#i know it's bullshit but i can't force myself to think any other way

[teethrotter]

panic

[miguelhugger2099]

Eye for an Eye

Summary: Miguel rescues you in an ugly way. A/N: my guilty pleasure is sometimes i wanna be saveddd Warnings: Brief suggestion to sexual harrassment/assault, a bit of violence.

Somehow in the year 2099, most people didn't understand that Spider-Man in this age didn't follow the famous "no killing" rule that the original Spider-Man upheld in the Heroic Age. Most people meaning criminals.

Spider-Man, even when saving people from falling from skyscrapers or punching Public Eye scum in the face, if pushed to his limits- he would kill. This was his rules, his timeline, his Nueva York and if some pesky criminal wouldn't understand that then he'd get rid of them by any means.

So where do you come in all this?

Despite your efforts at secrecy, in the dead of night Spider-Man would often escort you home after work or if you had gotten into trouble with some purse snatcher. Other times, he'd sneak in your apartment window after a long fight, wanting to see you and have you patch up the wounds that would take a little more time to heal.

Spider-Man had revealed to you that he was actually Miguel O'Hara, the handsome stranger that had seemingly bumped into you more and more often after your very first encounter with Spider-Man. Having already been in an established relationship, you felt your heart drop at this major secret.

A part of you was angry at him for not telling you. For revealing your feelings about Miguel to his alter ego Spider-Man and making a fool of yourself. For all the nights he cancelled seeing you without explanation-something that put a strain on your relationship for a while. 

However the other half of you was drowned in worry. So all those times his masked covered face had come in to see you, bloody and bruised while you fixed him up, it was all him. He could die, you told him. Why would he do this to himself?

"I haven't been good all my life," He groaned while you pressed a damp cloth to his wound one night. "I think of all this as repentance for being a shocking moron in my earlier years."

"There are other ways to repent. Like donating to charity or some confession booth at a church. Not some...Not risking your life." You could barely look at him, tears brimming your eyes and threatening to fall while it clouded your vision. 

"I'm not religious." Miguel replies. "It wouldn't mean anything with these in my body now. They'd probably still send me to Hell regardless." He lifts his hand, his talons auto extracting from his fingertips and he feels the bile from his stomach stir, an urge to vomit at the disgust of himself.

He forces his talons back into his fingertips so he could tilt your chin up to face him. His thumb caressed your cheek to wipe off a stray tear that had fallen. "I'm sorry I put this all on you." He whispers.

You shake your head. "You're stupid, I always knew that," You sniffle and Miguel bites his cheek so he doesn't smile. "But I could help you better now. I...I know who you are and everything makes sense now, we could-"

Miguel stops you by shushing you. "No, no, no. You're not helping me anymore." Your heart drops again.

"What do you mean?"

"This is the last time we'll see each other."

Your jaw drops this time. Eyes that widened in shock now turn to anger. "Shock, Miguel. I knew you were an asshole but breaking up with me after revealing your secret identity to me has got to be one of the lowest things you're doing."

You lean away from him, bloodied and dried cloth thrown at his chest. "I was useful when you could just pop in whenever? No strings attached–was it fun?" You scoff in hurt.

Miguel grits his teeth. "No, carajo, it's-it's me-"

"Don't bullshit me Miguel with that it's not you, it's me rhetoric." You cross your arms tightly to your chest.

"It's dangerous!" He barks back.

"Like it wasn't dangerous before?" 

"It was! That's why I can't come back! I can't let myself lead them to you!" Miguel sits up and grabs onto your shoulders tightly and gives you a firm shake. His hands shake as he holds you, his head hanging. "This...this power of mine. I...it can lead so many of those assholes to you." He whispers. "I trusted you enough to come here, which I hate myself for. I should’ve never involved you in any of this.” Miguel’s hands fall from your shoulders and down your arms to grip your hands in his. “I’ve already put you in so much danger. If you got hurt, I don’t know what I’d do.”

The feeling of his talons pricking your skin and the sight of his fangs leaking a drop of his venom made you think maybe he did know what he’d do. He would just really want to avoid it.

“Miggy,” You say softly. “How about you let me make that choice? Now that I know, it doesn’t scare me. Do you know why?” You take your right hand out his grip to cup his cheek. His tired eyes look up to yours, nostril dried with blood and a scar on his forehead that surely needed bandages.

“Because I know you’ll protect me. You’re Spider-Man.” You lean in closer, Miguel under your spell. “Let me help you. That’s my decision. In return, if I’m ever a damsel in distress, I hope you’ll help me.” You give him a small smile and his hand covers yours on his cheek. He squeezes your fingers. “I promise.” He swears. Miguel always kept his promises even if he stumbled on the way. So when he went to visit you after his nightly patrol, he didn’t expect to see your entire apartment in disarray. His mask phases off his head, scarlet eyes wide and panicked. He gulps down his fear, muscles tense as he steps into your room. Blankets and pillows on the floor, some slashed and stuffing being poured out the seams. Your desk that held photos of you and your friends had also fallen to the floor, glass shattered and frames broken. Miguel takes another quiet step outside of your room. Your entire living room was a mess. Your couch had been moved and cut in half, lamps cracked and more photos on the floor. His heart stops when he sees blood in the kitchen. Some of the knives had been taken and another wave of fear splashes down his spine. It was clear there had been some sort of resistance with whoever took you. Whoever took you. Who took you? Miguel feels the fear morph into rage, his mask phasing back on his head. “Lyla. Scan this place.” He growls. His AI assistant glitches into existence, her eyes behind her pink heart shaped glasses full of worry. She begins phasing in and out of different places while Miguel lets the anger fester in his body. HIs talons on his fingers and feet itch to come out, to be sharpened for whatever poor soul’s flesh he’ll rip into. His fangs seep out his paralyzing venom, his tongue licking off the excess. Lyla appears in front of him, more meek and smaller compared to her usual upbeat and sarcastic nature. She knew there was a time and a place. “The blood isn’t hers. They most likely knocked her out since there’s no trace of her own blood around. Fingerprints on the knife handle are hers. No other DNA samples could be acquired.”

Miguel walks towards the entrance of your apartment. His hand grazes the door frame that had been split apart. Lyla appears next to him. “Forced entry, probably by foot. There’s some traces of wet soil–mainly seawater. I’ve tracked several fishing ports–most in Staten Island.” She displays holograms of different spots, standing tall by his side while he skims through. “Did you find a match on the blood?” His voice rumbles. “Negative, Miguel. None in the criminal database, including The Raft. Looks like this is the work of someone new.” Miguel grows furious. He roars as he punches his hand through the already destroyed couch. Some novice wants his attention so badly, he’s willing to piss him off for it. Miguel swings out of your place and searches the entirety of Staten Island’s fishing ports until he finds the one he was looking for. You don’t know where you are but you can feel everything. A sash was wrapped tightly around your eyes, some rope or zip ties held your wrists together and your ankles to the chair you sat on. You felt the pounding of a headache when you woke up. The last thing you remembered was one of the intruders lifting his gun and slamming the barrel down on your temple. They grew tired of you after reaching into the kitchen to protect yourself. You held them off well but you were still just one person. The sash had been lifted from your eyes and you groaned when a bright light of a lamp shined in your face. While you squinted, you could make out at least three people in front of you.

“I’m sorry about my men. They’re still a little new. You know how it is when you get trainees for a new job.” The one in the middle speaks, you noticed he also is the one that took off your sash. “What the hell was the point of all this? You just kidnap random people from their homes?” You glare up at the man and his two puppets. “Streets say you’re good friends with Spidey.” One of the smirks. “Had one of these guys watch him crawl in your window like some squashed bug.” You scoff softly, rolling your side to the side. “So what?”

The man in front shrugs. “Either you’re his whore or you know him. So which is it sweetheart?” He rests his hand on the back seat of your chair and leans in close to your face. “Who is Spider-Man?”

You licks your lips and stare back up at him, choking back the stretch his breath was. “I don’t know.”

He grins. “Hm. So you’re his whore. A special one at that. He doesn’t appear in just anyone’s home so what services do you offer him in exchange for some protection? Do they apply here? Baby, I can protect you too.”

He’s sick, your mind screamed. You struggled against your restraints.

“Shock you.” You spit on his shirt and he lands a hard slap across your cheek.

He mumbles a string of curses before grabbing your chin and forcing you to face him again. “Don’t forget who’s in the shocking chair, sweetheart. Your hero ain’t here so be a doll and shut the hell up.”

Your chest heaved up and down in deep breaths to calm your scared heart. You feel your cheek stinging and it didn’t help with this rotten man’s fingers digging into your skin.

Your silence pleases him and his other hand reaches down to your knee. “I don’t wanna hurt you, sweet thing. It’s just one simple question and I’ll let you go.” He lies. His hand rides up your thigh and your leg tries to kick him away from you but he just grips you tighter. “I don’t know.” You plead hoarsely. “I know, I know. So you say.” Out of the corner of your eye you see one of his men snatched into the darkness with a clawed hand around his mouth. Miguel. The guy in front of you digs his nails deeper in your skin and you can feel the scratch. “Eyes up here, sweetheart.” You whine at the pain, pursing your lips to keep yourself quiet. “See, Spidey’s head goes for millions of dollars–money you can’t even comprehend so if you could do your community a favor of just letting us in on some intel on the son of a bitch; that’d be great.” “You wanna kill him?” You ask breathlessly, looking to the other side to see another newbie being hindered, his neck tilted to the side while some teeth bite into his flesh. His body slowly lost consciousness and was also dragged into the darkness silently. “Most of Nueva York wants that guy dead. All the ones on top but I’m dirt poor, sweetie. It’d be a disservice for the hero to not let me kill him. Shouldn't he give to the poor and needy?” He sighs, letting go of your cheek so both his hands rests on your upper thighs. You feel your skin crawling and try to move away as far as you can in your seat. “But you don’t know anything do you? Then I’d be doing a disservice by throwing out some useful goods here, don't you think?” His grimy hands grip your hips, looping his fingers around your jean belt loops. Before you could even think, the man is instantly ripped off of you by his shirt. He’s thrown back on his side, skidding as he comes to a halt. Spider-Man towers in front of you, his back facing you. You could still see the rage oozing from his suit, shoulders and muscles tense and claws out. His chest rises and falls with each jagged breath, the only sound coming out of him.

“Spider-Man!” The man growls, stumbling to get back on his feet. His pistol had slipped from the back of his jeans, sliding away from him. “Dammit–Darrell! Fernando!” He calls to his two men but he freezes. On the floor are both his associates, one’s clothes ripped apart with claw marks on his chest, the other with his jaw slacked open and two puncture holes in his neck–a strange mixture of blood and another liquid oozing from the wound. He lets out a strangled scream as he looks back up at Spider-Man. His tall frame stalks over to him but the man crawls to find his gun. Before he could grab it, Miguel stomps on the man's arm, giving a satisfying crack to his bone which the man cries out painfully. While he writhes on the concrete ground, Miguel grabs onto his broken arm and lifts him up–he screams, trying to push Miguel away. “You wanted to kill me?” Miguel growls, his voice deep and menacing. The man pleads for his life and another set of footsteps come from behind. “Shoot him!” The man yells as Miguel looks back over his shoulder. The rest of the group comes up from behind Miguel, raising–what Miguel considers pathetic–guns up to his face. The eyes on Miguel’s mask squint slightly and just as quickly, he turns with the man in his hands and uses his body to protect himself from the onslaught of bullets. The man’s entire group fires and every single bullet pierces into his body, splattering blood on the ground and Miguel’s suit. Miguel makes sure that you weren’t hit at any moment. Miguel tosses the limp corpse to the side and pounces into the group, attaching his fangs into some man’s neck while his talons ripped along his arm to let go of the rifle he was holding. Chaos ensues and they all begin shooting at one another in hopes that one shot could land on Spider-Man. Miguel’s claws ripped apart limbs and skin, every single hand that raised against you was littered to the ground. He continues to swing and jump around, letting everyone get lost in the confusion before tearing through chests and stomachs. His rage knew no bounds at the moment. He had planned to just come in secretly while he still had a part of his mind. Get in, use his venom, take you and get out. But when he saw what that scum would’ve done to you, touching you, gripping onto you–he lost his mind. Even with Lyla’s brief protest, Miguel couldn’t help but want to tear him apart. So he did.

It wasn’t often Miguel had to be reduced to such measures but everyone had their limits. By the time it was over, he barely noticed how silent it had become. His ears were still ringing, he felt like he was underwater as he gulped in heaps of air. “Miguel!” He hears Lyla yell at him. He snaps his head to where he heard her voice, blind rage melting when he sees you still in the chair. He sees Lyla with her arms crossed, her little foot tapping angrily in mid-air. Lyla had done her best to cover your sight and hearing of the crime Miguel had done with holograms of whatever–surely it was much nicer than watching Miguel gnaw off a piece of someone’s throat. Miguel glances at his hands stained and dripping with blood. He wipes them on his legs, hoping to get it off him before you could see. He falls to his knees in front of you with a soft whine of your name and his mask phases off. “Lyla, blur the room.” Lyla does as told and lets you see him. Your eyes are concerned and scared. “Miggy…” You whisper, feeling the trauma set in. “I’m here, I’m here–I told you I’d protect you, yeah?” Miguel uses his talons to cut off the zip ties from your wrists and ankles that were digging in your skin. Once you were free, you wrapped your arms around his neck and jumped into his arms. Miguel fell back but made sure to hug you back, his arms going around your waist while his other arm went up to cradle your head. He buried himself in your shoulder, breathing in the mixture of your natural scent and the scent of the man. He growled and held you tighter. He’d do something about that smell.

“I was so scared–I didn’t know what to do–How did you find me?” You babbled as you finally felt safe enough to sob and cry. “Don’t worry about that. You’re safe. You’re okay.” Miguel reassures you, kissing your temple and cheek, pulling away gently to brush your messy hair away from your face. He wipes your tears with the back of his hand, unintentionally leaving a bloody mark. “Shit..” He mumbles, ashamed and pulls his hand away. You stop him, holding his hand back to your cheek. You just wanted to feel him, his warmth. You weren’t stupid. You knew what happened when Lyla put up holograms that blurred what you weren’t supposed to see. You didn’t care. May they rot. “Thank you.” You whimpered. “Thank you.” Miguel presses a kiss to your forehead. “Always. I’ll take you home.” “But, my apartment–” You try to speak as Miguel moves to hold your body in one hand while he swings on his web with the other. “Not your apartment. Mine. My penthouse. I’m never leaving you out of my sight again.” Your arms were securely around his neck. He was still tense but much less before. You tried to look back down but he squeezed you tighter– he didn’t want you to see.

For tonight, he’d take care of you just like all those nights you took care of him.

[20thcentwriter]

Get him back [Michael Gavey x OC]

Chapter One- When Edith Met Michael

Word count- 1.2k

Cw- swearing

Vaguely proofread

A/n hello everyone, welcome to chapter one of my series. I don't consider myself a great writer but I hope you enjoy this series I have planned. I kinda have no clue what I'm doing really and any tips and tricks would be very helpful. All I know is that I'm excited to discover the relationship between Edith and Michael.

Also apologies for this chapter being kind of short. I just wanted to establish the breakup between Felix and Edith and have her meet Michael. It will get more interesting

“You’re breaking up with me?!?” Edith can’t believe what she’s hearing

… Well maybe she can a little bit but it doesn’t mean she thought this would really happen.

“Umm…Ed… yeah. You know we’re both going to uni in two weeks.”

“Felix Catton don’t you fucking bullshit me. you and I are both going to Oxford.”

”Okay umm…” Felix brings his hand to rub his chin. “ it’s just that this whole past year I’ve been so great and understanding about your boundaries regarding sex but I thought by now we’d have already done it though. I don't think it’s going to work.”

Through breathy laughter Edith can’t help containing her anger “Wait- So what you’re telling me is that you are done with me because I'm not ready to have sex and you’re horny ?!?!”

“That's pretty much the case, yeah.”

”You know what Felix Catton, I can't believe I thought you would ever be understanding.” Edith starts, heels turning to walk away so he couldn’t see the tears whining to spill. “You fucking suck and fuck you!!!!”

“What a fucking asshole,” Edith mutters under her breath peering out the window of her room. She shakes her head looking at a completely okay looking Felix Catton chatting and laughing with other popular rich kids who some Edith use to call “friends” .

The term “friends” would frankly be a loose term for Edith because they were more of people she hung out with because she was dating Felix, they weren’t true friends. she’s never exactly had a true friend.

Eddie knows he doesn’t deserve anymore of her feelings towards him but it’s hard. All she wants to do is scream and cry, telling Felix that he’s so pathetic.

Edith knows she can’t, all those other girls would come right after her, saying she’s jealous and desperate. how could he just break her heart and be completely okay? He’s most likely even moved on already.

Taking her eyes off from her ex, Edith flops onto her bed with a groan. All she wishes to do for the rest of the day is sit on her bed and read her book, draw in her sketchbook and maybe play her guitar. She’s aware though that she has to go to the dining hall tonight. Edith hasn’t been able to eat all day as she’s been moving in.

The idea of having to potentially sit near a perfectly fine Felix makes her want to gouge her eyes.

It's also her luck though that she’ll be stuck with some maths loser who forces you to answer sums, showing off how smart they are. If she were to compare the two she would take the maths loser but still not ideal.

Completely done with reality, Edith grabs her ipod, headphones and sketchbook off her nightstand and drowns out the world with music and drawing until she has to leave her room.

This is just great. I don't have to sit next to Felix but I also can’t find a seat in the first place. Edith can’t help but comment in her head, walking the dining hall in hopes of a spot to sit.

In a way she did luck out but she doesn’t know where to sit. That thankfully for Edith isn’t long lasting as she finds an open seat next to a boy with dirty blonde hair and glasses. Not thinking to whom she might have to converse with, she quickly walks over and sits down desperate to begin eating.

As she's eating, Edith can't help but feel uneasy and like someone to the right is staring into her soul through her ear. She looks up to the right and piercing blue eyes fill her vision. she whispers an awkward hi and smiles at the very strange boy and he in return moves his eyes down to her messenger bag.

Edith’s bag is decorated with little doodles that draws on it when she’s bored. The boy quickly turns his head away from muttering something under his breath that Edith didn’t pick up on but knew couldn’t have been nice.

What an ass.

The feeling of uneasy and bitterness doesn’t die the more she sits next to this guy. It was also not exactly possible to find a new seat either as the only other open seat was across from him and somehow for Edith that would be even worse. She feels bad for whoever would be sitting across from him

Like the universe reading her mind, another boy around her age with dark brown hair and glasses, who after struggling to find a place in the dining, eventually seats himself, somewhat reluctantly. right across from the strange boy.

The two boys stare at each other in silence for a few minutes, the brown-haired boy also clearly uneasy like Edith. it was the other boy who reach his hand out though to the brunet to introduce himself and Edith finally learned this strange boy’s name

”Hi I’m Michael Gavey”

The other boy accepts Michaels outreached hand and Edith learns his name is Oliver Quick. The boy begins to converse with one another. The last thing she got by fully eavesdropping was Michael asking Oliver if he was also a Norman no-mate too.

Not really interested, Edith turns her attention back to her half empty plate. the quicker she finishes the faster she can leave and not have to be in the presence of this Michael Gavey.

Even with half eavesdropping and half ignoring the two. Edith slightly laughs to herself as Michael tells Oliver even though he doesn’t like math, he is some math genius and to ask him a sum. Oliver clearly uncomfortable and telling Michael he’s fine and that he doesn’t need to ask him a sum

Edith though couldn’t expect was was to come out of a now agitated Michael.

“ WELL ASK ME A FUCKING SUM THEN!!!”

Jesus fucking christ Edith curses to herself while the whole dining hall quiets at the sudden intrusion of loudness. Among the same surprise, She is also intrigued and she smirks knowing something that would give her a little happiness asking Michael.

Before Oliver could clear the embarrassment he's feeling at Michael's sudden outburst, Edith interrupts. “What's 34+35?”

The attention of the boys are turned on to Edith as she smiles as Michael answers but then realizing what sum she asked, face turns to annoyance at the question, clearly knowing she is taking the mick out of him.

“Haha, very funny….” Michael’s voice trails waiting for a name

“Edith Pemberton and you said to ask a sum”

“Well Edith Pemberton i don't think I was talking to you Ms.” I'm wasting my money on an vapid arts degree”

“How fuck do you know what I'm learning.”

“Lucky guess based on how you're dressing and your… interestingly designed… bag.”

The gull this guy has to judge after literally yelling at someone to ask him a sum.

“Well Mr “I think math and science is better than the arts” you're wasting your money on a subject you don't really like so guess who's money is really wasted”

“Well at least I'll be making money post grad How about You? Oh wait Probably not.”

“Wow Michael Gavey you deserve a Nobel prize for solving the meaning of life!! Making money!!” sarcasm spilling from Edith’s mouth, not wanting to let this guy win.

Due to the bickering fight Edith and Michael were having, either of them failed to realized Oliver used it as a way to escape the situation

“God you're such a cunt Edith Pemberton.”

“Takes one to know one bitch.” a smirk reappearing on her face as she picks up her now almost empty plate and bag to leave a now bewildered Michael Gavey.

Taglist- @fan-goddess @iamavailablesstuff @callsignwidow

[scarletteye]

Who's Crazier, Scara or Childe?

As I'm writing and editing the final chapters of "Ornament of Heart" I realized I can't tell which of the two Harbingers is crazier. Here are little bits from both my Childe fic and Scara fic where they are just absolutely unhinged, so you go ahead and tell me which one is crazier and why. I lowkey want to say Childe, even though Scara is far more prone to hurting people. Childe is just a bit... how do I say this... he needs meds

And yes I call Childe by his real name. Ajax is just mmm you know?

Ornament of Heart, chapter 20

“Stay away from me.”

Your boots sank into the snow. Each step was difficult to make, but you kept backing away, nonetheless.

“Don’t you dare run.”

A shiver traveled down your spine; Ajax’s tone was far from kind. That was a full blown threat. You took another step back, putting your hands up as a shield.

His mouth opened by a little. He didn’t expect you to flat out ignore his threat. Head tilting, and lips twitching up, he looked at you as if you were a wild animal that he caught in the garden. He eyed you with pure fascination, daring you to move again. “Mila. If you run, I will chase after you. And I won’t be gentle.”

You were trembling. You pushed your arms further out. “Stop. Stop doing that, Ajax. This isn’t funny. You’re not helping your case. I’ll go back inside, okay? Just let me go there alone.”

“I’m being serious.” His body turned, following your direction with each step you took. You slowly circled him, until your back was facing the mansion. “Stop moving.”

There were two good meters between you, but you knew you couldn’t outrun him even if you tried. This was the last thing you expected. The last thing you wanted.

“Do you even hear yourself?” you shivered out.

His eyes immediately pressed shut. He realized how scary he sounded after your warning. His voice immediately turned sweeter, but the quick change only filled you with dread. “Mila. I just want to know who filled your head with such idiotic ideas.” 

“You’re threatening me,” you hissed out. “Are you even listening to yourself?”

“Please stop avoiding my questions,” he still tried to force a sweet tone. “It’s not difficult to answer.”

“And then what, huh? What do you plan on doing to them?”

He shut up. He glared at you across the garden. Something told you that you didn’t actually want to know the answer. “I just want to know.”

Goosebumps filled your arms. “Ajax.” There was no way in hell you were going to tell him. About any maid or any Harbinger that warned you about him. “Are you threatening to kill that person?”

“Why does it matter? Why would you care?”

Your eyes cracked wider. “You would not.”

He tilted his head curiously, watching your expression freeze with shock. Your heartbeat raised to your throat. You knew he was unstable. You knew he was dangerous. But you always gave him the benefit of the doubt because you trusted him. That trust was gone now. You didn’t believe his excuses anymore. Who knows what actually happened to Igor. Ajax never said that he fired him. He said that he was gone. And now he was threatening to kill the person who supposedly exposed his secrets to you…

Both panic and nausea filled your stomach, turning you completely petrified in front of the Harbinger who you used to call your best friend. Oh God. He killed Igor. He didn’t fire him.

“There is no person. I figured it out myself,” you tried, your voice breaking as realization forced heat to your eyes.  “Do you think I’m too dumb to do that? Is that what you think of me, Ajax? It really isn’t difficult to see through your bullshit.”

“My bullshit?” he raised his voice, pointing at himself and ultimately making you wince as he stepped forward. You wanted to run so badly, but you believed with every fiber of your being that he would chase you. And then what happens? What the hell would he do to you? The other Harbingers believed he is capable of hurting you. Hell. He said he wouldn’t be gentle with you.

“All of your fucking lies and schemes,” you hissed out.

“There are no lies or schemes involved. You know that.”

“No, I don’t.”

His eyes cracked wider. “Mila. Do you think I would do anything to you to hurt you? To trap you? To ruin you? Do you think I would hurt you? Is that what you think of me?”

You never said any of that. But he was well aware.

“You grabbed me a second ago.”

He hit chest with both of his hands. “Me?! You think I would hurt you? Mila. Me?”

“Yes you!” You snapped back, ignoring the fear that rose within you as she shouted. “Do you even realize how horrible you are to me!? Grabbing me and shouting at me and threatening me and interrogating me and forbidding me to have friends,” your breath hitched. “All of the Harbingers looked surprised to see that I’m still alive.”

“I told you not to trust a word that comes out of their mouths. They are liars, comrade. It wounds me to know that you trust them and not me. Your husband.”

“But you’re not my real husband. You don’t even love me. You know damn well what I am to you.”

“I’m not your real husband?” he growled, stepping close to you again. Your heart lurched, and you fought back the urge to run. He sounded completely out of breath. Both hurt and wrath present in his voice as he interrogated you.

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

Blossom of the Divine, chapter 15

“I don’t remember giving you permission to speak.”

It was the first time he said something like this to you. You’ve heard him give the same order to his agents before, but you never imagined him giving it to you. It was too formal. Too distant. As if you were strangers. You already knew that he was mad at you, but this only solidified your suspicions. You were no longer under his care.

“Please,” you quietly tried.  “Let’s just talk it out.”

His hand raised to your chin. It gently landed on your skin, putting your head in his grasp. His thumb slipped to your lip. Your stomach sunk as you saw his expression shift to something much darker. “You never truly listen, do you? I just said that you don’t have permission to speak. Should I gag you instead?”

A shiver left your mouth. “What-?”

His thumb slipped into your mouth. Your eyes blew wide. As the fabric of the blindfold met your teeth, you jerked away from him. Your back crashed against the locked door. You slid to the ground, coughing, and pushing your tongue against the fabric until you ejected it out of your mouth.

Scaramouche’s knees appeared in your vision. Cold sweat coated your body. He stood right above you, glaring down at you with the same emotionless and tired eyes.

“Hey,” you peeped out. Your voice came out fragile – threading between a cry and between begging. “Please don’t. There’s no need. Right? Let’s just talk.”

He tilted his head. “You’re still not listening to my orders.”

Your breath got caught in your throat. He stared at you so coldly and harshly, that you feared even blinking at his direction.

“I know you’re desperate to explain yourself,” he said. “I know you have apologies upon apologies prepared for me. But I’ll be very honest with you, darling, I don’t want to hear any of them.”

All you could do was gaze up at him. You nearly had to break your neck to be able to look him in the eyes. Scaramouche loomed above you. You were practically trapped between his knees; cornered against the wall and the floor. There was nowhere for you to move. Nowhere for you to run. You were sure he could see your terror. You were sure he was doing this on purpose.

“Truth is, you tried to leave me in the middle of the night. You tried to run away from me, right after claiming that you care about me… No matter what you try to use an excuse, that fact won’t change.”

A bead of sweat slid down your temple.

“You are a liar,” he whispered. “My dear. That also won’t change, no matter how many apologies you sputter out. So save your words. There is nothing you can say to me. Nothing you can do, to change my mind.”

You couldn’t stand looking at his expression anymore. The darkness in his eyes made your heart beat with a manic rhythm. You were trembling like a wild animal in a cage. You averted your gaze, staring at his legs instead, and hoping you’ll eventually recollect yourself if you don’t see look at his face.

“Yet despite all of that…” his tone dropped. “I still can’t bring myself to kill you.”

Your eyes grew wider, but you didn’t dare break eye contact with the pale skin of his legs.

“So… there is really only one thing that I can do with you.”

His voice sent shivers down your spine.

He crouched down, getting his face to the same level as yours. You leaned as far back against the wall as possible. You couldn’t avoid looking at his face anymore. His smudged make-up emphasized the inferno in his eyes. They were full of something dark. Something twisted. Something that wished you harm.  

“I’ll just keep you by my side until you die,” he said. “Luckily, you humans tend to do that often, right? Or maybe…”

His hand gently enveloped your face. You trembled under his touch. You forgot how cold his hands were and how weirdly soft they were. The softness with which he touched you meant nothing at that moment. He was promising you harm.

 Seeing your terror, his lips twisted into a feeble smirk.  “Maybe I’ll just ask the Doctor to make you immortal like me and then I’ll force you to stay by my side for all eternity.”

Your mouth fell open. Your heartbeat was louder than your breaths. It drummed against your skull.

“What would pain you more, I wonder?” he whispered. “I’m inclined to do the option that is the most unpleasurable for you.”

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

But hey Scara got his redemption arc after that, all though it took some time, so maybe there is hope for Childe too. Maybe...

Both fics are on ao3 in case you are interested!

[pass1onepr1ncess]

I need everyone to look me in the eye and explain to me with no bullshit why they think that Diavolo x Doppio is proship. Abusive and/or toxic? Potentially- still not proship. And I swear to God if your only reasoning for this is that they're alters in the same body and/or in the same system I need you to sit down right in front of me, better yet lay down and listen to me very carefully.

Being in the same body/system does not equate to being related in any way. I've seen people say that "Doppio and Diavolo are brothers!" No they're not. They're two alters in a system. Similarly, I've seen other people say that - and this is even stranger because where they got this from I have no clue- Diavolo is also Doppio's dad like he's Trish's. No, he's not. They're alters in a system. Even if we go based on canon and throw fanon and headcannons out the window, their relationship outside of being the Boss and his right-hand man is never specified. Literally all we have to go on is that Doppio is comforted by Diavolo's presence and that Diavolo refers to him almost exclusively with words of endearment. This could be platonic, sure. Familial? Possible, but highly unlikely.

I'm not saying that alters in a system can't be related. The alters that our brains cook up can be anything, and familial relationships between alters is a thing. But specifically in the case of Diavolo and Doppio, this is never stated. Therefore, while you are allowed to headcanon them as such, do not force that headcanon onto others when it's not true in the source media.

And if you think that DiaDop is proship because it's an in-system relationship, buddy do I have news for you. Alters have in-system relationships all the time. I, myself, am in an in-system relationship with the Sheila E in our system. Another friend of ours has an in-system relationship in their system. System friends that I knew before that we don't talk to anymore had in-system relationships, and I've seen other systems online talk about their own in-system relationships.

If your only problem with DiaDop is that they're in the same body/system, I can only assume you're a singlet and to that I say:

Fuck off. If you don't know enough about how systems work, you don't get to make that decision. Especially if the decision in question is accusing a harmless ship of being incestuous or pedophilic. Which- by the way- they're both adults! It would be a different story if one of them were underage even in the same system, but they are both grown ass adults! Even with the changes in their body between them fronting, Doppio is described to be a young adult!

And lastly, if your only other reason for accusing DiaDop of being proship is because you don't like it and have some need to justify that dislike? I think you need to do some introspection. I mean this in the best possible way, but if you feel like you have to justify your discomfort for something as small as a pairing of fictional characters, you might want to look in the mirror and ask yourself why that's the case. Especially if you're going to the lengths of accusing that fictional pairing of being proship.

This whole next bit is gonna be my personal thoughts- but might I just add that the whole thing of Doppio's comfort in Diavolo's presence or on "calls" with him and Diavolo calling him "My Sweet Doppio" and other such things really feels to me like implied romance. Especially in the only Jojo part (other than SBR) with canonical queer representation (SquaTizi and Sorlato), it's a bit hard to ignore, in my opinion!

Anyway, I've seen people be weird about DiaDop for a while now and I was just gonna hold my tongue, but the more I thought about why they would think that the more I realized that it's all singlets who just don't understands systems and assume they can talk for all of us. It pissed me off, so here I am.

If there's any reason to call DiaDop proship that I haven't debunked, please enlighten me. But otherwise? Shut up.

[soshadysoquiet]

TUA S4 Concerns *some spoilers for what's been teased so far*

So I'm concerned about Season 4. I want to be hopeful, but I am concerned. C o n c e r n e d.

It's short. There's bits in TUA that I don't personally enjoy as much and skip, there's bits that could have been taken out and nothing would have changed... but I like having that bit of room for more: did we need the Ikea Mafia's viking foot funeral? No. But did we need it? Yes.

The ball pit. The ball pit concerns me on a number of levels, and I'm sure it will be funny, I hope it will be funny, I just hope it's relevant enough why they're in that setting to not be too gimmicky, e.g. it made sense they ended up in the bowling alley; they probably snuck out there as kids and so it was one location they would all know, but man that ball pit worries me like a sleep paralysis demon.

The potential for germaphobe Klaus (sorry that's probs not the correct term but I can't think of what it might be). I can see why he'd be afraid of death now, but is it germ/cleanliness specific? If so why? Klaus has been one of the least concerned about hygiene up to this point so they're laying a whole new framework that I hope they give sufficient depth to. I'm an OCD sufferer myself, about death anxiety in fact, and I haven't resonated OCD with Klaus before if that is what they go for - I'm open to it, just not a cheap OCD gimmick. There's So Much trauma in all these characters at this point, my worry isn't them exploring new avenues as much as not bothering to look into the trauma they've already heaped on and doing something new for the sake of it. If it's done well, I'm all for it, but there's some previous with trauma getting forgotten on TUA so...

The Jennifer Incident. Please, please let this be more interesting than a romance story.

Lila's baby. I love Lila, I don't have a problem with her being preggo etc, I worry a little that TUA tends to speed run life so what is this actually going to look like? Parenthood is such a big life changing deal that I'm curious / cautious about what they'll have done with the characters here.

Viktor. His schtick is that He's Mr Apocalypse, sadly that limits his character coming to a place of peace in some ways. But mostly just let him have an actual conversation? Please? He'll have had 6 years this time skip, if they bullshit that 'oh no one's really seen each other in 6 years' lazy ass nonsense I'll be fuming.

As above, there's been 6 YEARS here, I want to watch the characters and feel that time has passed, that they've interacted, have in jokes now, shared history, maybe not all of them but that makes it even better; have Diego and Klaus have a cleaning routine together to help Diego understand Klaus and trying to be supportive if brusque, but then defending this to his other siblings. Have Luther share some actually positive moments with his other siblings and not just have been in Sloane-hunting solitude, make him always be trying to host awkward family BBQs that the others force (or pretend to force) themselves to go to. Have literally any of the siblings be on the look out or Five's triggers for him - and better yet actually give him some now that he's had time for the PTSD to swell. I want the small nitty gritty details, I want the filling, I want to feel the expanse of time not just 'oh shit another week and there's an apocalypse and we haven't seen each other hey ho oh look a ball pit!'

Anyway, I'm hopeful, but concerned, and I'm sure I'll love it and don't intend to be negative, it just helps me to voice them. Either way, I pray for the fan fiction that follows the series most of all, the rising of the crowd to give us more of what the series does deliver and flesh out what it does not. Is it weird to almost be more excited for that?

[vaspider]

If you think that Joel was wrong, I don't want you anywhere near me.

Let's talk about the last episode.

I'm going to say right up front that I'm a parent, and I'm a survivor of medical abuse, so I'm not going to brook any bullshit or clownery in the notes of this post. I block easily and freely, and if what I say in this post makes you feel sad or defensive, I encourage you to sit with those feelings and interrogate why you're feeling so defensive, because to me, this is extremely cut and dry.

Joel was right. Marlene was wrong. There is no argument to be had here, because this is the Trolley Problem, With Zombies!

Let me be clear: there is no world in which I let them do anything like that to my child, but more importantly, there is no world in which I let them do that to Cat without her active, informed consent. That's where there's no argument to be had. That's where it is open and shut, no discussion, if you think that there is an argument you are just wrong.

There is no nuance on this for me, and that's probably because I am a victim of medical abuse, doctors doing things to me without my informed consent. I find it hard to empathize with people who think there's any nuance in it at all, however. You cannot build a new, just world on the abuse, medical rape, and murder of a child. You just can't. This is the Trolley Problem writ large, and the only moral answer is that the only way to do that would be with Ellie's informed, active consent.

There are decisions my daughter has made which changed her life forever, and made it (at minimum) much, much more difficult, and which might shorten her lifespan or kill her. I supported her in this because she made that decision. It was not made for her. So I have absolutely clear-eyed perspective on this as a parent, and I don't think there's room for another perspective.

Oh, so people might die if Ellie isn't at minimum lobotomized and at worst killed? Yeah, that's the same argument that forced birthers make. No one has a right to any part of my body or anything within it without my consent, and saying otherwise is exactly the same argument that the people who think that people shouldn't be able to get abortions make, it only differs in scale.

It reminds me of the old joke where a man asks a woman if she'd sleep with him for a million dollars, and she agrees, and he says, okay, so what about five dollars? The woman gets irate and says "what kind of woman do you take me for?" And the man replies, "We've already established what kind of woman you are, now we're just haggling over price."

If generic-you think it's okay to take Ellie's body and use it without her permission to save a million people, you're the same kind of person who thinks it's okay to force someone to carry a pregnancy to term. It's already been established that you think that people don't have a right to their body if someone else "needs" it, so we know what kind of person you are. Now we're just haggling over the price. I know that's wording it very strongly and I stand by it, because I've dealt with exactly this kind of paternalistic nonsense, and it did almost kill me. No one is justified in making any decisions about my body but me. Period.

And before we have folx coming in here talking about vaccines, etc.? Listen. If I choose not to vaccinate myself, and I'm excluded from things as a result, then that's a decision that I have made. I don't think people should be physically forced to be vaccinated, but groups of people get to consent or not consent, as a group, via laws, about being around someone who will physically make them sick. The key difference here is about who is doing what to whom, and whether someone is acting upon another person. Walking past someone in public in a leather harness isn't going to modify their organs via pathogen; walking past someone spreading a pathogen that hangs out in the air for hours out of your gaping, infectious piehole is actively doing something to other people.

Joel was right. Thank you, goodnight.

[mlove44lh]

Don’t hurt yourself

Chapter 3 - Anger

Masterlist

Previously chapter

Warnings: cheating, angst, mention of infertility, mention of blood and hospital (really short), alcohol use.

Lewis is a real asshole in this chapter, I think that could go as a warning too.

Words: 2.750

“If it's what you truly want ... I can wear her skin over mine. Her hair over mine. Her hands as gloves. Her teeth as confetti. Her scalp, a cap. Her sternum, my bedazzled cane. We can pose for a photograph, all three of us. Immortalized ... you and your perfect girl. I don't know when love became elusive. I think of lovers as trees ... growing to and from one another. Searching for the same light.

Why can't you see me? Everyone else can.”

I step slowly into the apartment, my head spinning with the anger I feel and all the alcohol from earlier. The place seems different from what I had left before, the white walls filled with memories in the form of our photos no longer bring me the comfort and happiness they used to.

I can hear Lewis' footsteps in the hallway outside. I take a deep breath, preparing myself for the imminent confrontation I can no longer postpone.

Lewis slams the door behind him with enough force for the sound to reverberate throughout the apartment.

"Stop with this silent treatment bullshit. You ignored me all night. Isn't that enough?!” His voice is louder than usual.

I place my bag on the wooden dining table and turn towards Lewis, who is standing in the middle of the room with his jaw clenched and his eyes fixed on me.

"I told you this conversation would happen at home.” I feel the anger burning in my throat. I seem calm, but I grit my teeth over so many emotions stuck inside me.

"Here we are." He gestures to the entire living room. "Now, can you tell me what the hell is going on? First, you've been acting weird all week. Then at dinner, you didn't say anything except to make senseless comments. You drank two bottles of champagne alone, even though you know you can't drink. Do you want to throw away all the treatment we're doing?”

Suddenly, I can't contain my emotions any longer. I explode with words that should never leave my mouth. My laughter is a humorless, painful groan. How can he bring this up now? How dare he act like nothing is happening? After cheating on me, he still has the audacity to want to build something big together?

"Fuck this treatment, Lewis! I have no interest in conceiving a child with you anymore!" I scream at him for the first time in my life, and say the worst things I could.

You know that feeling when you regret saying something even before the last word leaves your mouth? That just happened. The pain in Lewis' face becomes clear before my eyes, but it's not greater than mine. I could never imagine saying those words to him. To the love of my life.

Lewis stays quiet, motionless, as if he's glued to the floor. Like him, I try to process the words I just uttered. I don't know where they come from, or if I really feel that way. But I don't move to take them back or try to retract what I said. I think this is the moment I'll remember as the breaking point. There's no turning back after saying something like that.

But life is made of choices, and I choose to move forward with my anger.

I walk to my bag, and for a brief moment, the sound of my heels hitting the floor is the only thing that can be heard in the room.

I take out the bracelet that I've kept with me all this time, and walk up to him with the object clenched tightly in my fist.

I walk close enough to hear his breath. His eyes shine with sadness. I can't recognize us at this moment. Everything seems so wrong, so confusing. We know each other so well, but now I feel like I'm looking at a stranger.

I feel a lump in my throat, and for a moment, I'm afraid that I'll break down.

"I stopped taking the hormones five days ago, Lewis. You would know that if you paid any attention to me.” He keeps his eyes locked on mine, and I can identify an appeal in them. "I stopped when I found this in your car.”

I hold out the bracelet with my index finger near his face. I watch realization taking over his expression while his gaze moves between my face and the object in my hands. He seems to want to say something, but I don't want to hear a word from him until I finish saying everything I need to.

"The problem was there for a long time, wasn't it? It was my love for us that blinded me and didn't let me see what was right in front of me. Until this shit showed up" I throw the bracelet at his chest. Despite the almost zero distance between us, I know that Lewis barely feels the metal contact his skin. He remains motionless. The bracelet falls between us, resting on the cold floor as we continue to stare at each other. "I tried to deceive myself. Even today, I was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt and let you make up for everything you destroyed in me."

I feel my eyes welling up, but there's more anger than sadness in the tears.

"Y/n..." Lewis' voice comes out in a tone that I don't remember ever hearing before.

I cut him off before he can say another word.

“But then I arrive there, at the dinner you invited me to.” I extend my index finger until it touches his chest, and just this minimum contact makes me tremble. “And I watch you looking at her in the same way you used to look at me. And the worst of all is that you were acting as if nothing was happening. You wore this lie so well that if she hadn't done what she did to show me the truth, I would have left that restaurant even more in love with you. While you were lying to the woman you swore loyalty to on an altar."

His fingers wrap carefully around my wrists. I try to pull away the moment I feel the contact, but Lewis doesn't let go and keeps holding me in my place.

"Y/n. Please listen to me.”

I don't want to listen to him, but I know I need his explanation.

"Go ahead. But tell me the truth if you still want the slightest consideration from me.”

It takes him a few seconds to start talking.

"It's true. But it didn't mean anything, not for a moment. It was the biggest mistake of my life, Y/n. And I know that doesn't change anything about what I did. But I'm so sorry." He puts word upon word as if his desperation could change something. "I'm sorry. I was selfish and in a bad place, and she came along and seemed so simple. I didn't think about you or us. But I swear there's nothing left. I realized what was at stake and ended everything.”

It's not a “this never happens” or “you misunderstand” the only thing I get is an apology.

Even though it was already clear, hearing it from him manages to hurt even more. His dark and guilty eyes look at me with such supplication that even staring back at him becomes a difficult task.

"When did this start?”

Lewis lowers his gaze as soon as I finish my question, perhaps out of shame or fear of my reaction to the answer.

"September.”

I break free from his grip as soon as it sinks in.

"You were fucking her while I was going through that hell?!”

I watch tears streaming down his face, but I feel no sympathy. What I want now is for him to suffer even more for the consequences of what he caused himself.

“It was a hard time for me too.”

"No." It's unbelievable that he's playing that card now. "You're not going to do this to me. Not after everything I went through.”

"But it's the truth. We were both living in hell." He says barely a second after I finish speaking.

"And your way of dealing with that was by cheating on me?!” My voice comes out in a scream for the second time tonight.

The adrenaline inside me is so intense that I can't stand still. I take a few steps back from his figure.

"Y/n, you've changed since the diagnosis." The forced laugh that comes out of me is the only thing I can express. "You think I was the one who distanced myself when, in fact, you had already been distant for a long time. You looked at me as if I were to blame for..." He trails off, regret etched on his face the moment he falls silent.

It's like a knife has been plunged into my chest. Even before he finishes, I already knew where this was going.

"Finish it. Tell me, Lewis. Tell me that I looked at you as if you were to blame for my infertility."

"That's not what I meant."

"Yes, it is. It's written all over your face."

"No. I meant because of the situation we were in."

I shake my head as I stare at Lewis incredulously.

"How callous and self-centered does a person have to be to make this kind of deduction?" My voice is low, and the words spill out without much forethought. "I bled for hours, only to receive the most devastating news of my life shortly after. I left that hospital and rebuilt myself piece by piece to try to move on. And during that process, you believed yourself to be too important to not receive the attention you craved and went after that whore to stroke your ego."

Lewis tries to approach me, but I move away as soon as I realize his intention.

"Get away from me!"

"Y/n, please. I would never do that. That's not what I meant. I just want you to understand.”

"There's nothing to understand! What you did has no explanation.”

I turn my back to his figure as I feel tears streaming down my face. I wipe my face with my hands, trying not to let him see me cry. The tears are not just about what he did, it's about everything we went through together. It's about me thinking I had someone on my side who understood me and would never do this to me. But now life feels more raw than ever, and I feel alone. The pain is intense and the feeling is that it will never go away. I feel vulnerable, exposed, and very angry.

I'm not sure I can stand, so I walk over to the couch and sit on the edge of the white cushion. I feel the comfort of the upholstery in contrast to the tension in my body. As I try to calm down, Lewis comes to me and kneels on the floor, putting himself at the same height as me.

Lewis takes some time before speaking again.

"Listen. I love you so much. And I know what I did may be unforgivable. But Y/n, we have been through so much together. I really want to fix this. I don't want to give up on us.”

I don't look at him.

"But you've already done it.”

"No. I made a mistake. The biggest one, but I will never give up on us. I'll do whatever it takes, please.”

My eyes flicker towards him, but I can't bear to hold his gaze for more than a fleeting moment. It's as if looking at him for any longer would be a betrayal to the pain and anger that I feel.

"If only you had been honest. But you lied. That's even worse. You acted like everything was fine when you had just admitted that everything was wrong even before you got involved with her." Lewis wraps his fingers around my ankle as if hoping to change my thoughts with just that touch. "You promised me that whenever something went wrong, we would talk about it. And when it did happen, you just ran away from me. How do you expect me to forgive you for that?"

"Please," he begs me for something that not even he knows.

"I'm going to pack my things."

"No. Y/n, don't do that."

I stand up but can't take more than one step. Lewis comes to me and rests his hands on my shoulders, keeping me in place. I feel exhausted. I think I have no more strength to keep going with this. I've reached my limit tonight, and so has he.

"Stay. This house is yours. I'll sleep in the guest room, but please don't leave. We can talk tomorrow when we're both calmer. Let's give ourselves tonight to think.”

"I've spent the last month thinking. I have nothing else to think about. I don't want to talk to you anymore, Lewis. I don't want this anymore.”

"Y/n, please. It's three in the morning. You have nowhere to go now. Stay here. You don't have to talk to me, but I don't want you driving like this in a nervous state."

His concern seems like a joke, it might have moved me if we weren't in this ridiculous situation.

"If I stay, you're the one who leaves.”

“Y/n...”

“Get your stuff.”

“Where am I supposed to go?”

“I don´t know. I don´t care. Go to her place. Take the opportunity to let her know that you're single now.” I go to the cellar and take the first bottle of wine I find there. “Just be careful with Matteo, he might kill you if he finds out you're fucking his little bride.”

Lewis stares at me for a few seconds before heading towards the bedroom. He knows I can't handle another minute of conversation tonight. Now the only thing I want is distance from him.

I open the wine bottle and pour a glass with a surprising calmness. Perhaps my level of stress and shock is so high that I no longer know how to deal with it.

With the bottle in one hand and the glass in the other, I walk to my office and close the door behind me. I don't want to see him leave, trying to convince myself that it's because I don't want to look at him anymore, but in truth I'm afraid of not letting him pass through the door.

I take every sip of my drink as a desperate attempt to calm my emotions. I am sitting in the armchair in the middle of the dark room, and I can hear every step Lewis takes just a few meters away from me. Sometimes, I can even tell which room he is in.

But then, after a short while, I hear the final thud - the sound of our apartment door closing. And suddenly, silence fills the room, bringing with it an intense cold.

I want to allow myself to cry in this moment, but I can't. Exhaustion takes hold of my body and mind, but I know I won't be able to rest until I know what will happen with us.

Author's notes: CALM DOWN, DON'T FREAK OUT. I'll post chapter 4 soon. I promise it won't take as long as this one did.

Let me tell you, it was a struggle to write this one. I spent hours just to write a few words. It was definitely the hardest one yet.

I kinda feel bad for making Lewis such a asshole. He's like my baby, you know? But hey, we still have a few more chapters left, so who knows what could happen? (Not even I know, haha.)

Anyway, thanks for sticking around and i see you in the next one!

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

Shuichi? I'm glad to see you finally giving Shirogane what she deserves, but I don't think I feel good about it, I don't know why, I'm supposed to be smiling about it, I'm supposed to be excited, to be happy, but I'm not! No matter how hard I try, I can't force myself to be happy about it

*sigh*

Ok...You will sit, and you will LISTEN...!

I get that you guys don't approve of me sparing her life like this. I understand you may think it's stupid, and gives way to much more chaos and death. After all, leaving Tsumugi alive invites only more chaos, right? That's what you think?

But I demand that you all just sit and think about it for a second...What DOES killing Shirogane even achieve in the end?

She'll go. That doesn't mean Zetsubou will! Even if their head is cut off, that's not going to destroy the work they've put in so far. Someone else will rise to the cause and fill the gap that she left, just like Shirogane herself did for Junko Enoshima...!

These Despairs...they're like seagulls who keep coming back for more food after getting a tiny nibble of your sandwich...! And simply killing them isn't going to FIX any of this! The world already got destroyed! Enoshima's death didn't fix that! TWO more Killing Games happened post-Enoshima because of her followers, and FIFTY-FREAKING-THREE happened in ours!

If you think that this is all part of a plan to get Shirogane to give up on her pointless dreams and seek redemption for her crimes...Pah...We all know that's not how she does things. The only reason I spared her is because her empire is falling around her, and now she's stuck being a blank-slate of a person, with no original ideas or schemes left to throw at us, knowing that taking our lives like she swears to, it won't take it all back, like I just said! For her? That's a fate WORSE than death!

Woah, hey, Shuichi...! Y-You ok?

And another thing!? Look at Enoshima! Look at Otonokoji! These Despair types defy death as a concept anyway! Let's say I DO kill Shirogane! How long do you think it'll be before she comes RIGHT THE FUCK BACK AGAIN to make us all EVEN MORE MISERABLE!?

The only thing that gets achieves if I decide to bite the bullet and take Shirogane's life is that...I become a murderer. And what's stopping me from running with that idea and slaughtering every bad guy I come across, even for petty reasons!? From becoming KURIPA!?

I would become the exact person that my real world self desired to become. When he signed up for all of this...this BULLSHIT! A sadistic murderous detective with a plan to kill everybody around him in an ingenious way...!

Shuichi, hold on-!

And you want to know what the most screwed up part of all of this is!? You guys want me to kill Shirogane because that's what YOU want! You want ME! The CHARACTER that you are watching, to enact justice! To side with Hope and destroy Despair! Sounds familiar, right? You know, that very idea that kept Danganronpa going a crapton of years!?

I am NOT going to give ANY fan of Danganronpa the SATISFACTION of watching me become a killer! Not my old self, not Shirogane, and NOT YOU! So hate me all you want for defying the expectations you set for me as a character! I am NOT your ENTERTAINMENT, DAMMIT!

SHUICHI!

...!?

I...I'm sorry...I'm so sorry I...I'm just so...sick...and tired of all of this...I stopped someone from dying...and yet inside, I feel like I murdered countless others...Do you know how hard it is to justify your own actions to a bunch of faceless, merciless members of an ask blog, who WANT your enemies to be slaughtered!?

...

Shuichi...I got a question for ya...Do you consider the real Ryoma Hoshi to be who I am now, or the person I was before all this happened?

...The Ryoma in front of me is the real one, of course.

Well, you should know this Ryoma killed a whole bunch of people out or rage and vengeance. And he lived every day of his life after regretting it, even when he got a second chance to live as a free man.

...You made the right choice. I guarantee you that.

If Shirogane DOES somehow come back to terrorize us again, all she'll be doing is coming back for another beating! Right?

...Yeah...Listen...I love you SO much...Don't EVER think of yourself as anything less than one of the greatest people that exists in this world...You don't deserve to go through this stress...

*Kaede gently presses her forehead against Shuichi's, embracing him warmly as tears stream down both their faces.

I love you too...I love all of you...I don't deserve any of your kindness...

*Everyone except Kokichi and Nico huddle around Shuichi for a hug.

[livebloggingmydescentintomadness]

Hi Ashley!

I’ve been dealing with a chronic pain issue for about a year and a half, and it’s recently gotten a lot worse— a day of work’s worth of movement that used to be doable now has me crying on public transit coming home from the pain. I’ve been advocating for myself at work to make my routine more accessible, which has gone well, and I’m long term working on getting access to surgery that should hopefully help, but all of that is emotionally exhausting.

I’m writing to vent, because it’s been a really upsetting couple of weeks. But also I’m thinking about potentially starting to use a mobility aid, which I’ve never done before and which I’m finding really intimidating for some reason. I guess it makes it real for me in some way? For a long time this has been something I’ve just taken upon myself to grin and bear it, and just deal with the pain when I get home, and somehow accepting that it’s a real problem that I’m allowed to be accommodated for—and to be seen in public using a mobility aid— is scary to me. If you have the time and energy, any words of comfort or advice you have to offer would be much appreciated :) thanks for everything you do.

oh sweetie, i'm so sorry, that sounds awful. though i gotta say i'm really proud of you for getting accommodations and planning surgery, that's not easy. i'm glad your job is working with you and i hope you can get the surgery soon.

i've been disabled with chronic pain and fatigue for more than 15 years now, and i think the crux of what gets people so damn freaked out about disability - both those who do and don't have them - is this: control.

we want to believe we're in control. we want to believe we're in charge of our lives and our bodies. we want to believe that if we do things right, bad things won't happen to us. we're absolutely terrified of admitting that we do not, in fact, control our health. that terrible, painful things can just... happen.

becoming disabled forces you to face those facts. your body can do things beyond your control, and you can 'grin and bear it' with all your strength and the pain can still break you down. it forces you to see that 'mind over matter' is bullshit, that pain can be stronger than you, that you're not as tough as you want to believe you are.

disability forces us to come to grips with our own mortality. it forces us to see our bodies as sacks of meat and bone. instead of a tool for freedom and creation, our bodies can become prisons we're helplessly trapped within. we are forced to realize that this is mortal flesh and it doesn't obey our orders.

all of that? that's scary as fuck. it is fucking terrifying for your body to become a torture chamber. i don't know if i'm as scared of anything as i am the knowledge that the pain i'm in every day is never going to end. that it might get worse, that i might lose more control.

it is really fucking okay to be scared, to be freaked out, to hate this force you can't see or confront that is pushing you into admitting your weakness. it's okay to hate an outward admission of that weakness, that lack of control, even though you intellectually know that disability isn't something to be ashamed of and mobility aids are good things. it's okay.

i can't really coach you through to the other side of it, though, i'm sorry, because this is a huge, messy, awful thing. losing control and confronting that lack of control fucking sucks. being in pain fucking sucks. getting stared at or asked invasive questions because of your mobility aid fucking sucks. i hope you can treat your pain and reduce it to tolerable levels, i truly do, but even so, this process is one you just have to wrestle with and walk through over time.

if i can give any advice, it's to quit grinning and bearing it. quit anything you physically can quit that makes the pain worse or doesn't relieve it. for one thing, you might be making the condition worse and harder to treat, and for another...

you may have heard it said, but fuck, suffering is just suffering. it doesn't make you stronger, it doesn't make you wiser, it doesn't teach you lessons, it doesn't make you a better person, it just wears you down. you're not braver or more admirable for holding it all in, for not treating it, not doing whatever helps to lessen the pain, you're just letting your pride and fear get in the way.

take medication. it's very fucking difficult to get now, but if it's a possibility, use opioids when you need them. try other treatments. sit down more often. wear more comfortable shoes and clothes. treat your body gently. don't punish yourself worse because you happen to be human and this is out of your control.

get the mobility aid. practice in private, and if it helps, then fucking use it. use anything that helps. for the love of all that's good, do not suffer worse than you must.

this is hard. it's scary. it's completely fucking normal to be overwhelmed, to be freaked out, to be angry, to not know what to do. but you're not alone, and none of us are in control. not really. the sooner we make our peace with that, the better off we'll be.

[heinzpilsner]

Okaaay, I'm still alive, and this is the almost-last part of my 'Overanalyzing beach Maiko' series. Hooray.

(Ugh, this "little psychological exercise" transformed into some kind of gigantic fire-breathing monster eventually. Good news is that soon I can move on to analyzing something much more pleasant. ... Probably.)

Anyway, let's finish this beast, shall we?

In the last part, great detective Azula found out that the culprit responsible for the imaginary flagrant oppression of Mai's self-expression was Mai's mother, and now it's time for Mai to react.

Mai: "You want me to express myself? Leave me alone!!"

Well, that was... a little bit too overdramatic.

I suspect the writer's implied message here was something like: "Look, if Mai reacted like this to Azula's words, it means that what Azula said is bound to be truth!"

But while possible thoughts in the writer's head are as good as all others, let me be a judge of what I see with my own eyes.

And apart from Mai's forced yelling (as if she expresses her real annoyance, but in an exaggerated way which doesn't come natural to her) and her desire to close the topic... I have no idea what it was about. The exact reasons behind her reaction could be numerous.

Maybe she just got fed up with all this "you can't express yourself" bullshit. I mean, when you express yourself all the time, but everyone around for some reason keeps saying you don't, it really can become pretty vexing, lol.

Zuko: "I like it when you express yourself."

Here we go again. I must to admit though, given Zuko's psychological cluelesness, in the light of the bullshit information he just received it was a nice gesture of support*.

But... Is it actually truth?

(*Quite an egocentrical one nonetheless. I wonder what in Mai's behavior made Zuko think she'll appreciate any of his opinions at this point. I guess he took Mai's story as a food for "she behaves like she doesn't care about me just because of her childhood trauma" rationalization, and this encouraged him.)

What exactly Zuko likes about Mai's "self-expression", anyway? Is forced out-of-character yelling his kink or something?

(... In russian dub they actually translated his line as "I like you like this much more!", lol. It made it so much worse.)

Either he's being very hopeful and patient in his "she can change" delusions, or his tastes turned out to be quite peculiar.

But okay, it's not my place to judge.

Mai: "Don't touch me! I'm still mad at you."

Okay, now her anger looks more natural. Congratulations, Zuko. Although you don't seem so happy about her self-expression this time.

Zuko: "My life hasn't been that easy either, Mai." Mai: "Whatever!"

Directed by Robert B. Weide

Mai: "That doesn't excuse the way you've been acting."

Weeell... technically, it's truth (depending on how you define "excuse" and which actions and life events we are talking about exactly), but...

Firstly - you don't need to excuse person's behavior to try and understand the reasons behind it. And secondly...

How would you know it, Mai?

Last time Zuko tried to talk with you about his life you just yawned at him and told him to stop worrying.

And just now, you denied him a chance to explain himself and shut him down again (right after he listened to your sob story and expressed readiness to support you about your imaginary childhood trauma, by the way).

Of course, Mai didn't ask for Zuko's support in the first place. And I'm not gonna say that his behavior in this scene was perfect, because it clearly wasn't.

Mai doesn't owe Zuko understanding, or anything, really. She isn't obligated to care about what happened to him or to be more considerate about his life tragedy. And yes, people say all sorts of stupid things when they are angry.

But... ugh. Do I really need to spell it out?

Good news is what while Mai is definitely an unlikable self-centred brat, she's still not a heartless monster.

Apparently, it just sincerely didn't occur to her without a direct reminder that when your father deliberately burns half of your face off and banishes you out of the country with an impossible mission, the state of your psyche may be a little bit imperfect after your return home.

Well, that's just one of those things what egocentrism does even to smart people, I guess.

Anyway, when Mai was finally forced to listen about what happened between Zuko and Ozai from his own mouth, she couldn't just close her eyes and dismiss it like she did previously.

(By the way, I wonder if Zuko would ever mention it if not for Ty Lee "skin" blunder. ... And now I wonder whether it really was a blunder or a deliberate manipulation. /paranoid noises/)

Congratulations, boy - your life story is so disturbing it managed to burst even angry Mai's egocentrical bubble. A truly remarkable accomplishment, if you ask me.

But I guess it's never too late to open your eyes and notice other people's pain. Even if for a little while. Even if it's just one specific person you're physically attracted to.

Mai: "Who are you angry at, Zuko?"

Yep, she finally got interested!

Something definitely shifted in her head.

(This whole scene is so overdramatic it makes me cringe though. I wonder if there is a ghost of an Ember Island's actor on the beach as well. They are friends with the ghost of the amateur psychoanalyst, actually. The actor pretends to be different people, and the psychoanalyst dissects all their imaginary childhood traumas, and they have a great fun together in their beach after-life. Aww.)

Zuko: "I'm angry at myself! Because I'm confused. Because I'm not sure I know the difference between right and wrong anymore." Mai: "I know one thing I care about. I care about you".

Well guys, remember: if your girlfriend just broke up with you because of your unexplainable anger problems, just yell at some fire, say "I'm angry at myself and I can't tell what is right and what is wrong", and it immediately brings her back to you!

(Okay, maybe you'll also have to remind her that you're a victim of child abuse for it to work)

Seriously though, I can't say now what Mai's change of attitude doesn't make any sense (like I did previously). In between "Mai acts like she doesn't care" and "Mai acts like she cares" situations there was a noticeable factor - Zuko talking about his scar and his relationship with Ozai. I guess all he said after this didn't really make much difference for Mai - her empathy already woke up from its coma and said to her what this boy needs some care.

So, Mai declares she still wants Zuko despite everything, and they are back to shoving tongues into each other's mouths. Hooray?..

The only problem is... All the other problems what are still here, goddamit!

Perhaps Zuko will try and stop to lash out at other people in the near future (especially physically), but his anger problems are not gonna cure themselves magically just because the source of his anger is more clear to him now.

(Also, the massive complex of problems connected to Zuko's jealousy behavior was simply forgotten as if it meant nothing.

The fact that his general personality settings - such as locus of control and feeling of personal boundaries, for starters, - really could use some improvement was totally ignored as well.)

He is still in the middle of the inner crisis, and he's not going to discuss it with this 'new caring version of Mai' in more details (until she suddenly finds herself alone with his "by the way, I betrayed my country" break-up letter).

What Zuko learned about Mai's "childhood trauma" can help him to become more tolerant to her natural temperament, but since he's delusional about the true situation (in my opinion) and tends to use it as food for rationalization, it can have some problematic consequences.

And while brief awakening of Mai's empathy towards Zuko was an important improvement, her general egocentrism and lack of interests in life are not gonna be cured just by the "power of love". There's clearly some serious personal growth for her to do, and this beach psychoanalysis session did nothing to give her a clue of how to approach it efficiently.

Well, this all doesn't matter, apparently, because now Mai cares about Zuko enough to try and save him from being boiled alive on her eyes in the later episodes.

(Still not enough to deny herself a pleasure of purposefully taking his break-up letter with her on their meeting in prison to throw it on his head)

And I guess this is the result of their beach interactions.

Yay, power of love!

Pheeeew.

I guess it's over. There are still a couple of things to add in the epilogue post though.

Honestly, by the end of this series I just feel exhausted. Maiko is a very problematic ship, especially for an endgame, but this was obvious without any dissection.

There were a couple of discoveries I find quite curious, but for such a big complex material it wasn't nearly enough. And I feel like my psychological competence clearly could use some improvement.

Anyway, thanks for your attention. I hope my messy analysis gave at least a little bit of food for your own toughts.

As usual, I ignore all my notifications.

P.S.: In the end, when I think about it... Perhaps I don't like Mai because I actually see in her an exaggerated reflection of my own problems. What a twist. Perhaps I should try and be less judgemental about her in the future?

... Naaah. Where is a fun in it?

R.I.P., all the victims of Crocus City Hall attack. It actually happened in my neighborhood. Feels weird.

[mionghairearracht]

Oh shit yeah huh... do you think part of the reason why so many teens are anti fiction is because of the mandatory reading in schools so when they get on the internet they don't know how to exercise the choice they now have.

ALSO please check out "does the dog die" for mandatory readings as it has an extensive list of trigger warns and I hope it will help take the edge of atleast!

so like preface that we're on the end of a 4?5? day migraine and not the best with words right now. also pretty much any time you is used it's the general you

honestly we think the whole "force kids to read triggering material with no support or warning" is probably the cause of a ton of media related issues not just people* not understanding that the can disengage with triggering material, or that reading things can trigger you and that's completely independent of morality on anyone's part**

like the whole "you need to keep engaging with current events even if your triggered and/or burnt out" is basically what many people where taught for years directly and indirectly in school and by many authority figures.

kids and teens are constantly told their boundaries around media don't matter and that those bounderies can be violated for education. thus a shit ton of people thinking that the proper way to educate on current issues being expose yourself constantly even if you are triggered is a pretty natural consequence.

this also ties into the whole "people can't do media analysis" yeah no shit. if you are spending most of your time and energy dealing with the effects of being triggered by the thing you are supposed to analyze, you probably aren't actually learning much about the media or how to analyze it, that's what happens when you're triggered repeatedly

and yeah no shit you're going to think analysis is bullshit if your experience is "the thing i was forced to trigger myself into breakdowns to do" because that's fucking bullshit and a disgustingly normalized experience.

basically i think the lack of choice, respect for the bounderies and triggers of kids/teens, and the normalization of what's basically emotional abuse under the guise of education has fucked shit up

also does the dog die is great, i think we actually made a post about it a while ago thanks for reminding us of it

for books specifically we hightly recommend storygraph***. its a book tracking app that has an extensive inbuilt trigger list that users can add with reviews and there are a ton of books from bestsellers to indie and self published on there.

if you want to start reading but worry about triggers its a great resource.

and since this is long enough already, tangents/context notes are under the read more

*in our experience this effects people of all ages, and despite the idea of teens being particularly pro-censorship our experience is that its more a case of specific fandoms just having more young people in general and thus more young people who are pro-censorship (and those people being extremely loud and aggressive in general) driving/drowning out others; and the fact that a lot of pro-censorship groups online vs. offline are pretty different demographics wise and having issues with one doesn't guarantee experience with the other

**often people are taught that not being able to handle certain topics is basically a moral failing or willpower issue of their part, which is not true. this can lead to thinking that the moral failing actually came from the topic that hurt them, also not true.

the real problem was being forced to engage with it to the detriment of health under the threat of varies penalties, but that is a huge complex problem which isn't as easy to grasp or readily apparently

*** we really recommend it if you are a reader or looking for information on books in general not just triggers. its much better then goodreads imo and as a bonus you can actually filter out certain warnings from being shown in recommendations.

[thedreadvampy]

was in the gym yesterday and there was a guy doing bench press next to me who was talking the hind leg off the guy spotting him with just the most 14-year-old Reddit edgy atheist bullshit I have heard since I myself was a 14 year old edgy atheist

and it annoyed me so much I'm still thinking about it 36 hours later. what the fuck do you mean "we know everything about the universe and there's no space for God in that"???? the fuck we do!!!!!!

idgaf if you believe in a god or not

and we could get into the impossibility of identifying the lack of a space where a God could go when the nature of a God that's always been in everything in the universe would make that entirely impossible to test because if a God was genuinely omnipresent, eternal, irreducible and predated the universe, you could take the universe apart and not find any God because what are you looking for It's everything in a universe with a God of that nature there's no possible basis for comparison, and unlike other irreducible forces like gravity, we assume It acts on everything in non-uniform ways independent of factors like mass and physical relationship so you can't maths it out but ASIDE FROM THAT

jesus christ guy at the gym talk to a single physicist ever challenge. how goddamn unscientific. to be like 'well we know the universe started with hydrogen so there's no god lol'

imagine being so insanely incurious that you literally think Science Has Solved Every Question And We Understand The Universe Now

like I'm no physicist but I'm pretty sure that in the last 20 years the model of universal creation, composition and forces has continued to evolve and develop in response to new evidence and new mathematics. certainly in the last 100 years it's gone through countless finetuning and reevaluations. what kind of end of history ass bullshit are you on that you think we ALREADY KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT THE UNIVERSE, guy at the gym? sort out your cosmology, guy at the gym!!!!

[boytransmission]

Idk if you would answer something personal like this but I thought I’d shoot my shot!

For background I’m 20, queer/enby and just starting to get into bdsm/kink this past year or two. I also prefer a submissive/brat role and your page has helped me a lot in feeling a community and understanding.

How did you learn about this side of yourself/explore it, have you found community that makes you feel validated in it and can share it with, and how do you work through shame if you experience that?

I hope you have the best day I appreciate you!

-🫀

Heyy howdy! i'm so happy to hear my little corner of tumblr has helped you out at all, that's really cool :) I don't feel super qualified to answer your questions, but i'll do my best under the cut

I learned about this side of myself very, very early on lol. I was extremely hypersexual as a child (didn't know what a sexuality was so i just fantasized about everyone) then got scared of myself from like 9-14 (came out as bi at 11, lesbian at 12), then got back to it as a highschooler (13: trans & bi; 15-18:gay ftm). I never got with anyone (didn't start screwing till i was 18), but i poked around 20th century queer art and history and photography (mostly from the u.s., and mostly gay male), and by the time i joined in on the grindr scene at 18 i had an idea of how i wanted to be thrown around. I explored it all in a pretty horrible, unhealthy way through grindr. I fell in love with a transfem who was my first for everything but was secretly using me as "the other man" the whole time, i was always too scared to actually deny sex to anyone who i wound up meeting in person which did a horrific number on my body, and i was obviously chased all over the map by cis male fetishists, and i got with several of them and dated one who was extremely... i don't know. Manipulative? Violent? It's more confusing than that. I was having sex as an addict running away from my real life issues and emotional struggles, and i fucked myself over so much worse than any one hookup or short-term relationship possibly could've. I realized i needed to cut it all off, and i did, and it forced me to seriously think about where i stand sexually. I was right when i was a kid- i'm a dyke. As imaginitive as i was when i was younger, i haven't been 'hypersexual' since i was maybe 13, and i am definitely demisexual. The trauma i experienced from august 2022 to july 2023 has caused extremely intense bouts of sex-repulsion fluctuating against sex addiction which has been... tough. But with all that said, coming back to my dyke roots and listening to my younger self and pursuing butchness and fagdyke bullshit has helped me heal so, so much. It was rough realizing that what i was doing was a twisted version of comphet, something i stupidly thought i was more or less immune to. This community and all the art and people and ideas that come out of it are so insanely incredible and touching to me. I've always been part of the trans community, but the trans dyke community is so much stronger together than the gay trans community was for reasons i don't know.

I currently live in a small town in florida with no nearby major cities, and even if there were, i can't afford a car (let alone gas or insurance) and i'm stuck at home when i'm not at work. It's miserable, and all those issues combined mean there's no community here for me to engage with, not queer and definitely not kinky. I've been wanting to move to a bigger city, and when i was visiting Seattle i got my first real ticket into a trans kink community that was so warm, welcome, open, and i was so, so floored and beyond happy i got to experience it, even if it was just one meet up at a cafe. Finding community in smaller areas is excruciating.... even if you take initiative to build it, it's likely there's no one actually There to join in.... i mope about it a lot. But online i feel like i have recently found a good circle of people/mutuals/etc to share in butch/dyke/trans sexuality and leather kinks and pretty much everything i've talked about on this blog, despite how badly it's lacking for me irl :,,)

Something that ties the two paragraphs together: i really don't struggle with shame in any bit of what i do or who i am, unless i'm going through a paranoid fit of sex-repulsion, in which case the only thing i'm really shameful about is having an online presence at all. Sometimes i get paranoid and scared off my ass that i'll never be separated from these fantasies and images, that i'll always be seen as a little, young fucktoy, or that i'm still in addiction and punishing myself and this is all self-harm when i know (in normal states) that it isn't.

Also sooooo glad you're a brat, isn't it so much fun? How am i not supposed to be a bit snarky from time to time and how am i not supposed to obsess over the punishments i'll get? It's always a win win i fucking love being a little piece of shit lollll

[blue-mostacho]

~Cherry Bomb~

Heey, this is my first time posting on here, but surely it won't be the last one. This is the prologue of a long fic (if my adhd cooperates) that takes place in the Stranger Things universe. It's an enemies to lovers type thing, I guess. I don't know. I'm not sure yet.

I would do a little more elaborate introduction for it but I'm too excited to post and also I suck at that, so without further delay, I hope you enjoy it. Don't be sacred to drop your opinion and let me know what you think. *internal fangirling*

Ps: English is like my third language, so if I made any mistake, please bear with me *anxiety kicks in*. Feel free to correct me tho.

Prologue.

I can feel his stare from across the room, deep blue eyes scanning me up and down. I try to ignore it, occupying myself with whatever irrelevant task I could find. Right now, I am counting coins at the cash register, I can feel how he approaches the front desk at the store. I ignore it. I always do. Every time he comes into the store with his flirty Iines trying to get on my nerves, I just ignore it, act like he's not there. He does that just to piss me off. Today was an oddly nice day, I got to work on time, my coworkers weren't as annoying as usual, and the customers apparently decided to be nice for a day. But I guess you can't have it all.

By the time he's standing just a few steps from me, I'm done with the pennies, so now I have no other excuse to not pay attention to him. Even though I'm not looking at him, I know his eyes are drilling holes into the side of my face. The crinkle of the chip bags he took fills up my ears when he places them on the counter, I force myself to look at him and plaster a polite smile on my face. Dude's a douche, but I ain't risking my job. Wouldn't be the first time I get yelled at because I wasn't "nice enough" to a customer. Quite the coincidence that every time my supervisor had that conversation with me, the customer was him.

He smiles in return, a smug grin that puts his white teeth on display. I have to fight against the urge to roll my eyes at him.

I take the products he chose and scan them through the register, a few bags of chips and four cans of beer.

–Will that be all?- I say, looking back up at him. He just nods. I take a plastic bag to put the groceries in it, thinking that maybe this time I won't have to put up with his bullshit.

–Although...-and there it is, let's see what he comes up with this time.–I would like to know if there is a way I could take you too.‐ a shit-eating grin spreads across his face. I cringe. I cringe so hard that it's nearly impossible for me to avoid wrinkling my nose slightly. Where does he get his pickup lines from? How the hell does he manage to have so many girls obsessed with him?

I look at him unamused.

–12'50, please.- I say unfazed, which is surprising. Usually I would get pissed off. He chuckles, making the blonde curl falling on his forehead bounce.

–Are you ever gonna stop playing hard to get?- He asks, handing me a twenty dollar bill.

–You can't call it playing when I'm not interested in the game.- my hand stretched out, waiting for him to take the change.

–Such a smart mouth.- he mutters under his breath, amused. Before he could say anything else, the shop's door opens, and Tommy H.'s head peaks through.

–Hargrove dude, are you coming or what?- the redhead rushes the blue-eyed boy who just grabs his things and starts walking towards the exit. Before leaving the store he gives me one last glance, shit-eating grin plastered on his face again.

A sigh escapes my lips once he's out of sight. I take a quick look at the clock, 9:20 pm. Lazily, I make my way to the door and flip the sign hanging on it from "Open" to "Closed", and I go about my closing routine. Fifteen minutes later I'm outside locking the store and turning on the security alarm.

My name's Vex by the way, I have no idea how I ended up in this town. Born and raised in Kansas, I've travelled a lot through the country. Once I moved out of my parents' house, I was determined to explore as much as I could. I left at eighteen, I'm not gonna lie, it was hard, I had two hundred bucks in my pocket and my rusty car. I would sleep in it for most of the nights, not really a huge fan of hotels, too expensive even though i always managed to have a temporary job. Often I would only have one meal a day as I couldn't afford more, but I don't regret it one bit. I had to get out of there. Every passing day in that house would suffocate me more and more. I mean, I love my parents, but their relationship has gotten way too toxic over the years. As I grew up, their fights got more intense and aggressive. They were both right and wrong at the same time, but they are both stubborn and would never sit down and have a real conversation. My dad was too caught up in work, the only thing he could talk about. And my mom had pent-up anger from seeing how her husband would get more and more distant. He's not a bad man, he's trying his best, but he wasn't raised in a loving household, so the only way known to him of showing love and affection is working his ass off and taking care of the family. My mom, on the other hand, is a bit more affectionate, she would take care of every little detail to make us happy. Always a step ahead, before you could open your mouth to say anything, she was already there giving you exactly what you wanted. But she's also prideful and, as I said, stubborn as she is. And she has a really bad temper, something that I got from her, that's how the fights and arguments would start. She got mad, started yelling, my dad would follow and, well, you know the rest.

I grew sick of it, hearing them screaming hurtful things to each other, so one day I packed up my things and left.

I stumbled across this small town in Indiana, Hawkins. I was on my way to Michigan from Illinois, I'd decided to take a couple of weeks to get some rest since I had been driving all the way from Wisconsin without taking a break.

My plan was to park my car for a few days, get a full night of sleep or two, and get some food for the road, but then I met Eddie. And that motherfucker tangled me so good that...well here I am, it's been almost a year since then.

We met at a comic shop, we were fighting over the last copy of our favorite comic. We eventually got kicked out, and somehow we ended up in a bar having drinks and talking about life like we'd known each other for a lifetime.

Slowly, what started out as a two-week break turned into empty promises to myself at the beginning of every week that I would be hitting the road by the next Monday. Next thing I knew Eddie was helping me settle down here. I must say, he did chew my ear off about staying here.

Eddie lives in a trailer park, the first days I would crash there for the night. It was more comfortable than the backseat of my car anyway.

Slowly but surely my cash started to melt away, which was just another reason for Eddie to try and convince me to stay, at least for a little while. I tried to talk him into coming with me, I'd been travelling alone for a really long time and I actually enjoyed his company. But the fucker would always turn the tables on me and end up talking to me about the pros of staying here.

Now listen, I have to admit that this town has something to it, and it really started to grow on me. It is quiet and peaceful, but yet it still can creep the shit out of you.

After two months or so I got a job, and shortly after that I had my own roulotte parked right next to Eddie's. Well it wasn't actually my own, it was a rental, but you get the point.

And, well, pretty much that's it. Now here I am, cigarette hanging from my lips, dragging my feet as I arrive home. I take a quick look at Eddie's trailer, lights on, he's home.

I manage to open the door to my wheeled house, I throw the cigarette butt before I make my way in, and as soon as I set foot inside, my entire body deflates and I throw myself on the bed.

I close my eyes letting myself drift off to sleep, my stomach growls, but I'm too tired to even think about eating right now. I can feel my body sinking on the mattress as every muscle relaxes.

–Yoo shithead!- my eyes pop open in a split second as I recognize the voice. I groan, turning on my side, my heavy eyes shutting again. I hear how he knocks on my door.–I know you're thereee.-he sings. I groan once again, knowing damn well that if I don't open, he's not gonna shut up.

I get off the bed and make my way to the door, flipping it open, finding the long-haired boy standing there with a smile on his face.

–You hungry?- he lifts two paper bags, one in each hand. This dork... I try to put an annoyed look on my face, but he doesn't buy it, so I decide to just move to make room for him.

–Come in you shitbird.- a laugh threatens to come out of my mouth but I push my lips together, taking advantage of the fact that he can't see me.

He lets himself fall on the small couch in my "living room" placing the bags on the coffee table in front of him. Lazily, I walk over to him and sit on the other end of the couch, propping my feet on his legs.

–So- he says, taking one of the bags and placing it on my lap.- Got any plans for tonight?.- he asks. I've already taken out the hot cheeseburger from my bag. I'm starving so bad that only the smell has my mouth watering.

–Sleeping.-I say, unwrapping the sandwich.

–Nuh-uh.- he places a fry in his mouth.- What are you? 80 or something?- each word between chews, a frown on his forehead in disappointment.

–What I am is tired as fuck.- My mouth full from the bite I just took.

–Woman!-he suddenly shouts, I look at him unfazed, still chewing on my food. He gets up, letting my feet fall off his legs.- It's Friday night.- he walks dramatically until he places himself right in front of the table.

–So?- I speak with my mouth full again.

–So?!- he looks hysterical, this time he gets closer to me, crouches beside me in front of the couch, letting all his weight fall on his right knee.–I think you ignore the major events that are about to go down later tonight.- This time he speaks lower, looking dead into my eyes for dramatic effect. I laugh, getting up from my seat and walking to the fridge.

–Care to enlighten me?- my eyes fall on him for a second before I turn my head to look at the fridge. He runs up to me.

–Tonight is the night where HISTORY is gonna be made in Hawkins.- He's talking on my left side, close to my face, while fidgeting like crazy. Then he shifts to my right side, two inches away from my cheek while I bend over to take a better look in the fridge.–TONIGHT...-I flinch a little since he's shouting straight in my ear– Tonight there's gonna be light and fireworks thrown upon this shithole of a town.- i finally find a can of coke in the back of the bottom shelf.– Tonight Hawkins is gonna learn what REAL ART is.- I make my way back to my couch, he's still following me not stopping his speech. There's no point in trying to stop him, he likes being theatrical. I open the can, taking a sip from it.–Tonight Vex...-and he's crouching again in front of me, one hand laying on top of each of my knees, his face inches away from mine. He makes a pause to emphasize.–Tonight we're in for the show...-his left hand flies behind him, smirk on his face and a brow arched.–...of our FUCKING LIVES.- He shouts at the top of his lugs, i flinch as a drop of spit hits my left cheekbone. The hand that was hidden just a couple of seconds ago is now a few inches of my face holding two pieces of paper. I squint a little bit, focusing on reading them. Judas Priest. My eyes widen as my brain assimilates the words, and I choke on my coke.

–SHUT UP.- I stand up.–How the fuck?! They were sold out weeks ago! –Suddenly adrenaline takes over wiping away any need of sleep that I had. He stands up, nodding like crazy.

–Yeah baby!‐ his face is adorned with a wide, bright smile.

–But how did you manage to get the tickets?!- He laughs, his right hand flips his long hair over his shoulder to the back.

–I have good connections.- he says, full of pride.

– Connections?- My voice mocking, a smirk tugging at my lips. He looks at me and rolls his eyes.

–Okay, there's this guy I used to sell weed to. He owes me a shit ton of money, heard he got his hands on a couple tickets. So now he's free of debts.- he shrugs and then lets his body fall on my bed.–So, you coming or...what?

A smile starting to form on my lips and he mirrors me.

–You bet your ass I'm going.

–So go get dressed then, shitface!- He shouts one more time.

Next Chapter.

[orowyrm]

Your darvo and clem vision is so right and your Brain is so huge and may I perchance trouble you for some headcanons on one or the other or both of em

YOU SENT THIS AT THE BEST POSSIBLE TIME i was just typing up some long ass rambly summary of what i think theyve both got going on since i havent really elaborated in detail on here i dnt think but i drafted it cuz i wasnt sure anyone cared. hang on this is gonna be a long one buckle up

- darvo’s time in the corpus was tumultuous and nerve wracking. he had started off genuinely trying, he really had! but nothing he ever accomplished seemed to be good enough for his father and he started to get bitter and frustrated, so he started screwing things up on purpose.

- as a callback to the first appearance of the concept art that eventually became his design being that of a system boss, his actual “””real””” name was arn etina, and he was originally a proxy engineer before his dad decided to be a cunt and force him into politics because he needed someone to inherit the chairman position.

- another nod to his design being used for the old boss portrait, he actually did some work on the ambulas project wayyy back before glast’s animo system was even considered to have any combat applications, when the proxies were instead piloted remotely by actual engineers. he was one of em, and he worked his ass off - but he didn’t think weaponry was the best use of the technology. he thought ambulas had more potential in search-and-rescue, resource acquisition, and other stuff that involved environments too dangerous to send corpus crews into. while the remotely-piloted ambulas models were definitely impressive, they were outclassed by leaps and bounds by the tenno, who made very short work of any they encountered. thus, the project was technically considered a ‘failure’ and was scrapped against his wishes, despite him being adamant that he could prove it useful if he just had more time. he never got over this. to this day he’s just as furious about what’s become of ambulas as glast is, honestly, though he doesn't let on because his previous identity is a very close-kept secret for several reasons.

- shortly after alad’s first exile from the board, darv was scooted into the freshly-vacated ‘grineer-corpus relations’ position - partially in the hopes that a ‘proper board seat’ would help get him back into line, and partially as retaliation for his perceived “failures” on the ambulas project, and life in general. historically, grineer-corpus relations has been where you end up when you’re on the shit list, as it’s regarded to be an unpleasant job (mostly due to the fact that you’re often in close contact with grineer. yeah. corpus moment)

- despite hating anything and everything politics on principle, he actually doesn’t mind this all that much, and starts to really enjoy it when he realizes that he can use this position to screw with the board’s war profiteering bullshit. on paper, his job is to negotiate and de-escalate potential conflict — most who have held the position just use it to try and instigate in order to serve their own interests. he actually puts in the effort and does his job properly, part out of spite and part because he genuinely doesn’t see the point of wasting time money resources and lives fighting over nothing, and this pisses a LOT of people off.

- there's really no way to sugarcoat it - frohd is an abusive manipulative piece of shit. he takes out all of his frustrations on people who can't fight back - mostly his subordinates, but ESPECIALLY his son. im sparing the detail because i know it can be a trigger for a lot of people (myself included) but he really beats the hell out of the poor guy, and it only gets worse as time goes on and he starts pushing back and trying to stand up for himself. there are a few incidents that leave permanent injuries/scars that he tries his best to cover up to this day

- as if that's not enough, frohd is getting really fed up with this whole groneer-corpus relations position backfiring and making him look bad, so he puts his foot down and starts actively vetoing almost everything darv tries to accomplish in an attempt to intimidate him into backing down. there’s a lot of tension. his negotiations are sabotaged on more than one occasion, sometimes resulting in casualties. to add insult to injury, an attempt is made on his life during some sort of event or something i don’t really remember. he gets shot and the bullet barely grazes his skull. he’s mostly alright but shaken up BAD. he’s convinced that his father put out a hit on him.

- eventually snaps and decides to make a run for it, sneaking out of the medbay wing he was in and stealing the first ship he could get his hands on and just gunning it, not even in any particular direction, just trying to get as far away as possible. the ship is shot down in grineer airspace and he crashes. though no body is ever recovered, it's assumed he couldn't possibly have survived and thus arn etina is legally dead from this point onwards.

clem on the other hand starts off as just... kind of a nobody. runt of his batch, only barely managed to scrape by without being culled and really only made it at all because his superiors in the barracks he was stationed to happened to have a bit of a soft spot for the new guys and wanted to give him a chance. while he's more than capable, he's mostly nonverbal which makes it a bit hard to communicate with him , as well as a bit unpredictable - he's suspected to be defective because he keeps going off and doing his own thing because it 'makes more sense'. but rather than being put down they manage to have him redirected off to an unarmed base somewhere on uhh. god, it's been so long i forget where on the star chart i had him stationed. whatever. irrelevant. point is, this place pretty much existed solely to acclimate freshly de-tubed grineer and get them trained up with as many of the basics as possible before shipping them off to their actual stations. he likes it there! it's bittersweet, because almost everyone he meets isn't there for very long before leaving and they never come back, but because the structure is designated non-combat, they're not subject to as strict regulations and he and the rest of the "security detail" he's been assigned to can kinda just chill in between routine patrols and occasionally checking on things that fall out of orbit in the general facility.

at one point, there's some looming conflict with a corpus settlement on a nearby moon who insist theyre too close for comfort and risk retaliation if they dont relocate their base - but clem's superiors aren't too worried. they've dealt with the corpus before - this has been an ongoing problem ever since they set up a mining operation on that moon, but the corpus negotiator this time around is a decent guy and seems to think this is just as ridiculous as they do, so they're sure he'll take their side again and help get this resolved. except, they get to the meeting point and he's not there. they're informed that the previous head of grineer-corpus relations has "resigned, effective immediately" and that as a result, any offers he's made them are no longer valid and they're essentially at square one. there's a lot of bullshit back-and-forth, but everyone on the grineer side of things is PISSED that the corpus negotiator seemingly flaked out on them for no reason, while the corpus are now refusing to budge where they're at. they don't even have a proper interpreter, and they're getting nowhere.

TLDR negotiations fail and their base is now under threat of attack. despite being non-combat and having almost no weapons, they're ordered to fight back rather than retreat, despite insistence that the tube-fresh in the base won't stand a chance, half of them barely know how to handle a gun, and most of the armed security are there because they've got injuries or cloning defects that make them ineligible for combat deployment anyway - this, of course, includes clem. he's determined to stick around to fight anyway, but one of the higher-ups, one of the guys who managed to put in a good word for him and get him off the kill list, he pulls him aside and tells him to get the fuck out and take as many of the new guys as he can with him. he's a little confused, as that would be directly disobeying the queens' orders for him to stay put, but he trusts this guy and does as he's told.

clem and the handful of new recruits he manage to squirrel out of harm's way are the only survivors. not long after they get out, corpus craft swoop in and basically bomb the place out. he tries to go back in for his brothers, but by the time he makes it in, there's nothing left but rubble and bodies.

the grineer cut their losses. the handful of survivors are gathered up and shipped off to various other barracks in that corner of the system - an attack like this can't possibly go unpunished, and they need all the boots on the ground they can get. clem is shuffled around to another security detail elsewhere, though it's made fairly clear that this is his last chance to 'make himself useful', and if he goes against orders even once he's going right back into the vats with the other rejects. by this point, he honestly doesn't even care. he's disillusioned with the empire and to be frank, the only thing that motivates him to keep moving at all is thinking about the fact that the only reason that everything came crashing down around him was that one corpus bastard who backed out of negotiations at the last second. that's the only reason he's bothering to fight - he doesnt care about the queens anymore, he can't bring himself to become attached to anyone else at this new barracks, not after what just happened -- he just wants to give the corpus hell.

this is where we start to get into around the part that one little bit of writing starts off -- hes bitter and jaded and out for blood, and when they get word that a corpus ship's come down not too far out and they're sending a detail out to secure the wreck, he jumps on it-- but when he does finally find himself face-to-face with the pilot, for whatever reason, he can't fucking pull the trigger. there's something inside him that refuses to hate the poor bastard, stumbling around practically bleeding out and all but begging to be put out of his misery before he's recaptured. so, against his better judgement, he helps him. grabs him and runs, tries to wrap him up as best he can with whatever he can find. doesn't even know why he's doing this, but it just feels like the right thing to do. there's no going back now, anyway - no way in hell he's not getting executed if he shows his face again. they're in this together now, whether they like it or not.

it takes them a while to get their bearings and come up with a way to get off planet - they'd both heard that defectors would retreat to the tenno relays, the only real neutral zones out there, but they've both seen their fair share of tenno and aren't entirely thrilled to be at their mercy if they can help it. it's sort of a begrudging allyship at first - though its helped by the fact that theyve got a lot in common. at some point, theyre going over their sob stories, and neither of them really make the connection as to how closely connected they really are - clem never had a chance to meet that old negotiator, and thus would never recognize him as the man right in front of him. darv was barely conscious with a nasty head injury when their meeting was meant to happen, and someone else was assigned to the job to cover for him. he was pissed, of course, when he finally came to and found out what a mess they'd made of it while he was out of commission, but when the attempts on his life didn't stop he decided he had to choose his battles and eventually dropped it altogether, as it wasn't a hill he was ready to die on just yet.

when they do finally get the hell out of there, there's a moment where they're both sort of expected to part ways, yknow, go off to their respective factions' syndicates and settle in, but darv cannot fucking STAND the perrin sequence, he really cant. not only does he think theyre boring killjoys, but he's reached a point where being around that much corpus tech genuinely makes him anxious as fuck, it's too close to home and he doesn't like it one bit. clem fits right in with the steel meridian, they welcome him with open arms and he really does feel as close to home as he could get, but there's just something missing and he can't put a finger on it. he keeps wondering about that corpus weirdo, what he ended up doing and if he's still around or moved to a different relay. eventually, neither of them can take it much longer and both try to seek eachother out, and they're basically inseparable from that point on.

honestly, i personally feel like darv would be a lot more inclined to align with the meridian of any syndicate - i think it would be funny if he was just There. no corpus allowed, but we'll make an exception for this guy because clem really likes him and we just can't say no to clem. i guess he's alright. yeah okay he's technically an agent, but -- no yeah he covered up some of his old corpus tattoos with the insignia, pretty cool huh? yeah i dunno where clem found this guy but hes a weird one. hes funny though like obviously hes kind of stupid i mean hes corpus but we like him anyway. i guess he and glast have beef, i dunno why but he's not allowed on perrin property anymore so cressa just decided to let him chill here because it makes them really fucking mad and she loves it. i guess he's a decent shot too but like that's not too impressive, it's more relevant to us that he still can't fucking handle grineer alcohol after who knows how many years hanging around here and he always coughs and splutters like a little bitch every time and its fucking hilarious. oh hes a wanted criminal??? siiiiick. anyway were gonna go set shit on fire to see what explodes -- yeah of course hes gonna be there. what did he do before defecting? i dunno man he used to be an engineer or whatever i think, he doesnt talk about it much, but he can hotwire a dargyn in about thirty seconds and he helped us build a claymore roomba the other day for a prank so he's cool in my book bro

i havent eaten all day so i need to stop typing now but i hope you understand my vision. its so important to me and i care them so much thankyou change da world my final message goodbye