheek, you taste copper. Your mind spirals back into the room, back to the dirty mattress, back to Roman.

Strong arms wrap around you, stilling your trembling body against a broad chest. Your body relaxes a fraction. You curl into him, the buzz of nervous energy settling into a quieter panic.

“You’re safe with me, you know that don’t you, sweetheart?” Slade says tracing circles into your palm. You lean your head into his shoulder. You nod easing against him. “I’ll never let that monster anywhere near you.” He promises, pressing a kiss into your hair. A little sob wrenches free of your imploding chest.

Slade keeps his face buried in your hair even as you fall into a lull. It was the only way to hide the triumphant grin spreading across his face.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll take good care of you.”

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A/n: Thanks for reading. There’s a follow up to this because I can’t cope with bad endings. I had to promise myself a good second part to make the ending horrifying.

The writing process for this fic was basically:

Me: I have this horrifying idea!

My brain: Yes but what if we put a little dork Jason in it.

Me: I guess that wouldn’t hurt.

Me: Ok I have written nearly 2k of dorky Jason where’s the other parts?

Brain: Uh what other parts?

Me: *sighs and spends the next few days spamming @knightfall05x*

taglist:

@batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish,@birdy-bat-writes, @americasmarauders , @l-horizon11, @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay, @wunderstell

#yandere dc #yandere blackmask #yandere roman sionis #yandere deathstroke #yandere slade wilson #Black Mask #Deathstroke #slade wilson x reader #Roman Sionis #roman sionis x reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #Jason Todd #red hood x reader

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szynkaaa · 4 years

Photo

I more or less watched The Boy!!! And by watching, I mean I skipped more or less through the jump scare parts because I cannot do horror movies at all. I haven’t watched one since 2015 and The Boy was like the first horror movie after five years

Full disclosure, the ONLY reason I started watching the movie was because someone posted a gif of Greta standing close to Brahms who was all sweaty and breathing heavily n I was like “oh shit who dat he hot” and here I am

Can anyone explain the sandwich scene to me? So Greta was scared shitless and locked herself in her room, but why did Brahms make her favorite sandwich for her?

I did some digging for interviews and generally what people have been saying about the movie, took some screenshots from youtube to put my thoughts and musing together too!

Can anyone explain the sandwich scene to me? So Greta was scared shitless and locked herself in her room, but why did Brahms make her favorite sandwich for her?

So first of all, let’s start with a low resolution photo I found on IG of James Russell without mask:

which brings me to my first musing/thought/question?

It’s all under the cut, very screenshot and text heavy, you can find more Brahms drawing at the bottom though ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

So at the end of the movie, we are shown a Brahms with a broken mask and his face being burned, indicating that he was in fact in the fire.

I assumed first that the fire was created by the parents to fake their sons death and then he had to live hidden inside the walls?

But I’ve also heard apparently it was Brahms who set the fire to fake his own death or maybe an eight years old kid really was trying to burn himself down??

My other theory is that his parents made the fire and tried to kill Brahms and it did burn him but he survived, and the parents didn’t wanna go to jail sooo to hide everything they made their son live in the walls

i mean the responsible thing would be to turn their kid in and have him treated and stuff;;; listened to a murder podcast about two cases where kids murdered enough kids and how they are doing now interesting read Brahms made me think of those two cases

I also do not think that the previous nannies were killed. Like, c’mon. You’d report a person missing and sooner or later it would go back to the Heelshire mansion and if the body counts piles up? Can’t look good and I doubt that the Heelshire wants the police investigating them close up.

Also, when the mom was like “He’s chosen you if you’ll have him” to Greta? Is it just me or the wording or does it sound like a marriage proposal/arrangement xD

Brahms is a brat and he sees the people around him as his possession or to toy around. But I also do think that he has some abandonment issues but not in the sad tragic kind of way lmao. Even if he was the one controlling and manipulating his parents from behind-the-scene (quite literally I suppose?), he was still told as a kid to live in hiding and that no one can know he is alive. I don’t know much about the human brain, but I can imagine how damaging that must be to his mental growth and set him back in some way? We don’t know too much about his relationship with his parents - but I assume that he must have still loved them in his own twisted way. Can’t imagine that he would have been indifferent about his parents suicide.

The scene before Greta manages to back out - first he uses the child voice to beg her to come back and promises he will be good. That’s his manipulating Greta, but when that doesn’t work and she tries harder to open the door, he becomes more desperate to keep her there and then completely loses his temper and threatens to kill Malcolm if she doesn’t return. I’m pretty sure homeboy would have killed him anyway. And then later when she returns and he is all heavy breathing and smelling her hair and then jumps up when she shouts Brahms? Idk I def think there is some sort of abandonment issue going on.

I don’t think he is a child stuck in a man’s body or manchild or whatever. I think that he does know how to take care of himself - but he just chooses to manipulate people with the facade of a kid to do his bidding and cater to his needs.

Anywhomst, but clearly Brahms is also a very manipulative and controlling person based, based on how the mother was reacting on the destroyed bedroom, she really seemed to be at the end of her wits and just breaking down with her “you promised you’d be good”. It was very heartbreaking to watch and also scary because it really makes you realize just how much power Brahms holds over them?? idk maybe it was just me.

Next point: the CGI mask + the burns

So according to some interviews with the director stated that at the first test streaming, people weren’t really scared of Brahms because he was too handsome so they had to slap a mask over his face. The face was done after everything was filmed. I’m thinking the face burns were also added post-production when they were adding the cgi mask. Otherwise, James would have needed to go through the makeup department for some wicked face burns and it would have been visible during the filming and test screening too? Which would imply that at first the fire was supposed to be just a cover story that their son is dead and it was changed later

Observation/thoughts on Brahms Heelshire

Love how he stands there with his hands behind his back and then nods when Greta tells him to go under the cover

James Russell is 191cm tall. So like. Brahms is really fucking tall. But I notice that most of the time he stands with a slight hunch. Could be due to him crawling through the walls and crawling out of places that requires him to do a lot of crouching. His bed in his hideout made me really sad, I’ll get to it later.

Since James didn’t get many lines in the ten minutes that he appeared, I do think that his eyes did all the acting. They stand out even more with the mask on, there is just this crazy look on it. I also noticed during my rewatch that he doesn’t seem to blink much or at all.

Oh yeah, he also peeped on Greta and Malcolm making out on the bed and then cockblocked them. We been knowing that he made a Greta doll and very likely jerked off to it. We also been knowing that he very very very likely wanted to bone Greta at the goodnight kiss scene still waiting for the maskeless kiss scene gimme gimme. I also highly doubt that Brahms has much first-hand experience with kissing n stuff. High key thinking he was trying to do copy Malcolm and do what he observed lmao

When I first watched the scene, I assumed that the hole behind the mirror has always been and it’s just another one of the hidden passages Brahms to slip in and out, but now that I’m looking at the shape of the holes, it seems to me more like the mirror and brick wall were broken at the same time?? If that is the case holy shit boy is s t r o n g. I mean, he also punched through the closet door like no big deal so really what have the parents been feeding him.

I’m also leaning toward the fact that he ran there because Greta screamed loudly. I don’t think he was in the room as them when everything went down there, it seemed more like he heard the scream and had to nyoomed over and then punched a way through to get out of the wall. And then went on to attack Cole. He must have known that Greta wanted Cole gone, since that what she whispered to the doll before going to bed.

Tbh, I fully expected him to murder Cole in his sleep, but Brahms wrote a warning message in blood to tell him to get out soooooo like. Cole you were warned and now you gotta live with the consequences ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Brahm’s sleeping corner

This scene was shown at the end after Greta and Malcolm escaped. We also see them briefly during the part where Greta and Malcolm are trying to find a way out and stumbled into Brahms’ hideout. I’m not sure why the rules are slapped on the walls. It seems to me that Brahms is very very very set on that the rules / routine should be followed. In the movie, he called Greta and suggested to her that she should follow the rules, to which she then started doing it.

I headcanon that that’s the routine that he grew up with as a kid and it’s just very very very very very hard to break out of it - not that he is trying to break the routine.

I’m failing to find a good way to put my thoughts into words, but I guess the rules and routine is sort of his coping mechanism?

I suppose if you had an OC that you ship Brahms with and want to change stuff around the house, the OC would have to very slowly introduce new rules and routines. Baby steps, yknow.

Brahms has a violin hanging there! Honestly I would be surprised if Brahms didn’t know how to play at least one instrument. The family also has an old ass piano/clavichord (?) and Brahms loves classical music soo yeah. Love me a boy who appreciates classical musical hehe

I suppose the egg boxes are there to soundproof the room more - maybe so he can play the violin?

There’s also music sheets hung around his attics, it’s not clear on the screenshots but when you rewatch the scene and shove your face close to the screen. Some are hanging next to the violin and there are some taped on the wall next to his bed and porn too

nice to see he has a fridge and microwave, I was concerned that he wasn’t well fed and that leftovers might not be enough, but then again. Dude is 191 cm so clearly he has been drinking his milk

Didn’t take a screenshot of his vanity, but there is a crocodile magnet stuck to the mirror hehe. I do think that he shaves and stuff, otherwise his beard would be much longer??

We can see more music sheets stuck to a pillar on the right.

Loving the christmas lights that he has hanging there above his bed. It’s cute.

On the shelf he has a bunch of tupperware and empty bowls. Most of hte things are neatly organized. We can also see some books and a pen

There’s some sunlight streaming inside - I do hope that Brahmsy stays warm during winters.

Here we can see more of the food that he has there - there is also a sink but I didn’t snatch a screenshot of it. I think those are potatoes in the pot? Maybe he does know how to cook some basic stuff, I do wonder if he has a functioning kitchen up there. Probably not for fire safety reasons lol

Yall see that thing on the note sheet covered pillar? Ngl, that’s a whole ass aesthetic right there.

He got a few potted plants up there. Took a closer look at them and it seems like they were healthy. So he knows how to take care of plants, which is nice to know I suppose?

Yes, we all know what he was doing with the doll and what the tissue balled up tissue implies. However, has anyone noticed the size of the bed???

If you scroll up a bit to the screenshot of Greta seeing the doll, it looks t i n y. The make shift doll takes up more than half of the space.

Yall. this breaks my heart. Dude is a beanstalk. I’m pretty sure the bed is from when he was a kid shoved by his parents to live inside the wall, does he have to sleep there in his adulthood too???

Even though Brahms strikes me as someone who probably doesn’t sleep much or during normal times, that bed must be so tiny for him. He must be sleeping with his knees bend and shit unable to stretch out :(((

Brahms: is a psychopath that smashed the skull of a girl and very abusive tormented his parents and then Greta Me: omg he needs a bigger bed that poor thing :(((

Brahms’ DIY corner

Ah yes, Brahm’s little DIY/creative corner.

Homeboy got lot of animal traps, cages and taxidermies hanging around, pointing strongly toward that it’s a hobby of it?

Also at the end where we see him fixing up the doll, we can get a better shot at his desk, and I gotta say the threads and stuff are all very nicely organized. Brahms’s table looks more organized than mine does lmao.

So we know he is a crafty boy. Not sure how difficult taxidermy is but I imagine it does take a lot of time to learn? Well he had all the time in the world anyway.

So yeah, that’s a wrap. Congrats if you made it to the bottom of my incoherent thoughts and ramblings, have a bonus drawing of Brahms wearing different masks:

#the ham talks #brahms heelshire #the boy #the boy 2016 #brahms #brahmbling

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scoups4lyfe · 2 years

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Ok.. so I was unable to post this ask in the new format. So if those previously reached you.. I'm sorry .. now I really want to see a evil vs live fight. Maybe it's in daijis mind or they get separated. Also daijis the secondary rider right? Shouldn't he get an upgrade already? Ikki got many upgrade. Also why do you think Olteca kidnapped George? Again sorry if u got this ask several times. I am not quite sure the other ones which are the same ask reached you though:(

Revice & Intentional Writing Part 6

(The Daiji Analysis)

(TW: Mentions / talks of drug abuse / Suicidal Ideation)

EVIL vs. LIVE: And Why EVIL's Winning:

......nah, anon. I think this is the first I've gotten this kind of ask lol

Hmmmmmm evil vs live fight,,,,,, damn that would be fireeeeee

I think unless Daiji got a lot more assurance from his siblings, or like more love and confidence in himself tho, Evil would def come out as the winner lol

Kagerou,,, at the base of it all is Daiji's coping mechanism for his low self-esteem and enormous amount of self-hate

That's why Kagerou means 'Mirage'. Because Not only does he hide Daiji's actual feelings from others; but he ALSO hides them from himself (Daiji).

(honestly I keep saying 'oncE i poSt thE Ep 4 aNaLysIS' so because I've been clowning I'll just tldr; some stuff here for rn )

Right, I'll also paste in here the conversation I had with Nacho about the layers behind Daiji/Kagerou.

[LAYERS + our convo:]

me:

Like.... how Kagerou's name being Mirage (unless I got this wrong /mixed with a synonym. lmaoo) not only being representative on how Daiji sees himself as evil, because those traits seem to be the ones that stick out the most (evil/live thing) ---- while ALSO representing the fact that Kagerou is acting as a mirage for Daiji's self-hate; so when Kagerou says or doesn't something what he's doing is deflecting the truth with something justtttt close enough

---aka the idea that Daiji hates Ikki because he sees Ikki as an "attention-whore" when in fact its because Daiji hates himself for not being able to help Ikki / do anything himself and how Kagerou not only acts as a mirage to others on Daiji's actual intentions / feelings

(to some extent at least)

But that to Daiji ---he's being a mirage so that Daiji won't have to believe in the things that'll only lead to more self-loathing, things he doesn't want to believe or just can't in order to survive

Nacho:

All good man, you're right on the money, it's mirage. If this helps at all, it specifically means the mirage you see during severe heat, like a heat haze.

Me (reacting to the more specific meaning of Kagerou's name):

"Ooooooo. Fvcked cause those kind of mirages are made by the mind as something you wish was true...... so Daiji's thing with Ikki and the stuff that Kagerou says (to Ikki, about Ikki, just in general I guess), all being things Daiji WISHES were actually the case.

But y'know these mirages are always fake --- so its not just Daiji seeing the mirage, but also others seeing this mirage --So again, just shows that all the things they were seeing was actually just something fake.

And then, went off on an Ikki sidenote (lol)

"-yo sidenote, tell me if Im whackin in thinking this -- but sometimes the mom will say stuff to Ikki and I'm like 🤪🤪🤪. Like she says stuff about him.... not being empathetic enough, or something about how not everyone is strong and until he understands that he'll "forever be half a man"

Nacho:

LOL that's def a combination of Asian sexism and the classic single mom thing of "you're the man of the house" to their 5-year old son

Me:

"wayyy back when the episode originally aired I was like, "yeahhh mama san is RIGHT Ikki you gotta get ahold of urself" and now I'm like "Mama-san.....stop saying this to Ikki"

Nacho:

I've said before, like ages ago, about the whole thing of Papa-san being the goofball of his family of origin as a coping mechanism, and then it snowballing into his family as an adult not seeing him as reliable.

So it's basically like they have an absentee father in a way. Not completely, but they don't really see him as a parental role. That honor goes to Ikki of course "<33"

I mean Ikki did need a wakeup call...but so do the parents LOL.

Me:

oh exactly man like half the time I feel like the mom just says things

Nacho:

I get her. She says nonsense same reason Daiji does tbh. Gotta stay blind to keep functioning and not have a mental breakdown.

Like you said before. Y'know, you wanna BELIEVE Ikki's problems are easily fixable "hey just grit your teeth and get more empathy kid" and that your advice MEANS something, bc it means you have worth as a mother. Nvm that you never hold the dad accountable and delegated parenting to your eldest (plus sexism for your daughter blah blah blah). Anyways, if you keep believing that Ikki doesn't have issues that are your fault, never have to realize your mess-ups

It's basically Daiji and his heat haze LOL

Mama-san too must feel a lot of societal pressure to be a mother. She can't let herself realize her mistakes 'cuz that would really crush any self-worth she had. What's the use of a woman who can't find a good husband and be the perfect mother?

Me:

I'll never be over ep 9 of Revice. Everyone and their brother (hah) were literally driving Ikki into a mental breakdown. Like they were out there trying to speedrun it, and placing bets. Sakura getting mad at iKKi oooop. That one actually gets me.....mostly because she'd never been mad with him. and the stuff she said was just .....my Gosh---just shoot him man. With a gun. It would be more humane.

LOL...her whole "iKKi wHAT abOUT YOu??? WhERe dID Your NOSY-neSs go? HUh????"

Nacho: Oh Sakura, lights are almost never on in her mind.

Me:

I mean. I get it He's been the fix-er. The man of the house. The overparenting parent. He's not allowed to have mental breakdowns.

She's probably never seen him in that state before. So how dare he be like this when Daiji nEEdS hIM THe mosT

NACHO:

Yeah. It's literally the crumbling moment of becoming an adult. Realizing your parents are flawed and aren't superheroes And we all know Sakura's coping mechanism is to blow up a bit,

Nacho: See, like this is what I mean. Nobody ever apologizes for the right things

Me:

Yeahhhh.....see, originally I had this some problem with Ikki's apology to Daiji in ep 10 but upon retrospection....it was pretty good actually? Like if you have on the lens where Daiji wants to be relied on and trusted, then it makes sense---cause Ikki essentially apologizes for not believing or having faith in Daiji,;;; "You're really strong too, aren't you?" Originally -- when ur out here listening to Kagerou's nonsense You're like "lol Ikki.....it's nice that ur apologizing for not believing in ur brother. But this does not at all address the fact that you stole his dream from him" .......because if you see Daiji's hurt as "ikki became kamen rider, and stole his dream" then.... the apology just seems very lackluster? But if you see Daiji's hurt as him wanting to be relied upon, and trusted / needed thennnnnnnnnnnnnnnn It's an outstanding apology.

[End of the relevant parts of our conversation, so moving back to the Daiji analysis]

[Kagerou, EVIL vs. LIVE as an Allegory]

basically -- Daiji's continual failure to believe in himself / to be helpful or in some way contributing to his family was/is literally killing him.

(Me and Nacho have talked extensively about how...if the Igarashi Sibs hadn't been accidentally conscripted to Kamen Rider Service, their future would have....not ended well. Drug abuse, and possibly even suicide -- and I'm not just talking about Daiji here....:/)

Daiji -- imo -- would be the one more likely to fall into drugs. In fact, more than once his Kagerou story-line has given me actual direct visual flashbacks to drug-related things storylines in other visual media I'd already consumed.

Like the episode 15 Non-con giving me immediate flashes of what an intervention / 'forced therapy' would look like

Then of course there's Kagerou's love for "spicy" things/food/curry, and how Daiji has to deal with the aftereffects (once Kagerou leaves) of eating something hot/something he can't handle that hurts him at least on some physical level.

Blah blah blah. I could write a whole essay on how Kagerou/Daiji is just one big metaphor & allegory for drug abuse. But we're not here for that.

I mentioned the drug allegory/metaphor because Daiji's character was on a downward spiral from the moment Ikki transformed into a kamen rider while he did nothing. Like....Daiji really *REALLY* does not like himself.

My main theory for Daiji is that (as I've already stated <33) he wanted to help Ikki (for and foremost) which is the reason why he originally tries out for a military organization.

He wanted Ikki to rely on him. He wanted to be someone that can protect, not just be protected. He wanted Ikki to see him as an equal.

It's why he doesn't trust, (*can't* trust) Kagerou's (or his own really) words, or decisions. It's because he has no confidence in himself or his ability to make 'good', 'proper', or 'responsible' decisions.

Ikki's smothering forced Daiji into a position of learned helplessness. And when you're always the damsel in distress and no one lets you handle things on your own (even when you want to) it teaches you that your opinions aren't valuable and that you have no autonomy or control over your own life. That you 'need' to be helped or something will go wrong.

This is why he's so quick to shut-down during times of intense stress. (AKA the opening ceremony from ep 1 being one example). After seeing someone who Daiji equates to being of higher authority (Hiromi) fails to use the belt -- he starts to think to himself:

If someone that high up, that power, can't do it....how can I?

And then he's paralyzed by the crushing terror of failure. He's never been in-control of his life, and now with this life-or-death pressure added to his already suffocating terror? Well, that's it. Game over.

He freezes. Shuts down. Error 404 Daiji's checked out for the moment.

Now imagine you're in his position. You choke when you finally had the chance to make your own decisions, and fail to do everything that motivated you into that specific career choice when it was finally *needed* from you.

Already.....already you could never do anything on your own...and maybe you thought 'hey, I can do this.' But now that you've failed so spectacularly and have to be saved.....AGAIN....well? Maybe your brother and sister were right. Maybe you really can't do anything on your own.....

This idea of being trapped forever in a position of having no power or control over his own life, forever playing the role of the helpless, useless (worthless) member of the family. That kind of stress would build, along with the self-hatred.

'Why couldn't you do it? Ikki can. Sakura can. Why can you never do anything? See? Someone got hurt today because of you. You failed and now they got hurt. You HURT them, Daiji. No...you're not useless....you're something even worse.'

(blah blah blah....you get the point.)

Daiji's low self-worth continued to fall, but he held out on the hope that maybe? He could transform too? Maybe Ikki *wouldn't* sign with Fenix and the position would re-open? Maybe-- maybe, maybe, maybe.

Yoinks. We alllll know what actually happened :D....

Falling into 'drugs' wouldn't be all that much of a stretch to see happening to Daiji. He had no outlet for this despair and self-hatred. So it just continued to consume him alive. And of course that stuff (drugs) would affect your personality and etc etc etc. Now, ignoring the drug allegory, no matter which way you spin it --Daiji's self-hatred would've harmed him in some way.

Hence, the split. Kagerou forms.

Now, Daiji doesn't have to worry about Ikki or feel guilty over his brother being put in this position (because of his own failures), cause Kagerou 'changed' or 'hid' these stressors from him. Now, instead of it being guilt it's rage and hatred. Instead of forcing Ikki into this position, Ikki pushed him out of the way and *stole* it.

If you listen reaaaaal closely and watch what Kagerou says, especially knowing that he's a "mirage" of sorts for Daiji, you'll see how Kagerou hides the truth within the lie.

(more on this below)

More 'proof' or I guess fodder for my 'Daiji wants to be needed, he wants to be helpful and useful, and so resents himself when he fails to help, protect, or lift others burdens'.

Would be Ikki's Apology in episode 10.

Now, at first I thought this apology was lackluster asf (lol). 'Well at least he apologized....even though he resolutely ignored that Daiji's angry at him for stealing his 'dream' not for Ikki lacking 'faith' in him.

(#oh.....)

Upon hindsight, I realize that....that was Kagerou's 'mirage'.

It was never about Ikki stealing Daiji's dream.

.........It's Daiji's guilt at not being able to help -- never being able to help. Of having to watch from the sidelines while people get hurt and you aren't able to do anything about it.

Daiji feels like he's responsible for this.

(I'd say its something like Survivor-syndrome....uh that thing where in a traumatic event where you outlive someone else, you feel guilt for living when they died, etc.)

Except here -- Daiji feels guilt for his lack of ability. Now, if Ikki gets hurt -- then it's *HIS* fault. If Ikki hadn't been at Daiji's ceremony, if Daiji hadn't froze....then Ikki never would have been put in the position of Kamen Rider. He wouldn't have to go out and actually risk his life fighting monsters.

So in 2 photos up, when Kagerou says lines like:

"You're the reason I was born, Ikki."

If you consider this being said by a "mirage".....the imaginary 'oasis' hiding the truth of the desert's hellscape....

Well, then it makes more sense to think that Kagerou is pinning the blame on Ikki, when in fact Daiji is the reason. But again, half-truths, because although Kagerou formed because of Daiji....it *was* in part because of his guilt over Ikki's situation, and his continued failure to be anything but helpless.

(ergo having to continue to rely on Ikki, continually burdening Ikki because of Daiji's failures, etc.)

"It was YOU who erased Daiji all along, ONII-SAMA!"

I find Kagerou and Ikki's conversation during their battle to be....really interesting....

I: "Do you resent me THAT much?"

K: "Daiji does, not me!"

Again, Daiji projecting the resentment he has of himself, onto Ikki. Kagerou hiding Daiji's self-hate by blaming Ikki instead (for Daiji). See, if you notice....Kagerou openly admits that *he* doesn't resent Ikki. 'Daiji does.'

Again, half-truths.

Kagerou doesn't resent Ikki...but neither does Daiji. Daiji resents himself, but Kagerou's 'mirage-ing' that from both Daiji AND Ikki.

Ikki's apology for essentially not trusting Daiji -- for not seeing his brother as an equal (because Ikki's the parent, not the brother), and his apology for not seeing or realizing that Daiji wanted to be trusted and relied on are enough to reach Daiji through Kagerou's veil of projected hate.

Of course, Kagerou beat the sh*t out of him (cause Ikki can't hurt his siblings.....not when he raised them......not when they're literally more important than his life) so Ikki isn't able to fight the remaining monster.

At this point he has no choice but to rely on Daiji. (And he's learned that his lack of trust was hurting him, so Ikki won't do that again.) So....he accepts the help. (Tho, he's not doing this for himself --- he's doing this for Daiji) and uh :D......Daiji's face after Ikki says:

"I'm counting on you, Daiji."

Idk. Combine this with episode 15, when Kagerou flips joyfully when Ikki summons him and tells him its because he 'needs his help.' (lol) The picture really paints itself.

So going back to what I said earlier about EVIL vs. LIVE dueling it out:

'I think unless Daiji got a lot more assurance from his siblings, or like more love and confidence in himself tho, Evil would def come out as the winner lol'

Daiji's learned helplessness continually shoots him in the foot. Kagerou then took that injured foot, ran with it ....right off a fking cliff. Since, Daiji doesn't know how to 'live' by himself / on his own (which is why his title is LIVE vs. EVIL) --- the traits that are really magnified during this time of him trying to learn how to ...idk literally 'live' I guess, are his worse-r traits.

His 'EVIL' traits. (His helplessness. And then when Kagerou actually manifested and tried to kill his brother LOL!!!!)

If you watch in episodes 11 and 12 -- right after the Kagerou arc, Daiji is so unsure of himself, that he waits to see what either Ikki or Hiromi will do before doing something himself. That's because he doesn't trust himself to make the right decision.

It's kinda fascinating to watch actually.

Like Daiji literally lets Hiromi tell him his sob story (that came out of no where lol) because he'd rather stop and listen to that, then to run off and start the battle first / on his own.

Or when he waits to see what Ikki will do about Sakura's Karate instructor. When Ikki commits to fighting, Daiji commits immediately afterwards. You can literally see as he dings off in his head 'ah so this is the right choice' lmao.

See, this lack of trust Daiji has in himself hasn't really gotten much better? Like episode 13 helped majorly, when Ikki trusted him to handle it

(though Kagerou showed up, so like 2 steps forward 3 steps back :'oo. )

And then it was also good (for Kagerou at least) in episode 15 when they ask him for help. But the lack of consent from Daiji is....not great to say the least. Really shows Ikki's 'parental override' over any opinion or say Daiji *should* have....esp in a matter concerning himself.

So for Daiji this translates into 1) them not respecting his say -- aka silencing Daiji's voice---and Daiji realizing that on some level.

And

2)"Kagerou" was preferred over "Daiji." Again, doesn't really do much to affirm Daiji's own self worth lol.

So basically Kagerou / EVIL would win in a fight between the two of them because Daiji wouldn't have the confidence in himself (which is why he didn't fight Kagerou back in episode 9, he verbally disagreed, but had no power over Kagerou) and Kagerou? Kagerou's all about his own self-interest.

While Daiji's drowning in doubts Kagerou's already got out the gun (basically.)

ANWAYS

I have NO idea why I decided to write all the above nonsense for this ask I'm so sorry LOL.

Yeah I believe Daiji IS the secondary rider. No idea about upgrades....honestly I'm curious too. I'm hoping for something amazing for Daiji and Sakura,,,,,mostly because I really like how the plots has progressed and so I feel like the writer...y'know....hasn't let me down yet (lol.....)

But I hope they get upgrades soon :O!!!

And for Oltecca kidnapping George.....no idea :D. My first guess would be 1) It's because George is the brains of Fenix's operations 2) to use George,,,,to....idk? Someone mentioned Oltecca perhaps getting George to build him a belt? Idk....lol

Oltecca strikes me as an opportunist. He might have just seen George out stalking for info, and was like 'wow....the golden goose out from its protected base in the sky.... >:)))'

Again,,,, no need to apologize for asks lol. If y'all sent in the same ask like 4 times I'd be like "lol what happened here :DD" and then answer the first one, and save the other asks for either

1) jokes, or

2) spaces to answer the same question in a different way or

3) to clown

LOL!!!

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