#and her trauma isn’t just thrown in there it actually shapes her worldview and every action she takes

[simonespeaks]

unpopular opinion: ra-im is by far the most interesting character in operation true love. the writers did a great job making her complex. she’s an absolute mess of maladaptive coping practices because of her unprocessed grief and the inability to fill the void her mother left. she’s knows she’s wrong, but doesn’t know how to get help so she can stop and that results in her sinking deeper into wrong doing. she is hurting and therefore pushing su-ae away despite the fact that she does care for her. with ra-im you get to see how grief and isolation turns her into the worst version of herself and that is why i am the exact opposite of the most of webtoon comments; when ra-im appears i tune the fuck in because i know the writers are gonna do something.

[kandyrezi]

my body is your canvas;

fandom: the gray garden

characters/pairings: ivlis/yosafire

summary: “yosafire asks about the scars scattered across ivlis’ back and chest.” | word count: 2.1k

warnings: none

///

settling from a warm bath after that day’s horrid events had unfolded left ivlis with some sense of fixed decency, the water dribbling down some over the tub as he steps onto the ivory tiled floor; it’s the least he can do to cleanse the memory from his mind anyway. after having dried off well-enough and momentarily tossing the towel over the rack, the flame devil sorts through the pile of clothes folded neatly on top of the drawer resting against the wall. the pants are on first as the slightly damp hair falls on his shoulders and bare back.

after that damn pitch black devil had introduced it, holding some kind of bug-eyed tentacle creature in hands and thrown that thing on him to ‘have fun’ with after being left to deal with it on his own. its wiggling and slimy grip immediately stuck to ivlis like a parasite, leaving most of his body covered in weird, sticky substance that the creature produced. squirming through the open ends of his clothes to ravage every limb and crevice; it had been a nightmare getting that thing unstuck from around him.

a pair of fresh clothes was immediately in order after his bath, with a shudder, scrubbing skin nearly raw to no longer feel the ghosting of that thing’s wet grasp on him.

- : - : - : -

walking aimlessly around the flame castle with some leftover bread she’d stolen from the kitchen, yosafire’s heels clicking with each step she takes. she briefly wonders of the devil’s whereabouts, the latter never usually gone longer than a few hours when away from his world, but it’s been nearly an entire day at this point. the small demon stops in her tracks when she hears the sploshing of water, then rustling in one of the rooms next to her through the closed entrance. turning her gaze towards the source of it, she opens the door slightly ajar with her non-occupied hand; familiar red-scaled ones instead sorting through a pile of freshly-ironed clothes coming into view.

oh, speak (think) of the devil!

(yosafire smiles and almost holds back a laugh in her head.)

she can clearly see his hunched shoulders, occasional water droplets from the long hair dripping down his body and leaving a trail. while normally she’d be embarrassed to see someone half-nude in a rather compromising position, it’s another sight which forces her to come to a halt. she vaguely recalls seeing scars across his body, but most of the time they’re in shapes of small cuts. she might have seen the ones across his stomach (and on his back?) at some point, but either blocked it out from memory or just never cared enough to ask about them.

stuffing rest of the bread in her mouth and swallowing with a slight hiccup, before she can loudly slam the door closed after having satisfied her morbid curiosity, he’s already turned and seen her standing a few feet away, eyes meeting whilst in the middle of unfolding his black sweater.

“o-oh!” yosafire hiccups again, covering her mouth.

the corners of ivlis’ mouth twitch upwards ever so slightly at the sight of her looking like she’d been caught like some unruly child.

“oh, indeed, little one. what are you doing here?” he asks with a mildly peeved tone.

yosafire brings her hands down, tugging at the fabric and brushing off any crumbs lingering on her red sweater, in case there even were any.

“nothing! nothing at all, i was just, er, well...” she begins, but all that forms is just some spluttering.

he waits expectantly while she tries to think of something that doesn’t equate to her just being nosy despite it being exactly that, almost going with the having gotten lost in this humongous castle excuse, but her eyes momentarily get stuck on his form, mind thinking one thing while her mouth says another.

“um, where’d you get those scars from, mr. devil?”

the smirk on his lips is gone quickly as it came, then replaced with something akin to a sneer immediately after.

“well, aren’t you the prying type?”

before she can muster some kind of equally snarky response right back at him, ivlis speaks again.

“...believe it or not, gods and devils were never meant to naturally live in harmony with one another, there’s always some form of hostility that leaves lasting damage to one another. it isn’t so different from your god and devil either, is it?”

yosafire blinks, trying to follow, then furrows her brows at his implications.

“no! i mean… they… they really do love and are more close than anyone i’ve seen. if you actually saw and knew them, you would agree. so, clearly not all of them are exactly the same way, no matter whatever clash you and your god might have with eachother.”

ivlis almost scoffs at her naive worldview, unable to understand her ability to weed out the bad qualities of someone in hopes of maybe finding a spring of virtues hidden away in their rotting soul. he pulls the black sweater over his head, no longer giving her the change to inspect him and think up other nuanced inquires, not in such a way she normally would be forced to anyway.

he turns back to her.

“it wasn’t always like that way though, was it? a peaceful land built on corpses that you all so gleefully dance and run around on... it’s almost laughable, really.”

yosafire shakes her head on an instant, “whatever happened... that was in the past. i don’t care about that, what matters is the fact they agreed to put all of that behind them and start from a new page. it’s better than a never-ending destruction for the sake of nothing.”

ivlis steps a little closer to the doorway where she’s standing, looking up at him.

“ignoring the past in favor of idolizing the false facade they’ve created to surround yourself with… truly, isn’t ignorance bliss?”

“what are you talking about?”

he’s right in front of her now and it doesn’t escape his notice how she tries to stand tall against him, feet firmly planted against the ground, yet her stance crumbles and the slight hesitation when she takes a step back when he looms over her like flame threatening to burn down an entire field of flowers with only a single speck being all it takes says more than enough.

“you’ll understand some day… that is, if you would only choose to understand.”

ivlis eyes the maroon-colored hat placed conveniently over her other horn. he snatches the hat between fingers and lifts it from her head. a noise of surprise and she momentarily turns her head upwards, trying to snatch it back after realizing what just occurred, but he’s a little faster, hiding it behind his back.

“do say… how did you get your horn cut?”

the small demon furrows her brows again and growls, clearly not pleased in the slightest.

“give that back, mr. devil!” she demands, not taking eyes off of his arm.

his own question directed back at her about lasting injury is met with spite and he’s caught by mild surprise. he doesn’t resist either when she pushes against him to grab the hat and place it over the broken horn over her head, running off before another fight can take place. ivlis can’t bring himself to do anything but stand in place for another minute, mind beginning to ponder.

that defiance of hers is one of the things that makes her so interesting to him.

he’s the ruler of the flame underworld, able to strike fear and respect into all those who reside here under command. even if he did allow a little backtalk to some extend of his subordinates, not wanting to follow in the same footsteps of his god and expecting blind obedience without questioning anything; at the end of the day, they still recognized and obeyed him as their rightful lord.

not her though.

a rose among all the sunflowers across the field, red hue glowing against endless tinting of sunset; a frail teacup served specifically only for him to look at amid all else that belonged in a pile of valuables, sculpted to fit his desire.

yet a teacup that didn’t break upon having been thrown against the floor like it should have, a rose that didn’t let itself be bothered by its lonesome existence, surrounded by equals so different apart from it.

(still, he refuses to be swayed by her earlier words.)

- : - : - : -

the topic of past conflict and trauma has been forgotten and left to dust, at least, that’s what it appeared like to him at first.

a week later, having already removed his clothes and almost changed into his nightwear, but the mirror in front of him giving view of his naked chest makes him halt and observe his reflection, unable to ignore it. he almost grimaces in disgust, trying to nonchalantly walk past but his legs refuse to comply, stare locked on himself and it’s the shame within himself which he’s forced to repeat and live through in his head over and over.

“do your scars still hurt?”

ivlis turns to glance at yosafire momentarily from the other side of the bedroom, wondering if the grief on his expression was that blatantly obvious.

“why are you so curious about them? i already told you where i got them from.” the devil replies.

“only vaguely,” yosafire scoffs, inching further backwards into the pillows being used as backrest, “sorry for asking at all then.”

with the top half of his nightwear still in hand, he slowly goes to sit at the edge of the bed, elbows resting against knees and looking at the floor. the words don’t seem to come naturally, rather he pries them from the back of his throat, but his own wonder gets the best of him before he can force them back down.

“do you want to... find out for yourself?”

sitting up straight to see her more clearly staring back at him with a blank expression. when yosafire doesn’t answer, confused by his question, he tries again.

“i mean, do you... want to touch them?”

“uhmm...” yosafire fidgets, teeth sinking into bottom lip, clearly hesitant at the idea.

when he garners no visible reaction – with a quiet sigh – ivlis puts him arms inside the nightwear, on the verge of pulling it over his head, then he feels a shift on the bed and weigh on the mattress inching closer on her knees, until she’s sitting behind him, just barely visible from corner of amber eye.

he anticipates when he feels her fingers slowly trace across his body like constellations, ivlis bites his lip and clutches the sheets beneath, trying to keep steady and not emit a visible reaction. not slimy, not invasive, not with the intent to harm in any way that would make him want to recoil in disgust; rather a gentle feather-like touch that runs along the jagged lines where pale skin is scarred. it doesn’t hurt when not giving them any mind, pretending they don’t exist; it comes with a cost of ignoring one’s own pain, yet it’s become almost a second-nature for him.

when she accidentally presses her index finger too hard against skin, it feels like slight probing of his god’s light projectile on the verge of sinking into soft flesh like it’s nothing. he doesn’t like most touching him anywhere where clothes cover tainted skin for a reason.

a flinch and a grit of his teeth, yosafire looks at him momentarily, then draws her hand back.

for a moment, he doesn’t let her retreat and grabs her small hand in his (and imagines for a split second the gesture being nothing less than a small sign of affection, unable to recall the last time he shared this kind of intimacy with anyone, if at all ever).

he abstains and pushes her closed fist away instead, along with the credulous delusions floating in head. it’s quiet for a few minutes afterwards, the devil resembling a doll without life with the way he sits unmoving and silent.

“um… i don’t actually feel anything in my horn at all...” yosafire says, trying to break the ice, “i fell on my head while i was flying and it broke... that’s how it happened.”

(‘just a freak accident, huh.’ ivlis thinks to himself.)

he refuses to meet her gaze and she seems unusually quiet too, without a single sarcastic remark directed at him or generally poking her nose into where it shouldn’t be.

taking away and claiming something as his own prize from the gray world no longer feels like feeble victory on his end he comes to realize, rather a past reflection of whom he used to be.

she makes him think of the past and he hates it.