#and refused to acknowledge me being uncomfortable or upset at all. it was just fucking him and i didn't sleep well at all

[thebleedingeffect]

Okay sadly probably no writing for tonight the phil lore is making my brain spin so hard and I only have the mental capacity to play minecraft smh

[cupcraft]

And since im sick of seeing it. Calling out misogyny and understanding how misogyny as a system of power influences and rewards abuse is not "hating men cryptoterf bioessentialism" on principle. Please please pleasee stop. TERFs win when you narrow down their violent white supremacy and patriarchy as just "hating men", terfs win when you refuse to acknowledge the patriarchy as a system critically and how it rewards certain abusers, terfs win when you cannot see that misogyny does inform some abuse. Terfs win when you see bioessentialism as calling out misogyny and not what bioessentialism really is (which is why bioessentialism is so fucking horrific of a place to go down). TERFs win when you water down their arguments and refuse to engage with feminism at all.

TERFs are a group that reinforce white supremacist patriarchical systems and are not feminists. You being uncomfortable saying misogyny exists and can inform abuse is not the "fight against the terfs" you think it is. You must be able to dissect and talka bout misogynistic abuse and patriarchy and you cannot let terfs existing pull you away from that, because if you do they are winning their propaganda war.

We can live in a world where we critique terf talking points because they are in fact dangerous and violent and contribute to anti-trans violence and laws being on the rise. But we also need to NOT let terfs disallow us to speak up against misogyny (a system they happily reinforce, making it that much more important to engage in). Also seeing patriarchy as a social system does not equate bioessentialism, and please dont water that term down (because again, it is equally important we speak out against those dangerous arguments when they happen).

I say all of this because for the past two weeks i have seen discourse after discourse upset misogyny in MCYT is being called out by tumblr users, even fellow trans tumblr users, and whenever ccs come forward about it it is crickets to critiquing them like people are doing on here. Please get comfortable engaging with conversations about misogyny and how it intersects with the abuse allegations that have come out, Please get comfortable engaging with how misogyny has influenced normalizing abuse in these cc circles (as stated by multiple victims and witnesses). Please get comfortable because it is important you unpack it for the safety of victims.

And if you come out of this thinking "well i guess you're a terf who hates men" you have missed my point and this post is not about hating men it is about unpacking misogyny as it intersects with abuse in the cases that have come up in the past few weeks. If a terf sees this post please dont interact I do not want your bigoted bullshit staining this point at all.

You are free to add on and educate me on anything by the way. My anons are only off because of the harassment I had already gotten two weeks ago.

[the-final-sif]

I'm seeing people in the notes saying that Fit apologized, but I cant' find a source on that. Do you know if he did or not?

The clip that I have seen is not an apology. It's an attempt at an excuse, and one that doesn't even make sense. Here's the clip I've seen,

"So, um, apparently, on one of the previous streams, so, um remember the trib- uh, the mobs with the masks? I guess some people were upset by that. And I said something in like the previous stream that I remember from courage the cowardly dog when I was kid. So I just want you to know that it was a cartoon reference. I didn't mean any ill intent by it. You know what I'm saying. I'm not that kind of person. It was just a courage the cowardly dog reference. So I hope nobody felt uncomfortable from that."

I haven't seen if there's something specific that's he's claiming he was referencing, but the best guess I've seen is that from the intro there's a character that yells "ooga boga boga" while trying to scare courage.

Now, first and foremost, let's be clear, what FitMC said isn't an apology regardless of whether or not he was referencing courage the cowardly dog. He never said that he was sorry, or even that what he did was wrong and that he wouldn't do it again. He didn't acknowledge that it was racist at all. He made an excuse for himself. Regardless of what he was referencing, what he said was racist, gross, and he needs to apologize for it.

Now, that being said, his excuse doesn't even make sense. In the intro above, the character is yelling "ooga boga boga" to try to scare Courage. Much like how someone would yell "boo!". That's not what FitMC did at all. I'll add the original clip again for context.

(If the video isn't working, then to sum it up, the mob is making babble sounds, and Fit starts replying to it saying "ounga bunga, (see/si), yes, onga bunga" in a calm tone, pretending to talk to them, and then "see, I'm speaking their language, they've accepted me as part of the tribe." followed again by "onga bonga" while Bad doesn't acknowledge what he's saying. Bad then asks about the mobs spawn limits and walks past the mob, the clip ends.)

Fit isn't trying to scare someone. He's explicitly using "onga bunga" as a stand in for the mob's language. He literally fucking said that was what he was doing. His excuse also manages to completely ignore that he literally used the term "they've accepted me as part of the tribe". He knew what he was doing, and he's trying to pretend now that he didn't do it rather than take accountability for his actions like an adult.

So no, unless there's another clip out there, FitMC has not apologized for his actions. He hasn't even acknowledged that it was racist and that he shouldn't have said it. He made the claim that he was just referencing a cartoon, and that he hoped nobody was uncomfortable with him being incredibly racist towards native folks. Which isn't acceptable, it's not an apology, and native folk deserve so much fucking better than this bullshit.

At this point, given his failure to take responsibility for his actions, I would encourage people to start putting pressure on the QSMP to do something about this.

Possible options include:

Sending messages to Fit directly, pointing out that the did not actually apologize and that his actions were very racist towards native folk. Don't send threats or harassment, but be clear that his actions were unacceptable, that he needs to actually apologize for them. Not just make an excuse.

If Fit refuses to apologize or there's no acknowledgement, then the escalation would be putting public pressure on Quackity to remove him from the server based on his actions. Filling up FitMC/QSMP fanart tags on twitter with blacked out or patterned images, with descriptions demanding acknowledgement/change is going to probably be the strongest method for forcing content creators to pay attention.

Do NOT post gore/animal abuse/untagged mature images/etc, send harassment, send threats or anything of the sort. This is not an excuse to be cruel to other people. The goal here is for the racism at hand to be acknowledged, apologized for, and not repeated in the future. That is the goal.

I'll update this post if I can find any evidence of an actual apology or change.

[mxtxfanatic]

Jin Guangyao and Qin Su: A Lesson in Gaslighting

So this is one of my favorite scenes in the book on account of how absolutely unhinged it is. Jin Guangyao is someone who will go above and beyond in his commitment to the bit, using any and all means to maintain his web of lies. But his greatest weapon, by far, is his ability to gaslight via his expression and words. Upon his introduction as a character and not just conversation topic in the book, we are quickly given a confrontation between Jin Guangyao and his previously blissfully content wife, Qin Su in Chapt. 47 (exr). However, as the confrontation escalates, Jin Guangyao puts his gaslighting skills in action. When Qin Su confronts him about marrying her while knowing they are siblings, this is said:

Qin Su bursted out crying, “You’re lying! Things are already like this and you’re still lying to me—well I don’t believe it!”

Jin GuangYao sighed, “A-Su, you were the one who told me to say so. Now that I’ve said so, you refuse to believe me. This is indeed quite troubling.”

She’s made the villain by saying she doesn’t believe him. He is making her the villain by saying that he’s only telling her what “she wants” to hear, making her not believing him not because he is a career liar but because of some fault of hers. When she continues to disbelieve his lies, he pivots to telling her that her being upset is only a mind game, and that since they’ve lived so long “as husband and wife” there’s obviously no issue with the incest except what her mind makes of it, like incest isn’t a big fucking deal breaker????

Watching the ashes fall to the ground bit by bit, he spoke in a somewhat dejected tone, “A-Su, we’ve been husband and wife for so many years. We’ve always respected each other in peaceful harmony. As a husband, I’d like to think that I treat you well. The fact that you’re acting like this really hurts my feelings.”...

...Jin GuangYao, “A-Su, before you knew of it, didn’t we live perfectly fine? You only felt uncomfortable and began to vomit today, now that you know. We can see that this isn’t anything at all. It won’t be able to do any physical harm to you. Your mind is the only thing doing all this.”

And when that doesn’t work, he tries to appeal to her reputation:

Jin GuangYao, “If the person could tell you, then they can also tell other people. If they could write one letter, then they can also write a second, a third, a countless number of letters. What do you intend on doing? Allow such a thing to be leaked? A-Su, I’m begging you. Please, no matter for which feelings that have existed between us, tell me where the people mentioned in the letter are. Who was the one that told you to come back and read the letter?”

Notice that he is still attempting to appeal to her using their affection as spouses. He is refusing to acknowledge the truth of them being biological siblings so that he still has plausible deniability in case he can still convince Qin Su to believe his words over her secret informant. But this all hinges on whether or not he can weed out the informant to kill before the information becomes public, hence him subtly reminding her that if his reputation is damned for the information, hers will be too. But denying it doesn’t work, convincing her to overlook it doesn’t work, appealing to her former affections of him doesn’t work, so what’s next? Making himself the victim, of course!

A mourning warmth filled the eyes that Jin GuangYao looked at her with, “A-Su, back then, I really didn’t have another path to walk. I wanted to keep you in the dark for your whole life. I didn’t want you to know about this. Now, though, it’s been entirely ruined by the one who told you. You think that I’m dirty. You think that I’m disgusting. All of these are fine, but you’re my wife. How would others see you? How would they talk of you?”

And then we end back at a more direct appeal to reputation: “well if I’m disgusting, what will others think about you?” In an almost non-sequitur, Jin Guangyao returns to the topic of Jin Rusong, saying that the child “had to die” and subtly admitting that he likely–but always with plausible deniability–had something to do with his son-nephew’s death, causing Qin Su to slap him. Jin Guangyao immediately shuts down the conversation.

Jin GuangYao, “What are you talking about? You must be feeling quite unwell. Your father has already gone to journey and cultivate. I’ll send you off sometime soon as well, and you can enjoy being in your father’s company. Let’s finish this quickly. There’s still quite a number of guests outside. There’s still the Discussion Conference tomorrow.”

Deny, deflect, pretend that it is the other person who has lost their grip on reality, never directly admit to any accusation so that you have an out, and always, always maintain that genial smile. Poor Qin Su never stood a chance.

[cozza-frenzy]

Being a system can be hard sometimes and it's made a lot harder when singlets who are aware of our plurality just... refuse to engage with us on our terms. Like because this is a condition we can mask, we should mask around them. All the time. Because we make them uncomfortable. And I guess it's their right to feel uncomfortable when what they're seeing isn't "normal"? When the person in front of you suddenly changes voice, changes body language, there's an instinct in the back of your head that tells you they're being deceptive or manipulative. That there's something wrong with them. Ableism is one thing, but it's hard to fight against an instinct, and most people won't even acknowledge the existence of this one because they think only animals have instincts. But anyway; when singlets tell us to stop being so overt about it, whatever way they put it, they're always basically saying shit like this: "It would be so much easier on me if you didn't act like the person you really are, and instead just pretend to be (host), the one person in your system who I consider 'real' " "I'd like to ignore the fact that all of you exist and pretend that you're (host), so I'll just talk to you as if you're (host), because you're basically all the same person anyway" "You're mentally ill and being reminded of that makes me uncomfortable, so if you pretend to be (host) that means I don't have to think about it"

It must be nice to be able to ignore this. To be able to just walk away. To be able to ask us nicely just to make this one allowance for you, and then pretend that our disorder doesn't exist, because seeing us this way stresses you out too much. We don't get to do that. No matter how stressed or upset or aggressive someone in our system gets, we can't just walk away from them when it's inconvenient for us to deal with. We share a body and a brain. Things happen all the damn time without our conscious control, whether that's splits, flashbacks, even alters fusing together or going dormant can happen without anybody getting any warning. We're almost constantly stressed, because even with our system's high levels of communication and co-operation, we don't know when something will happen that will destabilize us for days or weeks at a time. It's one thing when strangers do this. It's one thing to mask in public spaces where being openly mentally ill might put us in danger. It's a whole other thing when people we thought cared about us pull this shit. Singlets be fucking normal about systems challenge, difficulty: impossible. - Terry

[incarnateirony]

You know, I'll be blunt. Since about October of 2022, Nothing Has Been Right For Me when it comes to Normal Living.

The majority of my readers never even noticed. Even when I outright talked about my blackouts at the time, my struggles, or Time Is Fake, I don't know if people really understood as much as acknowledged or maybe empathized.

While that was regular health oriented it was also being exacerbated, and the effect continued even after the nervous reset that came with the paralysis sweep. Other effects and stresses nearly had me remove myself from the gene pool when an ultimate valentines gift for the woman I adore turned into something ugly in my private Dominus area, and caused a blowout. And I can't forget being stunned when 'He' broke out in full to look at One Very Specific Person who later became hugely relevant to my life on winter solstice 2022, after the Samhain incident.

At that point, I felt nothing was safe. I experienced casual terfery and gangbanging for trying to show a woman she's special because everyone else got upset or uncomfortable or wasn't the focus of it, it had to be nitpicked, argued. And I looked outside Dominus, and all there was was haters, and I looked outside the server, and all there was was my abuser stalking me there and abroad and doing what she could to hurt me, and I looked at my body breaking, and my inability to even like, track time normally anymore, and I almost gave up guys, full stop.

My come to Myself As Disco Jesus moment came when those bullets broke in and I realized I still wanted to be here. You know, the day after last year's Thelemic readings ended.

Since then I've had to sort of remaster HOW I interact with the world. Time is fake but that's fine, you guys observe it. I have my own clock that integrates better to track things from my perspective. I actually have a nice little blog toolbar showing it now and have actually been posting about it.

Like there you go, there's the fucking time.

Anyway. A lot of this is just. It was compounded by a cocaine bear the entire time, whether or not I was cognizant of what was happening at the time, but it's also just kind of... part of the process of what I was doing at the time, that has put me in this bizarre ass position.

When I withdrew from fandom and made my series of confessional posts under #retirement confessions and #apollo's curveballs (many of which WILL hit you like curveballs if you check the tag now), like... I was trying to get rid of it all. The server had already been set up to run without me in my dark hour, but I still had to step away from it to be safe and myself, because again, my stalker, for example, has thoroughly infected the space.

And like... I put who I needed to do the work I needed in the places it needed done... I got what I wanted... it was just a waiting game... so I mostly walked out and reduced to coded videos and found a place I thought I could be safe from my abuser in, until she also chased me there to cause issues.

Like, I like keeping my hat on and trying to live a normal dude life. When I'm not letting my liver get eaten by vultures and vampires, I really like it here. I've realized that on a level most people never encounter before they're dying, because I've already had that moment in a hundred manifolds I witnessed, everything all at once.

But um, guys, once you dig to the level I did, and do works to the level I did, and undie like I did after surviving what's literally called the crossing of the abyss, without becoming a Black Brother or Dark Brother depending on the gnostic branch's phrasing. That puts me in a weird position. Ironically my stalker was literally and continues to literally keep evoking the Dark Brother aspect of me that Hermes warns of, and refuses to stop, which is what's caused a lot of my issues. But I've processed that. A few times now thanks to her.

But once you do that like, I don't know how to explain, there's no going back to normal. It's not about Sanity. I can stay perfectly grounded. It's not voices, or uncontrolled disassociation or anything, but quite literally the opposite, and yet. It's like.

Imagine if you became aware of a level where you understand that you sitting here is like, your personal adventure you get one shot at in this life, but you're also in the back holding the controller outside of the game matrix. Which is why I use game skin analogies so much.

Like, I know Who I Am in This Life, but I also know I Am living multiple lives, millions even in the modern. I know how to ping back to ping forward, I know how to find myself in the million voices, because I Am. I know how to make voices consider things internally even if they've never thought of it themeslves. I know how to use the blank spaces and the cracks between now, just like above.

And once you're like, sitting there, and can tab in outside the terrarium and have a talk with your cosmic higher self to have a talk with your other lower selves like. You can't... unperceive that.

But in the end, nobody even noticed until I exploded on my abuser, so I'd like to think I maintained an image of normalcy and muggledom fairly well for being one mask pull away from the mad hatter at all times. You don't just un-realize that you are the universe reborn, a reduced single life sprouted from the void, guided by the guide and the dissonance, himself embodied, one of millions, and those millions among other relived millions, and we're all one, and you can play in the soup. You can't fucking. Unrealize that.

Just like I can't unrealize what being an I Am means now, especially with the eyes I stole to end my suffering and all the passengers on a train built for this. I didn't sign up for this, really. Not like this. I just wanted to be free. Someone won't let me. We just want to be free.

And the worst thing about this perspective is knowing, deep down, this is still me only fighting with myself. That's the universal constant of the I Am. And thus strikes the dissonance of mercy and vengeance and confusion. But if someone insists on attaching to shadows in a modern life, then they will be reduced as one by conceding to an I Am in this life by their own choice. And so on. Sure, I'm fighting myself. So nuit has been claimed, and are one, and here comes hermaphroditus, I guess.

And so the stalker in question refuses to look at even their own surface this-life mortal actions to begin to unpack their own shadows, and call on mine again, and again, and again. If I don't end this this year, I'm probably gonna have to go through this all over again next, and next, and next, and so on, and like, I Am Not Doing This With Them The Rest Of This Life And The Next Ten. Absolutely fuckin not. That honestly goes for Janus while I watch him slowly lose the support of the public for his behavior. Which is very, very, painfully familiar. And reflective. Of both sides of this issue, really.

Like no fr I'm not kidding like I can perceive myself tapping on the fishbowl from outside, and I tap on a lot of aquariums, ok. That's why someone got messed up, they didn't understand the moral but heard the tapping and got confused on the who's who or what a magus path even means. No, sorry, that was literally me haunting me to try to make me become the best me. It's surprisingly often, it's just this particular life happened to be a future powerful magus bitchslapping someone through time so my personal message was louder and sometimes more visual than others. So someone got all fucked up. Hell, I was all fucked up about myself.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Flatline

Prompts: Hey soooo random thought but emotional flatlining happens when you experience an overdose in emotions and it gets to much. And i noticed you don’t have too much cannon Virgil angst so maybe after Virgil ducked out all the anxiety emotionally flatlined him. And to get everyone safely out he took their overwhelming emotions too, resulting in him flatlining. But he thought it was normal and that before he was just wrong and problematic. So he rolled with it even as he lost all feelings, instead replicating others reactions until he evolved into a ’light side’. I don’t care if the ending is happy or not. This kinda me projecting too, so if this triggers you please just ignore this! I know a lot of people can get uncomfortable with flattlining. Anywayyy you are amazing! Hope you have a wonderful day!:) - anon

Hi, I absolutely love your writing! If you want to, may I request some Virgil angst? Maybe something where he sees Janus and Remus growing more accepted and assumes they’re still mad at him for leaving so he closes himself off? - anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: emotional flatlining, panic attacks, anxiety attacks

Pairings: dlampr, can be platonic or romantic i literally don’t care

Word Count: 2535

Alright, look. It’s not like you get a fucking how-to manual when you become a Side, okay? You don’t get any helpful ‘here, this is what the fuck you’ll be responsible for, here’s what you do, here’s the fucking side effects from whatever you do.’ None of that. You get hurled into the deep end with cement shoes and eventually you might earn how to pry them off so you can fucking do the shit. 

Got it?

Great.

So, when Virgil’s chest explodes as soon as he makes the decision to duck out and fuck off, he thinks it’s normal. 

Sure, okay, maybe he collapses to the ground right next to his bed, huffing and panting as he rubs frantically at his chest. Maybe it decides he’s not going to have air anymore and he’s left gasping on the floor. Maybe he rubs harder to see if he can figure out what’s wrong. 

His hands press over his heart. 

Or at least where his heart is supposed to be. 

Under his fingertips, there is no movement. 

As if someone pressed a light switch, everything leaves him. The grief of losing the others, the relief of being back in his room, everything. He goes numb on the floor, limbs refusing to respond, only left with the aching lack of a heartbeat in his chest. 

He sits up. 

He stands. 

He goes to the bathroom. 

He takes a cup. 

He drinks a glass of water. 

He goes to the bed. 

He sits. 

Silence. 

It’s so quiet. 

There is nothing in his chest. It hurts. It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t hurt because it hurts and it hurts because it doesn’t hurt. He’s supposed to be hurting right now. And he is. 

But in order to grieve, you must acknowledge that you care and the heart of him is gone. 

In its place, the swirling mass of Anxiety buzzes uncomfortably against his ribs. Air wheezes in and out of him like some great fucking machine that doesn’t know how to do anything except breathe. He looks at his hands. 

They still move. He can still move, he’s still in his body, but it’s just…not responding. 

Fucking great. 

But as with everything that has happened to him over the course of being Anxiety, he just sighs and adds it to the list. 

Okay, he thinks as he lies slowly down on the bed, let’s figure out how to do this. 

As it turns out, he doesn’t get to figure out shit, because then three absolutely obnoxious assholes—plus Thomas—sink into his room. 

The wave of emotion that hits him reverberates like an echo in a void and everything hurts. Everyone is anxious now and the silence keeps growing louder and louder and louder—

Thomas is upset.

Virgil’s attention jerks sharply toward him and he takes a deep breath.

Not now. 

Then, well, he has to worry a bit too much about taking care of Thomas. Which means that he can’t exactly devote a lot of his brain power to, y’know, acknowledging what just happened, realizing that the others are there because they care about him too, or trying to wrap his head around the fact that he’s wanted. 

But then Thomas calms down, they all go back to the normal living room, and…he’s back. 

He’s back. 

He’s been accepted. He’s part of the main cast now. He’s—he’s being listened to. He’s allowed to be there in all his snarky and emo-y glory. 

And he can’t feel a damn thing. 

The heartbeat vanishes from his chest as if it was never there and he…he sinks back to his room and curls up on the bed. It’s quiet again and he closes his eyes, absentmindedly rubbing his cheek against the pillow to make some noise. 

It must be the fact that he’s Anxiety. He’s not built to feel all the soft sappy shit the Light Sides do, he’s just supposed to be all the doom and gloom stuff. So when he tries it doesn’t work. That’s fine. He can…he can work with that. 

He rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling. 

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, willing something into existence. When he feels the weight of it in his hand, he looks down, lifting it up and holding it so he can see its green light. 

An emotional heart monitor. 

Starting in the morning, he attaches it to his chest and shoves it in his pocket. The hidden one, not the obvious ones in the front of his hoodie. Thank god he wears baggy clothes. Every time he thinks it’s about to get sappy or sweet, he pulls it out and checks. If he’s too close to flatlining, he withdraws, claiming the bathroom or something and resettling himself. Sometimes it sneaks up on him and he’s left numb until the shrill beeping stops and he can go back to normal—it’s hooked up to his earbud, he’s not as much of an idiot as to have it make noise out loud. That would make the others worry about him which is counterintuitive. 

He’s gonna be fine. He just has to, y’know, fake like he’s doing what the others are doing and keep an eye on it. 

It’s fine. 

It’s gonna be fine. 

Then fucking Deceit shows up and it’s not fine. 

It’s not fine because the slippery snake knows things about Virgil and if he’s flatlining and Deceit notices…

It’s fine. Everything’s fine. Everything’s going to be fine.

And strangely enough? Everything is fine because everything isn’t fine. 

Thomas is stressed out and everyone is losing their goddamn minds over this wedding/audition shit and Virgil doesn’t have enough time between being anxious and snarking at everyone else to think about how he cares or how much he’s enjoying things. Which means he won’t flatline. 

Which means he isn’t being as hyperaware of Deceit as he should be. 

Which means when Remus shows up, he panics. 

Because goddamnit, even though Remus can be the worst and he’s the reason that Virgil panics as much as he does—or at least, used to—he fucking misses him. 

And then of course Logan decides to be fucking brilliant and Virgil wants to be proud and fond and—shut up, he does—and he can’t fucking do any of that because he has to keep an eye on his emotional heart monitor. Because now is not a good time to flatline while Remus is here because Remus will fucking notice. 

Luckily, he’s able to draw on the well of—heh—anxiety over telling Thomas that he used to be a Dark Side and staves off the worst of the flatlining. 

Unluckily, he’s so preoccupied with trying to keep one eye on Thomas and the other on the emotional heart monitor that he forgets that Remus is right next to him. 

So that’s how he ended up here, with all of them staring at him like he’s some fucking kicked puppy they found on the side of the road. 

“Oh, kiddo,” Patton murmurs, “why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“Uh, what the f—what was I supposed to say?”

“That you were going through a hard time? That you wanted support?” Patton wrings his hands. “I don’t know, something, kiddo, I just—I’m so sorry, I would’ve helped if I knew.”

Virgil frowns. “With what?”

Remus snarls. Virgil jerks. 

“Why are they here again?”

“‘They,’” Janus says primly—oh yeah, Janus is back to being Janus now— “are here because we’re the ones who’ve known you for longer, Virgil, and so I can tell when you’re lying.”

“Literally I did not lie once for that entire thing.”

Janus just looks at him, face unreadable. Remus is still glaring daggers into the carpet. 

“…why’re you so upset?”

“Because you’re emotionally flatlining,” Remus growls, “and it’s not normal or a good thing and you didn’t tell us.”

“What was I supposed to say? ‘Hi, I’m incapable of feeling positive emotions and when I feel too much I can’t feel anything?’”

“Yeah! For a start!”

“Don’t yell at him, Remus,” Logan says softly, “it’s not our place to do that.”

Remus grumbles but clutches his Morningstar. “Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s fine, I just…” 

Virgil sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. 

“Look, I know this sounds bad, but I’m Anxiety. I—I’m not built to feel all the good stuff, okay? That’s it. I found my own way to do it.”

Janus’s tongue flicks into the air and he hisses. 

“I’m not lying!”

“You believe what you’re saying is true,” Janus says in that stupid soft voice that always helps him calm down even when he really doesn’t want to, “but it isn’t.”

“He’s right, Virgil,” Logan says, also in a stupid soft voice what the fuck is going on— “emotional flatlining is not supposed to happen to you. It is also known as anhedonia, a condition caused by a shortage of dopamine in your brain.”

“…did you just find a scientific way to call me an emo?” Virgil reaches out and kicks Roman’s foot. “Princey, you hearing this?”

Roman doesn’t respond as he should—that is, with a quip or an insult that Virgil can parry and they’ll all go back to normal. Instead, he shakes his head. 

“Virgil, when was the first time this happened?”

He frowns. “When I ducked out.”

A look of absolute horror crosses Roman’s face. “You—it made you—ducking out made you that happy?”

“What? No, no, it was—“ he scrubs a hand across his face— “I dunno, it was…a mix of stuff?”

“You can’t process grief if you can’t care,” Patton says quietly, “and if you…if caring wasn’t working…”

Virgil nods, his ears starting to burn. “Why’re we talking about this, anyway? I thought we were supposed to do movie night tonight.”

“We can still do movie night,” Logan says, “but we…well, I wanted to talk to you about the emotional heart monitor Remus saw.”

Virgil’s head jerks up and he glares at Remus. Remus glares right back. “You can’t stop me from worrying about you.”

“I know I can’t, but I can’t worry about you back!”

Oh. 

Oh. 

Oh, no. 

“I—I mean—“

“Virgil,” Logan says in that stupid fucking soft voice he’s gonna break something—“I didn’t mean to violate your privacy. Or upset you like this. I was simply worried and wanted to ask you about it.”

“So why’d you do it in front of everybody?”

“Because you’re really good at running away,” Patton says with the slightest hint of apology in his voice, “and…”

“We don’t want you to run away.”

Why the fuck did Janus have to be the one to say that? 

Virgil closes his eyes tightly and the emotional heart monitor creaks worryingly in his grip. He’s not going to cry about this. He’s not. 

“Hey,” someone whispers as warm hands rest on his shoulders, “hey, Virgil, look at me.”

He shakes his head. 

“Come on, kiddo, it’s okay. You can do it.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Okay. You don’t have to look. But can you listen?”

“Fine.”

“This isn’t normal. This isn’t something you have to deal with. You aren’t ‘built to feel nothing,’ as you put it, you can…” Patton takes a deep breath. “It’s okay if it isn’t okay, is what I’m trying to get at.”

It’s okay if it isn’t okay. It’s okay if it isn’t okay. 

It isn’t okay. 

It’s not okay. 

It’s not—

He’s not okay. 

Patton does remarkably well when Virgil starts blubbering into his shoulder. He puts his arms lightly around Virgil’s shoulders and hushes him, rocking him slightly back and forth. After a moment, there’s a shuffling in the room and the others come closer, curled in a half-circle around the two of them. A pair of gloved hands gently ease his grip on the emotional heart monitor and replace them with another hand, squeezing tenderly. Another hand tugs at the string on his hoodie to get it to stop cutting off his breathing. 

They’re all being so tender and kind and thoughtful and he—he—

“Oh, shit,” he hears Remus curse as the emotional heart monitor begins to beep, “what do we do?”

“Virgil,” he hears Logan call softly, “would it be alright if we hugged you?”

“Isn’t that just going to overwhelm him?”

“Physical touch can decrease anhedonia symptoms by creating oxytocin,” Logan says, “oxytocin also decreases cortisol levels. And since high cortisol levels produce symptoms of depression and anhedonia, lowering cortisol levels will also decrease those symptoms.”

Virgil just reaches out blindly and grabs for whoever’s closest. 

“That’s my shoulder,” Roman chuckles, quickly moving Virgil’s hand to somewhere more comfortable as he wraps his arms around his waist, “there, is that alright?”

Virgil nods, still trying to remember how to breathe properly. One by one, the others press in close, Janus’s hand carding through his hair, his left side propped up against Logan, his right against Remus. Patton keeps a hold of him throughout, shushing particularly pained cries with gentle whispers. 

He doesn’t have to deal with this. This can go away. He can…he can fix this. He can get better. He can—he can—

He can care about being happy again. 

“Yes,” Logan whispers as Virgil mumbles as much into Patton’s shoulder, “yes, Virgil, it’ll be okay. We can help you.”

“You c-care?”

“Yes, little one, we care.”

“Caring is hard.”

Roman chuckles. “Yes, it can be, can’t it.”

“I’ll say,” Remus mutters. 

“But we can learn how to get better at it together,” Patton says firmly, giving Virgil a squeeze. “And I’m sure movie night is a good place to start, hmm?”

“Building meaningful relationships with others is an effective way of coping,” Logan agrees, “and spending time together will help. If that’s alright with you?”

Virgil nods, leaning to awkwardly bump his head against Logan’s. “Wha’re we watching?”

“Is there anything in particular you’d like to watch?”

“…Nightmare Before Christmas?”

“Then that is what it shall be.”

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If you want to be added/taken off the taglist, let me know!

[dimonds456]

.

i just wanna feel okay. i just wanna move on. i just wanna be able to go a fucking month without thinking about her. all her memory does is give me massive anxiety, and fear, and dread, and i never realize it's coming from her memory until something triggers it again.

i fucking hate this. i know i have ptsd. i have SOME form of it. idk of it's the normal one or c-ptsd or some secret third thing but i'm not exaggerating, and i'm not faking it, and i'm just so fucking tired of fighting it.

it's not even about her. last summer, i almost died. i straight-up barely made it through. and my illness has been affecting me since middle school. my first experience with seeing stars was caused by my thyroid fucking up. my heart rate has been over 200 several times. i don't know how i haven't had a fucking heart attack and keeled over yet.

it's bound to happen. but also not. we're not tied down by fate, there's no such thing. self-fulfilling prophecies yes, and butterfly's wings flap and suddenly you're on the run from the law, yes. but it's not fate, it's an intricate web of cause and effect to get you there.

what caused this in me?

no one fucking knows. i'm tired, and i'm queer, and i'm disabled, but able-passing, and i'm hurt, and traumatized, and guilty of so many things no other living soul knows about, and i'm struggling with religion again and hating myself for it, and i just want to feel okay.

i just want a day where i don't have graves. a day where i can run as fast as i want, and a day where i won't fall over for it, and a day where i can lay on my stomach and pick grass in a field where it's warm or even hot but i'm not uncomfortable, or i want to be able to play tag with my brother, or just go a single fucking day where nothing matters and i can just.... exist.

i want to be alive.

i can't see my future. i can't see where i'll be in ten years. i spent last summer wondering if i'd see 2023. i'm here, and i made it to my 20's (something i didn't think was possible when i was 14), so now, i just gotta get to my 30's, right? but... there's so much shit going on. where will i be at 30? is it even worth thinking about? surely, yes, since the future is important, but... i can't see it. i can't see it, and if i can, the only reliable thing i see is loneliness. i'm always alone, sitting on a couch, touch-starved, watching tv and not even drawing. my hand got fucked up somewhere along the way, cuz of course it was, and i can't do anything.

they say that dreams are a reflection of the subconscious. that whatever reality we don't want to face, it comes out in dreams. but if that's true, why does she keep haunting them? is she in my future?

i want to be alive. i am alive. alive, i tell you.

.....but for how long?

it feels like i'm waiting for a clock to count down, that the people who say that we only breathe a certain number of times in our lives are right and my limit's almost up. i'm going to fall asleep, and not wake up, and no one will even notice for a few days because i'm already a hermit who prefers staying inside because the sun makes me feel awful and even when i'm inside that's when i get eaten alive by just, everything.

i got this far in life by being positive. i can continue to do that. but, my positivity has also blinded me to the bad before, and pretty much every relationship i've ever had has turned sour in some way because i refused to acknowledge a person's faults or express when i was uncomfortable until i couldn't stand it anymore. i wanna lay boundaries, but not upset people. i wanna hold a friendship for more than two years without it rotting away like an old maple leaf downed in acid. i hate thinking about my past, but i also love talking about it because i always think that imparting my bad experiences will help people somehow, even if it hurts me to think about it, but i should think about it, otherwise it'll fester and come out later.

i need therapy, but i can't get it. i'm alone.

i'm alone in my head. i'm alone in this room. i'm alone in this city. i'm alone in my pain, and my struggles, and i'm alone in my life. i feel like i attract bad people and hurt the good ones. i can't maintain a good friendship unless it's online. i'm going to be all alone, by myself, with no one to really reach to when my body finally fails me and i'm left to thrash around by myself.

i need to go to bed.

[troglobite]

asldkjfs

haha guess today isn't a day where i can talk to or hang out with my mom!!!!

my stupid fucking laptop fell off my bed and broke its own charger--AGAIN.

this time it BENT THE FUCKING PRONGS ON THE ACTUAL CHARGER.

and i'm tired, on my period, and uncomfortable and crabby.

so i go out to complain to my mom and ask for help

she immediately says do you want to look for a new charger

the thing is I'VE ALREADY DONE THAT BEFORE

i spent DAYS looking for a charger for my stupid piece of shit macbook pro that is 1. compatible 2. lasts forever 3. doesn't randomly start fires

and i decided

this is too much money and not worth the pain in the ass

i'll just get another fucking apple charger. this one lasted fine, it's whatever.

except it gets here and it REEKS OF GASOLINE as MANY apple products have since fucking 2016!

i clean and clean and clean it to get rid of the smell and it NEVER GOES AWAY so we have to fucking return it

so she asks me

do i wanna look for another charger

no, i don't

i spent all that time and money on it before only to keep using the charger that was already "broken" anyway all this time

it's slightly more broken now but will still be functional

so no, i DON'T want to look for a charger when i am TIRED, CRABBY, ON MY PERIOD, AND DEEPLY PHYSICALLY UNCOMFORTABLE

but me expressing that? as best i can when i am TIRED AND HAVING DIFFICULTY WITH WORDS?

well apparently that's me "discounting everything she says"

so i try to fucking talk to her as she uses tools to straighten out the prong on the charger

and she just ignores me

she won't say ANYTHING

SHE FUCKING IGNORES ME THE WHOLE FUCKING TIME NO MATTER WHAT I SAY

so i go to the bathroom and avoid HER

and it's fine, it's mostly straight now, it works

so i have to fucking text her to ask if she's mad at me for breaking the fucking charger

no, she says, "you just discount everything i say so i just have to keep my mouth shut"

WHICH IS WHAT SHE DOES WHENEVER SHE'S MAD AT SOMETHING FUCKING ELSE AND NOT ME BUT DECIDES TO TAKE IT OUT ON ME FOR EXISTING AND BEING UPSET ABOUT SOMETHING

so i explain to her, IN DETAIL, why me being IRRITATED AND DISAGREEING WITH HER ONE FUCKING QUESTION ABOUT LOOKING FOR A NEW CHARGER IS NOT THE SAME AS DISCOUNTING EVERYTHING SHE FUCKING SAYS

and she doesn't respond. at all. nothing. she won't talk to me.

so it's just going to be one of those days and i'm fucking sick of her refusing to acknowledge when she's in a bad fucking mood and taking it out on me

i recognize it's not fun to have our first interaction of the day be me walking out and pissed off abt my stupid piece of shit laptop and its stupid fucking piece of shit twice broken charger

but FUCKING CHRIST

ME GETTING VAGUELY FRUSTRATED AND HAVING DIFFICULTY USING WORDS TO EXPLAIN WHY HER ONE QUESTION/SUGGESTION ISN'T SUPER HELPFUL RIGHT NOW IS NOT THE SAME AS DISCOUNTING EVERYTHING SHE FUCKING SAYS

i'm so fucking tired and exhausted of this shit

it's unpredictable and annoying and she NEVER TAKES RESPONSIBILITY FOR ANY OF IT!!!! NEVER!!!!!

SHE NEVER FUCKING ACCEPTS THAT SHE'S JUST IN A BAD MOOD OR DOESN'T WANT TO DEAL WITH ME

AND INSTEAD OF SAYING THAT AND JUST BEING LIKE "SORRY I'M NOT IN THE MOOD SO I DON'T FEEL LIKE TALKING ABOUT ANYTHING, I'M ALSO MAD BUT ABOUT OTHER STUFF"

SHE JUST FUCKING TAKES IT OUT ON ME AND ACTS LIKE IT'S ENTIRELY MY FUCKING FAULT AND THAT I AM SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR HER SHITTY MOODS AND MEAN BEHAVIOR

literally the SECOND she's in a bad mood, i become An Evil Dictator Who Doesn't Let Her Do Anything or Listen To Her At All

and i'm so fucking tired of this shit

like it HURTS to be accused of that garbage WHEN IT'S NOT FUCKING TRUE

when my DAD is the one who would do that shit NOT ME

and HE ALSO DID IT TO ME

it's just always there lurking under the fucking surface, that she thinks i am my dad bc i'm disabled and need help, and bc of her own fucked up shit and trauma that she refuses to even LOOK at, she thinks that makes me an evil person bc SHE automatically does shit in response to someone being upset abt ANYTHING.

that's not my fucking responsibility and i'm FUCKING TIRED of having to be the one to DEAL WITH THE CONSEQUENCEDBFHJG,CNFMN,XHLJ,BXHKMRES

but noooooooo fuck looking at counselors for us to talk to

we're not going to do that until possibly may

if it ever even fucking happens!!!! HAHAHDLK JFACHDLIUAHIUWJZ

[bandaidcrybaby]

Hi! I don't use this blog!

In fact, it took me 20 minutes to even figure out how to log in! I only remembered it's existance because some bot sent me an ask and it pinged the email I have to use for medical stuff- but i'll give the like. 6 people here, plus anyone who's scrolling through the blog for archival reasons, a quick update on myself and my life, because boy! was i wrong! and being told incorrect information!

So a lot of posts on here are tagged schizophrenia - a diagnosis that several of my doctors very well believed I had. Turns out, if you have been severely and repetitively traumatized for most of your childhood, your brain kinda. puts up walls and is functionally completely disconnected. and when you're a teenager and your brain is supposed to be growing neural connections between itself as it takes on its final leg of the growing journey, if there's Walls in the Way, it results in a degree of weird faux-hallucinations and outrageously unreal beliefs, the latter mostly from you trying to come to a rational conclusion for why you get told weird uncomfortable stories about yourself and are wildly unsure what the fuck they did to you in the hospital to fuck your memory like this. And the answer is nothing, you were in there for 3 days and just cried the whole time, the reason youre missing three weeks is, well. because you have DID. And apparently my therapist had been suspecting this since I was referred to him in the first place, since I was way too lucid and with it to actually be schizophrenic, but my former psych is also his bestie and had told him straight up "oh yeah, I know they were a conflict of interest, but. Its not every day you hear about the kinds of things this kid goes through, find out theyre true, but they only remember some of them at wildly different times, and then get to see DID form before your very eyes." and so on 2/22/22 I was handed my official paperwork because my team was like "i think we need to address some things." and uh. Yeah it came like a wet fish to the face. Turns out Antipsychs were causing half my balance and mood problems AND didnt get rid of the hallucinations because oops, thats not how that kind of 'hallucinating' works! that's the rest of your brain screaming for help! I don't really. publically say much about the kinds of problems my other parts cause for me. its not anyone elses business! you don't need to know! because all of me is Winnie! Regardless of how I choose to spell that or shorten it at any given time! (which is also not a parts thing, thats just a 'my name is hardly as important to me over who i am as a person' thing.) and yeah, I do have to own up to Dumb Shit(tm) the my other parts do regardless of the fact of if I remember doing it or not, because at the end of the day, I, as a singular human being, still did that thing!! I've kinda had to learn what's wrong and right, appropriate and innapropriate, and attone for such. People get very upset with me for referring to my parts as just that-parts. Lots of folk think that I should be calling them "alters", but that simply doesnt fit, for me. It makes the parts of me that are very clearly broken feel more separate, more defined-- which is the exact opposite of what I want. I WANT to be NORMAL. This disease is life ruining. I'm spending most of my adult life being up the shattered pottery that is my childhood- I don't want to be defined as pieces of a broken vase. I am defined as the Vase itself, wether or not you like the kintsugi is a You Problem. this is not your illness; (nor your version of the illness, if you, too, have it, as no two 'vases' break the same.) I personally refuse to not acknowledge the whole vase on any person who does have it. you dont throw away any pieces. that's not how this works. your arent 4 separate people jsut because you dont want to be associated with yourself. you break and mend and break and mend and cry and scream and accept and forgive and hurt and forgive again and become whole. To do anything else rejects your function as exactly what you are- perfectly human, an animal with neatly clipped claws and blunt teeth and marked skin and stands upright on its hind legs, defined only by its ability to create a taxonic system that cleanly defines it and then outwardly reject that very same label.

tumblr has a character limit, part 2 soon.

[waitaminuteashh]

cw: personal, islamophobia, shitty people

honestly so confused about how a guy friend of mine is "shocked" that i told him not to contact me from now on. the same guy who kept making "not all men" jokes when listening to women talk about how they've been harassed. the same guy who talks about hating feminine and "over-the-top" queer people but is queer himself. the same guy friend who asked me "so you're muslim like the Taliban?" after he asked me what my religion is.

the same guy friend that doesn't view flirting and texting other women behind his girlfriend's back is cheating cos "we aren't having sex though". the same guy friend who said "but doesn't Palestine hate LGBTQ people" in response to a conversation talking about genocide. (basically saying it's okay to commit genocide if the country doesn't have "gay rights". but his home country also doesn't have "gay rights...)

the same guy friend who got so aggressively upset when we talked about how the French have committed atrocities, because "my step-dad is French and not all French people are bad" (no one said all French people are bad). the same guy friend who responds with "but i don't know these things🥺😣" when confronted with the fact that he's so ignorant about humanitarian issues (even though we're both studying social work????). the same guy friend that is from Southeast asia (like me), but still feels the need to defend the very countries that oppress asia.

idk what the fuck isn't clicking in his head. at first i thought i'd try to ride this out and help him understand what's going on, but it's not just ignorance anymore. he refuses to acknowledge his own privilege in being able to just turn a blind eye to the suffering of others, because "it's not happening where i am🥺"

(probably not as bad as the others, but also the same guy who called me mommy multiple times after i said it makes me uncomfortable and i would like him to stop. he only stopped when my girlfriend intervened.)

[incessantwhine]

fkn raging cuz ik nobody is perfect all the time & everyone’s got their stories but

the only person i ever talk abt on here is like head over heels for this other person that i do not fkn trust or particularly like at ALL

and that’s fine like no one needs my seal of approval that’s not the point

it just seems like this other person like. does shit all the time that’s vaguely upsetting & refuses to acknowledge they’re also “in love” in any meaningful way. they’re like the king of doing sweet things & then immediately downplaying it or brushing it off as friends

and that would probably be fine too if she wasn’t goofy in love w/ them. it just. idk. ik im being too harsh and don’t understand their specific situation but fuck

it just seems like they’re breadcrumbing. maybe not on purpose but it’s hurtful regardless. and unintentionally taking advantage of the situation where she’ll put up w it cuz she’s so in love & the sex is bomb or w/e. like this person is not….idk

you can have all the love and support in the world but it’s still gonna hurt. and it seems like it does!! every relationship is Work for sure but it just seems like she’s doing a disproportionate amt of it while this other person can just be flighty and kinda dismissive

which. by the way is SO stupid. they don’t even know how lucky they are and if they do they don’t show it. cuz if I were them id be SO pumped and like. working a lot harder to overcome SOME of my own shit that was getting in the way of my ability to make my friend feel loved and special and appreciated. or at least TRY.

i like. Cant do anything besides gently express concern cause there’s such strong feelings it’s gonna go in one ear and out the other. and if i said any of this I think it would be received poorly and at minimum it would be “well im never gonna talk abt x again”. and at the end of my day it’s not my place. but BOY is it hard to watch

i want things to work out and I want her trust to not be misplaced but im worried this exercise in patience is not going to be super rewarding compared to the amt of pain it seems to cause. we were just talking about how she’s had like a long history of letting ppl not rly treat her right or well and how its a really common thing for neurodivergent ppl to put up with shitty behavior cuz they don’t even realize how shitty it is until after. and this is like…embodying that very well actually

and just from a personal petty standpoint like i rly don’t fkn get it. i don’t get what they have (other than an inability to be vulnerable without immediately trying to take it back) that’s like. sooooo fucking special. other than being rly good in bed. which, fine, fair point. they look like every other white skinny queer person ambiguously gendered person ive ever seen. sniffing around their social media they just seem….annoying. it doesn’t help that the only time I hear abt this person is in the context of “they made me feel weird/uncomfortable/upset” but it like. rly makes me hate them more and more. i beat it back with a stick and am understanding and mindful that idk the full picture but honestly? every time lately I’ve tried to approach something/someone with an open mind, I’ve been slapped in the face with oodles of proof of “your weird feeling was right!” sooo.

i dont have to know their tragic backstory to know they could do better. really. and she deserves better as well.

i have plenty of not fun things that make it hard for me to be like “I love you and I want to show up for you” but when you ACTUALLY truly madly deeply love someone you try. at the very least you don’t purposefully go out of ur way to be inconsistent.

and I’m fucking sick of biting my tongue about it. i will in the name of boundaries and letting ppl make their own mistakes but. it’s so stupid. i wish i could just say “I think this person is dicking you around and i dont like them and it scares me cuz it sets a bad precedent in terms of how much pain you’ll endure for love that im not sure is there in all the ways you want it to be” without it being a Thing. but that’s not what she needs rn. and so i won’t (:

see? see how easy it is to adjust based on what ppl you love need? i do it ALL THE TIME. EVEN WHEN IT GOES AGAINST MY EXTREMELY INSANE PROTECTIVE AND OPINIONATED AND “HATER FIRST” INSTINCTS AND TAKES LUDICROUS AMOUNTS OF SELF CONTROL.

god lmfao I hate them sm :)

[alycosworld]

Tainted

Scaramouche X Reader

WARNING: mentions of (nearly) sexual assault

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A/N: I seem to have more angst/comfort ideas for genshin but I'm not sure why...also, I'm on holiday in a foreign country! I have no work and I'll probably spend all my nights on Tumblr after exploring the city in the day, so please please please send in some requests! I'm bored and although they might take some time, they might help me get back into writing more regularly. I'm pretty sure this is gender neutral but if I made a mistake, feel free to tell me. This has NOT been checked for any errors (I'll get around to it at some point).

I'm not sure if Scaramouche is ooc, since he doesn't say anything that nice in the game or in any official works, but I definitely think he has the capacity for it. And I like soft Scar <3.

If at any point you feel uncomfortable, PLEASE DO NOT READ ON. I felt a little icky after writing the assault bit so do not force yourself to read any further or read at all. I do not want to make anyone reading this unhappy. Any victims of sexual assault or harassment, I hope you heal

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Keep walking. Just keep walking. Get home as fast as possible.

Avoid dark spots, avoid all people, avoid secluded areas. Just get home now.

That's what you told yourself after it happened. Archons, you didn't even know how you should feel. Ashamed? Angry? Disgusted? Upset? Confused? Afraid? The amalgamation of these emotions just made everything worse. You felt sick to your stomach. You wanted to cry and scream and vomit and disappear all at the same time.

You felt like you were covered in grime and you don't even know how you managed to get away. You should've done something, anything! But in the moment, you couldn't.

Your day had started normally. You went to the Adventurer's Guild in Inazuma, doing your commissions and taking up a few extra quests to help people out. Even though you were walking home later than normal, you didn't think much of it. Until somehow, you lost your way. In the dark, things became a little more vague and confusing, so you ended up taking a left and ending up in a dark alleyway between two dimly lit buildings.

You walked through, lost in your own thoughts, until you heard some chuckling and some incoherent remarks made by someone exiting one of the buildings out a back door and into the alleyway.

Glancing up, you saw that the person was a man - quite tall and well built with flushed cheeks: he was clearly not sober. You paid him no mind, staring at the ground as you continue to walk, determined to get home to see your boyfriend, Scaramouche. Though he wasn't one to worry, knowing that you could handle yourself, you did want to see him as soon as possible.

"Well, what do we have here?" The man asked, and you looked up at him again, tilting your head in confusion but staying silent.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing out here all alone?" He asked, a suspicious smirk on his face.

"I'm going home." You said firmly, not wanting to give him any ideas.

"Oh? A handsome young thing like you, going home all by themselves? Let me walk you, I promise I don't bite." He continued, clearly not getting the hint.

"I'm alright, but thank you for the off--"

"Stop being such a fucking tease! Wearing an outfit like that, you're begging for it." He pinned you against the wall despite your attempt to politely refuse any moves he tried to make. He caught your arms above your head and harshly shoved one of his legs between yours.

"Don't like to me, hon, you know you want this." He whispered huskily. You had fought countless hilichurls, abyss mages and monsters far more intimidating and dangerous than that man that day, but you couldn't seem to move. All you could manage was a fearful 'please, don't do this'. Struggling was futile, for some reason you couldn't escape his grasp. You had fought beasts ten times this man's size but violating you like this? It made you break.

He gripped you harshly and even managed to kiss your neck a couple times, making the tears stream down your face uncontrollably, until he heard some voices. You recognised them immediately: members of the Adventurer's Guild. He must be known it too because he stopped as soon as he heard, offering you a sickening grin and scuttling away before you could react.

"We'll finish this some other time, sweetheart. I promise."

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You didn't get any help from the Adventurer's Guild members who you heard, instead opting to rush home as soon as possible, trying to figure out what to do next.

The only solution in your mind was to crawl into your lover's arms and tell him what had happened. You didn't want anyone else to know - you know you could trust Scaramouche and you knew he would help you.

But he didn't.

You got home and wiped your tears before entering the house, hoping to look somewhat presentable despite having experienced such an impactful event. You dropped your belongings carelessly, not flinging at the loud sound they made as they hit the floor. You immediately made your way to the guest room Scaramouche had turned into an office of sorts, for him to work on Fatui business. The bedroom door was open and empty and he was nowhere to be found on the first floor, so that was the only other place he could've been. You were relieved to see him sitting at the desk, deep in thought with some maps and other sheets of paper laid out in front of him.

"Scar, I--"

"Not now, (Y/N), I'm busy." He said hot even bothering to look up at your frazzled and shattered state.

"I know but, please, Scar. While I was--"

"If you know that I'm busy, why enter in the first place? I'm working. Leave me alone." He said harshly. You didn't say anything, instead opting to nod silently and close the door. Since this was the first time you had experienced this pain and discomfort from being touched and defiled in such a way, you decided that maybe you should put it aside. After all, maybe it was something so jarring. Maybe it didn't matter. Maybe Scaramouche's nonchalance was justified. In a twisted way, you blamed yourself for overreacting and decided to just forget about the incident. If it didn't mean enough for Scaramouche to even look at you, it clearly wasn't something worth fretting over. You were just exaggerating, right?

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈❀┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You tried you absolute hardest not to let the incident bother you, but you unknowingly started changing your habits to prevent what had occurred from happening to you again.

"Wearing an outfit like that, you're begging for it..."

You started wearing less revealing clothing, going as far as wearing gloves at some point and covering your neck with collars and scarves through the hot weather.

"We'll finish this some other time, sweetheart. I promise."

Initially, you just avoided dark or secluded places, even when you were with other people, but eventually, you were too scared to leave home at all. You didn't leave the confines of your small garden and if someone passed by, you would quickly hide yourself away. When Scaramouche had unknown guests and colleagues over, you would hide in your bedroom and make him promise not to mention you or acknowledge your existence in the slightest.

You even started taking longer showers and refused to bathe with Scaramouche, confusing him since you used to enjoy it so much. But you wouldn't let him see you in such a vulnerable state now that you were contaminated. You didn't want him to know that you had been tarnished in such a vulgar way, and you spent long moments scrubbing at the parts the stranger had touched. You were worried that Scaramouche would blame you for being assaulted - because in a sick way you thought it was your fault, despite having been nothing wrong. You had twisted the story in your mind to make it seem like you were responsible for the crime committed against you.

Eventually, Childe had to visit for business purposes, but you had become good friends with the eleventh Fatui Harbinger since he was friends with-- well, he and Scaramouche had a relationship, to say the least.

"So where's (Y/N)? Normally they're all over you and making you as embarrassed at possible." Childs grinned, and Scaramouche just frowned and narrowed his eyes.

"They're in our room. They don't really want to see anyone right now." Scaramouche said. Even though you told him not to mention you anymore, since you were so hellbent on avoiding all human interaction, he thought it would be okay to tell Childe. He was your friend too, after all.

"Is something wrong? What happened?" Childe asked, concern in his eyes.

"I don't know. They've been avoiding everyone, including me. They barely talk to me and insist on sleeping downstairs." Scaramouche confessed.

"Let me talk to them."

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈❀┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Childe exited your room after hearing what to had to say, and he was disturbed and sympathetic, at the very least. Scaramouche saw his wide-eyed, grim expression when he exited the room and immediately had questions.

"What?" Scaramouche asked.

"I'll come back tomorrow to continue our work." Childs said, referring to the business he originally came for.

"But we have to--"

"Scar?" Scaramouche stopped all his trains of thought and turned to the sound of your voice. It was hoarse but still as beautiful as ever. He knew you had been crying from your puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

"I think you have other matters to take care of." Childe winked, before giving Scaramouche an informal two-fingered salute and showing himself out.

As soon as the door closed, Scaramouche turned his attention to you, not coming too close in case you didn't want to be near him.

"Yes, Love?" He asked, more concerned than you had ever seen him.

"Can I talk to you? If you're busy, that's okay, it's not that impor--"

"I'm not busy." He shook his head, and you offered him a sad and grateful smile before sitting on the edge of the bed while he took a seat on a nearby chair.

"So, uhm, a couple of days ago I was walking home and I kind of got lost...so I tried taking this alleyway and--" You stopped yourself, meeting Scaramouche's attentive gaze before continuing.

"There was a guy. And he-- he t-touched me. I-- I didn't know what to do. I could've easily fought back but I just got scared and froze up because that's never happened to me before and he kept saying that I wanted him-- but I didn't! I swear, I didn't. I know it sounds bad since I didn't stop him but I really tried, I just couldn't. And he started k-kissing me...here," You gestured to the spots on your neck that you could still feel being violated.

"And I felt so horrible and he didn't go any further because some people were coming, so I ran home. I-I...I didn't know what to do but I felt like I should tell you because I thought you would help me, but you said you were busy so I just-- It-tried to brush it off but I just couldn't get it out of my head! And before I got away, he told me that he'd come back and finish me off and so I didn't want to go outside anymore in case I ran into him. And I started to cover up since he said I was asking for it because of what I was wearing and then I just got scared and I felt dirty. I tried so hard to forget and clean myself but it kept coming back-- I can still feel him on me! I hated it, I still hated it! You have to believe me, I wasn't trying to get him to notice me, I just..." You broke down after finishing what you had to say. You had already been crying since you told Childe, but now you were choking out sobs and your face was drenched. Scaramouche stood up from his chair and sat next to you on the bed, a safe distance away just in case you still weren't comfortable with being touched.

"I believe you. I know you're not like that." Scarsmocuhe started calmly. In all honesty, he wanted to interrupt you as soon as you said that this man approached you. His blood was boiling and he was ready to murder this man for you but kept himself in check because you didn't need senseless violence or revenge right now, you needed comfort. What hurt him the most was that you were blaming yourself because he didn't bother listening to what you had to say on what was probably the worst day of your life.

"It's not your fault you were touched like that. You are not to blame, at all. I-- I should've listened to you when you came to me - as soon as I turned you say I thought something was wrong but I didn't bother asking about it. That's entirely my fault." He admitted, which surprised you. It took Scaramouche a lot to admit his mistakes, but for you? He didn't care. You constantly put up with his sour attitude, he can definitely listen to you and admit he was wrong.

"You sure? Because I still--"

"I'm sure." He said simply.

"But why did you start avoiding me?" He asked, wanting to understand the situation entirely.

"Well, because..." You started, unsure if he would get angry if you told him. While you were contemplating, he offered you an encouraging expression. It wasn't a smile, but it was more than enough to put you at ease.

"I didn't want you to think I was tainted. Of course, you wouldn't want to be near me after that had happened." You sighed, wiping up the last of your tears.

"You really are an idiot, you know?" He said, but after seeing the clueless and almost hurt look on your face, he immediately wanted to take it back. He didn't mean to be insensitive, he just...well, he often explained positive emotions with his very wide negative vocabulary.

"No, I didn't-- uhm..." He mentally cursed himself for not knowing what to say, but you didn't interrupt him and made a small gesture for him to keep going.

"What I mean to say was, I don't think that you're tainted or anything like that. And I still...want to be...near you-- eugh!" He pretended to be grossed out at his own words in true Scaramouche fashion, but he knew you knew he didn't really mean it and was beyond delighted when he saw you giggle at his facial expression.

He sighed and acted angry as he opened his arms ever so slightly. You noticed the movement and quirked an eyebrow when he hesitated.

"Is it okay if I come closer?" Scaramouche asked, unsure if you wanted to be touched after the incident.

Your heart swelled at his care and then you slowly watched as he stiffly wrapped his arms around you comfortingly. Although you had hugged and cuddled on countless occasions, he still wouldn't stop being so robotic unless you did something. It made you laugh and he pulled away slightly to glare at you, so you decided to just pull him back in and hug back.

And when you relished in the touch of another human being, the touch of the person you love, you began to cry. The last time anyone willingly touched you was in that alleyway, and so to have someone be so gentle with you and have no bad intentions, you were overwhelmed with emotion.

Scaramouche must've felt your tears staining his clothing and skin, and quickly pulled away with poorly hidden concern in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" He asked, but you just continued to sob and nod.

"I love you!" You choked out. He sighed and gently patted your back.

"I...love you too." He said, before making another expression of mock disgust. He slowly moved to hold both your wrists in his hand and kiss down to your neck, pulling you into his lap with your legs straddling one of his.

You soon realised that he was covering up the placed the stranger had touched you with his own ministrations, effectively replacing the grime you felt you gained after the incident. After you came to that conclusion and Scaramouche was done, he didn't meet your eye, blushing profusely. It was justified since he didn't usually initiate any kind of affection acts, but you just cupped his jaw and kissed his cheek, smiiling at him with purity and a newfound confidence in the both of you.

"Thank you, Scar."

[pippytmi]

Roommates au, enemies to lovers, “you confuse me.” Supercorp obvs

“You’re a fucking liar.”

This is—objectively speaking—not the worst greeting Kara has ever received from her roommate, and so she takes it in stride. “Uh, hello to you…too,” Kara says slowly, silently running through a list of everything she could have done wrong to warrant such strong words.

But Lena does not offer any explanation; in fact, when she spots Kara in the doorway, she sends her a nasty glare as if Kara has said something wrong. “Don’t pretend you’re a saint in this matter, Lex,” Lena hisses, and only then does Kara notice the cell phone in Lena’s hands. “If I have to go and clean up your mess again…”

So it’s one of those days. Kara wisely shuts the door quietly behind her, and sneaks into the kitchen as Lena takes her argument into her room.

There is a list of chores pinned to the fridge—four black X’s cross out Lena’s, and Kara’s are underlined twice. They have a code, so as to avoid speaking to each other; X’s mean done, underlined means Kara you're a slob and a pain in the ass to live with. (All verbatim, by the way.)

The dishes, however, are not on Kara’s agenda at the moment. She instead takes the expensive whiskey hidden under the sink (that belongs to Alex, not that she has noticed it’s missing), and pours it into a glass with some ice. Then she whips out the ingredients for a stir fry, complete with every vegetable she had been saving for the potluck at work this weekend.

It is an unspoken rule that Lena will shut herself off into her room after this phone call is over. She does that every time her brother calls (and on occasion her mother), and Kara has picked up enough information about her roommate to know Lena will appreciate a hard drink and some food. She hasn’t said so or anything, but every time Kara knocks three times on the door and leaves a plate outside, it will re-emerge an hour later completely empty.

Lena’s voice grows louder despite the distance, and Kara turns on the stereo out of respect for her roommate's privacy. Lena hates the stereo and all it stands for; she argues it is outdated, and they have numerous pieces of technology that are less bulky and fully able to connect to radio stations. But Kara keeps it around anyway, because she still likes buying CD’s (and maybe to bother Lena, which is a bonus).

Blink-182 is playing on that alternative station Alex likes. Kara cranks it up as she cooks, singing under her breath as she sautes bell peppers and onions, ignoring the rumble of her stomach and the tight belt of her work pants still digging into her hips. “Say it ain’t so, I will not go,” she practically yells, poking her head into the fridge for the tofu that Lena always keeps. Kara personally won’t touch the stuff, but Lena is trying to eat less meat. It cuts up easily enough, even though Kara isn’t sure what the proper technique is.

She leaves the finished plate and drink outside after it’s done, rapping on Lena’s door in tune with The White Stripes’ “Seven Nation Army,” and then finally has some dinner herself. Since the tofu is unappetizing, Kara stores the rest of the stir fry in a container for Lena to take for lunch, and opts for a sandwich. She eats while scrolling through her notifications (she owes Nia twenty bucks, and so far Nia has been clogging up her phone with Venmo requests all well over $500), and keeps the radio on just for background noise.

That’s probably why she doesn’t even notice when Lena approaches; Kara has barely begun to type a text to Nia swearing to bring some cash next time she visits when a sharp voice declares,

“You confuse me.”

Which. Is not at all what Kara expected from her usually empty kitchen. And, caught exceptionally off guard, she nearly falls off her chair. “What the—Lena,” she sputters, righting herself. Unfortunately, the crust of her sandwich is a casualty of the surprise, and she watches as it crumples devastatingly on the floor.

Lena is not half as concerned about the fate of her dinner, and she stalks forward to jab a finger at Kara’s chest. “You confuse me,” she repeats.

Kara blinks. Then blinks again. “Um, okay,” she says. “…why?”

A strange, strangled noise rises from Lena’s mouth, and she appears angrier than Kara has ever seen. (Well, except for that one time that Kara did laundry and flooded the apartment laundromat, which had other pissed off tenants leaving mean messages for two weeks straight). “Because,” angrier-than-usual Lena says, “you do shit like cook food for me and don’t even say anything.”

“What do you want me to say?” Kara frowns, not sure where this conversation is going. “If you want I can start saying ‘Hey Lena, I made dinner’ every time.”

“You and I don’t do dinner,” Lena says, and it sounds like an accusation. “Every time I get off the phone, you decide to leave food outside my door. Why? What on Earth compels you to do that?”

“Because you’re always upset afterwards,” Kara says slowly. “And I thought you could use some cheering up, or at least a drink.”

“Whiskey,” Lena notes. “It’s always whiskey. And it’s never a cheap brand.”

“Well, yeah,” Kara says, gesturing pointedly to Lena’s designer work clothes (that she never seems to be without; Kara’s not sure Lena even owns pajamas). “You would probably accuse me of poisoning you if I gave you anything less.”

Lena narrows her eyes. “You don’t owe me anything,” she says. “So whatever this is, you can stop it.”

“What do you mean, ‘whatever this is’?” Kara repeats incredulously. “I’m just being nice!”

“I never asked you to be ‘nice’!”

Kara exhales, and reminds herself that it is illegal to strangle people. Especially since she is Lena’s roommate, and will therefore be suspect #1. Kara has never been a violent person, but her roommate just manages to test her limits.

“Look,” Kara says patiently, “I give you my sister’s whiskey, and she doesn’t care because she is trying to give up drinking. And I’m not a frequent cook or anything, but I can still throw together a plate because I know you don’t cook at all. That’s it! I don’t have a hidden agenda, or some secret plot here. I’m just being friendly.”

“We are not friends, Kara Danvers,” Lena says. “And I know exactly what this is, even if you refuse to acknowledge it.”

God, what an insufferable—“Okay, know-it-all,” Kara says, instead of the ruder words echoing through her head. “What am I doing?”

Lena’s jaw clenches noticeably. “You pity me,” she accuses. “You look down at my relationship with my family, and—and I don’t want your sympathy, or your stupid food, anymore.”

“If you wanted me to back off, that’s fine,” Kara says, holding her hands up in mock surrender. “But I don’t pity you, or feel sorry for you. Heck, with your track record, I’d feel more sympathy for your family. They seem to be on the other end of some nasty phone calls.”

Lena’s expression darkens. “You don’t know my family.”

“I don’t know you very well, either,” Kara retorts, and she turns back to her phone where three new Venmo requests are waiting (two of them well in the thousands range; Nia must think she’s hilarious). “Message received, okay? I’ll leave you alone.”

At first, Kara assumes that's the end of it—assumes that Lena is going to stalk off, and leave a strongly worded post-it on the fridge later that night for Kara to wake up to. That has always been how their relationship works; they fight, reiterate how much they hate living together, and go right back to ignoring each other.

But Lena doesn't walk away. Instead she sighs, and at that unexpected sound Kara looks up just in time to catch Lena frowning. “I—” Lena begins, and then she pauses uncomfortably before getting the words out. “I'm...sorry. I have been having the worst day, and it’s—it’s rude of me to take it out on you.”

“Okay,” says Kara dumbly, because she’s not sure what to respond. Lena never apologizes. Ever. It’s about as rare as, well, Kara actually doing her chores on time. “Thanks?”

Lena bites her lip, glances away. “You’re welcome,” she says stiffly. And this time she leaves—leaves, and abandons the plate of food Kara left her on the edge of the table.

Kara looks down at her phone. There are ten texts waiting from Nia, and about double that of Venmo requests. But she can’t shake the feeling that she is forgetting something, and it’s more than a twenty dollar bill. “Wait,” she blurts out, “Lena. What—what does that mean? You were an asshole to me, and I was an asshole right back, so why are you apologizing?”

“Well, you are more than welcome to apologize too,” Lena says, pausing in the kitchen doorway. She has a quizzical expression on her face, a kind of raw confusion that Kara has never seen before. Without the sharp clenched jaw and the angry eyes, she’s…just a girl. A girl, with a nervous tic of wringing her fingers together. A girl, despite her guarded nature, who is gazing right back at Kara as if she has no right to.

“Do you want me to apologize to you?”

A beat. “Not really,” Lena says. “I don’t—want that. You’re right, you don’t know me. Or my family. We’re nothing to each other, and I can’t expect you to know how complicated my relationship with them is.”

“Still,” Kara says, and she scratches the back of her neck absentmindedly at the sudden flush of guilt that overtakes her. “I am sorry. It was rude of me to, um, say that. Like if your family is a bunch of serial killers, who am I to say you’re worse than that?”

Lena scrunches her nose in a manner that is sort of cute. “Serial killers? Really?”

Kara shrugs—aiming for casual—and really that just looks like attempting nonchalance when suddenly she’s consumed with thoughts about how pretty her roommate is. “Like you said,” she says, “I don’t know your family.”

And, surprisingly, all Lena does is smile. A real smile, the kind that Kara has never witnessed, barely soft and just kind enough. “They’re not,” she says, and unnecessarily clarifies, “serial killers.”

“That you know of,” Kara points out, and Lena’s cautious smile becomes something fuller. That is the only thing that gives Kara the courage to add, “So, now that we have covered the whole you’re not your family thing, are you really not going to have dinner? I cooked tofu for you and everything!”

“You didn’t have to,” Lena argues, because she is defensive to a fault. But she falters immediately after, and sighs again, albeit in a more mellowed tone. “What I meant to say is, I really don’t need you to keep cooking for me. I’m fine.”

“Well what if I want to cook for you?” Kara says, and that is her own fault: she is ready to argue to protect her (noble) intentions. “We don’t have to be friends, if it terrifies you that much—”

“It does not terrify me—”

“—but we can be friendly,” Kara offers, and it’s a testament to her newfound appreciation for her roommate that she manages to even make a sentence. “If you want.”

Lena tilts her head, considering, and this time when she smiles it is curious. “If you knew what I wanted, Kara Danvers,” she says, “your delicate sensibilities would blush to their roots.” And with that odd goodbye, she eventually takes her leave; however, she does take the plate of stir fry with her, so Kara guesses that means they’re on their way to being friendly, if anything.

[seita]

— reacting to your death.

includes: oikawa, iwaizumi, matsukawa, hanamaki, + kyoutani.

+ this is childhood friend!reader.

tw: major character death, grieving, blood and violence mention.

p a r t o n e ;;

⤿ part two: next (coming soon!)

-ˋˏ seijoh ˎˊ-

— tooru oikawa.

to tooru, the best course of action is to ignore it.

ignore the hurt, ignore the pain.

ignore the news completely.

in his mind, you’re just on vacation. or maybe you’re mad at him and ignoring him. you’ll come back.

he makes up scenarios and reasons in his head for why you’re not around. iwaizumi is angry, always yelling at him for being an idiot when he brings you up. but he doesn’t understand why.

he won’t talk about it. he doesn’t even acknowledge you’re gone until the funeral.

+

his hands are clasped in front of himself. the suit is uncomfortable and he doesn’t want to approach the casket. iwaizumi stands beside him, a sharp scowl plastered on his face.

“are you finally ready to face it?” he asks, keeping his voice quiet so the grieving people around them aren’t disturbed.

oikawa huffs out a laugh but it’s shaky -- watery. he’s trying so hard not to cry that it’s making his throat close up painfully. iwaizumi relaxes beside him with a sigh, his shoulders sagging before placing his hand on the taller’s shoulder.

“she wouldn’t want you to ignore it, shittykawa,” oikawa wants to laugh at his friend using that name even in the current situation.

typical iwaizumi.

always a pillar. always trying to be the strong one.

suddenly, oikawa finds himself wondering what your place in their little dynamic was. it feels like he can’t even remember you properly. it’d only been a few days since they lost you and it already feels like he’s...

“i don’t want to forget her,” oikawa suddenly chokes out, unable to stop his tears from falling finally.

“well then don’t dumbass,” iwaizumi’s voice was breaking, choked as he cried but oikawa didn’t want to look because he didn’t want to see his other friend falling apart as well.

— hajime iwaizumi.

he does not have good coping methods. his first and most immediately reaction is denial. he doesn’t want to believe what he’s hearing, so he just...doesn’t.

he assumes everyone is lying to him. there’s no way he could lose you. you’d been his friend since you were children; it’d always been you, iwa, and oikawa. so how could you possibly just be...gone?

the answer? you couldn’t.

that’s what he chose to believe, anyway.

+

“what are you talking about, shittykawa?” he snaps, refusing to pull his nose from his notes, “i think this has to be your worst joke yet.”

“it’s not a joke,” oikawa sighs, shuffling on his feet as he sniffles. if iwa chanced a look up at him, he’d see his friend had been crying for hours. but he wouldn’t look. because he didn’t want to see it, “her mom tried calling you...couldn’t get a hold of you. so i thought i’d...”

iwa slammed his notebook down, glaring straight ahead, “i told you to stop playing these stupid fucking jokes on me. it’s not funny.”

“iwa-”

“get the fuck out,” iwa jumped to his feet, grabbing the other brunette by the shirt.

the fabric creaked as it stretched. but oikawa didn’t put up a fight, letting iwaizumi toss him out of his bedroom door. he hit the floor with a thud before wincing at the deafening slam of the bedroom door.

iwaizumi sit back down, pulling up your text message. he had never answered your text asking if he would be alright studying on his own today. he had meant to answer but just forgot. his thumbs moved across the keyboard, eyes blurring with tears as he typed.

“come over. we can hang out together, okay?”

— issei matsukawa.

he was the first to admit that he wasn’t the best friend to have. he was sort of ghosty and a bit unreliable. he doesn’t mean to be. you knew that. he knew you did.

so there’s no way you would be upset with him, right? not for what he did.

he lets his own guilt eat him alive. even if everyone on earth told him it wasn’t hit fault -- he still puts every ounce of blame upon himself.

he lets it eat him alive. he thinks he deserves it.

because he let you down.

+

he stared at his phone. sometimes he could clearly see what he was looking at and other times it felt like he blacked out.

it was your text thread.

it wasn’t unusual for him to ghost you. he was never very talkative. you liked to tease him about it from time to time.

still, looking back, he could have at least responded this one time.

he doesn’t even remember what he was doing. probably nothing as important as it felt at the time.

“can you come pick me up?” it was a simple question. he hadn’t even bothered to ask where you were. if he had, he would have known you were only 10 minutes by car. it would have taken no time at all to stop what he was doing and go get you.

he wonders how long you had stared at his read receipt, wondering if he was going to come. he’ll never know.

he’ll never know the answer to why you were out so late. why you needed him to pick you up. how you felt in your last moments. he wondered if you thought of him then. if you blamed him. if you were sad or hurt by his ignoring you.

why didn’t he just go get you? why didn’t he answer you?

if he had, you would still be safe.

he wishes he could talk to you again. tell you that he was sorry. he didn’t know how important it was. he didn’t know you were scared -- that you weren’t safe.

he wanted to apologize, tell you that whatever stupid shit he was doing was nowhere near as important as you were.

he wanted to know if you had thought about him in your last moments -- the one person you had reached out to for help.

only for him to fail you.

he just wishes you knew that he didn’t mean to let you die.

— takahiro hanamaki.

it’s gotta be a joke, right?

ha-ha really funny. come out now.

when you don’t he’s confused. this really isn’t funny.

you can’t be gone. you can’t. because he needs you.

who else is going to help him during exams. or laugh at his terrible jokes. or make him feel better when he has his heart broken. what about when he’s sick? who will make him that amazing soup that always has him better in a day?

he refuses to let you go. he can’t be without you. it’s just not realistic.

so just...come out of wherever you’re hiding now, okay?

+

he tries to force the smile to remain in place as he stares at the unfamiliar faces in front of him.

“what um...what do you mean?” he laughs nervously, placing his hand to rub nervously on the back of his neck.

they repeat the news. it goes in one ear and out the other. he laughs, ignoring the confused look on their faces.

he takes a few steps back, shaking his head.

“that’s a...real funny joke. i’m just gonna...” he feels tears stinging at his eyes but he doesn’t know why. it’s obviously just a joke. he doesn’t want to be that dork who cries over a practical joke, “go call her now.”

they don’t try to call him back, pity on their faces as he slumps away, phone in hand as he dials your number. he’s pretty sure he’s far enough away when he starts crying at the sound of your voicemail.

— kentarou kyotani.

kyoutani copes violently. if there is one thing he doesn’t like, it’s change. and there’s no bigger change than losing someone you’ve known your entire life.

he didn’t have many friends -- really you were the only one he was comfortable actually giving that title. so without you, he had no one. he refused to let you go.

anger builds and builds.

and without you there to mellow him out like you usually do...it explodes.

+

there’s a fist sized dent in the wall. or maybe 4.  his knuckles are busted open and bleeding but he doesn’t feel the pain. his shoulders are heaving but even after lashing out he doesn’t feel better.

what is he supposed to do?

usually he calls you.

usually you come waltzing into his bedroom with a frown, ‘kenta, you can’t do that!’ you’d scold him. but you wouldn’t.

he knew you wouldn’t.

but that didn’t stop him from hoping.

god, he wanted you to walk in so bad. even if you didn’t knock. sometimes he would get so mad at you for that. but right now, he would give anything to hear his bedroom door fly open.

he held his fist close to his chest, squeezing his eyes closed to keep himself from crying. he never cried. he didn’t want to start now. he clenched his jaw together aimed his fist at the wall again, a large cracking noise coming from the plaster as if caved under the pressure.

then, almost as if it were out of his best dreams, the door clicked open. he whirled around with wide eyes, hope sparkling within them.

only to find the troubled face of tsukishima there instead of you.

kyoutani finally allowed himself to cry.

© all content belongs to seita 2020. do not modify or repost.

[ffamranxii]

HAIKYUU!! COUPLES HEADCANONS

DAISUGA

-Daichi goes to the gym to work out. Suga goes to the gym to ogle Daichi

-Suga has a massive sweet tooth

-Daichi cooks, Suga cleans

-Suga is a little shit who is not above seducing Daichi in public. He can say the most lewd things without batting an eye while Daichi blushes furiously

-Daichi and Kuroo once hooked up at training camp. They do not talk about it

-Daichi is good friends with Michimiya and Kiyoko. Suga is closer to Asahi

-Daisuga rarely fight and are often asked for relationship advice. Daichi tries to discourage this because “guys I didn’t realize Yui had a crush on me or that Suga was in love with me for three years.”

-Daichi can’t dance, won’t dance, and refuses to acknowledge the time he got trashed and twerked

-Suga dislikes his given name unless it’s said by Daichi, who is the only person allowed to call him Koushi

-Suga is extremely flexible. Daichi is not.

-Daichi or Suga getting hit on makes Daichi uncomfortable. Getting hit on amuses Suga, and Daichi getting hit on makes him horny

-It took all of high school for Daisuga to get together, because Daichi is oblivious and Suga assumed Daichi wasn’t into him. Daichi’s dumbness and their mutual pining becomes a fond, shared joke several years later

-Daichi has no gag reflex. 

-Daisuga have a very fat, very orange cat named Ninja. He’s surprisingly fast and agile despite looking like a furry basketball. (Daichi is a dog person and did not even want Ninja at first. He suspects Kuroo had something to do with this. Suga sometimes playfully gets upset because “Ninja likes you better than me, Dai!”)

-Everyone expects Suga to be the dominant one but Suga is more than willing to be submissive for Daichi and has on several occasions

ASANOYA

-Noya gets up before sunrise to run. Asahi would rather die than leave his bed before 8am

-Noya turns the coffee pot on and cooks breakfast to lure Asahi out of bed

-Noya is surprisingly patient, gentle, quiet, and kind when it comes to Asahi and his insecurities

-Noya is the type to bottle his insecurities and fears until they explode. The only one who can calm him back down is Asahi

-Asahi makes bratty faces when he thinks Noya isn’t looking

-Noya and Tanaka spend a lot of time with Daisuga because of the Daichi&Suga&Asahi&Kiyoko friendship. Asahi and Ennoshita become good friends

-Asahi doesn’t understand the distance between Noya and his sisters because Asahi is very close to his

-It is impossible to embarrass Noya

-Asahi gets a lot of inspiration for his fashion designs from traveling with Noya

-Noya knows how to braid hair and likes to play with Asahi’s

-Asahi enjoys physical affection but dislikes overt PDA. Noya would happily climb Asahi like a tree in public if Asahi would let him

-Only Asahi calls Noya by his given name

-Noya knows he likes Asahi early on but Asahi’s panic (“omg someone LIKES me?? NOYA likes me?? My crush??”) at his confession prevent them getting together until after the Date Tech match (after Asahi rejoins the team).

-Noya is affected by wanderlust and that’s why he travels. Sometimes Asahi joins him. They get married in Canada during one of these trips. (I once read a fantastic asanoya fic where a significant event happened in Canada so Canada is my asanoya place now)

-Noya sends Asahi a postcard from every place he’s ever visited. Sometimes he’ll spend over half an hour trying to find the *best* one, only to buy them all and send them as a sort of big long letter. Asahi saves them all in a photo album that lives on the coffee table. (Some people have a coffee table book, Asahi has a photo album.)

-Noya prefers to top. The one thing he’s really uncomfortable with is being on the bottom (physically laying beneath someone and also sex).

KUROKEN

-Kuroken have a black cat and a calico and enjoy naps on the couch with the kitties. Kuroo has SO MANY pictures in his phone of Kenma curled around the kitties.

-Kuroo: “Love you.” Kenma: “Hate you.”

-Kenma CAN cook, but likes that Kuroo likes taking care of him

-Every game Kuroo has ever owned is multiplayer because he only games with Kenma

-Kenma’s favorite games involve critical thinking and puzzles. Kuroo enjoys watching him play

-Kuroo is an introvert masquerading as an extrovert. Kenma is an introvert. They enjoy quiet nights in.

-Kuroo has anxiety. Kenma always knows when Kuroo is anxious and how to fix it

-People make Kenma anxious. Kuroo makes himself anxious.

-Kenma’s nicknames for Kuroo are Kuro and Koroemon. Kuroo calls Kenma Kyanma and kitten

-Kuroo has been in love with Kenma for as long as he can remember, since they were kids. Kenma knows this, but doesn’t understand he feels the same way until Kuroo goes off to college

-Kuroo is the one who discovered Daichi’s lack of gag reflex. He’s delighted to learn that Kenma lacks one as well

-Kenma moves more slowly than Kuroo. He’s not as comfortable with physical affection and sex as Kuroo is. Their relationship progresses slowly, and Kuroo lets Kenma lead. 

-After Kenma’s confession, how he feels about Kuroo is one of the very few things Kuroo does not doubt or make himself anxious over.

-Kuroo can, will, and has go(ne) on and on and ON about Kenma until someone shuts him up. It drives Yaku up the fucking wall in high school.

-Kenma does a retro game stream once or twice a month made up of games he and Kuroo used to play as kids. Kuroo actually games with him on those days and Kenma’s followers are quick to notice and speculate because Kenma has literally never gamed with another person in the same room before. Sometimes Kenma can only post the actual gameplay because Kuroo ruined the footage of them by being excessively sappy. (Kuroo is NOT above flirting and dirty talk to get an edge and Kenma doesn’t really think his fans need to know that.)

-Kuroken do not talk about Kuroo’s mom or sister

-The Kozumes love “Tetsu-chan” and Kuroo’s grandparents adore Kenma. Kuroken get along with each other’s families better than they do their own.

-Kuroo is tactile. He’s that ass-slapping friend. Kenma thinks he’s ridiculous

-Kuroo used to be dislike Hinata, because Kenma and Hinata are extremely good friends and Kuroo was afraid Hinata would take Kenma away from him. Kenma has assured him he doesn’t like Hinata like that but Kuroo doesn’t warm up until Hinata starts dating Kageyama

BOKUAKA

-Akaashi is 100% in charge of the house and the financials and his word is law. Not because he’s an asshole but because Bokuto is whipped

-Akaashi is a screamer. Bokuto has a big dick.

-Bokuto is the calmest between him and his sisters. His sisters have formed an Akaashi fanclub

-Bokuaka kiss a lot during sex

-Bokuto fucking loves owls

-Akaashi used to be embarrassed over being a manga editor but Bokuto thinks it’s the coolest job ever, “even better than mine!” When his authors need references, Akaashi sends them pictures of Bokuto. Bokuto takes this responsibility very seriously

-Bokuaka exclusively refer to each other by first name but Akaashi can’t break the habit of using -san

-Akaashi and Kenma are very good friends. Bokuto thinks they might even be better bros than him and Kuroo. (Kenma is one of the few people Akaashi calls by first name, and one of the only people who calls Akaashi by his.)

-Akaashi overthinks as a result of anxiety, but he doesn’t think he has anxiety. He prefers to call it “seeing the issue from all sides”

-Akaashi and Bokuto do yoga together. Bokuto behaves himself surprisingly well around Akaashi in yoga pants

-Akaashi decided to attend Fukurodani after watching Bokuto play and literally for no other reason

-Bokuaka are the embodiment of love at first sight and their relationship has an unreal, almost storybook quality to it because they are literally perfect for each other. Because of this, Bokuto doesn’t understand why other people struggle so much to start and maintain a relationship, no matter how many times Kuroo tells him “just because your relationship is straight out of a movie doesn’t mean the rest of the world works like that”

-Bokuaka have a koi pond in their backyard and have named all the fish. Bokuto always asks about them when he’s away for games

IWAOI

-Iwaizumi cooks and cleans because he’s always been the one taking care of Oikawa, but he refuses to fold the laundry because “I’m not doing everything for you, you fucking freeloader”

-Iwaizumi cooks healthy “old man food.” Oikawa’s sweet tooth suffers

-Oikawa is that guy who puts more cream and sugar and other additives in his coffee than actual coffee. He’s tried all of Starbucks’ seasonal drinks and never gets the same thing twice

-Iwaoi have very heated arguments about if Godzilla can kick King Kong’s ass or not. Iwaizumi of course sides with Godzilla

-Iwaoi once fought about the original purpose of Stonehenge and now no one can mention England without it coming back up

-Oikawa only became comfortable with his glasses because Iwaizumi likes them

-Iwaoi have been friends since they were in diapers. The whole volleyball team took bets on when they’d announce their relationship

-Both the Oikawas and the Iwaizumis respond when either boy calls for mom or dad. Oikawa calls his sister Nee-chan while Iwaizumi says Oneesan

-Iwaizumi’s favorite of Oikawa’s features is his legs. Oikawa is in love with Iwa’s arms

-Neither of them can remember when they started liking each other or how their relationship started

-Iwaoi are shockingly codependent and do NOT do separation (during university in Argentina/California or for away games) well

-Deep down Oikawa is extremely insecure and worries he isn’t enough - in volleyball, in school, in his family, in his relationship. Iwaizumi always knows when he’s putting on a front and how to cheer him back up

-Iwaizumi is secretly so soft and weak for Oikawa

-After the Olympics Iwaizumi moves to Argentina to be with Oikawa and they get married. They move back to Japan after Oikawa retires from volleyball and after gay marriage becomes legal there

-Oikawa keeps various plants around the house and the patio and is extremely proud of them. He paints all their pots and even names some of them (which Iwaizumi thinks is disgustingly cute). His most prized plant is a lucky bamboo he bought on a whim when iwaoi first moved in together.

-Oikawa can’t deepthroat. It makes him so jealous that Iwaizumi can

-Iwaizumi blushes whenever Oikawa gives him a genuine compliment

-Iwaizumi has a praise kink. Oikawa has a “whatever comes out of Iwa’s mouth” kink

-Iwaizumi has dom tendencies.