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heyidkyay · 1 year

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I guess I’ll take this pain, instead of your name |

Part Fourteen

A/n: Hello! This part honestly took me a while to work out so here's me hoping it came out alright:) Big thank you to @Youlookjustfinetome btw for finding me some more G pics, honestly lots of love to you, practically saved my life🥲 And I hope you all enjoy part fourteen!!

Summary: In life, things changed. The boys you'd once grown up with were men now, and famous ones at that. The type that toured the world and had millions of adoring fans.

The five of you shared a shit ton of history. But you also shared a lot of mixed emotions for one of them in particular, a certain drummer.

Warnings: There's some medical stuff here, lot of mixed feelings, bit of an angry rant but not much to warn you about tbh

Masterlist

—

I'd found myself nodding away, head in another place when the doctor had come in to speak to me.

Wishing I’d been on another plane.

Or in a different fucking reality altogether, I really didn’t know.

But I’d hardly paid her any attention, even when she’d rattled off the extensive list of the injuries they’d discovered since the paramedics had wheeled me in.

Severe blunt force trauma to the head. “There’s no need to fret, I know it can sound daunting but the induced coma you were put into on arrival was used to protect your brain from any further swelling after the initial hit. We’ve also done multiple scans since so we’re almost certain that there will be no longterm damage.”

“Hang on- almost? What’s that meant to mean?” Matty had piped up in retort, having held my hand through it the entire time. He hadn’t let go, not even for a second, once the shorthaired woman had arrived not long after Lee, my nurse, had slipped out.

“Only time will tell with these sorts of injuries.” She’d tried to appease us with a clinical sort of smile, but then had gone on to describe the hit to me…

I had to shake away the thoughts of it even now, long after she’d left.

It sounded so violent. So harsh to what I could barely even recall.

“You were hit head-on. Meaning that your torso took the brunt force of the collision, which also resulted in you being thrown backwards nearly three feet. That in itself left a lot of room for damage when your body collided with the ground. The back of your head will have a rather large scar but we did our best to minimise it, and the hair should fall nicely over the top without any notice.”

I’d nodded at her once and had fought the urge to reach up and touch beneath the thick gauze they’d padded there.

Another scar.

I’d had to look away when Matty had tried to catch my eye.

One perforated eardrum, left-side. “There was a severe rupture in one of your inner ear canals which was a cause for concern too. At this moment, we’re still left unsure on how long it could take for the damage to repair itself, or if it ever will as a result of the injury to your head. Currently, we’ve got you taking a high dosage of-”

She’d prattled on after that. Talks of antibiotics and surgery (if things really came down to it), and then the warning of me maybe having to deal a with a total loss of hearing incase of any infection in the future.

I’d checked out rather quickly at that. But in truth, it had explained a lot. The ringing that wouldn’t stop. The earaches and the itching. As well as the feeling like I’m underwater, hearing everything through a tinny in-ear piece, or trying to talk over the sound of a very rowdy washing machine.

Matty had asked the doctor a plethora of questions on my behalf at that. Or I only assumed, because the woman had replied telling him that she would be happy to pass on a couple of pamphlets for him to look over. I remembered that he’d been anxious in his agreeable nod, thanking her a few times under his breath. And that had been the last of it before she’d moved on again.

A distal radius fracture. Multiple breaks in the ribcage. “The distal radius is the larger one of the two bones in the forearm. You suffered two fractures there, one on the distal end and another a little further up. It’s a very common break though and you were able to avoid any surgery on the arm. Though, it will take between six to twelve weeks to heal. And after that, some patients still find that they need physiotherapy to get back full usage of the wrist.”

I’d looked down at my hand in that moment. Stared at the cast which started at the centre of my palm and worked its way up to the crook of my elbow. The small cut I'd received in the shop earlier that same week had nothing on this.

It was my right arm too. Which only fucked me further, and I’d had to laugh at that. As though I hadn’t suffered enough. Now I had to forgo the next few months trying to manoeuvre through life and work with my left. fucking. hand.

I’d tried not to let that thought get to me in the moment. Focused on the fact that I could still move my fingers somewhat, even if they were swollen and a tad bit numb. It hadn’t helped then though and hardly reassured me now.

The detailed description of my ribs current state had followed swiftly after. Which explained the trouble I had breathing, as well as the severe burning pain I felt whenever I even thought about moving.

“It was just the three fractures.” Just, I’d wanted to scoff at her. “All on one side, most likely due to the first impact made by the car. Most cases of broken ribs can be treated with rest, icing a couple times a day and pain relief.”

The doctor had then gone on to explain about the breathing and coughing exercises she was going to have me do whilst I was under-observation. Something about preventing pneumonia or the sorts. Which had just been another thing I had ended up not having the heart to hear.

Although the fracture in one of my ribs had quickly waylaid her onto her next point. She’d actually had to pause when she’d come to it and really took the time to look me in the eye, her stoic and impersonal manner dropping.

I mean, the woman had been nice enough, she’d smiled when necessary and took the time to explain things to me in thorough detail, but she was also evidently detached, that much was clear. She didn’t want to get overly involved in my case. Couldn’t. But then, something had ultimately shifted. Even Matty had appeared to notice it, he’d clued in to the way she’d propped herself forward in her seat, the slight glance she’d gifted her colleague before she’d cleared her throat, eyes trained back on me.

She’d begun her account in a sincere but well-practiced tone, informing me of the injury that had been a result of my broken ribs. And as she had, I’d actually felt my entire world tilt on its head. And I only wished then to be floating again.

Splenic rupture. That one had been the toughest pill to swallow.

“One of the ribs on your left side pierced the spleen on impact but it only tore the organ further during transport I'm afraid. It had been hard to determine at first, the three breaks had been one of our first concerns and because of your difficulty breathing our first thought had been a collapsed lung. By the time we realised how much damage had been caused, after we’d witnessed a CT scan result, there was a large amount of blood that had poured into the abdominal cavity.”

I’d just stared blankly back at her.

“You were put under an anaesthetic rather quickly and rushed into theatre…”

“Surgery went well, although there was an altercation or two…”

“Tried to minimise scarring…”

“Risk of infection…”

“Future treatments..”

“Medications…”

I had tuned it all out.

Physically I’d still been there. In that room with her. And Matty of course. But mentally, my mind had been far away. Beyond even my own compression. It’d felt like I’d sort of drowned and the struggle to find air had suddenly stopped. Leaving me with just an empty head. No thoughts. No feelings. Nothing on the matter.

Just the fact that I had another scar.

And that, that made me feel like a walking voodoo doll.

—

My stay in the hospital was beginning to grate on my nerves. Slowly but surely I was starting to lose my mind. And I was so sure of it.

It had taken two days for me to come to the first time around. Two days since the hit, I mean. But now, I’d been here almost a week. Sleeping mostly, but bored beyond belief or in mind-numbing pain for the rest of it.

Ross had come to visit. He came daily, sometimes even twice. He brought food (sticking to what he knew best) and it often ranged from the chocolate pasties he knew I tended to drift towards in the Danish bakery up near his, to all of the sugar he could smuggle inside the lining of his coat.

He liked to keep me company too; told me all about the football, who was top of the league and what players were currently injured; kept me updated on how things were going with his mates down at the pub (the very blokey bloke types he’d always seemed to get along with); and whispered to me about all the hot gossip that was making its way around the hospital that he often caught wind of on his way up to the ward, and during his frequent visits to the vending machine.

Ross didn’t ask too many questions either and after his first frantic visit, I found myself wanting to ask him less and less too. He was also one of the fair few that still treated me like an actual person. The usual bullying and typical snarky responses were a very welcomed change of pace, as were those eye-rolls of his that he usually gifted me each time I had a coughing fit.

“Here we go,” He’d say with a put-upon sigh, slumping in the chair he tended to drag up beside my bed whenever Matty gave him the chance. “Always the centre of attention! I mean, can’t we just talk about me for once?”

Which only proved to worsen things because then I’d been coughing, laughing and spluttering all sorts of obscenities at him, all at the same time.

Yeah, it was safe to say that my doctors weren’t too fond of Ross.

Adam though, they liked. He popped in too, and brought Carly along with him whenever she could make it. Those two were oftentimes too empathetic in their visits though, which was sometimes hard to bare. But they’d also brought me my favourite kind of teabags and the lactose-free milk I opted for. As well as my own little kettle that they’d gone and plugged into the wall beside my bed for me- but only after I’d nonstop complained about the hospital’s lack of fulfilling drinks.

Their tea tasted like piss water was the shorter defence there.

But Hann had also been the one to bring me over some of the things I’d been missing from home, like my pillow, laptop and my charger- seeing as my phone had been dead since it’d been handed back to me in a plastic baggy, alongside an array of other things I didn’t much want to look at. Mostly just the clothes I’d been wearing the night of the accident.

It was a heaven send though, to be able to distract myself with a shitty Netflix series or the odd scroll through social media. Although I did have to limit my usage. Stop myself from googling questions I knew I wouldn’t like the answers to. Still, it had been a nice gesture in all, made even better by the comfort of finally wearing my own clothes and actual underwear! Instead of the itchy gown they’d had me in.

Though mentioning that, the one who knew me best, who I thought would be by my bedside, holding my hand, and making sure I stayed well-rested. Who soothed me during the moments of panic and disorientation. Who whispered quietly in my ear and held me close when the reminders became too much to bare, and when pain was all I could think about.

He was nowhere to be found.

Because Matty had gone and stepped into that role for him. For me, I guess. Sweet, chaotic Matty who could barely even look after himself at the best of times, and who’d spent most of his adult life revelling in the fact that he had no strings to tie him down. He was there for me. A constant.

Only ever leaving in a rush to shower and change so that he could make it back in time for when I had to take my medication.

Charming Lee into letting him stay long past visiting hours and having the sweetheart swindle him a makeshift bed that he could use, instead of the clump of chairs he’d converted into a shitty lounger.

Talking the rest of the patients into doing a bit of karaoke and dancing by my bed to keep me entertained. He’d even had Ross bring him his guitar so that we could sing together before lights out. Him crooning like he did best, me all muffled and croaky. Though he still claimed that my voice was as angelic as the last time he’d heard it.

Matty. My best mate Matty.

I didn’t think I’d ever been more thankful to have another human being in my life. Nor would I ever be.

So after prodding him with multiple questions on where George could’ve possibly been. What was keeping him away. And only receiving vague responses in turn, or worse, being easily distracted. I finally decided to give up.

Well. Not give up, per say. Just allowed Matty some peace and quiet. I knew it wasn’t his fault that George had been a no-show. That he’d gone and left me when I needed him most. So the questions had become less and less frequent, until I’d decided to not ask them at all.

“You sure you’re alright?” Matty repeated for what felt like the fifteenth time since I’d accidentally woken him that morning.

He was setting out my lunch for me, something I found infuriating but was also what kept his hands occupied and brain busy, he was eyeing me a bit strangely. Like he felt as though something was inherently off and he was just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I rolled my eyes, a fond smile limning my lips even as he pierced the straw through my smoothie’s carton for me.

“I told you I could do that.” I scolded lightly.

Matty merely hummed in reply, “Yeah, well you say that but you can hardly hike down your own knickers even after I’ve dragged you all the way to the loo, so…”

He snorted at my sudden glare, waving me off with a smirk as he handed me the drink and stole the sandwich the nurses had dropped off for me.

“What kind is it today?” I asked him, sipping at the smoothie that came with it whilst he plopped himself down on the other end of my bed, kicking his feet up near my uninjured wrist.

“Ham and cheese, I reckon. Maybe a bit of mayo but can’t be too sure. Stingy fucks these lot.” He retorted through a mouthful. I grinned and withheld a painful laugh.

This had become a bit of a pastime for us. Him stealing the sandwiches that I refused to eat, because they always seemed to line the bread with a crap ton of butter, which even thinking about had my stomach rolling. And him then critiquing every flavour to me.

Yesterday’s had been stuffing and egg, something that had had Matty grimacing even as he fought to finish the first few mouthfuls. He’d quickly given up on that one though and washed the foul taste out with one of the many cans of San Pellegrino he'd asked Hann to bring in for him. Prat.

“Anyway, you never answered me.” Matty mentioned again, bringing me back to the present. I hummed at him with only a tilt of my head. He rolled his eyes and prodded my hip with his socked foot. “Come on, something’s up. Can sense it, can’t I?”

I snorted softly at him, quirking a brow. “What, you become a self-proclaimed empath in the time you went home to shower?”

He flashed me a toothy grin which wrinkled his brown eyes. “Summat like that, I reckon.”

I huffed, shaking my head albeit in a measure of amusement. “Nothing’s wrong, Wonder Woman. Dr Mann even said I was improving, did she not?”

I wasn’t met with a reply though, so I glanced away from my smoothie and back towards Matty. I found him to simply be staring back at me. A prominent line etched between his brows.

“What?” I asked him with pursed lips.

It was his turn to shake his head then, looking away to gaze out the shuttered window. We were quite high up, 6th floor if what I can recall Ross saying is true. The sun was high in the sky, and there was not a drop of rain in sight.

I looked away then and kicked at Matty’s elbow. “Come on, what is it? You’re bein’ a right weirdo.”

He shrugged, chewing away, eyes still cast outside. “Just, you haven’t mentioned it is all.”

I frowned at him, unsure of what he possibly could've meant. “Mentioned what?”

Matty’s gaze pivoted towards me for a brief moment, looking for something I was sure, probably a a tell only he could make out. Then he shrugged at me again.

“Don’t worry about it, yeah?”

“Matty…” I tried, but my tired groan was cut short by the prominent arrival of Ross.

An angry looking Ross, actually.

I boggled a little at the sight, as did Matty who'd jumped around to see what had caught me by so much surprise.

“Matty. A word.” Ross demanded of the curly haired twat curled up by my feet, having stuck half his foot in the door and not had the common decency to even spare me a hello. What would his mother say?

“Erm, morning to you too, MacDonald!” I scoffed as I made a face, but it'd been futile seeing as Ross was already back out the door and pacing up and down the hallway. Matty patted my shin in quiet comfort and gave me an apologetic smile before he gestured his head over towards the hall.

“Best go see what he wants.”

And all I could do was watch as Matty left, still chained to this hospital bed. Once the door had dragged close behind him, I found myself with literally fuck all else to do. So, like the adult I was, I threw myself back into my nest of pillows and groaned pathetically. Wishing I could do more than just lie here day in and day out.

—MATTY’S POV—

“I’m gonna fucking kill him, Matty.” Were the first words Ross spoke to him as Matty slipped out of the room, catching him mostly off guard.

Ross was hardly ever the aggressor. In actual fact, he was one of the most tolerant guys Matty had ever known. It truly took a lot to get him to crack, or even tell you to piss off, let alone this riled up. He didn’t actually think he’d ever been witness to Ross’s ire, but reckoned he could easily check that off the list now though.

Matty blinked for a moment then cast a chance glance back through the glass and towards his best mate. The girl who was currently holed up in a hospital room with a frown as huffy as it was prominent. It was hard seeing her like that, so broken. When in actuality, she was the toughest fucking person he’d had the privilege of knowing.

Cut deep.

“Right,” He dipped his chin and took a much needed breath before he ushered Ross a little farther down the ward, away from the room's entrance. Not wanting her to hear or see the state Ross had seemingly worked himself into, although Matty could already guess what the cause would be. “What’re you playing at? You can’t storm in here like that, mate.”

Ross groaned into the palms of the hands he dragged harshly over his face, tugging on his temples for a second before he dropped them altogether. His shoulders were still tense though, practically touching the lobes of his ears.

“Yeah, yeah ‘course, sorry.”

Matty jerked his nod back down the hall. “No need for that, ‘cause you, man, are gonna be the one dodging all her questions when she ultimately starts asking what that was all about.”

Ross almost came very close to pouting then. Matty was sure of it, if only it hadn’t been for that fiery wall of anger he was still shrouded in. “Really? Alright. Fine, yeah fair. Deserve that much, I ‘spose. Just- I’m beyond fucking livid, mate.”

Matty’s brow pinched. “Why, what's happened?”

“What didn’t, you mean.” Ross scoffed, back to pacing in his big boots. Matty just hoped that none of the morning staff came to see what was causing the sudden commotion. They already seemed to hate the pair of them enough.

“Alright, mate. Just, I don’t know. Start with what’s got you so…” Matty shrugged a hand aimlessly towards his bearded bassist.

Ross tugged another hand through his long hair, loosening the bun he had it in by a tad.

“I don’t know where to start, to be honest. Maybe with the fact that I’ve tried everything. Fucking everything! Phoning, texting. Even passed by his a couple times. He won’t open the poxy door. Won’t answer Jamie or Hann either. I went over again this morning- saw some shit on Twitter last night so I reckoned I might find him there. Stole that spare key from you too, like you said, and tried using it on the locks but the prick’s only got the chain on. Latch too. So I didn't make it far.”

Matty was already chewing at his lower lip. Something he’d found himself doing more and more often as of late. Ever since that sodding fucking phone call, the one he’d almost missed. He could still hear George’s muffled cries now. The sirens. The pleads. Then the apology.

His hands shook even as he recalled it all. Fucking coward.

His attention was swiftly brought back to the present when Ross started up again, only getting more and more irritated the longer his story went on.

“So, like the twat I am. I sat outside his all morning. Just managed to catch him dragging himself home, though. Don’t know how the fucker had gone and locked himself out from the inside but, well, it’s G ain’t it?” He said through gritted teeth, “Looked a right state, too. Still halfway to pissed and smelt a bit. I mean, is he deluded? She’s in here. Whilst he’s off, doing fuck knows what, out there! It’s an utter piss take, mate. Everyday she asks after him, asks if he’s doing alright, if things are okay. And he, he could not give less of a shit.”

“Hasn’t today.” Matty found himself mumbling, dark eyes casted out towards the lifts as a familiar itch passed through his veins. Which was convenient because just as Ross went to question him on it, Hann stepped out through the sliding metal doors.

The man paused, catching sight of them just as the lift closed behind him. “What’s going on?” He asked with a furrowed brow.

“George.” Ross muttered with venom.

Whilst Matty sighed “Nothing.” at the exact same time. He simply shook his head dismissing it all when Hann approached them. “Where’ve you been anyway?”

Hann’s sharp gaze darted between the pair of them before he answered, “Was on the phone to Jamie most of this morning, then popped by to talk to Y/n’s boss. Lovely woman, actually.”

A real grin stretched its way across Matty’s face at the mention of Delia. “Isn’t she just?” He fawned.

Hann gave him one of those famous smiles of his and then proceeded to hold up a bag. “She mentioned she’d be stopping by again soon, but wanted me to bring this over.”

Matty’s attention dropped down to the bright bag, a prominent ‘Get well soon!’ engraved in gold on its side. “Nice of her. Did you get the stuff I asked for too?”

Adam rolled his eyes and moved his right shoulder, showing off the other bag, this one a duffle. “Yes, all here. Don’t stress.”

He went to reach for it when Hann’s eyebrows did a weird sort of dance on his forehead. Matty pulled a face at it and glanced over at Ross, who was still acting a bit aggy with his arms all crossed and nostrils still flared. Though Matty couldn’t fault him. He was still rightfully pissed off too.

“Tell me what’s gone on and then you can have the bag.” Adam bargained, receiving a pair of narrowed eyes in return.

“Drive a hard bargain, you do.” Matty huffed, falling back against the wall as he gestured outwardly towards Ross. “Was gonna tell you anyway.”

Hann merely hummed at him, dropping the bags between his legs as his head rounded on Ross. “What’s G done now?”

Ross’s jaw ticked and he went on another ramble, rehashing things to Hann in a bit more detail before Matty had to stop him.

“Where’s he at now then?”

“Passed out back at mine.” Ross told them, though he didn’t appear too happy about that fact. “Fucker had me drag him back to my car, wouldn’t move from the curb otherwise.”

Matty tucked his tongue between his front teeth, mind whirling. He hadn’t been to George’s yet, hadn’t wanted to leave the hospital let alone the place where everything had happened. He could only imagine what torment George has been faced with having to look at it day in and day out.

From what Ross had told them, the road had been fully blocked off until late afternoon the very next day with police patrolling and removing the vehicle from the scene. Matty grimaced at the thought of it all and listened to the quiet tones of Hann’s voice trying to calm Ross down. He deemed the moment as the easy access he needed to grab hold of the duffle and head back down the ward, deciding not to think too much about it right then.

Adam’s tut echoed and followed after him. Matty threw him a smug smile from over his shoulder.

Now it was time to get to work.

Part fifteen>

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misteria247 · 1 year

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Hi, don’t mind me I’m just here to ramble. There’s something so amazing about how in almost every tmnt iteration, the Splinters managed to push through the tragedies he faced to raise 4 kids in the sewers with no help in a world that would despise them. 2012 and Rise Splinters may as well be the biggest examples of this despite how differently they handled the situation.

Rise Splinter was depressed, he’s lost everything yet he still found it in himself to raise the kids. Even when he hasn’t done a very good job at times due to his trauma he later pushed through to better himself and his parenting for them and that speaks volumes. The process is slow, there’s still some things he’ll need to get through but he still pushes forward regardless for his sons and he cares and loves for them deeply.

2012 Splinter lost everything as well and he didn’t have any time to recover before he was thrusted out of society to raise 4 baby turtles as they’re being hunted down. He was stuck and yet somehow he found the resolve to keep going for the turtles, his sons and raise them. He failed to protect his first family before, he won’t fail to protect his second one. He tries to recover from his trauma as he raises his sons and though things aren’t perfect and he’s made some mistakes, he strives to make up to those mistakes and help his sons whenever they need it.

Almost every Splinter iteration has suffered in some way from watching a loved one die to being outcasted by humanity and yet they somehow managed to keep going for their sons. Despite all the hardships they faced, all the challenges they must overcome, they still kept going for the sake of their sons and they better themselves in the process. And ain’t that just the most inspiring thing.

Tbh all of this that you mentioned is one of the many reasons why I love Splinter as a character both individually and as a father with his sons. Like when you really think about it, Splinter could have quit on life at any moment. He watched loved ones die, was mutated and banished by society, forced to live in the sewers for the rest of his life. Like he's been through hell and he could have given up at any point in time. But no.

Instead he picked himself back up, brushed himself off and used his traumatic experiences to strengthen himself as well as turn it into a weapon. A weapon that'll always remind him of what could happen and fueling his determination to keep fighting even when life gets tough. As if this in itself wasn't amazing, but he also took in the boys and raised them as his own despite all the things he'd been through. Like if I'm honest here, Splinter had no obligation of taking care of Leo, Raph, Donnie and Mikey. If he truly wanted to, he could have left them and gone on his merry way and left them to fend for themselves. Yet instead Splinter saw these four babies, and decided to take them with him even after all the horrors he'd witnessed.

Just.....

Splinter, or rather Hamato Yoshi in some cases, is just fantastic. Love this rat dad to bits and pieces.

#oli talks #ooc #muns ramblings #mindless ramblings of a madman #asks #anonymous asks #ask and you shall receive #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #tmnt #rottmnt #tmnt splinter #rottmnt splinter #Master Splinter #Hamato Yoshi #Yoshi Hamato #Lou Jitsu #this guy is such a complex character and I love him sm

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deathdxnces · 1 year

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👫 can i ,,, 👉👈

» — SEND 👫AND I'LL WRITE FOUR HEADCANONS ABOUT OUR MUSE'S RELATIONSHIP

— @vulpesse

!!!!

of course you can i've had them for 5 minutes and i'd die for them being friends tbh

they're both very lonely, but also very closed-off and find it difficult to open up to others; ahri has been alone for a long time, irelia seldom managed to allow herself to grow close to people after all the losses she suffered. we haven't talked about how they met, but i imagine it would've been under circumstances that demanded some degree of truthfulness from both sides. irelia would certainly be familiar with some of the many tales about the nine-tailed fox, and that, as well as her connection to the spirit of ionia and nature itself, would definitely lead her to act respectfully toward her. ahri, being capable of reading emotions to some extent, would certainly be able to pick up on the grief and anger that have long since made a home in irelia's heart, which i imagine would impact how she'd view irelia at first, for better or worse. but i also think deep down, even beyond their loneliness and the difficulty to let others close, they share the same core of longing for companionship, for people who see them for what they are and accept and love them as such, without the burden of idealized awe or the judgment toward sharp ferocity. and i think once that became apparent to irelia, she'd find it very easy to open up to ahri.

irelia makes it a habit of visiting ahri whenever she has time for it; she doesn't have many friends, but she deeply treasures the ones she has. a big fan of trying out ahri's tea blends. i imagine to some extent the groves' other inhabitants would grow somewhat accustomed to irelia being around.

i'm sure a being born from nature itself who has lived and will live far longer than irelia's entire life has no real need of being looked after, but that will not stop this blade dancer from worrying over her and wanting to make sure she's okay — and well, that goes beyond the physical too. mentally, emotionally, all of it; if something seems off or if ahri seeks out support, irelia will be there for her either way. but even physically, if something or someone threatens ahri or her forest or the things that are important to her, irelia will fight whoever is responsible. she's always ride or die tbh. whatever ahri needs, she'd be there for her.

sure, ahri eats people sometimes, but hey, it isn't like irelia doesn't kill a bunch of them. i touched on that in that ask reply the other day, but i don't think irelia would be afraid (or judgmental) about even the most feral side of ahri. in many ways, she does see ahri as a force of nature, capable of helping or harming; but i think it's also that part of her, the part that reveled in her revenge and continues to enjoy cutting noxians open, the part that is violent and remorseless about it, also finds a sense of kinship with her on that. as you said the other day, the break made both of them sharper; irelia doesn't fear or judge ahri for it when in her on way she experiences something that is to some extent similar.

but also bonus hc because i remember reading one of your hc posts that discussed how loneliness makes ahri possessive when she does have someone around, and it made me think with them being friends, she'd likely grow a bit protective of irelia too. perhaps judgmental of anyone who gets close. likely aggressive if she feels there's reason for it. possibly would lead to irelia often being like no it's okay i promise it's fine akjdfnakn

#vulpesse #bunnie..... they're everything to me #in love with the idea of them being friends actually #if you didn't notice from the wall of text this became #akjdsfnakdfn #» out of character — ⌜main sup irl.⌟#» character study — ⌜both the tranquil sea and the tempest.⌟

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thebleedingeffect · 2 months

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i support rewriting hyrule warriors a whole lot!! cia's main goal being for a man makes me upset tbh. she couldve been unhinged and liked link on the side!!! not it being her entire personality!!!! agh!!!!

This ask was like a code that activated the sleeper agent in my brain and now I need to pause absolutely everything and talk about Cia because I fucking adore her so damn much. I 100% agree btw that liking link shouldn't have been her entire personality BUT I do think that her infatuation with link could've illuminated more deeper, darker parts of her born from abandonment, desperation, and pure, unfiltered anger towards the fates and goddesses. In my mind, I've always believed that so much of Cia's pain, resentment, and destructive nature was actually born from intense isolation, abandonment, and pure loneliness. Cia was the guardian of time and overseer of the triforce, and personally, I like to believe that she was the one watching over the triforce inbetween incarnations.

But here's the thing, she was always completely alone in this monumental task that was hers and hers alone to bare. There was no one for her to talk to, to share this burden with, or even simply breathe the same air as her. She was completely and utterly alone. Not only that, but she was robbed of any sort of autonomy and life that she might've had in this fate that was destined for her to endure for all time. Personally, I really like to imagine that Hylia was the one who chose her for this role, which is a whole other layer of pain that makes Cia's character all the more raw. I also really like to think that once, perhaps Cia DID have that loyalty and adoration for all of the goddesses, but it was the loss of that love that made her hatred so vicious.

My idea of Cia is one who was abandoned by the golden goddesses from the beginning and only ever had Hylia by her side, at least at the beginning. Cia is ruled by her need for companionship, for someone to care, protect, and make her a priority, her rightful anger at the world for being abandoned with so much responsibility, and want for something more. Consider the fact that Hylia had chosen her, only to abandon her and rip out a part of herself to wander the world that she could never touch. Imagine how Cia would feel if she could do nothing but watch as a mere shadow of Hylia, the goddess that promised her she's stay, walked the earth and was loved. Loved by her people, her kingdom, the land itself- her knight.

Cia is made up of so many intricacies' and fear and desperation- but more than anything, I truly do think her obsession with the heroes spirit exposes a far deeper, even human part of her. Now, I do not think Cia was immediately all over any of the link's at the beginning, instead, I think Cia saw a shadow of herself in the heroes spirit and that was the first thing that drew her to them. To Cia, all of the heroes share the same infallible certainty of doomed fate as her and for that? She felt a kinship with them before obsession even dawned over her. All of their hardships was expected to be suffered silently, without question, and without the slightest whisper of complaint. She saw how utterly alone they were in their travels. She saw how alone she was in her fate. Before her is a twisted mirror, a mirror where she sees nothing but her own trapped, suffering reflection, a reflection that she so wishes to free.

As I said earlier, Cia is made up of contradictions and assumptions built in her mind from decades upon decades of isolation and desperation. What lengths of companionship, of understanding, of a kind hand... when you've been alone for so long? At first, I think Cia is more depressed than anything, at least until she starts to realize just how unfair- how cruel- her fate is. How dare Hylia make such a promise to her, only to leave her behind? How dare the world demand so much of her and not even give her the slightest glance or acknowledgement? How dare the world demand her everlasting forgiveness and gaze when it cannot even afford to gift her a kind hand? It's from this that Cia's anger is born and that if the world will not give her what she so desperately wants, she'll simply take it for herself.

What if she had a body for herself. What if the land underneath her feet was hers. What if she was no longer a quiet, powerless thing. What if... she could find someone who understood her. What if she was able to find someone who could share her pain. What if she could have everything she ever wanted and more. Maybe if she did that, it would heal those countless years of loneliness.

And going back to the heroes spirit for a moment- or the links- I think the reason her whole obsession with link starts is because he loves and protects so fiercely. They're dedicated enough to fight back against the darkness of the cycle each and every time and emerge victorious. The hero is the one who sacrifices everything, who bleeds, who fights. The hero is ruled by duty, love, and loyalty. In a way, link represents everything that she ever wanted and wanted to be, and it's once her depression, fury, and the want for more start to merge- that's when her obsession starts to manifest.

I truly do agree btw that Cia SHOULD'VE been more than just her obsession for link!! She has so much damn potential and I think that her thing for link should've been just one of many threads holding her fucked up mentality together! She had the potential to be such a tragic, fucked up villain of the fucking AGES !!!! I wish she got so much worse and dragged the world down into fucking ashes before the goddesses. I wish she was nasty towards zelda and had a whole thing with her because she couldn't look at her and not see the goddess who abandoned her for infinity. I wish she looked upon hyrule and saw a land not even worthy to exist, and if it had to? Then it had to be hers. I wish she truly dragged link through the coals. I wish we had a Cia who wanted the world to suffer because she had intertwined herself with her own pain and need for vengeance that it there was no turning back for her. I wish we saw more of the kind of Cia who was willing to do anything to win.

Can you tell that I love her. Cause I love her a lot.

#CIA SHOULD'VE BEEN NASTY AND TRAGIC AND TERRIBLE AND TRULY CRUEL #but also deeply deeply hurt and at her core. just someone who desperately wanted to be loved. remembered. and prioritized #her whole thing with link is like a glaring red mark on all of her issues and thats why I think shes so fucking AGGRESSIVE with him #its partly because of the whole mirror thing and the fact she wants the hero for herself. no one else.#echo talks loz #thebleedingeffect talks #sorry this took a bit! Im insane over her <3

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zaruba-needslove · 6 months

Note

The reason I say the "spark" isn't consumable, is because a simple touch of any ID core returns the stolen spark to the person it was stolen from.

But you're right, there are far too many unanswered questions for it to be definitive. I just don't want Neon's existence to be thanks to the Sakurai Parents...

wait if it was... does that make Neon and Keiwa siblings?

More crackhead meta time

simple touch of any ID core returns the stolen spark to the person it was stolen from.

Yet the core of the argument would be... were the sparks/memories taken/stolen in the first place? Were the memories 'retrieved' when someone touched a core ID actually given back to the owners through the core IDs? Or could it be possible that when someone supposedly recovered a memory, it wasn't that the actual memories were given back but more like RECONSTRUCTED from inside the person's dna (or whatever shit). To that note, was it even possible for one's memories to be erased completely aside from deterioration/destruction of the brain cells? Even my harddisk data could be retrieved by some data recovery programme if anyone want and got skills to do it (reason why even when I already deleted the data on my old hdd I'm scared to let anyone else get a hold on my hdd. like back when i wanna sell off my old pc for scraps. They always interested on the hdd) 😃

Like how Keiwa could recover his desire to help/protect people even before he touched Ace's core ID, it should be possible for anyone else to do it too. Like if there's an infinite source of gleams/sparks... it should lie in the people that the DGP harvest their sparks/gleams from. People's desires and greed aren't finite, since it can always be recreated/ replenished by the owner. (But yeah, the gleams/sparks that the DGP cut & paste/stole out of their victims ARE finite.)

I just don't want Neon's existence to be thanks to the Sakurai Parents...

Tbh... I hate that implication too. But people HAVE been making that kinda implication when Keiwa was revealed to attempt again to revive his family. One's suffering ≠ sparks/gleams that can be used to grant one's wish/desire. Are you sure that for Keiwa's wish to be granted, an actual someone's life would need to be sacrificed? And not someone's else's (C's) wish and sparks taken away and used to grant a person (D's) wish. Does a person ONLY want/have only ONE desire/wish at a time? (A certain Sakurai Sara would like to disagree...*hands out an old ema full of many different wishes* 😃)

[For a person's wish/happiness was to be granted, numerous others need to suffer.]

Who were the ones spreading that misinformation? *stares at the JamaTeam*

Whether someone become happy or suffer, that was only [side effects] that resulted from a wish. The DGP wish granting system rely on the power of wishes, not someone's emotions.

wait if it was... does that make Neon and Keiwa siblings?

Nah. Say your parents donated blood/organs to someone, does the receiver of the blood/organs now become your siblings? Nah.

To put in blandly, just because A was recycled into B... doesn't mean B was now A's offspring.

Side note: It might be possible that the only reason the Sakurai couple was not revived was because by then... the reservoir of sparks/gleams end up almost completely used up (with only one use remaining) and they need to take time to refill it again. Since the DGP needs more sponsors, wouldn't it make sense that the 'wish for [Akari] to be revived' take priority? And instead of restoring the Sakurai couple's lives later when the spark/gleam start replenishing itself, management be like... nah we be cutting our losses 'it's just a pair of married people only... who'd notice?

#ask box replies #kamen rider geats #toku meta #kr meta #geats meta #the more you look at it there's a lot of wordplay ppl use in series #that led to plenty of miscommunication and misunderstanding

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nevsclowntown · 2 years

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Next Generation AU

I’m just gonna throw it all out here now, bc this is giving me a lot of passion currently ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

NejiTen’s children are heavily influenced by papabay’s child oc’s!

Hyuuga Satomi & Hyuuga Satoshi

Neji is ok. And he's married to Tenten. (Their marriage was as chaotic as it could get tbh.) In @cycyn00 and my AU the story progresses different, starting after the time Sasuke has unalived Danzo. The fight against Madara and Obito hasn't happened yet. Without Neji sacrificing himself for Naruto & Hinata, the Hyuuga clan didn't really have a reason to change their mind on anything & NejiTen's youngest child has been branded with the caged bird seal as well. They were easily able to push this through, even though Neji married outside of Hyuuga, since Tenten didn't have a last name and took Neji's - that way both of their children are Hyuuga as well. And Hyuuga may do to Hyuuga as they please, I guess. ╯︿╰

Hyuuga Satomi (the older twin sister)

( 理美 - intelligence & beauty. -> fitting to the name of her brother, Satomi's name also carries the kanji for intelligence.♥ Also, their names fit together & i love that for twins.) Satomi is the older twin of her brother Satoshi and by birthorder belongs into the main clan of the family. Because of that she was spared the caged bird seal. For the most part, Satomi was raised only by Tenten and Neji - having heard about the clan relations from Neji. Now that the twins are officially part of the clan dynamic, they also follow Neji into the Hyuuga compound. Satomi's usually left with the main branch, for training and other lessons where she learns a different side of the family history and puts her into a bit of a dilemma. The things her father told her were a little different from the things her grandfather tells her - while Neji always speaks with a bit of venom, Hiashi always says that the seal is a great honor - to be allowed to serve the main family. She's yet to fully understand the dynamics and go her own way. She's mostly confused and angry. Her brother, who's now supposed to give his life for her seems to submit easily to his fate. They get along somewhat, though Satomi's having troubles regulating her emotions and does sometimes lash out on her younger brother. However, she also protects him. It's a lot of this sibling thing - no one punches my brother unless it's me. Satomi's got a closer relationship towards Tenten, who's a middle and somewhat neutral ground between all of the Hyuuga affairs. At least that's how Satomi feels like - Tenten does agree with her husband on those matters. The relationship towards Neji is ... really complicated. Neji who had to see his youngest child get the same seal as him, naturally gravitates more towards him. To be there where his own father hadn't been most of his life. He's having trouble to connect to Satomi because of their different statuses - having his own child being part of the main branch. While he's happy that she didn't get to suffer in that way, he's also not sure how to act around her - with her. Everytime he sees her and her forehead, he's reminded of sons and how his children are being split apart like this. It's complicated. Neji's complicated. Satomi, being much more brash and extroverted than her brother, ends up arguing a lot with her father & Neji's not sure how to act. After a little while, a failed trainings session and Tenten's nudges for Neji to be honest towards his daughter, they end up becoming closer again eventually.

Hyuuga Satoshi (younger twin brother)

( Even though it is common for the Hyuuga family to name their children after the sun and light in some way, they decided to name this child Satoshi, meaning 'intelligent histoy' instead. In the hopes of history not repeatign itself. Neji had hoped, before they would turn old enough, that the Hyuuga Clan would have found a way to change and that history would be smart enough not to repeat itself. However, he was unable to protect his son from the same treatment he has gotten.) Satoshi is one half of a twin pair and the younger twin to his older sister Hyuuga Satomi. He's of a very gentle nature and doesn't like to act up at all. He adores his father and trails after him a lot. Usually he sits besides him, when his sister wants to get trained and thrown around the field by their mother. Satoshi is very obedient and usually the first to tell his parents when their little friend group has done something stupid. He's having a difficult relationship towards his older sister, although he's actively reaching out to her. Satoshi's accepted his position in the clan & does understand the basics of it. He just doesn't really dare to speak up against it and talk about the unfairness of it all. He's training to become a shinobi because it's expected of him and because he does want to protect his sister, however if he would be given a choice, he'd much rather become a farmer actually.

#naruto #naruto oc #Naruto Shippuden #boruto #boruto next generation #nejiten #hyuuga neji #tenten #neji hyuuga #neji #au #hyuuga family #fanart #digital art #naruto fanart #oc #nevart #nextgenau

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jiminrings · 2 years

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miss j. minrings at this point i'll take anything you give tbh i missed your writing so much that if you don't push through with the sneak peek, i will probably shave my head 🫥🫴

Jungkook reminds you that love is unfair.

He reminds you that love is unfair in the same way you remember that you don’t belong to his world. He’s the walking proof that it’s possible to have everything without suffering, and as much as it isn’t his fault that he was born to it, it irks you.

You don’t hate Jungkook, no. It’s much more complex than that, something to do with the bitterness in your mind and heart from doing everything only to barely equate to what Jungkook– people like Jungkook — get for doing nothing.

You don’t hate Jungkook, he’s tolerable. He’s loving to the people dear to him; stuck-up most of the time but won’t go out of his way just to be an asshole. He can hold conversations with you, sometimes steering outside the parameters of you being his bodyguard and him being your boss. He’s rude at times but he’s tolerable — it’s the best of what you could get from people like him.

What you hate about him is that he probably hasn’t had a bad day ever in his life.

You don’t know him to an intimate degree but you know, you know that Jungkook has not worked extremely hard for anything ever in his life. He hasn’t fought for anything because he didn’t have to.

Maybe it’s just a bad day for you today, accidentally scrolling past an article that detailed about your abrupt exit from the fighting scene. It makes your throat constrict when you skim through it for a second and register the exact words that have once crossed your mind before in a fit of insecurity; you were cowardly and cheap for leaving the octagon to become a glorified babysitter for Jeon Jungkook.

Perhaps it’s such a bad day for you today that even when you think about how your job as a bodyguard pays so much more than your occupation as a fighter, it does nothing. The lack of fatigue from guarding a nepotism baby outweighs your body more than the injuries you’ve gotten throughout your career.

Despite being stagnant in the water instead of flailing around, you have never been more afloat than now. You’re financially and physically stable more than ever and it’s because you protect, not fight.

Even if you hate him sometimes, you protect Jungkook with your whole life. You guard him like your life depended on it because for so long, it’s been ingrained in your head that it was either do or die. That if you don’t work hard enough, there won’t be food on the table. That if you don’t fight desperately and harshly enough, no one would be able to take care of the people you’ll leave in your wake.

You do your best when you follow Jungkook to bars and assess everyone in there in the process, prioritizing your regard for his safety more than his remarks of you being a cockblock. You adhere to instinct and hold him by the waist in crowded places, even if he grumbles that you’re spoiling his game.

You pour your all when you accompany Jungkook to a private fitting and wait for him outside of the dressing room, patiently anticipating what he’d look like in a suit meant to accept an award for being one of the most influential individuals in this generation. You don’t know exactly what constitutes to him being influential besides being himself, but perhaps his existence itself is what’s most outstanding about him.

You pour so much of yourself that when Jungkook steps out of the dressing room, you smile at him fondly, sincerely.

You give so much of yourself that protecting Jungkook has become synonymous to falling for him.

You think love is unfair because it’s biased. It’s cruel and it chooses because love is simply not for everyone. Love is not for the weak.

Love is unfair because it finds its way to you in the form of him. You are what makes love weak, and Jungkook is what makes it cruel.

#bae u are not gonna be shaving ur head tonight <3

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daydream-believin · 3 years

Text

MERLIN’S APPRENTICE & MERLIN’S CHAMPION || trollhunters

warnings: swearing

a/n: if rott gave me anything it gave me this idea

I KNOW I SAID “JUICY” BUT REALLY THAT WAS JUST THE ANGST POTENTIAL,, THAT IM NOT INDULGING IN THIS POST IM SORRY LMAO

OKAY WHAT IM REALLY TALKING BOUT HERE IS A GOOD MERLIN/ARTHUR BUT IT ACTUALLY WORKS

no sorry i haven’t seen bbc merlin don’t come for me i’m ignorant

OKAY SO

we know douxie kept an eye on the human trollhunter and co

but douxie’s really having a hard time convincing himself he’s just doing his job

he’s actually enjoying this a little too much despite how boring staying in the shadows is

and he’s kinda worried?

so he’s got this bright idea: you know what would better help him keeps tabs? if he befriends this person

and so he does

fuck merlin’s shadows

sod the rules

ofc he’s very up front about knowing they’re the trollhunter and that he’s merlin’s apprentice

we wouldn’t want that to become a huge festering secret that eats douxie from the inside out until the inevitable reveal when merlin calls them both to help with the arcane order and they realize they’ve both been lying to each other’s faces for months/years and neither of them know if they could ever trust the other again, right? — phew *catches breath*

but before you know it, mr. casperan and mx. trollhunter are best friends

he’s basically the toby to your jim

and you’re very happy to have a best friend like douxie

he understands that monster hunting hustle

he’s the only person you can vent to and actually talk about what’s going on without sounding like a loon

and douxie likes being able to tell someone all his frustrations with merlin, since you’re also in that boat with him

you spar sometimes. it’s fun, but you’re very careful not to accidentally hurt your friend (he’s extremely careful not to hurt you or wound your ego by effortlessly wiping you out)

ofc, there’s the occasional, brushing of hands, faces a little too close together, accidentally winding up on top of one another, purposefully winding up on top of one another 👀 you know how sparring be

you and douxie are a duo. a duo who have become trollmarket’s resident troublemakers, to vendel’s exasperation

you guys tease each other a lot

you do a lot of stupid shit, cause hey, now you have magic armor and a magic sword and a magic best friend, did you think you wouldn’t get up to some shenanigans?

douxie is your impulse control and he’s not a very good one, as he’s just as bad

truthfully archie has the brain cell

and pranks? gods the pranks. you two are always either pranking each other or you’re teaming up to prank some other troll who said smth mean to you in the pub. vendel had to personally put a stop to it (read: chew you out)

doux thinks the world of you tho, you’re such a noble knight, and likes to tell people about how you’re a cinnamon roll, so innocent, so pure

and then they meet you and you directly contradict those statements

trollhunter: i’ve never done anything wrong in my life, ever

douxie: i know this and i love you

(spoiler: you’ve done lots and lots of wrong)

doux spends an awful lot of time slinking around trollmarket now, and he’s in the know for everything that’s happening

(no more being kept in the dark for this wizard apprentice)

and doux knows merlin won’t completely approve of this, but hey, it’s not like he’s helping and thus directly disobeying

really, he’s not helping you at all, it’s really fucking annoying

okay so mayyybe the occasional healing spell. you’ve got those puppy dog eyes he can’t say no to

but you understand his sense of duty, or whatever it is that drives a follower, technically being a follower of merlin yourself

you respect the old geezer (as you have not been turned into a half-troll yet) as a wise mythical figure, and as your best friend’s father

and what a perfect match you are for each other, champion and apprentice, mutually being screwed over by a guy you both think has all the answers

you and douxie help each other grow in your self-worths, that you two are more than the chances merlin has given to you

unfortunately, mortifyingly, you have caught feelings.

douxie has also caught feelings, and is saying nothing yep you have enough on your plate without him putting this on you so he’ll just quietly pine and suffer don’t mind him choking to death in the corner when you take off your helmet and throw back your hair

y’all’s problem really starts manifesting itself as protectiveness. you are really protective of your wizard and he is really protective of his knight

lots of things said that are Not What Friends Say but neither of you really want to be the one to point that out

lots and lots of i love yous that slowly get more and more serious until it’s not exactly platonic anymore

and it’s just really nice to have someone to get coffee (or your favored hot drink) with at four in the morning after a tussle with a troll

and that’s basically how you and douxie spend the bulk of trollhunters, just vibing

as much as you can vibe, with all the changelings and shit trying to murder you all the time

then merlin wakes up and shakes up your world

you are aware of your impending doom

you’re aware of it

merlin keeps looking you up and down like he’s mentally making up the measurements of your coffin

and tbh the idea of fighting gunmar freaks you tf out

and you’re supposed to win that fight?

gods

you’re preparing for your nightmares coming true soon

truthfully you knew your fucking job had a 100% mortality rate

you don’t want to die with regrets

you spill

you spill all the things you’d wanted to tell him and how much he means to you and that you couldn’t bear it if you were a goner before he knew

miraculously, douxie feels the same and tells you all the things he’d been holding back and and what you mean to him and how much he wants to protect you, that you’re gonna make it, if he had anything to say about it

and everything is perfect for one night

now you have a real reason to win

not that saving humanity isn’t a big responsibility on your shoulders and definitely A Reason

but knowing douxie’s waiting for you, for the life you’ll build together after this, the peace you’ll both have, it’s absolutely a big motivation to give your all and come out victorious and survive

hahaha loser you don’t know about the arcane order

and then merlin uses your microwave to cook a weird potion

you and merlin are alone in the house, but there’s no real mind games necessary. you may have grown past thinking he was a god, but in the end, you’re still a follower of merlin, and if merlin thinks this could give you an edge, well, who are you to question his methods

doesn’t mean you aren’t nervous as your master hands you the bottle

yet you don’t even hesitate to drown yourself in the black abyss of the tub

whatever it takes amirite?

and now you’re a half-troll

a sexy half-troll, if you do say so yourself

yeah, no ‘i’m a monster’ angst here, you’re loving the power-up

you’ve got to treat it like a cool new power-up or you will cry actually tbh i lied about the no-angst thing a new body is disorienting

your only real concern is douxie

not concerned for long tho, he sees you and the first thing out of his mouth is “nuclear!”

and he senses your concern, so he does go out of his way to assure you that boy, girl, enby, or half-troll, he loves you for your soul, darling

also again half-troll! you is hot as hell so he’s not really losing anything here 👀

he makes sure you know that too, not to let any insecurities fester

him raking his eyes up and down you gives the opposite effect of the dread merlin sent down your spine doing it

anyways,,,

doux helps out a lot more in the eternal night

like helps merlin re-defeat and re-seal morgana

he’ll do it again in few weeks but with a bigger role you know, this is practice

thank merlin for that edge YOU ARE THE LAST TROLLHUNTER YOU ARE VICTORIOUS YOUVE GOT GUNMARS HEAD IN YOUR HANDS HAHAHA

but now you’ve got to go to new jersey

douxie’s been instructed to stay in arcadia tho 🥺

it’s okay, you’ll see each other again soon

sooner than you realize

and until then you talk each other to sleep every night over the phone <3

merlins glad, actually. he’s glad hisirdoux found some solace. even if it is with the lamb he was raising for the slaughter. maybe things will go okay for them. the time map suggests it might be so

hisirdoux may have done things in a way he didn’t quite approve of, but that’s because he’s becoming his own wizard, and merlin is proud

#okay okay i’m done #see you in wizards #douxie x reader #hisirdoux casperan x reader #tales of arcadia x reader #tales of arcadia imagine #douxie imagine #hisirdoux casperan imagine #hisirdoux casperan #douxie #douxie casperan x reader #tales of arcadia #my writing

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aj28gaming · 3 years

Text

Nagito's diagnosis?

Okay hear me out, what if the only mental illness Nagito has is extreme paranoia or Nagito is just really paranoid about death?

Now listen

Listen

I get that this is gonna be laughed at a lot and probably treated as a joke

but hear me out

So, regarding Nagito's dementia, I already made these posts https://aj28gaming.tumblr.com/post/650577508025155585/danganronpa-messing-up-nagitos-character-cuz

https://aj28gaming.tumblr.com/post/650633399392944128/nagitos-dementia-and-misuse-of-information

But to be sure, I basically explain how and why Nagito has almost none of the symptoms of Frontotemporal Dementia, he might still have it tho, just not the symptoms

But think about this, the only time Nagito has actually acted "crazy" was when the killing game starts. Before that, all we get is a paranoid, self-deprecating boy used to trauma due to his abusive luck cycle. A boy who also has flawed beliefs in the talented and untalented due to the society of Danganronpa. A boy who fears murder and the death of others more than most.

Now, remember, he only gets crazy (I AM ONLY GONNA TALK ABOUT SDR2 BECAUSE THE LATER ITERATIONS AND GAMES AND ANIME ADAPTATIONS THAT PORTRAY NAGITO PORTRAY HIM INCREDIBLY WRONG) when the killing game starts

A killing game

A game of murder and death

And what does Nagito fear the most throughout the first chapter of SDR2 and throughout Island mode? What does he keep making sure doesn't happen? What does he keep asking Usami about while being extremely scared and paranoid about it?

WHAT DOES NAGITO FEAR THE MOST?

MURDER

HE HATES MURDER

HE CONSTANTLY TRIES TO GET HIMSELF DEAD OR KILLED TO ENSURE NO ONE ELSE DIES

Now imagine having a person who hates murder, who fears the possibility of death surrounding him and is constantly paranoid about it

Now put that person in a killing game, you know, A GAME FULL OF MURDER AND DEATH

So you get someone who fears having death and murder around him, and you put him in a place that is full of that, a killing game

YOU GET THIS

THIS

THIS (also keep in mind, NAGITO SAID IN ISLAND HE LAUGHS WHEN HE GETS SURPRISED, NOT BECAUSE HE IS HAPPY OR HAVING FUN)

See the pattern now

If you trap someone in a place full of everything they hate and fear for their entire life

They go crazy

Now remember the links I sent at the start? In them, I explain how his extreme paranoia causes a lot of his actions to happen

One, his coping mechanism

His coping mechanism is hope

He is constantly in denial about his mental state, about the people dying around him

Not saying he doesn't believe people are dying, I mean he struggles to accept that people around him are dying

He needs to find a reason for all of this despair

For why everyone has to experience despair

Nagito is a person who finds reason for everything, basically constantly tries to find order in his chaotic world

Makes sense since literally and figuratively due to his luck cycle, Nagito lacks control in his chaotic and traumatizing life

So he tries to find a reason for everything despairful that happens to him

Basically, "There has to be a reason for my suffering, right? RIGHT?"

So what does he do? He clings to hope

HOPE /hōp/

noun 1. a feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen. "he looked through her belongings in the hope of coming across some information" Similar: aspiration, desire, wish, expectation, ambition, aim, plan, dream, daydream, pipe dream, longing, yearning, craving, hankering 2. a feeling of trust. "our private friendship, upon hope and affiance whereof, I presume to be your petitioner" verb want something to happen or be the case.

KEEP THOSE DEFINITIONS IN MIND, TRUST ME WHEN I SAY NAGITO IS TALKING ABOUT THE ACTUAL MEANING OF HOPE, NOT SOME SUPERFICIAL VERSION HE CREATED HIMSELF

So this makes sense right? A person is in a stressful situation which is basically their personal hell, so they cling to hope

Literally

And we get this a lot of the time in real life and in tv shows and movies where people in stressful times cling to hope

So it really isn't a surprise that Nagito does this

So, Nagito isn't worshipping Hope like it's a god, he is clinging to an ideology. He is clinging to positivity, a bright light amidst all the darkness

He is quite literally clinging to hope in a despairful situation, which a lot of people do and most likely the same with you and me.

And again, no, his views on hope aren't due to his own personal opinion of what hope is. The hope he believes in is the literal definition of hope.

Hope as in light amidst all the darkness

He truly does have heroic and good intentions and truly does understand the hopes and despairs of others

He knew Teruteru wanted to continue the culinary legacy and help his mom, that's his hope

He knew Imposter would want to protect everyone no matter what, that's his hope

He knew Mikan killed for Despair, that despair being Junko Enoshima

He knew Fuyuhiko's hope is Peko and that both of them care about each other very much

He knew how similar he and Hajime are and how they are both bystanders and lovers of Hope, for Hajime that Hope being Hope's Peak academy itself and/or having talent

That's why he wants to help everyone's hope. He doesn't want them to escape to "spread their hope to the world," he wants to help them because that is generally everyone's hope in the killing game, to escape and end the killing game. That's why he is also fine with helping the blackened because if he knows all the blackened wants to do is escape

All Nagito wants is for him to be the victim instead of anyone else so no one else has to die if someone must commit murder.

And tbh Nagito has only done 2 things,

One was when he orchestrated his own death so no one else dies during the first trial, but this fails due to his luck cycle

He knew someone would die eventually, and if he didn't do this then either Teruteru would've still murdered someone else or Fuyuhiko would've murdered Mahiru with Peko like in trial 2 due to the next motive

Someone would've died regardless, Nagito just wanted to be the victim to save everyone else. And he needed to make sure only HE BECOMES THE VICTIM which is why he orchestrated it

But alas, his luck screwed it up and Byakuya dies instead.

Second thing Nagito did was try to get everyone killed when he found out everyone were a bunch of terrorists and remnants of despairs. Do I seriously need to explain why anyone would've done this? Especially someone as paranoid as Nagito?

Hell, Hajime almost did way worse because he almost did the complete opposite, he almost pressed graduate so Junko can take over the dead bodies of their classmates and spread despair AGAIN

HOW THE HELL IS NAGITO WORSE THAN THE OTHERS?

HAJIME ALMOST CAUSED DESPAIR ONTO THE ENTIRE WORLD AGAIN AND EVERY OTHER MURDERER MURDERED FOR THEIR OWN SELFISH MOTIVES LIKE TO ESCAPE OR GET REVENGE

NAGITO SERIOUSLY JUST WANTED TO BE THE VICTIM SO NO ONE ELSE DIES AND WANTS TO ELIMINATE DESPAIR

HOW THE HELL IS HE THE CRAZY ONE?

So now I explained how Nagito's paranoia of murder caused him to have a desperate belief in Hope as a coping mechanism in a very despairful situation

Now let's see how extreme his way of coping became. Seeing that he is in his actual personal hell, I would expect it to be pretty extreme.

And it is, a lot of the time.

Even to the point that he uses it to explain the deaths of his classmates and how to cope

Knowing Nagito, he has a habit of trying to find a reason for everything, like a prophecy or reason for his despair like I said before

And how exactly does he do that with the dead bodies of his classmates? He goes and treats them like stepping stones for hope

Basically saying, "Yes, our classmates are dead. But we shouldn't give up, because these deaths, this despair, it's all a stepping stone for an upcoming hope. A future good ending waiting to come, RIGHT?"

I added the right at the end because throughout the game, Nagito doesn't really seem like he only believes in hope. It's almost like he desperately needs and clings to hope.

So no matter what, he has to believe in hope

Because then, what is there left of him to believe in

He is trapped in his personal hell, forced to see classmates getting killed left and right, already experiences and fears the possibility of death and trauma on his normal day to day life, and what's worse is he constantly blames himself due to his luck cycle

He clings to hope, the possibility of a good ending happening in the end

Because what else can he believe in, what else can he live for at this point?

You seriously don't need dementia to explain his actions

All you need to do is remember that all of them are in a killing game

So of course people will go crazy

And knowing Nagito and how paranoid he gets, no wonder he reacts way worse

Nagito isn't crazy, he isn't a lunatic. He is just a paranoid kid who hates and fears murder and despair more than anyone else but is constantly forced to witness it and be subjected to it due to his luck cycle

And to be honest, anyone would've reacted the same way he does, and Hajime is proof of that

Also stop calling him the Joker wtf

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1eos · 2 years

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saw your tags in your post abt your virgo grandpa and i would love to hear your opinions on church culture 👀

omg thank you for giving me the floor *takes the mic* i will preface what will most likely turn into an essay by saying this is my pov as someone who grew up in the black southern christian scene not a critique of organized religion in itself. i can only speak for what *i* grew up with nd in general i believe organized religion can and is beneficial to ppl

but anyways church culture esp in the south just gets soooo toxic sooo fast mainly bc of the weird way they uplift leaders in churches. likeeee just from my personal experience i do not trust preachers there's something very smarmy about a lot of them nd i think all the social power goes to their heads. likeeee these preachers will be in areas with crazy poverty pressuring the congregation to tithe so THEY can drive up in a crazy expensive car while the needs of their ppl go unmet

like there's a really bad flex culture in churches. sometimes it's wealth other times it's ~appearing~ super pious nd perfect which leads to a LOT of judgmental behavior which then makes the church super cliquey or even hostile. like the way ppl will smile in your face then talk shit abt what you wore or the shit going on in your life is crazyyyyyy. there's so much backstabbing nd ass kissing esp when it comes to the families' of pastors. like why do i need to suck up to the daughter of the pastor? who the fuck is she? who the fuck is HE? a lot of these churches try to make gods out the men leading their churches instead of trying to build a community

like you can't be a safe haven for the downtrodden AND give one person so much power over ppl. esp bc black christianity is often taught in a way that's mostly fear mongering trying to dissaude ppl from asking questions or speaking up when they have a problem bc that's 'not having faith' or whatever the hell they call it. instead of opening up conversations a lot of churches want to brain wash you with backwards interpretations of the bible that suits some ulterior motive. congregations will be against gays but deadass have a preacher that's an adulterous scammer creep THAT THEY'RE PROTECTING. but a lot of religious ppl hate the sin getting out more than they do the sin itself

i could wrote a whole fucking novel on church culture tbh. but at its core it tends to be hypocritical, cliquey, nd way too focused on social climbing. OH OH OH OH AND ANOTHER THING.

theres always a crazy emphasis on telling ppl to just bear the horrors of life nd to weather thru anything nd its ok to be miserable all your life bc when you die you'll finally be happy and like. barely any help on how to realistically cope with things. some churches now are more progressive accepting science when it comes to mental illness but too many ppl act like humans are just meant to suffer. nd that praying will make the suffering bearable nd no you don't need a therapist you just need to pray more! there's such a stigma with wanting life to be better which essentially creates complacency. yes prayer can ground you when times get tough but along side that it's ok to take action nd to seek other kinds of help

too many organizations are stuck in the past like churches COULD be hubs of change nd healing again but too many are stuck in the past and that adds to what makes the vibes so unwelcoming!!!!

#i have way too many thoughts but i have a lot of complaints from being forced to go to church all the fucking time

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incorrect-ikevamp-quotes · 3 years

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why does jean warn up to mc so quickly? ikevamp makes it clear that jean is a pretty reserved person and doesn't open up or let people in easily but he seems to let mc in quite quickly and it confuses me quite a bit.

Oh boy, where to begin with this one.

Well, I have a lot of Feelings^TM about this, but I'll try to be concise. Essentially, I think Jeanne doesn't recover in the other routes--or the general storyline--largely because he's just a lot to unpack narratively speaking. And without some pretty direct intervention, he has a hard time healing. MC’s direct intervention was meaningful because it was focused, consistent, and adapted to Jeanne’s specific needs. She also doesn’t make light of his experiences which is key; she fully understands that she can’t fathom what he’s been through. There is a very weighty respect and acknowledgement, a seriousness with which she treats his wounds that’s important.

It’s easy to make this a “why is MC nOt LiKe ThE oThEr GiRlS” but honestly that’s just not the sense I get when I look at all the information available to us.

That being said, I also just feel like every person's recovery from traumatic events doesn't really look the same? I mean Leonardo’s cptsd isn’t going to operate the same way Jeanne’s wartime/Inquisition cptsd is going to operate. Some people require very individualized healing, others will often require a large scale group effort to lift them up.

Typically people don't ever just get over what happened to them and never worry about it again, either. It's usually a process of coping; the hope is that with time you find healthy ways to deal with grief and move forward. Therapists aren't magicians, they just help people process painful experiences/thoughts. It's honestly up to individuals to find meaningful ways to implement these tactics.

Tl; dr: My contention is that Jeanne doesn’t open up or choose to stay alive because MC magically heals him, rather his recovery is a convergence of many people’s efforts and hopes that he stays alive. Gilles (he insists that Jeanne must live, asks him to promise), MC (affirms and bolsters that promise), Comte (makes a second life and recovery possible)--and in no small measure Mozart and Napoleon--all make an active effort to buoy him. As people often say, it takes a village to raise a child.

While Jeanne seems to respond most powerfully to MC’s attempts, it feels more like a product of chemistry/compatibility than it does a random cop out. There is no insinuation that only romantic love can heal; after all, MC gets close to him without any romantic intentions at first. They’re just good friends? It’s more that their feelings simply moved in a different direction after a point, which doesn’t necessarily happen all the time. Jeanne is also incredibly moved by Mozart’s love for him as a friend, Comte’s love for him as a father, and even Gilles’ love as a comrade to an extent. If anything, without their input Jeanne’s capacity for romantic love would be questionable at best.

Now, because I can never for the life of me stop analyzing, I have a more large scale outline of my thoughts below. Spoilers for Jeanne’s route:

If we look at Jeanne's life history, he has pretty specific trauma. Most of the harm he endured was a direct result of human rights violations after the war itself. He didn't enjoy fighting and killing people, but he's also very much a man that sees the reality of his position: it's either kill or be killed. His entire goal was to defeat the enemy as efficiently as possible in the hopes of ending conflict, and with his enormous resolve turns the tide. He had no innate interest in inflicting harm, or lack of control when engaging. He isn't pathological about it, and doesn’t dehumanize the other side. He was more "this was an act of necessity, but those are still human beings." So as far as I can tell he has a very strong moral compass and sense of duty, he doesn't show much delusion/confusion in that regard. (Also evident in his conversations with the young orphan boy.) Furthermore, he has been shown to have a sense of humor--cracking jokes with Gilles and boosting morale for his fellow soldiers.

His childhood abandonment is significant (he left his home because he was "not an adequate farmhand and they had no ability to feed all their children") but I don't know if I would consider it a huge trauma point for him. It seems as though he deemed it an act of necessity--not spite. It was simply the way of things, and he couldn't help his wiry constitution. You'd be surprised how common that was once upon a time, tbh... While it's certainly not right or fair, it does appear that in his perception it was the choice he made and he moved on after he became a soldier. Just focusing on what he could do, rather than everything he lacked. For people in his position, they often feel it is useless to linger on what should have been. There’s no time to linger or doubt, life hangs in the balance.

That leaves us with his time under the Inquisition, just before he was slated to be burned alive. I think this is the keystone trauma point for him, because there are a lot of moving parts to his powerlessness here. The first part is that his entire life's mission--ending the war so that people would no longer have to die and/or starve as a result of senseless violence--was just sabotaged. All those years of doing things he never wanted to do (wartime violence) and being forced to leave his family to ensure they didn't all starve, all of it treated like some kind of joke. Like he didn't sacrifice years of his life and sanity to protect a people who were happy to call him a monster and watch him burn alive. The second part is the overt gaslighting and rewriting of Jeanne's personal history (and overall French public perception) for the sake of the King's political agenda. To call him a treasonous danger to the country when he was once lauded a hero. The third portion is the actual physical helplessness of being arrested, starved, and continuously maimed for no reason beyond pure malice. While it's never right to do that to any human being, this was done to a man who prided himself on his stalwart moral code. To abuse and torture him for something egregious that he would never do (at the risk of death) is just another slap in the face to everything he is and believes in.

I just feel like the context clarifies why that period of time would be the tipping point. His entire moral code and life’s work is being called into question and swept aside, as well as his agency? He believes very powerfully in a sense of right vs wrong, what's fair and what isn't fair. Somebody else deciding that for him--and deciding in a way that is openly unfair/incorrect--further makes him lose himself and his sense of reality. A person in that situation begins to doubt if they are good or bad. His belief in god all the more pressing; if he was a good person, why would fate bring him so much suffering? Honorable soldier or not, his blade has drawn so much blood...

People often reference his stilted social skills (and I am of the belief that he is on the autistic spectrum) as a reason why he is so "people-adverse" but tbh? I don't agree. His memories before the onset of this trauma reveal that he was actually a very warm person, and that people were more than willing to fight under his banner. He had friends, and he had comrades--his country loved him. He was the picture of well-meaning civic duty. Just because he doesn’t integrate smoothly into larger social groups or adapt well to socially shifting circumstances, doesn’t mean he just hates people lmao. When people give him the space to exist within his comfort zone and don’t take advantage of him, he thrives. Compounded by that, we also have his actions in the present to further prove what is true and what isn't.

While he is stern with the orphan boy (I'm sorry I can't remember his name, damn it) there is no malice or cruelty in what he has to say. He doesn't punish the kid or do anything out of line. It may not be fair in terms of the adult level of discretion he asks of him, but the kid also didn't have a lot of options realistically speaking lmao. Same thing with MC, she and the orphan boy are nearly identical in how Jeanne treats them. He's a little rough, but the route reveals that his intentions are just a reflection of what he's been through. He truly believes that if a person isn't strong, they won't survive--because his entire life was a series of trying to be strong/reliable because nobody else would. There was nobody to protect him, and nobody to care for him went things went south. It was him and his sword against the world, and even his exceptional skill as a fighter did not protect him from the Inquisition's arbitrary torture. He has lived in a world where good acts can become absolutely meaningless, where following rules and helping people still gets you slaughtered. That's going to take a considerable toll on his mental health: where do you find the will to go on when the next second of your life could mean the devastation of everything that matters to you?

Spoilers: you don't. Or if you do, every minute of the day is a fight to stay alive. That is the point at which we meet Jeanne. Caught in the hellish whirlpool of wanting more, wanting better--but being terrified of the cost. The cost of hoping, only for his entire world to go up in flames again. It's not a small thing, in my view.

If you have any doubts as to whether or not that is the case, I direct you to literally every singular instance in which Jeanne's emotional sensibility goes visibly dark/south. When do these instances happen? When it rains, for one. And when Shakespeare deliberately starts pressing on his sensitivities: about the soldiers he was forced to kill, about the nation that spurned him, how he's truly "wicked" at heart and doesn't deserve to be happy--seconds before flames erupt for the festival. Does that really sound coincidental? I mean lmao. The rain is a painful reminder, but MC transforms that memory into something a little lighter with her bet. He has nothing to lose in her game, all she does is ask for time with him or offers him something if she loses. There's a playfulness there, a restoration of agency and ease that's invaluable to his recovery.

As for Shakespeare's deliberate retraumatization...I can't even begin to explain how damaging that event was. Shakespeare is undermining Jeanne's agency in that he--not unlike the corrupt monarch of Jeanne's era--is twisting Jeanne's beliefs to work against him. He knows full well that Jeanne doesn't feel like he deserves somebody so bright and understanding (we need to remember it's not really a luxury he's had much in life, especially after the war ended). He knows Jeanne has a tendency to impose that strict moral code on himself even more than he does on others. To reaffirm his every worst fear and lurking terror only throws Jeanne into a vicious downspiral. Jeanne doesn't reject MC out of disgust or hate. He rejects her because he literally cannot handle the concept of trying to be happy again, or of burdening her with his constant struggle to move on while he’s in the middle of a bad episode. He knows he won’t be able to stop reliving the past, that every second of his life and breath will be colored by his gruesome memories. He's trying as hard as he can to keep the intrusive thoughts quiet, to move on. But I'm not going to lie to any of you, that is incredibly difficult to do alone.

The next obvious question is, well why can't the other men help him? This isn't to say that they can't--we see how much solace Jeanne finds in Napoleon and Mozart. Even Isaac is gentle with the veteran. But there are limits to how much they can do. Napoleon is struggling with his own wartime trauma, and it's not identical to Jeanne's. Plus there’s a distinct difference in their sensibilities? Napoleon is the type to habitually seek comfort in helping others when he can't help himself, he's not as in tune with answering his own personal feelings and regulating them. (I mean just look at his new ES: he knows what he wants, but it takes a nudge from Isaac for him to go through with it.) He’s very communally reliant in ways Jeanne isn’t; Jeanne is a very private person, and typically prefers one on one from what I can tell.

Mozart is the definition of repression, and if you look at their interactions it's usually Jeanne that's smoothing over Mozart's rough edges. Mozart says as much himself: that he feels like a rotten friend because he knew Jeanne was struggling with a lot of intense trauma, but he didn't know how to unravel it without hurting him in the process. Mozart calls it personal cowardice, but honestly I just feel like they both had too much going on to be able to help each other effectively. (And Jeanne expresses this sentiment too? This idea that he's not angry with Mozart? He knows they're both carrying a lot, he's just touched Mozart cares about him in return.)

Okay, briefly unrelated, but like. Am I the only one that wheezes uncontrollably when Mozart is like "?????? Idk what it is about MC...I don't want her to be scared of me..." in his own main story in the baths. And Jeanne. IS TRYING SO HARD. NOT TO SPILL THE BEANS ABOUT HIM O B V I O U S L Y BEING IN LOVE. THE HILARITY I CAN'T DO THIS. Jeanne was like "yeah....yeah that's rough buddy.......[screams internally, give your boy time Jeanne he's fragile]"

Honestly? That's the thing about Jeanne too--he has incredible self-awareness and hyperarousal-related (I mean the PTSD kind, get your head out of the gutter) awareness to the people around him. He's very, very conscious of the fact that he is surrounded by geniuses when he can't even write his own name. Just because he has the fortitude not to lash out with his insecurities, doesn't mean he never feels stupid or inferior. And it doesn't help when there are people in the mansion who call him--a fucking war veteran from 500 YEARS AGO--nAiVe. He's not naive lmao. He just doesn't know how the world works so many years later, and it's a ridiculously steep learning curve? Leonardo and Comte are nearly 500 years old, but they lived throughout every hour of that time in a linear fashion. It is a big deal to be moved from 1430 to 1890 in the span of a second asynchronously, and then be expected to function without a hitch??? Given the circumstances he adapts well.

That atmosphere--this constant impatience with what he doesn’t understand, his inability to be caught up to speed quickly--is going to hinder his recovery lmao. He feels like a burden most of the time, and agency and freedom are crucial.

Another thing that occurs to me about the mansion's arrangement is that there is a power dynamic, just as any space with people in it has some level of hierarchy (unless you live with miraculously chill people). Jeanne is acutely aware that Comte is the most powerful being in that space, and he is not only hatefully angry at him--but likely afraid too. We have to remember that the biggest betrayal he witnessed in his life was at the hands of a monarch; it was the aristocracy that turned on him and erased the truth. Comte is openly a child that resulted from both that era and that type of lineage, I don't really blame Jeanne for being wary. He intimately knows how willing rich people are to throw normal folks under the bus to suit their ambitions/whims. Comte, while not deliberately threatening, also seems to be painfully aware of this impression he gives off. His "chad persona" as I've mentioned allows him to navigate his life in secret by necessity, but it’s actively damaging to his son. He can't reveal the truth because of Vlad's betrayal, and he's openly unsettled by what it could mean to be honest. Will they wonder about Vlad and find themselves ensnared under his mind control as Charles and Shakespeare are? Will Comte himself be subjected to the mortifying ordeal of being known only to lose them?? That's a risk he isn't willing to take--and that leaves him in a double bind.

What is it that they say, the truth will set you free? This is where MC and Comte come into enormous play when it comes to Jeanne's recovery. One thing to keep in mind is that most of the people in the mansion have their own traumas they're trying to carry, and I feel like a lot of them are unsure how to approach Jeanne. Or if they do, he's very guarded. It takes a lot of consistent effort to get through to him. What does MC do when Jeanne unleashes his harsh worldview on her? She's understandably frightened, but Jeanne isn't malicious (so she chases him around). In fact, he openly avoids and runs away from her--well aware that what he's done is wrong. If anything, he did it on purpose, bringing us right back to Shakespeare's verbal undoing; why does Jeanne attack her in the first place?

LMAO. He attacks her because she essentially says "oh thanks for helping me!" "I am not nice. Watch yourself." "But you seem like a nice guy to me?" "REEEEEE" Does the pattern become a little clearer? When people think kindly of him, his instinct is to shatter that illusion with an impulsive reprehensible act. When people think poorly of him or lash out, what does he do? When that orphan boy starts yelling and screaming, Jeanne is nothing but calm. He explains the situation, and offers the kid a choice, perfectly happy to be the bearer of bad news. This operates on many levels I’m sure, but I have a feeling it has something to do with him being hailed a saint and a war hero only to be tortured and branded a monstrosity (and he probably thinks being a vampire is doubly monstrous). He’s more comfortable being hated because he feels it’s what he deserves in a lot of ways.

Jeanne has a lot of internalized self-hatred because of what he's done, and because of how much harm was inflicted on him outside of his control (he's Catholic and he was tortured, come on this writes itself). If I'm honest, I think that's actually the greater part of why he hates Comte lmao. Comte refuses the very concept of being cruel no matter how much Jeanne lashes out. Sure he lectures him and scolds him, but he never actively limits what's important to him or controls or harms him. Comte fully realizes the tragedy of how Jeanne's life was used by a nation in dire straits, and knows he needs time and acceptance to heal. No matter how dismal or unhappy, Comte doesn't stop--he fully believes Jeanne should have time in his life where he can really live for himself for once. But therein lies the issue, Jeanne doesn't know how to live for himself.

Which brings me to how MC and Comte "heal" Jeanne. I feel like they give him the space he needs to recover, and that's what results in his gentled temperament and happiness. Remember that so much of his main story is MC endlessly chasing after Jeanne. No amounts of his hissing or running or threatening stops her. Even if his refusals are empty of real dislike, they're enough to deter most people. Not MC. She's able to see through to the depths of who he is, and doesn't just use him for her own ends? She actively seeks to teach him (to read and write) to help him settle better in this era, she actively tries to ease his distaste for rain with a well-meaning bet, and she never gives up on him. (Actions mean so much more to him than words in general too, tbh...). Love is more easily defined by work and effort than it is by attraction.

When he has his episode at the festival, sure she's rattled; but that's because she truly believed that he didn't want to be around her anymore. When she notices he really doesn’t want to be followed, she stops like any normal person would. It’s only when she reads his notebook and sees the truth for herself (that he’s given up despite having the same feelings for her) that her determination is rekindled. She doesn't approach him fearfully, doesn't treat him like he's made of glass either. She just wants him as he is--accepts and loves him as he is. Scarred, bloody, exhausted, abrasive, terrified. She doesn't define him by how easy he is to love. That is a huge issue with traumatized people lmao. Because of their maturity, people always just assume they don't need help, or they rely on them to an extent that isn't sustainable. The second they reveal need or that they struggle, people walk away or victim blame them because it’s easier than taking them seriously.

While MC's attempts may be a little more obvious (cherishing his lily field, wearing the hair pin he gave her, careful about his gruesome injury, really listens when he talks about the horrors of his life and accepts that he experienced a level of agony/terror she can never understand, tries to express her feelings no matter his evasion) I think it's also important to consider Comte's large scale effort. I don't say this to undermine MC, I say it because Jeanne's life was defined by a complete lack of security. He left his parents to make their lives easier, he lived in a war that meant life or death any second, and his country's leader branded him a traitor which lead to his endless torture and public execution. Jeanne does not know a life in which safety is the norm. Point blank. He does not understanding going outside and not expecting the worst anymore.

Comte not only understands that level of despair, but treats it with dignity and respect. He fully accepts being hated if it means Jeanne can use that hatred to live on and find a way to heal. And most importantly, when Jeanne begins to move forward with MC and Mozart's help, Comte never once holds it against Jeanne when the truth is revealed. He's not angry, this isn't about reprisal or reparations or revenge. It's just love.

Jeanne doesn't really have a concept of this? His entire life was mostly transactional, defined by strength and efficiency. Nobody gives a damn about your feelings. You either hurl yourself at the problem or die. Nobody is going to help you or carry you or save you. While he may have had a little more support while he was in the military from his fellow soldiers, that support system was ripped away from him during the Inquisition.

One very common sentiment regarding elongated imprisonment and torture is that survival occurs in pairs. It is an undeniable fact that people need others to survive. It is the nature of who we are. Individualism has never proven to be successful, or if it is, its dividends are astronomically minimal when compared to people working together.

What does it mean to be the most reliable, steady person in the room? Usually it just means you don't know how to ask for help when you are no longer capable of maintaining that stance. Napoleon is guilty of it. Leonardo, Comte, and Jeanne all are too. It's part of why MC and Comte's capacity to see what he needs and provide as much as they can is such a big deal. That sort of consistent support (without a constant necessity to beg for help) allows Jeanne to be able to re-integrate into his new reality and find joy. Even if his nightmares and memories never go away, they are now being actively overrun by positive experiences. That's the thing about recovery, really--it tends to be more about drowning out the negative as much as possible and coming to terms with it, than it is about forgetting or never feeling it again. It’s about softening the sharp edges of pain like sea glass.

So is MC magical and randomly got Jeanne to open up? Nah, I don't think so. I think it was a series of persistence and real acceptance of who he is that made him warm up. People really seem to underestimate how deeply affecting understanding is, but that's how damage is undone. Jeanne can't really linger on the idea of his own monstrousness, his unworthiness, a lifetime of misery, when the person in front of him actively listens and cares about him. Makes him laugh and smile and lose himself in warmth for the first time.

If I'm honest, I feel like people also just...underestimate the level of traumatic resurgence that's perpetuated and inflicted by society’s standards in general lmao. This rhetorical structure in which good and bad exist in moral extremes, this idea that people should be able to recover and never experience relapses or periods of sensitivity. The refusal to radically listen to people and their problems, and make active attempts--not matter how small--to mend/ease those hurt feelings. Granted there will always be people in the world who do not want to improve, but I feel like most people want to. It's hopelessness, silence, and stigmatization that remain the true enemies of traumatized/mentally ill people everywhere. And among that population are always war veterans...

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp jean #ikevamp jeanne #ikevamp meta #ikevamp saint germain #ikevamp comte #sorry i have a lot of feelings about this topic kjahsflkjhsjkghfd #but yes!#i think mc being able to help him was more about her sensibility and the mental fortitude/space to be able to care about him as he needed #i don't think it's necessarily that she's SpEcIaL #trauma is a sensitive subject--especially considering he's a war veteran #but i also think it's simple and complex at the same time #simple in the sense that people really do just need consistent support and love to be able to care for themselves again #complex in the sense that support can come in so many permutations and some of them are very delicate and multi-faceted #and thus must be handled with extreme caution in some regards #anywho not that i'm any kind of expert this is just what i understand and see #also in case it wasn't clear i love him and cry every day (look away comte it's my whoring hours)#though i hope this helps??? i went off harder than anticipated lakjhglkj #thank you for the ask!!! <3333 #asks #rambles #not incorrect quotes

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thirstyforcharacters · 4 years

Text

When the Universe Collides (Sam Wilson x Reader)

Summary: Every person has a soulmate. When your soulmate experiences pain, so do you, and any bruises, scars, or other markings that they get appear on your skin. Or, the story of how smacking yourself in the face with a cabinet was the best thing to ever happen to you.

Notes: Hi! Since the first episode of Falcon and the Winter Soldier comes out today, I wanted to write something for Sam! He’s super underrated and deserves more love! Also, this soulmate AU is extremely self-indulgent and has absolutely nothing to do with the TV show, but tbh I don’t care. Hope you all enjoy it too! (no y/n, no pronouns) (PS: any italicized text is Sam texting and the italicized and bold text is the reader texting!)

Warnings: mentions of a stab wound (nothing explicit), cursing I guess

WC: 2.2 k

Your soulmate must have one hell of a job.

Almost every day, you woke up with dark bruises covering your body. It seemed that whenever one faded, another took its place. At completely random times, you would double over in aches that you certainly didn’t inflict upon yourself. One time, in the middle of the night, you woke up with pain in your stomach so intense, it felt like someone had stabbed you! It turned out that it was a stab wound, but given that no one had stabbed you lately (or ever), you figured it was from your soulmate. You definitely didn’t appreciate that hospital bill.

But you still desperately wanted to meet them. Meet that person that completed you: your other half. As a teenager, you made your parents tell you the story of the day they finally met so many times, you knew it by memory. They were both in the library at college, and your mom dropped a psychology textbook on her foot! Her howl of pain was only matched by the “SON OF A BITCH” that came from your dad on the opposite side of the library. When the two of them made eye contact, they instantly knew they were the ones for each other (they were also immediately kicked out for making such a ruckus). You wanted to have that moment so badly; meeting your soulmate was a huge milestone in every person’s life, and you needed it.

Your best friend and roommate, Brianna, had met hers just two months ago. They had met at the beach, when out of nowhere, Bri had shrieked in shock and pain.

“A crab just pinched me!”

When you had looked at her foot and told her nothing was there, she was totally confused, until you saw a handsome guy with a crab hanging from his foot! He had introduced himself as Julian, and the two had been inseparable since. He was living with you now, and you had honestly never felt more lonely in your life. Sure, you had your dream career; you ran a music shop in New York City, selling instruments, making repairs, and meeting all sorts of interesting people. You had a decent apartment, a chill best friend, and the cutest Yorkie, named Muffin, on the planet. By all accounts, you had it pretty good. You were just missing your other half.

It was a rainy day in NYC. The chill of winter was still clinging onto the March air, and you shivered as you trudged from your apartment to your shop. Even though you had an umbrella to protect you from the rain, the wind blew right through the too-thin jacket you yanked off of the coatrack in a rush. Still holding your half-eaten toaster strudel in your hand, you pushed open the doors to Major Instruments and Minor Repairs, your pride and joy.

It was two floors: the first was where you sold instruments, and the repair shop was above. Acoustic panels were attached to the burnt red walls to help quiet down the place, since the hardwood floors didn’t do much to help with that. The checkout desk was directly in the center in the room. Surrounding it were reeds, bottles of valve oil, and guitar strings. Picks were placed in two clear, plastic bowls on the desk itself. In the front left corner of the room was a grand piano, situated right in the window so passersby could see whenever someone plucked its keys. The entire back wall was covered in guitars and basses. To the right of the desk was a large drumset, accompanied by a pair of drumsticks and brushes. On the right wall were string instruments; string basses and cellos were leaned against the wall, while the violins, violas, and bows were displayed on it. Woodwind and brass instruments were scattered across the room in various display cases. Instrument stands, bow rosin, and miscellaneous instrument parts were on shelves throughout the room as well. The spiral staircase leading up to the repair shop was in the back left corner of the room. Behind the staircase was the door to the back store room, where you kept your extra supplies and also where you took your breaks.

“Good morning!” called Andrew, one of your closest friends from college, from behind the desk.

You waved in reply, wandering to the back store room. You were lucky you had Andrew; you could rely on him to run the front desk while you and Brianna assisted customers on the floor. Unfortunately, Bri had the flu today, so it would just be you on the floor, which would make things a little more hectic. You hurriedly finished your strudel, took off your jacket, which left you in a black and white flannel, a matching black tank top reading “Music is Life,” black leggings, and black combat boots (you had an aesthetic to uphold), and strode back out to the main area.

“You seem in a bit of a rush. Everything okay?” asked Andrew, who was currently restocking bell covers.

You sighed, “Just a whirlwind of a morning. Bri has the flu, Muffin nearly choked on a chicken bone, I almost burned my toaster strudel, and I smacked myself in the face with my cabinet door by accident.”

“Oh, that’s where the new bruise on your eye is from,” he mused.

You snorted, “Yeah, for once it’s not from my soulmate.”

“Maybe he’s a spy. Or a superhero!”

“Yeah, or a criminal,” you joined in on the restocking, grabbing some trumpet mutes since the place opened in just half an hour, “thanks for opening up, by the way.”

“It’s no problem,” he replied, “you know I don’t mind.”

The doorbell jingled and two of your instrument repair people, Sarah (for strings), and Natalie (for brass), entered. Natalie was lugging what was unmistakably a tuba case, while Sarah carried both of their instrument repair kits.

“Morning, ladies!” called Andrew.

“Good morning,” Sarah replied pleasantly.

Natalie huffed out a “morning” and dragged the tuba up the stairs.

“Her tuba’s broken. The tubing that holds up her mouthpiece completely snapped off. She’s going to try and repair it before her appointments today,” explained Sarah.

You winced, “That’s rough.”

Sarah dropped off both of their jackets and followed Natalie up the stairs leaving you alone with Andrew again. Soon after, Erik, your percussion guy, and John, the woodwind repairman, arrived, and it was time for the shop to open. For a while, it was just another mundane Thursday. Customers came and went. People tested the piano and drumsets, someone bought $100 worth of jazz scores, and a teenaged boy came in who somehow got a ping pong ball stuck in their trombone (you learned to never ask). But at exactly 1:47 pm, a time you would never forget, two very unexpected customers walked through the threshold of your store. You were up on a ladder, carrying a large, rather heavy, box of violin bows to situate on the wall, when you heard their voices.

“I’m telling you, Buck, I’m a wizard at the saxophone.”

“Sure, Sam. I’ll believe it when I hear it.”

“I’m serious, dude! I played all the time before I joined the military, and I picked it back up a little bit again after the whole Avengers thing. I just need to get a new one.”

“Hmm, okay. We’ll see.”

“Bastard.”

You whipped your head around and saw the Falcon and the Winter Soldier themselves in your shop. Having superheros in your place was a first. And who knew Sam Wilson played the saxophone?

Andrew offered them a cheerful greeting and directed them toward the saxophones, which happened to be near the ladder you were teetering on. Every time you leaned up to put a bow on display, it wobbled so badly you thought you were going to fall. You really needed to allocate some funds toward a new one.

As you continued to place bows on display, you heard the conversation of the two gentlemen browsing the saxophones. Apparently, Sam much preferred the tenor sax (which you happened to play, quite well you might add). Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him pick up a Selmer Paris model and inspect it. Those didn’t come cheap, but you were sure that saving the world gave a man a pretty decent paycheck.

“You think I can test it out?”

“I don’t know, dude. You should probably ask.”

You saw him nod, “Yeah, I guess so. And there’s not a reed in here, anyway. Excuse me!”

You realized he was calling you, so you craned your head to look at him. Both men were looking up at you, both with kind smiles on their faces.

“Is there any way I can get a cheap reed to test this out with,” Sam asked, “and are we even allowed to test them in store?”

You smiled back, “Yes, you can. We have test reeds at the front desk, just ask Andrew and he’ll give you one. That’s the only one you’ll get though.”

“Cool, thanks,” he replied while looking around, “nice place you’ve got here.”

Your smile grew a little wider, “Thank you! It took a little while to get it off of the ground, but I’m really proud of how it turned out.”

It was almost as if the universe wanted you to suffer. You stretched up to display yet another bow, and the ladder toppled to the ground, taking you with it! You shrieked in surprise and braced yourself for the impact with the floor.

But it never came.

Instead, you were caught in a pair of (ridiculously) muscular arms. When you looked into the arms of your hero, of course it was Sam himself. He was too handsome for his own good. The thing that stood out most to you were his deep brown eyes. And how, on the left one, was a bruise that exactly matched the one that you gave yourself this morning.

“Are you alright? That ladder must have it out for you,” joked Sam, though you could tell that he was concerned for you.

“I’m okay,” you squeaked, “thank you.”

“It’s no problem. All a part of the job.”

You nodded distractedly, still fixated on the bruise adorning his eye. He couldn’t be your soulmate, could he?

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he questioned.

“I-yes. I just got a bit, well, distracted.”

“By what?”

Well, it was now or never. You might as well just go for it.

“When did you get that bruise?”

He looked a bit surprised by the question, “The one on my eye?”

You nodded.

“This morning. It just popped up. Hurt a little bit, like something hit me in the face. Can’t be worse than what I’ve given my soulmate, though. I got stabbed in the stomach once and all I could think about was how confused and hurt they must’ve been,” came his reply.

It was him. It had to be! All of your random, serious injuries made so much more sense now.

“It did hurt,” you murmured back, “but not as much as the hospital bill.”

His face went from apologetic to elated faster than you had ever seen, “Wait, that means it’s you?”

“I think so,” you said, “I hit myself in the eye with a cabinet door this morning, and that-” you gestured to his face, “matches mine.”

“Oh, it does!” he exclaimed.

“Are you two done over there?” complained Bucky.

Thankfully, the Winter Solider had successfully rescued your box of bows.

Sam stood you up, and you could feel the embarrassment slowly creeping over you, “Yeah. Sorry about that, guys. Promise I’m not usually that clumsy.”

“Seems like you need a new ladder,” Bucky told you.

“You don’t say,” you sassed back, prompting a laugh from Sam.

Bucky then strode off to return the fallen box to Andrew. He gave Sam a knowing look as he passed by. He wasn’t very slick, though, you totally saw him.

“Listen, since apparently we’re soulmates and all, I’d love it if I got your number. I’ll take you somewhere nice to make up for all of the times I’ve gotten you hurt,” explained Sam.

You smiled bashfully, “That sounds nice.”

He handed you his phone and you input your digits. As Sam and Bucky were in the checkout line, your phone buzzed.

Hey, gorgeous. It’s your new man.

You giggled softly and looked up at him. He gave you an exaggerated wink and launched finger guns at you, making you laugh a bit harder. You entered his number into your phone and decided to send a text back.

Looking forward to you making up for all of those broken bones.

Me too.

You knew you’d be happy with him. Whenever the universe collided in this way, it always turned out for the best. If your parents and your roommate weren’t enough proof, soon you would discover it for yourself. You couldn’t wait for all of the memories you’d make together.

#sam wilson #falcon #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x you #sam wilson x y/n #sam wilson fanfiction #sam wilson fic #sam wilson fluff #soulmate au #x reader #x reader fanfiction #x reader fluff #x reader fic #marvel #MCU

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allthefilmsiveseenforfree · 3 years

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Old (2021)

Oh you guys. You guyyyyyys. Buckle the fuck up, I am so pumped to tell you about this absolutely GONZO mummified deuce of a movie. Spoilers will be had in this one, because you need to know everything.

Old is the latest from M. Night Shyamalan and like....I think we all know M. Night’s track record. For every Sixth Sense, we also get a Happening or a Village. In some ways, he’s the most exciting director working today because every new film is a 50/50 coin toss, and mama loves living on the edge. The gist of this latest roll of the dice is that a group of different families who have all come to stay at a remote luxury beach resort get invited to go to a secluded private beach for the day, and after they arrive they discover they can’t leave. That’s not great, but the bigger problem is that they seem to be aging rapidly - like 2 years older every hour or so. That’s a solid “how are we gonna get outta this one” bottle episode premise, and in the hands of a better writer, it could be a fun sci-fi romp. M. is NOT that writer.

Some thoughts:

I should have known it would all go wrong from the terrible foreshadowing starting at the very beginning scene. The mom of our main family, Prisca (Vicky Krieps) says “You have such a beautiful voice, I can’t wait to hear it when you’re older.” The dad, Guy (Gael Garcia Bernal) says, “Don’t rush this moment, enjoy the present while you can.” BECAUSE THE CHARACTERS WON’T BE ABLE TO LATER, DO YOU GET IT? dO yOU GEt iT? Wife leaned over and said “look at all the ferns - the oldest plants!” That last one was probably her projecting, but the point stands: there is nothing subtle about Old.

There’s a lot of just like, shouting out loud the things that are currently happening onscreen. “She’s having a seizure!” “People who go back the way we came black out!” “The rust has entered your bloodstream; it acts like poison!” That’s how you tell stories, right? Just having characters point out events that are occurring right in front of their stupid fucking faces with no other commentary or reflection?

An additional element that feels woefully ignorant at best and malicious at worst is the inclusion of a black male character (Aaron Pierre) who 1) is a rapper 2) is named Mid-Sized Sedan [I’ll give you a moment to deal with that detail emotionally] 3) says the single line of dialogue “Damn.” at least 4 times and 4) suffers the bloodiest, most violent onscreen death at the hands of a racist white man who is revealed to have paranoid schizophrenia. There are other gruesome deaths onscreen, to be sure, but the worst are body horror nightmares that could never occur in the real world - a woman whose bones are breaking and setting in the wrong position nearly instantaneously until she resembles a horrifying spider creature, and the aforementioned rust-in-the-bloodstream trick that leads to a Jeff-Goldblum-in-The Fly-bubbling-skin infection kinda deal. But Mid-Sized Sedan just gets stabbed in the chest repeatedly, brutally, a bunch of times by a white guy who pleads fear for his life even though MSS posed no danger to him, and it all happens onscreen when so many other characters are offered the mercy of offscreen deaths. I’m not sure if M. is trying to throw some real-world horror in and he’s just shit at it, or if it really didn’t occur to him how malicious this inclusion feels in a fantasy narrative, and I don’t really care. If you have a black character in your story and they die, you better think really long and hard about how it happens and what it means and it’s clear no one did that here.

Nothing to do with the film itself, but it did tickle me that someone brought a tiny infant to my pretty packed screening. The baby was very chill, thank goodness, and as far as I know did not age up to a kindergartner during the course of the film.

There is a Very Good Dog, a Yorkie, present for the first part of the film, but unfortunately the dog dies. It occurs offscreen, and given the premise of what’s going on on this beach, it’s not a shock when it happens BUT STILL.

The old age makeup, at least on Prisca is pretty great. Good job makeup department!

At one point, Guy gets attacked by another beachgoer, and his eyesight is failing so he has a hard time fighting back. But you are surrounded by sand, my dude, and you can still see blurry shapes. You’re not gonna throw some sand in the eyes until you’ve been stabbed like 10 times? Not gonna try to push him down, or sweep the fucking leg, or do anything but just keep raising your arms and getting stabbed while yelling “I’ll protect you!” I’ve seen stale tuna sandwiches with better defense mechanisms than you.

Like most fantastical premises, there are only a certain number of ways this narrative can end that really make any sense. It reminds me quite a bit of 2019’s Brightburn which was like “what if Superman but evil?” Either everyone is gonna die, or someone is going to improbably survive and you better have a real neat explanation for how that’s possible. Oh M. Night, when will you realize that your explanations are never as clever as you think they are? There’s no “twist” here really, simply a reveal, and it’s the equivalent of eating one of those sugar-free, gluten-free, egg-free, dairy-free snack cakes I broke down and ate out of desperation when I was on Weight Watchers. That shit is “food” in the same way that the climax is a “logical explanation for all this.” Big Pharma is luring sick people to the resort through targeted ads, then arranging these excursions to the wacky time beach in order to test how medicine they secretly slipped into the guests’ drinks works over decades of life. These sneaky medical breakthroughs are saving hundreds of thousands of people’s lives, we’re told, and the scientists offer a moment of silence for each fallen group of unwitting human lab rats after they inevitably die. Because if there’s one thing the world needs right now, it’s more distrust of pharmaceutical companies and the ethics of modern science! I can’t think of one possible reason we’d want to portray molecular biologists, immunologists, and virologists in a positive light right now, can you? When will those assholes get off their high horses and stop being universally trusted and beloved by everyone, am I right??

My saddest takeaway, tbh, is that this is a stacked international cast, with at least half the roles going to POC - this is the future liberals want, etc etc - and the result is THIS.

Did I Cry? Of course not.

Not all is terrible! It’s a beautiful movie to look at, because M. Night’s direction is never the problem, but combined with the script, the acting, and the absurd narrative leaps needed to make this story make even a little bit of sense, the whole thing turns into a mess. Unfortunately, getting Old with M. Night is less “leisurely retirement at a plush resort in Florida” and more “rancid can of Ensure and a poop-choked pair of Depends.”

If you liked this review, please consider reblogging or subscribing to my Patreon! For as low as $1, you can access bonus content and movie reviews, or even request that I review any movie of your choice.

#121in2021 #old #old movie #old 2021 #m. night shyamalan #old review #vicky krieps #gael garcia bernal #alex wolff #aaron pierre #movie reviews #film reviews

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haikyuuhimbosandhypebeasts · 3 years

Text

>I have no idea how the fuck to format this on mobile. Also yes this is another Anisylum collab! I love doing them because the prompts are 👑. This time the prompt was Eavesdropping!

>This is the part two to “As An Object”

>Pairing: Ushijima x Reader

>1.4 k words.

>Content Warnings: Morning After, Reader has a mental breakdown, angstish, hurt-comfort, Wakatoshi says sex so I mean have fun, Tendou is a supportive best friend, not my best writing tbh but my beta reader said everything sounded fine, Mina from the last part is mentioned.

>Masterlist?: Right here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Morning came burning in your senses. You woke up in a bed that did not belong to you- a bed occupied by both you and-

Your left hand roughly slapped the warm figure by you. Your bedmate rolls over to reaffirm who you are as well.

Unfortunately for you, it wasn’t someone easy to process bedding the night before. There was a half-asleep Ushijima Wakatoshi. You struggled to place your feelings bubbling up like scalding broth to your unprepared chest as he sleepily blinked at you.

“Good morning,” he mumbled, moving one of his warm hands to cup the side of your face.

Your face grew hot, and you immediately bolted out of the bed, not caring how the lack of blanket left you bare. Ushijima watched your face with widened eyes, finally waking up himself.

“... sorry, (y/n),” his voice was soft. The tense grit of his jaw, perhaps the hint of a crease to his brow- something about the expression on his face echoed hurt and you felt hesitation. Unbidden, you felt some part of yourself flourish to life past your normally viscous “mean girl” mask.

“It’s… okay. Can I use your bath?” You looked away, not wanting to show vulnerability to someone you thought you hated.

“... it’s past the kitchen, opposite of the front door.”

“Thank you.”

And with that, you left the bedroom in all your naked glory, a hair less confident than you’d hope to be around Ushijima.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ushijima sat at his dining table and gazed aimlessly at his phone, fingers absentmindedly drifting over the tablecloth.

As soon as his phone jumped to life with a call, he answered it so quickly Satori on the other end had to mentally recollect himself.

“That serious, huh, Wakatoshi,” he said, trying to keep some ounce of humor in his voice.

“I had sex with (y/n).”

The coffee Tendou was sipping rocketed itself out of his sinuses like lava out of a cartoon volcano, thankfully away from any innocent civilians of Paris and significantly away from his phone he *just* finished paying off.

“D-did you now?” A small disbelieving giggle bubbled out from the redhead, “You wanted to call me so seriously because you lost your virginity?”

“... No.”

“Eh?”

“She is… upset. She said she hates me.”

“Ohh… well, Wakatoshi, I’m sure you know after years of playing beside her that she’s pretty complex, right? That’s the vibe I got right away from her. Complex… and obviously in love with you,” Tendou mused about, unconsciously wiggling with happiness in his seat from hearing his best friend look over his romantic options. He just wants the best for Wakatoshi and he thought to himself that a relationship would certainly help with some of his lacking social skills.

“I still don’t see that.”

“Eh? She has to like you! She told me!”

“That was years ago.”

And Wakatoshi was right. It *was* years ago. You would know, you’d spend every year bitterly waiting for a time when he would look less busy or maybe a moment where you thought he could see you as an equal. But you could never tell that, and it hurt much less to villainize and hate him than recognize someone you saw everything you wanted in someone just wasn’t interested in you. It was a way to protect yourself from abandonment… that’s what your high school counselor had said. You wondered, as you stood around a corner with your towel clad back to a wall, listening in to a conversation you shouldn’t be listening to, what she would say now about the situation you were in.

“Wakatoshi, you’re not being yourself. The Wakatoshi I know doesn’t beat around the bush, yet for the past few months you’ve been either avoiding confronting her or you’re avoiding how you feel,” Tendou squinted into his iced coffee, scrutinizing it for an answer.

Ushijima traced an absent-minded pattern into the tablecloth again, “I am. She hates me, she told me.”

“She’s keeping herself safe since she’s waited so long. I almost understand- it’s easier to hate someone than get rejected in her eyes, I think. Mina told me something along the lines of a personality disorder? She said it sounds like one of those.”

Of course Mina and Tendou had a little confidant powwow to discuss your private feelings. What was this, gradeschool? See if you’ll ever talk to her about anything like this again. Still… you listened in, waiting for the call to end.

“Wakatoshi, it’s still a better bet to just tell her.”

Your heart hammered in your chest. Certainly your hopes were getting up about this…

“I can’t.”

“How about you acknowledge it, then? Just acknowledge how you feel and it should feel better. I do that sometimes and it makes me feel great!”

“... I am attracted to (y/n).”

Your breath felt heavy, this couldn’t be real. He can’t feel this way.

“And?”

“And… I want her to not hate me and be my partner.”

You grip your towel harder, legs growing a bit weak hearing those words.

“So?” Tendou pushed, humor never leaving the edge of his voice.

“So… I’ll tell her… that I don’t want her to hate me,” Ushijima managed out, not hiding what hurt and emotional exhaustion he could portray in his voice.

You clapped your hand over your mouth and gently slid to the floor, guilt gripping your chest in a vice and twisting it so harshly you thought you would pass out. He *did* see you as an equal. He *did* find you attractive. And you told him you hated him and saw him as nothing more than an object.

You did your best to hide an unattractive choke of a sob behind your palm. The rest of the conversation was hard for you to focus on as burning tears trickled from your eyes and down your face. It took years to build these walls up and to make a perfect façade others found attractive and yet it was being torn down and destroyed violently before you. Your other hand knotted itself in your freshly washed hair and pulled to alleviate the yearning for some form of penance for making someone you loved so much go through enough pain that they needed advice.

The euphoria of this acceptance- this discovery- was burned into you through the unforgiving blade of your self-hatred and inability to properly understand others. You hated what you did to Wakatoshi. You hated that you made someone better than you suffer. And you hated that no matter what, you had no idea how to make it better. The thrum of blood rushing to your head is deafening and your eyes are squeezed shut to hopefully make this episode end soon. Your breathing is so heavy and shaking, you feel dizzy and like you might pass out soon…

Your lean form was tugged into a strong chest. Your eyes shot open as you realized you were caught.

“... I’m sorry. I made you cry again,” the rumble of his voice soothed the burning static of your brain. You’d do anything to make this episode stop, but when you open your mouth to tell him how sorry you are, it comes out as a hysteric sob. You grip onto his shirt as it becomes incredibly hard to get your words out.

He gently rubs your back, eyes closed in a flinch at how you responded and the fear that you may never even look his way again choked him slightly.

Finally, you managed to speak again.

“I’m sorry, I’m so-“ you couldn’t even finish your sentence without hiccuping. He doesn’t stop his soothing movements.

“I didn’t mean for you to hear that,” he states, unsure of how he should start explaining himself.

“No… I’m glad…” you wiped your eyes and tried to pull away from him, still trembling a bit from your episode, “I’m glad you like me. I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

He makes a sound of affirmation and holds you even tighter, hiding his face in your shoulder.

“If you want me to be your girlfriend, I will,” you clarify. His movements stop.

“Ah… it would make me very happy if you were, (y/n),” he said into your bare nape. You were unfamiliar with his newfound shyness, and you attempted to soothe him back by scratching the back of his head softly.

“Then I’ll be yours if you’ll be mine.”

#hq #anisylum #sfw collab #ushijima x reader #as an object #collab #fanfic #wakuni mina #i mentioned her in this but click that tag for more of her

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