#i was an incredibly perceptive child but could not figure out motivations

[laudofthedeep]

thinking about the time in 6th grade when my classmates were like “would you kiss a boy for $200” and things like that, always the same gender as whoever was being addressed, price going down as people kept discussing. some of them were getting real bashful about it, which was probably part of the whole social game.

i, however, had no particular understanding of social cues nor sexual attraction to EITHER gender, so i flung myself into the conversation with a cry of “Cowards! id kiss one for $3!”

this, of course, led to the subsequent restraint of the nearest available victim, a call to my parents, and a plea deal that forced me to split my hard earned money with the unwilling party

[thewhimsicalwriter]

So you want to give your fictional character a tragic backstory? Let's talk about how to write trauma.

In order to write trauma, we must understand what it is first.

**This is not medical or therapeutic advice, this is simply a guide to help a person write trauma.**

What is trauma?

The American Psychological Association describes trauma as "an emotional response to a terrible event like an accident, assault, or natural disaster."

I think it's much more complex than that.

Trauma is more than a "terrible event." Trauma is anything that threatens a person's physical, emotional, and/or spiritual well-being. It's not always one huge event that turns someone's world upside down (though this can also be the case).

Small events can be considered trauma, too.

A parent/caregiver denying your reality.

Multiple doctor's visits for a chronic illness.

An autistic person forcing eye contact.

Living with a parent that couldn't regulate their emotions.

A person constantly trying to people please.

Hiding who you truly are due to fear of judgement.

Passive religious abuse.

And more.

It's basically anything that's considered distressing to the person experiencing it.

Sometimes, if you've had repetitive exposure to the trauma, it may not seem distressing. This is due to the fact that your body and mind have learned how to adapt to a consistent state of dysregulation.

Many adults grow up and don't even realize that they experienced childhood trauma until they reach a point of burn out.

This is important for your characters.

Why?

Because they can be subtly affected by trauma in ways that many don't even notice.

Let's say your character was the outcast of the family. They never truly fit in. They had trouble getting along with their parents. They could do nothing right.

And most of all, they lived in the shadow of their siblings.

This is traumatic. This is the dynamic of a narcissistic parent.

There's a golden child & the scapegoat. As a result, the character will struggle with feelings of inadequacy, resentment towards their siblings, feelings of shame/guilt, and potentially a fear of failure.

This is trauma.

This affects a person just as much as a person who lived through a singular event, like an earthquake. It may present differently, but it is still trauma.

Your character may find themselves trying to make sense of the feelings they're struggling with, but may fall short in the process. If they aren't aware they experienced trauma, they may beat themselves up about how they should "be normal" or try harder.

They can struggle with insomnia, rapid changes in mood, trouble connecting with others, self-isolation, substance use, memory loss, nightmares, dizziness, chest pains, stomach aches, being defensive in conversation, self sabotaging behaviors, disassociation, and more.

If they're supposed to be saving the world, it can be incredibly hard to focus when their body is just barely surviving from the trauma they've endured.

Questions to ask yourself when thinking about your character's trauma:

How might it impact how they interact with others?

How do they cope with it? Is it a healthy coping skill or an unhealthy coping skill?

What's their limit and will it cause them to give up on their mission?

Will it motivate them more and make them fight back harder?

How do they manage to maintain focus?

What are their triggers?

How does the villain trigger their trauma?

How does it affect their self esteem?

How does it influence their perception of figures of authority?

Do they get overwhelmed in certain environments? If so, what are they and how do they react?

I'll provide more questions to ask yourself in a future post.

However, this is just to get you thinking about what your biases towards trauma might be.

[linkspooky]

Gojo and Mahito

Nanami and Gojo share several parallels as pointed out by Nanami in Chapter 22 of Jujutsu Kaisen. A connection between the two of them that’s developed to the point where we see Mahito steal a technique from Gojo (domain expansion activation for only a few microseconds) in the latest chapter. More on the parallels of Gojo and Mahito, because for both of them there’s more than meets the eye. 

1. Children with Too Much Power

Mahito parallels Gojo, but more specifically I believe he has the most in common with teenage Gojo we see in Hidden inventory. Especially on two key points. Both of them had immense strength that they hadn’t quite figured out yet.

Teenage Gojo, who was still figuring out the infinity and could not yet quite make the universe bend at the snap of his finger tips. In his introductory arc when Mahito was fighting Nanami, he was like a child figuring out how to use his body for the first time. 

Everything he does in that arc is out of a childish sense of curiosity. He gets to close to Junpei, to observe what will happen from prolonged interaction with a human. He toys around a long time with fighting Nanami because he’s still figuring out how his curse technique works. 

Unlike the other curses who seem to already exist knowing what they are, or have existed for years already long enough to figure themselves out, Mahito is actively learning about himself when he fights Nanami. 

Just like Gojo, being pushed to the brink of death by an incredibly powerful enemy, only seems to make Mahito bounce back stronger. Mahito and Gojo parallel each other in their comparison to Nanami. Simply put, Nanami is the most mature character in the series, he’s the role model for a normal, decent adult. 

While Gojo will drag children to battlefields, or take big bets with their lives, Nanami acts much more responsibility, with respect to the fact that Yuji is a child whose emotional well being he’s nurturing. 

Nanami is introduced to us as the opposite of Gojo, someone mature while Gojo is immature. He even says that he doesn’t respect him in the least bit. Gojo’s powerful, but he’s not grown up. Nanami even explains this quite logically, people don’t grow up by fighting bad guys, or getting stronger. People grow up by accumulating experiences. 

Gojo and Mahito are all powerful in ways that Nanami will never be, while at the same time they act like children. Especially teenage Gojo, but even adult Gojo doesn’t really like to get along well with other people, and decides everything based on his own emtoions and perspective. In other words both Gojo and Mahito have a tendency to be egocentric. 

Egocentric. 

thinking only of oneself, without regard for the feelings or desires of others; self-centered. 

2. The World Through Their Eyes

Mahito and Gojo are characters who appear childish and frivolous on the surface, but if you plunge their depths they have a deeper understanding of themselves and their desires than most ofther characters in the series. They might not get other people, but that’s not their priority either. In classic Jungian symbolism, shallow water belies greater depths. 

Gojo and Mahito are both extremely well thought characters, capable of immense amounts of self reflection. (Probably too much self reflection in Gojo’s case, he just loves looking at himself in the mirror a little too much how vain.) It not only shows in how much of themselves they have figured out but also their jujutsu. I think it’s safe to say that there is some resemblance between the infinity, and Mahito’s idle transifguration. Their Jujutsu makes them both privvy to the world that no one else can see. It’s unknown what Gojo can see with the six eyes exactly, but considering the limitless. 

You can infer that he’s capable of seeing much greater sensory perception than the normal person. Mahito doesn’t have the six eyes, but because his jujutsu is about altering the form of the soul, he has the unique ability to see the shape of the soul inside of the body.

Mahito can see through people’s bodies, and see down to their souls. However, his perceptiveness has caused him to give up on the idea that people have any individuality at all, that they have “hearts” you know like, thoughts and feelings and stuff. Which is why all humans are pretty much interchangable to him. Mahito can’t see life separate as him from having any particular value. 

Both of their cursed techniques create distance between themselves and others. Though in opposite ways. Gojo’s cursed technique is based around the idea that nothing can reach him, because it will always slow down in the infinite space between them. Mahito is able to completely change the shape of whatever he wants with one touch. 

However, at the same time this resembles how they both interact with other people. Mahito sees people as nothing more than toys to play with and experiment in developing his jujutsu technique on. He even is literally pictured in an official color illustration as destroying Junpei, Nobara, and Nanami as torn up dolls. They were just toys that he got bored with and threw away. 

Gojo can sometimes even share this tendency, not to mercilessly kill and slaughter of course not, but to be so far away from other people, and too busy perceiving the infinity that he can’t get caught up in ordinary lives. Remember, Mahito, Jogo and Hanami’s plan was to shake up Gojo with the sheer amount of people he would have to save in Shibuya, and it just... didn’t work. 

Gojo just isn’t that shaken up by the people he can’t save. He’s not Geto. He’s not Yuji. Of course he cares enough to try and minimize the damage, he could have just used unlimited domain to end the situation at the cost of everybody gathered, but he made a decision to try to balance between everybody’s lives, protecting his own, and exorcising the curses. 

Mahito and Gojo are both extremely distant from other people, but because of that they have a unique understanding of themlseves. Mahito’s domain expansion is called “Self Embodiment of Perfection.” When Gojo figures out reverse Jutsushiki he quotes the budha when he reached enlightenment. 

They are extremely isolated characters who have others plumbed the depths of themselves. Gojo’s goal is to be the best version of himself he can be, to push himself into being the strongest. Their individual will is so strong they want to impose it on the world around them. Gojo wants to reset the jujutsu world, Mahito wants a world of curses. 

They both encourage the other people around them to also think deeper about themselves, and how to evaluate themselves. Gojo tells Mahito to stop repressing himself for the sake of others. To try to be stronger individually instead of more of a team player. Instead of judging those around you, look inwardly. 

Mahito is furious that Yuji doesn’t evaluate himself, doesn’t think deeply about his own motivations. That’s what he criticizes Yuji for constantly, he doesn’t think for himself, he runs blindly into fights. Mahito calls their fight a clash of truth. Yuji has to know his own self, and know his belifs and know why his beliefs are better than Mahito’s if he wants to face him. 

Mahito and Gojo are both always looking inside of themselves, and that’s why their depths go much further than their seemingly shallow surface. If I were to make one last comparison between the two of them, I would say that the reason Mahito imitates Gojo is because his end goal is to become enlightened. What Mahito wants, is to be true to his nature, the truest embodiment of a curse in the series. He wants to reach an enlightenment like Gojo has where he has himself, his role in the world, completely and totally figured out. Where he embodies his own idealized sense of perfection. 

Which is why he imitates Gojo, the strongest. Though his is the opposite path, like a reflection of a mirror. If Gojo uses his power to be the model, the embodiment of a jujutsu sorcerer who exorcises curses to save human lives, then Mahito chooses to be the embodiment of a curse that plagues humans.

Mahito and Gojo both see through things, they can see what everybody else can’t, however they differ in how they use those perceptions. Gojo tethers himself to responsibility to other people, because he finds meaning in doing that, he thinks there’s a point in protecting and nurturing the weak because eventually he’ll be able to find strong comrades. Mahito however, believes in the opposite of camraderie. He can see through other people, so he acts like they’re not even there. Gojo is a character who while his tendency is to try do everything on his own, is currently waiting rescue from the strong comrades he focused so hard into training. While Mahito will most likely end up alone. 

[maxwell-grant]

Cass wouldn’t even begrudingly tolerate [the Black Bat], because she’s even less lenient than Bruce on killing and far more willing to throw down.' - THANK YOU for remembering that.

Cass is my favorite Batfam member, the only one really that I have an active interest in reading about. I'd be incredibly ignorant to not bring bring up such a crucial aspect of her characterization. And even if I didn't personally care for her, well, last thing I'd want is to be another source of frustration for Cass fans. Lord knows there's enough of those to go around.

mousebrass also asked: On that note, how do you imagine a meeting between Cass and the Shadow going?

Fair warning: This one took me 6 hours to write, and it became a hell of a lot longer than I imagined. I liked Cass a lot, but I never quite realized I had this many feelings regarding her until I was tasked with writing this, and a lot of things clicked for me regarding my plans for The Shadow thanks to this ask. @mousebrass, thank you. I mean it. I think I may have found something here I've spent years looking for. Hope you enjoy the post.

I'm thankful that this scenario is only really taking place in a hypothetical fanon where both characters can get a fair shot, because I wouldn't trust DC with this premise. I don't trust DC with either of them as is.

There's a lot of ways that this crossover could go on about taking place naturally, initially because Cass is already connected to some of Batman's pulpier elements, due to her connections to Lady Shiva and the League of Assassins, and one could connect Cass to Myra Reldon (who really should just be race swapped if ever brought back so she can stand out as the cool character she is, without the yellowface gimmick holding her back). There's two things I think are crucial to making the most of this idea, and the first of which has to do with the subject of killing. I usually don't like to come up with hypothetical team-ups for The Shadow that focus too much on the fact that he kills, because it's far from the most significant aspect of his character to focus on, much of it is written from a wrong understanding of the character, and it never amounts to anything other than perfunctory. But here, not only is it completely unavoidable to discuss, here there is actually a very, very substantial grounding as to why this has to be such a big part of the story.

The first and foremost thing that's gotta be established to everyone reading that doesn't know already is this: Cassandra Cain, more so than Batman, more so than any other DCU hero, has a tolerance towards murder lower than zero, and this is completely non-negotiable. She will throw herself on the path of an assault rifle to stop men trying to kill her from accidentally killing each other. The defining moment of her incredibly grim backstory is that she was trained from birth to be the world's greatest murderer, and her first kill traumatized her so badly that she has pivoted as far away from that as possible. I stress a lot that the Shadow should not be written as the trigger-happy maniac comics made him into and that the pulp version killed mostly to defend himself and others, generally left criminals to the police if possible, offered plenty of second-chances, had stories dedicated to the rehabilitation of criminals and so on, but none of this would matter to Cass.

Cass has literally chosen suicide over the prospect of living with murder on her hands time and time again, and The Shadow kills. When he kills, he does so without remorse, with unshakeable certainty. He hates death, he doesn't want lives to be at risk in the first place. But people will die if he doesn't do anything, and what he can do, what he exists to do, is turn the tools of evil against evil, and murder is the oldest tool of evil there is. He doesn't kill because a war scarred him, he doesn't kill because he's got a demon in his soul, he doesn't kill because he's mentally off balance, he doesn't kill because he's evil or sadistic or arrogant or anything of the sort. He kills because the men he fights chose death when they sought to harm innocents and fire guns at him. He kills because he is Death itself.

Regardless of how compassionate he is or can be, regardless of the fact that he's motivated by a desire to protect people, regardless of how justified he is, he is still dropping corpses and laughing maniacally doing so. Cass's real arch-enemy isn't Shiva or David Cain, it's Death, it's the thing that she's fundamentally most opposed to. And guess what The Shadow gets compared to often enough? Literally the very first line of the very first book where we get to see him, this is how we are introduced to him:

So the premise here is that we are taking a character who is defined by her fundamental opposition to death with every fiber of her being, who understands death on a level no other human being does, who is traumatized and hard-wired to detest death at all costs and to choose suicide over it, and asking her to team up with The Grim Reaper.

Even if he received the most abject lesson conceivable on the sheer wrongness of murder, even if he does put down the guns around Cass out of respect for her, he cannot protect his agents and others if he cannot shoot or kill those who try to harm them, and the protection of the agents is absolutely non-negotiable and not at all something he's willing to fuck around with by trying out gadget kung fu superhero alternatives. The Shadow has chosen to throw his life away for their sake time and time again, and no matter how appaling or disgusting Cass finds his deeds, even if he concedes that she's right and should be right on all accounts and that he is fundamentally a monster who has no right to judge others, he would not concede on his mission and he would make it very clear she would have to put him down violently to stop him from protecting others this way, and death has not stopped him before.

And to be upfront in case there's anyone who doubts it, Cass would kick The Shadow's ass, if they had to fight. She is the strongest fighter in the DCU, she lives and breathes fighting and combat in a way no one else does. And The Shadow's not one of those characters who is supposed to be invincible and the best at everything all the time always, he can and does lose fights and scrapes to people far less adept at it than Cass. He's a great fighter, obviously, he hauls bigger men than him through doors and was disabling people with Vulcan neck pinches decades before Spock, and he would definitely have an edge in other areas, but he's out of his league here. Frankly, I don't see The Shadow raising a finger against Cass unless she's been brainwashed into killing people by bad writing. Not because she's a woman, that doesn't really stop him from dealing with evil. But because, for one, she's practically a child compared to him age-wise. Two, he'd obviously know beforehand of her capabilities and how futile it would be to fight or even provoke her. And three, the Shadow's whole thing is knowing. The Shadow Knows and all that. Knowing comes with understanding.

He'd understand very quickly that there is no way someone this young could grow so quickly into the world's greatest fighter without horrific treatment that no one should ever be subjected to. He'd see the movements too practiced and quick, the self-control, the strength and speed far beyond even the trained warriors he's seen, the places where she's been scarred and is good at covering it up. Assuming he doesn't already know about her life story, any meeting between the two would lead to him very quickly figuring out that there's something much deeper about her opposition to killing than just moral reservations, something deeper than Bruce's own gun trauma.

Denny O'Neil's 2nd Batman and Shadow story was about The Shadow secretly helping Bruce overcome gun trauma, and Bruce rejecting The Shadow's intentions to hand him a gun. And to make it clear, people tend to assume that The Shadow only helps people for utilitarian reasons, which is not true as I've tried to demonstrate many times now. I don't want to convey that he would want to help Cass overcome her trauma just so she could be more efficient or something, absolutely no, he'd help her because he helps people in any way he can. I think a story with The Shadow and Cass might involve a similar premise, The Shadow understanding that she has been traumatized very deeply by death and refuses to accept it on any terms, trying to help her overcome it, only to learn that she does not want to "learn" anything she doesn't already know, that she has weaponized her trauma into a source of strength, and wishes nothing more than to help others with it.

And here's where we get to the part that allows the two to be on less antagonistic terms, because one thing that also very strongly defines Cass, at least the Cass I like reading most, is her stubborn, almost desperate need to believe in the best of people, that people can and will change for the better. Like The Shadow, her strength too is knowing, it's perception, the things that she knows about people that words cannot convey. Just as there are many things The Shadow would grow to understand about her that others would not, there would be many things that The Shadow would not be able to conceal from her. Things that no one but her would figure out. Things that, despite her age and lack of experience compared to him, he would have to defer to her knowledge on, which reverses the usual dynamic The Shadow has with people. And perhaps one aspect of that reversal, it's that maybe it's she who winds up secretly manipulating The Shadow into overcoming a deeper issue.

Cass's perspective on killing is shaped not just through trauma, but from a painfully intimate understanding of not just what happens to someone at the time of death, but the cost of murder upon the human soul, the ways it warps people into things they never should have been. Killing is a deeply, deeply serious matter, much more so than fiction seems ever willing to go into. Of course we suspend disbelief for fiction, there's nothing wrong with that, but if a story starts asking questions, starts poking holes into fantasies, they should not be disregarded.

And so it begs a question: How has it affected The Shadow? Is he really as remorseless as he appears to be? Is the fact that he's only killing evil people really of that much use? What's the cost of living as someone who has to know so much about so much evil in so many hearts? Knowledge never comes without price, and knowing evil is his tagline. When he enlists Harry Vincent, he makes it very clear that he has lost lives as he has saved them. From when is that regret coming from? What lives did he lose then? Is he saving people by damning his soul or merely prolonging the inevitable by piling corpses on another end of the scale?

If there's a character that could meaningfully start bringing these questions forth, who could ever truly get The Shadow to stop and reveal things to the audience he never would otherwise, maybe Cass could be that character. A girl who was raised to be a monster, who is treated as a monster and an aberration in-universe (and even outside of it), and turned that into a strength she uses to help others, who cares about everyone and refuses to let others be dehumanized as she was. Who better to know what lurks in the Shadow's heart?

Sometimes when I get an ask, I bullshit my way through infodump walls of text until I can structure it into something vaguely resembling a point. And sometimes, and I know it sounds crazy, but sometimes I get a very, very clear word on my mind related to it before I start writing, that almost seems to be a beacon pointing where I need to get to, and I work my way into getting there. Once you sent me an ask about crossing over The Shadow with Cassandra Cain, the word that came to mind the very second was Language.

It's an interesting relation the two have with language. Language is of course a very substantial part of Cass's character, who does not process language and linguistic development the way most people do, and instead reads body language to the point of superpower. Many stories revolve around Cass's relation to the concept of language, the help she may require from others in getting around things beyond her upbringing, and ways in which she has mastered beyond anyone's scope. Though she is mute, language is her power, what makes her what she is, and she is someone that Batman freely admits could kick his ass if she ever felt like it.

For The Shadow, language is also his power. He speaks all languages and connects allies all over the world, he is an expert ventriloquist, he is able to project his voice beyond what's physically possible, he can imitate voices perfectly to the point of being able to conduct group conversations single-handedly well enough to fool even the people whose voices he's imitating, much of his presence and terror and manipulation are done through his voice, arguably the very reason he exists in the first place is entirely because a radio actor's voice performance was so good and captivating that it tricked people into thinking the character was a real star and not just a glorified narrator. The man you cannot see, but only hear, the perfect hero for radio. And then of course the laugh, which I have a whole separate post on and which, in many ways, acts as a substitute for language in the novels. He uses the laugh so often as a substitute for statements or words, even to himself, that it's pretty much his own personal language. And language is at the core of how he deals with people, as he knows the right language to use to manipulate and move and help them. He knows what to promise, what to reveal, what to omit. He knows what to say, how to say it, when to say it. Language is the strings by which he puppeteers the world around him (and he can talk to animals, at least of one kind).

The Shadow and Cassandra Cain have mastered two different types of Language as throughly as anyone can possibly master them. The Shadow can talk a group of hardened criminals into killing themselves, Cassandra can punch a heart into stopping without killing it. The Shadow echoes his voice "through everywhere and nowhere at once" to whip crowds of thugs into frenzies, Cassandra outraces missiles and was tanking bullets as a child. The Shadow can lie and usurp lives so masterfully to fool even the families of those he's passing off as, Cassandra is a living lie detector who gleams inner conversations from miniscule reactions. The Shadow can speak every language known, Cassandra is the greatest master of the world's most universal language other than music. The two are supposedly human, but every now and then, something comes along to call that into question because of the things they can achieve. They cannot hide secrets from each other the way they do to everyone else. They are driven by a deep desire to help others, to make something out of the circumstances of their lives. To weaponize that which dictates they should be evil and monstrous into a relentless force of good.

Language is the root of understanding. And if nothing else, as impossible as a conciliation of their approaches to crimefighting may be, I think there could be an unique understanding between the two. Perhaps, and this is a bit crazier a concept but one that seems to be where I might have been heading towards all along, even Cassandra Cain finding a calling away from the frayed dynamics of the Batfamily, away from the Bat's looming presence, to become The Shadow's successor, swearing to uphold a mission of justice through non-lethal tactics while he stays on the backseat guiding her. If The Shadow could trust the safety of his agents and the protection of the innocent at the hands of someone as capable and selfless and good-natured as Cassandra, I think he'd be all too happy to be able to trust someone in such a manner, to no longer be the Master of Darkness, but instead to serve the next generation that's weaponized darkness without submerging in it. To achieve, and perhaps return, to his strongest, highest self: A disembodied voice heard, but not seen. Once again the narrator, not the star.

It's a concept I've thought about very extensively for the years I've been a Shadow fan, but now it occurs to me that, if I had to appoint a successor of The Shadow, someone who could take up the mission but shine on their own right, even improve it with the right guidance and circumstances, it would be Cassandra Cain. The Orphan, The Shadow of the Batgirl. Daughter of the greatest assassins, meant to be the world's most lethal murderer, instead pivoted to being one of it's greatest heroes, but never allowed to shine as she should. But in the darker, less restrictive and wilder world of pulp heroes, in The Shadow's world, a beacon would shine all the harder. Perfect strengths attached to perfect opposites, joined together for a greater good, unstoppable after together having weaponized that which most take for granted: the power of language to move worlds.

[arvandus]

Touch (pt 9) - Amity

PAIRING: Dabi x Fem!Reader

STORY WARNINGS: 18+ only please!  Drug abuse/withdrawal, adult language/themes, heavy angst, past trauma/abuse, anxiety/panic attacks, PTSD, fluff, pining, slow burn, eventual emotional SMUT. *please pay attention to the chapter tags as these warnings will apply at different times*

CHAPTER WARNINGS: talk of killing, blood, needle/medical sewing; pining... lots of resistant pining.  Typical sensory overload due to quirk use.

CHAPTER SONG: Ocean Eyes by Billie Eilish

Part 1   Part 8

Artwork credit to @hellowon31 on Twitter (https://twitter.com/hellowon31)

Part 9: Amity

Between your second night in a row of poor sleep and waking up incredibly early, it didn’t take long for exhaustion to find you again.  By mid-day your sensory overload had subsided enough that you collapsed into your bed, dreamless sleep dragging you under instantly.  It was short-lived, however; it felt like no sooner had your head hit the pillow, that a knock on your door roused you groggily from your slumber.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you stood up and answered the door to see Toga standing in front of you, a bloodied washcloth held to her temple.

“Oh my god, what happened to you??” you exclaimed, as you let her into your room.

“I was out running some errands and a thug tried to jump me in an alleyway.” Toga replied cheerfully. She halted in her tracks.  “Oh… aren’t you still sick with the flu?”  She instantly covered her mouth and nose with her free hand, taking a step back.

“Huh? Oh!” you exclaimed. Right.  Crap. You forgot about that little white lie.  “Sorry, hang on a sec.”  You quickly went to your medical bag and pulled out a white disposable mask, placing it over your face.  “Is that better?” You asked, your voice muffled.

The tension in Toga’s shoulders instantly left, her posture easing as her hand dropped away from her face. “Yeah, thanks.  Are you feeling okay?  I could try to do this myself this time…”

You balked at the thought of Toga treating her own injuries.

“I’m fine right now, I promise.” You replied. 

The blonde shrugged and fully entered your space, although her folded hands in front of her body communicated she didn’t want to touch anything.

“So, a guy jumped you in an alley?” You asked.

“Yeah.  He was big, too.  And had a quirk that gave him extra reach on his arms.”  Toga explained.

You weren’t quite sure what sort of errands required Toga to be in alleyways, but you had a feeling none of them were good. The curiosity pulled at you - you could feel the question on your lips, but you swallowed it down.  When you had first joined the League, you and Shigaraki had discussed the importance of compartmentalizing your role from the others.  You were the only one out of the group who was defenseless after all, so as the weakest link within the League, you had both decided it would be best if you knew as little of the League’s affairs as possible, in case you ever got captured and questioned.  You were allowed to participate in general discussions regarding the League’s next moves and what areas were important to you that you wanted to focus on, but the nitty gritty details were kept separate: private meetings with other villains, locations, times, that sort of thing.  So, despite your curiosity, you knew not to pry.

Instead, you asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she replied, “but I can’t get this to stop bleeding.”

“Let’s take a look.” You gingerly removed the cloth from the wound to see a deep gash in the skin before new blood filled up. You placed the washcloth back over the wound before it could spill over.  “Hm. Better keep that on there.  You’re going to need stitches.”

“I figured.” She grinned. She took over holding the cloth to her head while you grabbed your medical bag.  You escorted her into your bathroom and had her sit on the toilet seat. Her outfit was speckled with blood, some of it from her wound, and, you suspected, some of it not.

“So…” you started, as you washed your hands in the sink. “What happened to the thug?”

“I drained him.” She replied cheerfully.  The casualness of her statement filled you with a confusing mixture of fear and pity.

“You killed him?” you asked, as you prepped your needle and thread.

Toga looked at you with her yellow feline-like eyes.  “He would have killed me if I didn’t.”

“Tilt your head back.” You instructed.  Toga did as you said, and you carefully removed the cloth before placing your fingers over her open wound. She winced slightly at the contact, but quickly relaxed as your quirk soaked in. 

Silence filled the room as you cleaned her wound with antiseptic and set to work.  The heavy quiet dragged on as your mind mulled over the girl next to you.  You had a thousand questions in your mind, but none of them seemed very appropriate to ask, not without upsetting her.  And despite your good standing with the League, you made it a careful point not to get on anyone’s bad side.  It wasn’t so much that you didn’t trust them, although a part of you was always wary around those who were willing to commit violence.  But you also understood on a personal level that the problems these villains had went far deeper than society was willing to acknowledge.  Mental illness, quirkology, environment… all of it played a role in dealing the hand that these outcast individuals had been dealt.

Minutes passed as you stitched up the cut and cleaned the blood from the sealed wound once more. You were washing your hands when Toga finally spoke, her voice soft.  “Are you mad at me?”

You paused to look down at her.  Her brow was furrowed, her mouth pulled into a sulky frown as she stared at her hands. She looked like a child waiting to be scolded, and in that moment, you could see how young she still was.  You gave a soft sigh.  “Of course not.  He attacked you, right? You had to defend yourself.”

You paused then followed up with, “I’m sorry you had to do it.”

“Don’t be…” she replied. “I liked killing him.”

Your hands faltered as you began putting away your supplies and Toga noticed. 

“You don’t like it, do you?” she asked, accusation lacing her voice. She was defensive, waiting for your judgement. 

You couldn’t blame her. No doubt her quirk was something she likely struggled with all of her life before finally giving in to it.  She had never given you her story directly, but it wasn’t hard to guess.  Everything about her – from her ramblings to her actions - spoke of a caged animal who finally got a taste of freedom and refused to be captured.

Contradicting feelings warred within you, and you struggled to wrangle them.  You had to admit, you hated the idea of her killing.  More importantly, you knew that her victims weren’t always street thugs, villains, or corrupted heroes.  But at the same time, despite this uncomfortable fact, you also understood how strongly quirks affected behavior, how it could act like a poison, messing with the mind and forcing its way into being expressed.  It wasn’t the first time you’d seen it; you understood it intimately.

You looked down at her and a familiar sense of pity unfurled in your gut, snaking into your veins, pulling at your emotions even as your core roiled at the idea of needless violence. She was just like him... a victim in her own way, despite the horrific things she did.

“You think I’m a monster.” Her words cut through your thoughts, and your attention refocused on her. She had her knees hugged up to her chest, her feet propped on the closed toilet lid that she occupied.  You mentally scolded yourself for abandoning her as you got lost in your head and crouched down next to her.

“No.  I don’t think you’re a monster.” You answered soothingly.

“Then why do you look scared of me?” Toga demanded. 

You gave her a smile that you hoped reached your eyes. She was more perceptive than you gave her credit for sometimes.  You had to choose your words carefully. 

“I’m not scared of you.” You explained.  “ But I am a healer, Toga. I see someone who’s hurt, and I want to take that pain away.  It’s what my quirk is. It’s a part of who I am and it’s what motivates me. So, I won’t deny that it’s hard for me sometimes to understand why you do what you do because it’s so opposite of how I am.”

Toga averted her eyes, her body tightening in on itself.

“But…” you continued as you placed a hand on her forearm, “I’m not scared of you.  And even though you do monstrous things, I don’t think you’re a monster.”

Toga slowly lowered her knees, letting her feet touch the floor as she stared at you.  “Why not?” she asked.

“Because,” you replied, “You still care about people.  You and Twice were the first to welcome and befriend me when I joined the League. And the way you take care of Twice… like he’s your big brother… that counts for something.  You even care about Dabi, even though he’s an ass. That was why you checked on him that night, right?  You treat each of us like family.  Now why would a monster do that?”

“But I still want to cut you guys all the time…” she confessed.

“I know.  But you don’t.  That should count for something.”

Toga smiled at you with teary eyes.  “You’re so nice, big sis.”  Her compliment made you smile. 

Toga hopped of the toilet with a nimble bounce, signaling the end of the conversation.  “Am I all done?”

You nodded.  “You’re free to go.” You announced.  Toga made her way to your bedroom door, but she halted when you called her name.  “Toga… don’t forget to change your clothes.”

Toga looked down at the bloodstains splattered across her school uniform.  “Yeah, I guess you’re right.  Thanks, big sis!”

She left your room with a jovial wave.  As soon as the door closed behind her, you slumped down onto your bed as you removed the white mask from your face and placed it on your nightstand.  Exhaustion washed over you again, deeper this time than it was before.  It wasn’t even so much due to your quirk since you didn’t have to use very much of it this time.  Instead, your mind focused on Toga, replaying the conversation.  It filled you with a swath of competing emotions; pity, anger, frustration, helplessness, fear.  The feelings swirled in you making a rank stew in your soul, old and familiar.

This was just like before.

You shoved the feelings aside, unwilling to look too closely at them. You already had enough on your plate as it was… you didn’t want to dredge up more of the past.  It would only add more stress and it wouldn’t change anything.

You laid down again in the hopes that this time, finally, your sleep would be nightmare free and uninterrupted.

 * * * * *

The withdrawal-induced restlessness Dabi felt lasted throughout the day, making sleep near impossible.  To keep himself from going crazy, he forced his energy into cleaning up his space, despite his typical disdain for chores.  He straightened up his desk, took out the trash, and most importantly, did his laundry. It was overflowing and stank of mildew, and he was in desperate need of clean towels.  His bed was no better, reeking of sweat and infection and covered in chip crumbs. But while his body appreciated the movement, the lack of mental power the activities required did little to distract from intrusive, obsessive thoughts.

He wasn’t sure which thoughts he wanted to avoid more - thoughts of his family or thoughts of you.  The memories of family were old and familiar, but the emotions in them were raw, threatening to suck him in and shred him to pieces like it’d already done so many times before.  But thoughts of you weren’t much better, at least not to Dabi. He didn’t like the warmth he felt each time he thought of you, and yet he kept going back to that feeling, like opening the fridge to stare at that last piece of cake.  He was at war with himself, and he didn’t know how to fight it.

Somehow, with all of his coming and going from his room, he somehow managed to never run into you. He wasn’t entirely sure if that was a good thing or not, but like all other uncomfortable thoughts, his forced himself not to focus on it.  It shouldn’t be important.  You shouldn’t be important.  His mouth pressed into a thin line.  The number of times he had to tell himself that were becoming too many to count, and it never did seem to make much difference.  

The cleaning only occupied him for so long.  Towards the end of it he found himself sitting in his room, waiting for his clothes to finish drying so he could retrieve them.  He had laid back on his bed just for a moment, to stare at his phone. He woke up an hour and a half later, his mind muddled with jumbled dreams and memories.  Cigarette smoke, a child’s laughter, the sound of himself screaming in agony…

He shook his head to knock the unwanted fog from his brain and grabbed a smoke to soothe the shaking in his hands.  The cigarette was gone within a minute.  The haze still lingered though as every inch of Dabi’s nerves hummed and his gut clenched in discomfort.  So, he inhaled a second cigarette for good measure and followed it up with an electrolyte drink paired with a couple of antacids.  His laundry was likely done now; no point in letting it sit there and risk another League member touching his things.

With the laundry dry and sitting on his bed in a crumpled heap, he stared at the contents, a frown on his face.  Your towels were mingled with his, and the sight of it filled him with an uneasiness that had little to do with his withdrawal.  It looked entirely alien to him, intrusive in his personal space.  His stomach gave a weird flutter before giving way to a wave of nausea.

Stupid, he thought to himself.  They’re just fucking towels.

He began folding the first towel. It was half-assed in its effort and one hundred percent intentional, as if giving careful care to your items would give away something about himself he wanted to keep secret.  But even as he did so, intrusive curiosity crept into his mind.  How did you fold your towels?

Idiot.  He caught his wandering mind and reeled it back in forcefully, but it did little good. His mind was a master escape artist, running away to explore other unwanted thoughts without his permission as soon as his mental back was turned.

As he folded your items, his hands slowed slightly in their actions, taking in the feel of cotton on his fingers. He watched as he rolled the soft material between his thumb and forefinger while memories bubbled forth, broken and vague.  Waking up in the shower, sitting on the toilet with your towel over his head, feeling of your hands working the cotton over his wet hair. He tried not to think of your face, but of course not wanting it made it appear in his mind.  He remembered your eyes, the concern in them, and the memory filled him with a warmth that he was still struggling to understand, even as he tried to deny its presence. 

It was short-lived – the memory of your tender gaze soon faded away to a terrified one, and now he was remembering your scar.  A new thought came into his mind then, dark and plaguing. The look of fear you’d given him that night - did you wear that same frightened expression on your face when you were burned, marked by whatever asshole laid their hands on you?

Dabi could feel his body temperature begin to rise.

The last towel was folded, and he swiftly grabbed the pile and shoved it on top of his dresser as if were contaminated.  Contaminated with memories, contaminated with you…

He faltered for a moment, his anger disrupted by that strange sense of guilt that gnawed at him.  The unwelcome mental picture of you cowering in fear as flames licked your skin danced in his imagination.  No wonder you had been so utterly terrified of him that night. No wonder you’d been unable to look him in the eyes the next day…

Dabi caught himself staring at your things and forced himself to turn around to finish his laundry. He folded his clothes swiftly, not caring whether or not they were done nicely before shoving them into the dresser drawer. Then, with his clean towels in his arm, he went into the bathroom to give himself that much-needed shower.

 * * * * *

You woke up feeling groggier than usual as the orange-red glow of the late afternoon haze filtered into your room. As predicted, your sleep was restless and riddled with hazy uncomfortable dreams that instantly began to fade away as soon as you opened your eyes.  You sighed in annoyance as dissatisfaction slinked across your tired skin. It was as if you had slept the entire time with your body tensed, ready to run at a moment’s notice, and now you were feeling the effects. 

You got out of bed with a stretch to ease the stiffness in your muscles.  Maybe something to eat and drink could lift your spirits and wake your body up.  You slipped on your shoes and opened the door before remembering to grab your mask off of your nightstand.  Then, you left your room to trudge downstairs.

The smell of pizza greeted you as soon as you stepped out onto the main floor, and your stomach growled in response, your mouth watering.

“Y/N!” Toga cheered. “Did you take a nap?”

You frowned as your hand self-consciously went to your messy hair. Was it really that obvious?

“Yeah, I was pretty tired.” You confessed, as you tried to fix your stray strands.

“Are you feeling any better?” Magne asked.  You could tell she was asking about the ‘flu’ you were supposed to have.

You shrugged. “Yeah, a little…”

“And how about Dabi? You were treating him too, right?” Magne continued.

You felt embarrassment bubble in you, and you scratched at your cheek as a distraction.  “He’s doing okay… I think it’s hitting him harder, though. He’s probably going to need some more time to recover.”

“He came down here yesterday without a mask and everything.” Spinner grumbled. “Then decided to take a stroll.  He couldn’t be that bad, could he?”

You shrugged. “Stomach bugs are weird and vary from person to person.”

Shigaraki’s voice surprised you from behind.  “How’s his burn?”

He knew about that…?  Maybe Dabi said something the day before.  Either way, no point in lying about it now…

“It’s doing well... but it’s not completely healed yet.”

Shigaraki grunted and grabbed a slice of pizza from the open box sitting on the bar.

“Hey, Y/N!  You want some pizza?” Twice offered.

“Yes, that’d be-“

“She can’t eat pizza when she has the flu!” Toga scolded.  “She might throw it up.  She needs something simple!”

Your heart sank.  No pizza??

“No, it’s okay…” you started, your eyes staring at the perfect slice.

“I’ll go make you something, okay big sis?” Toga chirped as she bounded lightly towards the small kitchen behind the bar.

Oh… oh no….

“Oh, um… it’s okay Toga, I’m not really hungry…” you tried to call after her, but she was already gone and out of earshot.

You fiddled with your hands nervously.  Cooking was not one of Toga’s strong suits.  Fortunately, Kurogiri was present, watching the exchange.

“I’ll make sure she doesn’t burn down the kitchen.” He commented, as he followed after her.

You stood there awkwardly, strongly contemplating grabbing the entire pizza box and running away with it. But you’d just had that personal exchange with Toga earlier, so abandoning her when she was trying to do something nice for you probably wouldn’t go over well.

Damn it.  You were too nice for your own good sometimes.

On defeated feet, you walked over to the couch and sat down next to Compress who was reading a book. He put the item down as you sat next to him and gave you a smile.  “How nice of you to grace me with your company, little flower.”

You crossed your arms and sulked into the couch cushions, wishing they would swallow you up.  “Toga is cooking for me.”

“Oh dear, so I heard.” He commented.  “However, Kurogiri is supervising her.  Perhaps this time it won’t be so bad.”

“Kurogiri doesn’t eat.” You pointed out.

“True,” he laughed. “But perhaps you set your standards too high.  I never said he’d ensure that the food is good; however, his assistance may ensure that it is edible.”

“Don’t you use logic on me, Mr.” you replied, even as you tried to suppress a smile.

“Then perhaps a magic trick then?” he offered.  “As a distraction.”

“Sure.” You grinned.

A few minutes later, Toga came out with two steaming bowls sitting on a rectangular tray.

“Oh good! You’re still here!” Toga smiled.  “I made you soup!”

You stifled a groan as you stood up and stared at the contents.  It… didn’t look bad…. It looked like it was canned soup at least, which, all things considered, were one of the simplest things to make. Still, it had that a slight burned odor to it when the steam reached your nose.

“Why are there two bowls?” you asked.

“Oh!  One’s for you and one’s for Dabi.”  Toga explained.  Behind her, Magne chuckled at the table.  “He hasn’t come down to eat yet today so he’s probably hungry.”

“It was my suggestion.” Kurogiri stated.  “You are still sick after all, so it would be in the League’s interest if you and Dabi had your meals in your rooms until you are no longer contagious.”

“Maybe it can be like a little dinner date!” Toga added.

You fought the flush of hot heat that seemed to take over your insides.  “A what?”

The last thing you needed was the League thinking you and Dabi were dating.

The blonde girl giggled as she handed you the tray.  Her hands instantly went up to her hot cheeks, her eyes glazed over with infatuation. “What I wouldn’t give to have a private dinner date with Izuku!”

“Oh geez, not this again…” Spinner grumbled.

“Hey!” Toga shot at him.  “It’s rude to tease a girl in love!”

You were grateful that Toga was easily distracted, and you took the opportunity to make your escape. “O-Okay. I guess I’ll go take this upstairs then… Thank you, Toga.” You mumbled.

You walked out of the room quickly, the soup sloshing in the bowls and threatening to spill.  But you wanted to get out of there before things got even more awkward.  Toga wasn’t even the real concern – the real concern was Magne.  Her chuckle had not gone unnoticed by you, and she was a master conversationalist when she wanted to be.  The last thing you needed was more intrusive questions or implied statements, especially with everyone there to listen in.

You took the stairs instead of the elevator, not trusting the old rust bucket to run smooth enough with bowls of hot soup in front of you.

Dinner date.  You wanted to laugh.  Dabi certainly wasn’t the type to do dinner dates.  In fact, Dabi probably didn’t even date. He probably just hooked up with random girls whenever he felt like it.

Your stomach tightened into an uncomfortable knot.

It didn’t matter.  You weren’t his type anyway.  And he shouldn’t be yours, not with all of his baggage. And boy, did he seem to have a lot of baggage.  Besides, he didn’t need the pressure of someone pining over him while he struggled to keep himself together.  He needed someone he could trust.  He needed a friend.

You felt yourself start to calm as you centered yourself on that single fact.  He needed a friend. You could do that.  You’d already committed yourself to it.

You made it to your own room and set the tray on the floor outside your door so you could go in and grab your medical bag.  If you were going to take soup to Dabi, then you might as well treat his wounds and give him his pills.  It was about time for it anyway.  With your bag slung onto your shoulder and the tray once again in your hand, you went over to his door and knocked.

It opened and you froze, eyes wide, as a warm humid air wrapped you up in the scent of shampoo and body wash.

Dabi stood before you in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants that left little to the imagination.  Shit. It hadn’t even been a full five seconds and you were already staring at his crotch.  Hot embarrassment flooded you as you averted your eyes, only to get stuck on his glistening, bare form.  You’d seen him shirtless many times, had your hands on his body, even… but something about this moment was different.  Maybe it was the shower.  Maybe it was the simple - yet absolutely sinful - sweatpants.  Or maybe it was how he seemed to be carrying himself in this moment, like he was the king of his domain.  He was a living art piece, every angle of him stunning from the slope of his shoulders to the cut of his lean waist. Even his stitches looked beautiful, the light bouncing off of them like gems.  Whatever it was, Dabi seemed to be a thousand times hotter than you remember him being, and it left your brain feeling dumb as hot desire washed over you.

You were staring.  You knew you were staring but you couldn’t break the trance he seemed to put you in. Your eyes took in the cut of his cheekbones, the slope of his nose, the shape of his lips.   Aqua blue eyes stared at you in knowing amusement, grabbing you like the tide and pulling you in.  You could feel yourself floundering beneath his intense gaze as you struggled to get a hold of yourself.

“Uh…” you stuttered.

You were still staring.

“Hey, Doll­…” He greeted, a playful grin on his lips.  His voice washed over you, and you felt lightheaded.

This was so embarrassing.  If he had any doubts that you found him attractive before, then he certainly didn’t now.

“Hi.” You said dumbly.

His eyes broke contact with yours to look down.  “Hey-” His hand shot out to quickly grab the tilting tray, soup splashing messily over the sides of the bowls.

“Shit! Sorry, sorry.” You cursed, as you adjusted your hold. You kept your eyes down, unable to stare at him any longer.  “Can I come in?”

“Yeah.” 

Was that a chuckle you heard in his voice?  How dare he.

You crossed the threshold, only to find yourself even more smothered by the clean scent of his recent shower that permeated the entire space like a fog.  Beneath it, the faint hint of cigarette smoke was present, but it was muted.  The light in the room was dimmer than you remembered and you realized why – he had put one of his shirts over his shoddy lamp, reducing its brightness.  The humid warmth in the room was paired with a strange heavy silence.  Your eyes instantly checked his window and there was no billow of the curtains this time, no street noise coming forth.  Your breath froze in your throat for a moment as you realized – he remembered.  All the things that had bothered you this morning were modified for your arrival.  A weightlessness swelled in your chest, intertwining with the attraction you were still grappling with.  You set the tray down with shaky hands before wiping your sweaty palms onto your pants.

Dabi came to stand next to you with his towel on his shoulder, the warm bare skin of his chest brushing against your arm as he stared down at the bowls.  With his proximity so close and your own emotions running amok, it took every ounce of mental fortitude not to hug him right then and there.

“Did you make that?” he asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Oh, uh.. Toga did.” You finally said, as you moved slightly away from his bare skin.

“We should have let the tray fall.”  He stated as he stared at the contents with distaste.  You couldn’t help but laugh at his comment, and it helped clear some of the brain fog.  He gave you a soft glare.  “Why did you even take this?  You should have just said no.”

“Well, not all of us can be as nice as you, Dabi.” You teased.  “Besides, she wanted to do something nice for us because she thinks we’re sick.”  You explained.

“If I eat that I probably will be.” He retorted.

“Oh, come on… it’s probably not that bad… just a little smokiness to it.  That shouldn’t bother you, right?” You put a spoon into a bowl and handed it to him.

He gave you a deadpan look as you held the bowl against his chest, his hands refusing to take it. “I’m not eating it.”

“Hey, if I have to eat this, then so do you.” You glared.

“Like hell.” He replied. “Besides, I already have food here.”

You set the bowl down and stared at the bags on his desk.  “Yes, chips, beef jerky, and cigarettes!  So healthy.”

“The three basic food groups.” He agreed with a grin. He sat down in his desk chair, his legs spread wide as he slouched back.  It took extra effort to not let your eyes wander.  “Tell ya what, doll… you try it first.  If you don’t throw up or die, then maybe I’ll consider eating mine.”

You rolled your eyes at him and grabbed your bowl.  “Fine, you big baby.” 

You filled your spoon and raised it to him in a mock toast before placing it into your mouth.  He watched the motion in silent amusement, his eyes focused on your lips as they closed around the spoon.

It was awful.  Definitely burnt.  And the parts that weren’t burnt were overcooked, making the textures all wrong in your mouth.  You swallowed forcefully, suppressing a gag.

“Mmm… You look like you enjoyed that.”  Dabi teased.

“Hey at least I’ve actually tried it.” You shot back.  “So, I guess that means only one of us is a little bitch.” 

Dabi’s eyes widened, the light in them dancing in amusement, as a grin spread across his face. “You kiss your mother with that mouth, doll?  You’ve been with the League too long.”

You pointed your spoon at him.  “Don’t try to act like you know me.  And in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not dead.  So eat up.”  You picked up his bowl again and held it under his nose. By this point, you knew the soup wasn’t really that edible, but now you were determined to have him suffer with you.

The smell wafted up and he wrinkled his nose.  He pushed the bowl away back towards you.  “I don’t think so.”

You narrowed your eyes at him.  “You said you’d try it if I did.”

“I said I’d consider it.”  He replied. “It’s been considered and denied.”

“You’re an ass.” You pouted. “It really is awful though…” you confessed.  “and she had Kurogiri with her, too.  Like… how?”

“Kurogiri doesn’t eat.” Dabi replied.

You laughed.  “That’s what I told Compress!”

Your conversation was interrupted by a loud, hungry rumble in your gut.

A low chuckle rumbled from Dabi’s chest that made your heart pound and your flesh feel warm.  “C’mon doll, don’t torture yourself.” He said. “Why don’t we just go get a bite to eat. There’s nothing keeping us locked up in here.”

Toga’s words echoed in your head.  Dinner date.  Oh geez, if she or Magne saw you two leaving the premises together, you’d never hear the end of it.  The offer was tempting though, and you were pretty sure Dabi was starting to get tired of his snacks.  Junk food could only satisfy for so long; at some point he needed a proper meal.

But something nagged at you as you stared at the man in front of you.  He seemed to be doing okay at first glance… his recent shower certainly seemed to lift his spirits.  But you had been too distracted by his attractiveness earlier that you hadn’t taken the time to really assess him.  Now, you could see the exhaustion still in his face, could see the small wiggle of his leg and the drumming of his fingers on the table.   You checked the time on your phone – no doubt your quirk and the pills were beginning to wear off.  But how far along that was, you couldn’t really say; it was hard to tell with Dabi; he didn’t show his pain very easily.

You knew your appetite would disappear once you pushed yourself into sensory overload.  But Dabi couldn’t wait, even if he might try to play it off that he could.  More importantly, you didn’t want to try to deal with a withdrawal-suffering Dabi out in public. Your heart sank slightly. Goodbye delicious dinner, for the second time that night.

“…I should probably treat you first.” Your eyes landed on his bag of goods as your stomach rumbled again. “But maybe a snack would be good.” You confessed.  You felt embarrassed for asking, especially after the big show you’d just point on… but pride had to take a back seat before your stomach ate itself.

His blue eyes stared at you for a long moment.  You could feel your skin start to prickle under the weight of them.

“Sure, doll.”  He finally said.  He rummaged through one of the bags until he found what he was looking for under a bag of spicy chips.  “Is this your style?”

He tossed you a prepackaged muffin about the size of a softball.  You couldn’t fight the smile that blossomed across your face.  “Yeah, thanks.”  You opened up the wrapping and began breaking off pieces of it.  “You want some?” you offered, holding the muffin towards him.

He shook his head. “Nah.  Don’t feel much like eating.”

You broke off half of the muffin for him anyway.  “I still need to give you your pills, so you should eat something first.  Besides, this is too big for me to finish by myself anyway.” 

Was it a lie?  Of course. You were starving.  Did Dabi know that you were lying?  Of course.  But he took the other half of the muffin anyway.  You sat on the edge of his bed while he sat in his chair as the two of you ate together in silence for a moment. As you ate, your eyes wandered around his room.

That was when you noticed it.

 “Are those my towels?” you asked. 

Dabi looked over at his dresser as he stuffed the last of the muffin into his mouth.  “Yeah.  They’re clean now.”

“Thank you…” you replied. Your eyes scanned the room, taking in the details.  “You cleaned up…”

Dabi shrugged. “Don’t sound so surprised. I’m not a complete slob.”

You stared at him as he began fidgeting with a pack of cigarettes, tapping the box on the table, flipping it over, and tapping the other end.  Over and over it somersaulted, and you wondered if he was craving one right now.  Why didn’t he just take one out and light it up?

Was Dabi… being considerate?

Then again, the action didn’t come as much of a surprise to you as it might have before.  He’d been more willing to do small acts of kindness ever since the night of his withdrawal.  Bringing ramen.  Adjusting his room for your sensory overload.

Now this.

Was it fueled by guilt? Or did he actually care?

He looked like he was waiting for something.  You watched as he rubbed at his scarred arm with his free hand, irritation flashing across his eyes.  Of course. He was waiting for you and your quirk. You ate your muffin faster.  As soon as it had disappeared into your mouth, you reached for your bag and took out the pill bottle.  His eyes were on it instantly, the shaking in his leg stilled by the sight of it, his shoulders releasing some of their tension.

“Here.” You offered, handing him his pills.  He took them and swallowed them dry before opening up a beverage and taking a swig.

Dabi eyed the bottle in your hand as you closed it.  “That’s looking awfully low there, isn’t it?”

You put the container back in your bag, enclosing it in a zippered space.  “It’ll be enough to last us through tomorrow morning.”

“That’s cutting it real close, don’tcha think?” he replied.

You looked up to see his brow furrowed in concern and offered him a reassuring smile.  “It is.  But I’ll be picking up the refills tomorrow before our evening session, so there’s nothing to worry about.  Now let’s take a look at your back real quick.”

He stood up and dragged his chair over to where you sat and straddled the seat with his back facing you. The bandage was still on, but you could tell it had gotten wet in the shower.  You’d have to be careful when changing it this time, since the bits of skin that were starting to heal might reopen.

You applied your quirk first around the bandages, then began to delicately remove the wet gauze and tape. Your fingers were cold on Dabi’s skin and a small shiver ran up his spine at the sensation of your touch.  The wound didn’t show any signs of infection or fresh damage, so you continued business as usual, applying the antiseptic followed by fresh gauze.  As you patched him up, your eyes kept drifting to your towels, thinking about what had happened that night.  There was something important you’d been meaning to ask him.  Something you had to know.

“I… have a question.” You ventured.

“Hm?” Dabi responded, his head turning slightly to the sound of your voice.

“The next day… after I helped you out that one night… was there anything… off?  About you specifically?” you asked.

There was a long pause and you could tell Dabi was thinking heavily, which only made the dread in your gut sink in deeper.

“I couldn’t feel anything.” He finally admitted. 

“I’m not talking about the pain.  I’m talking about… I don’t know.  Anything else.”

“I know.” He replied. “When I woke up, I couldn’t feel anything.”

Your brow furrowed and the dread hardened into a stone.  “…what does that mean?”

“It means I didn’t care about a thing, doll.  Everything was turned off.” He was facing away from you and in that moment, you wished he wasn’t – you desperately wanted to see the expression on his face.  Your hands felt clammy as you processed his words.

“You mean your emotions?” you clarified.  You needed to understand more.  You needed to know how bad it was.  “What… did it feel like?”

“Empty.”

You finished putting the last bandage on him but you barely noticed as your vision became unfocused, your thoughts whirling.  Holy shit. You had turned off his emotions?  You supposed in hindsight it made sense, since it was likely his memories and the emotions attached to them that were torturing him that night.  Why else would he have been blabbering incoherent apologies as if he were desperately trying to atone for something? But still… the severity of that made your blood run cold. Emotions were everything, contrary to what some people might think. They fuel how people think, how they act, how they react… entire personalities – entire identities are built around how emotions are felt and how they are dealt with.  You very well could have entirely erased Dabi as a person. In fact, you likely did, at least temporarily.

You swallowed the hard lump in your throat and tried to calm your panicked breathing.  “…How long did it last?”

He was quiet again, and the silence was worse than anything.

“Please tell me.” You begged.  “How long?”

“Hours.”

Your heart was racing and your ears ringing.  Your eyes began to sting but you fought it, focusing on a patch of scarred flesh on his back to distract yourself, memorizing its pattern.  You didn’t want to cry in front of him. Not again.  And certainly not twice in one day.  You wanted to apologize, to beg his forgiveness, but you couldn’t make the words come out, not without your emotions spilling out with them.  Instead, you forced yourself into action, treating his scars with your quirk. 

There was so much more you wanted to know. How did he get his emotions back?  What did it feel like? Was it slow, or at all at once? Did he feel relieved?

Did it hurt?

But you couldn’t bring yourself to ask those questions, no matter how badly you wanted to know, no matter how badly you wanted to understand.  They were too personal, and you could already tell by Dabi’s growing reluctance that he didn’t want to talk about it any further.

You’d apologize to him. At some point, once your emotions were under control, you’d apologize.

You finished numbing his back and shoulders, even tracing down his triceps a little.  “Turn around,” you instructed.

He did as you asked, adjusting himself in the chair so he was now facing you.  You avoided looking at him, the shame and guilt far too heavy for you to lift your eyes.  Unbeknownst to you, a frown pulled at his brow, his lips.  You wore your emotions so plainly…

You took his hand in yours and continued your quirk as your skin began to prickle and sting. The sound of the shower dripping in the bathroom was louder now. Dabi shifted slightly in his chair and the scraping sound against the floor was like nails on a chalkboard.  The odors in the room went from pleasant to offensive.

“I gotta question for ya,” Dabi suddenly ventured.  “Did you change my clothes that night?”

Your hands faltered and you glanced up at his face before you could catch yourself.  His eyes had a glint in them you couldn’t quite place in your distracted mental state.  You felt embarrassment creep across your skin.

“I did.  I had to get you into the shower before you combusted.” You replied as you continued to treat him, your hands on his collarbone. The feel of it was so familiar now…

“I was naked?”

“Only for a moment!” you replied.  “You were in your boxers for most of it, but I had to change you out of those after the shower.” God, this entire conversation was so embarrassing… why did he have to ask about this of all things?

“…did ya peek?” he asked.

Your mouth struggled like a fish out of water for a moment as you glared at him.  “NO!” You finally exclaimed.  “Of course, I didn’t!  Why would you even…”  but then you saw the grin on his face and you realized he was teasing you. 

You playfully punched his arm.  “You’re an asshole.” You fumed.

He laughed.  “That didn’t even hurt.” He mocked.

“Of course it didn’t, idiot. I already used my quirk there.” You shot back.  “Now stay still so I can get your damn face.”

“So feisty…” he murmured.

Shit.  With your senses heightened, you could almost feel the vibration in his voice, as if he were closer to you than he actually was. For the briefest moment, it distracted you from the growing pain of your scar, from the sound of the drip drip from the bathroom shower.  You wondered what it would feel like to have those words uttered against your skin, his hot breath warming your flesh, the feel of his rough lower lip brushing…

You clenched your jaw until you nearly gave yourself a headache, forcing the intrusive thoughts out of your mind.  You weren’t here for this.  You were here to treat him and get out of his space.  You weren’t his type.  You repeated it to yourself like a mantra, a prayer, a reminder to the illogical part of you that wanted to follow the lure of his voice.  Why did he have to be such a flirt?  It didn’t surprise you, but it certainly left you feeling confused when his actions and words sometimes contradicted themselves.

All it meant was that he was getting comfortable with you again. He was treating you like a friend, and friends teased all the time.  Right?

His eyes watched you closely as your hands caressed his jaw, relieving the ache there.  You seemed lost in your thoughts and while you certainly didn’t look comfortable, you also didn’t look too be too horribly in pain. You were doing better today.  Still, your fingers danced quickly across his skin, skating under his eyes which he instinctively closed, and barely touching his lower lip.  It happened far too quickly before the presence of you disappeared, and it left him feeling empty.  How badly he wanted to grab your hands right then and put them back onto his face. 

When he opened his eyes again, your own eyes were downcast as you stretched your fingers slightly.

“You okay?” he ventured. The question sounded odd coming from him, even to his own ears.

You looked up at him then, and you could see he was concerned. That’s right… he knew about your quirk and your scar now.  You clasped your hands in your lap to keep them from shaking.  Shaking from the pain you were feeling, shaking from the fear of your own thoughts and desires.

“I’m fine.” You lied. Did he know you were lying with this too?

He knew.  In fact, you’d given him the same false words he always gave you.  It was like looking into a mirror.

“You don’t gotta do the legs.” He offered.  “I’m not dressed for it anyway.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You chided.  “Of course I’m going to do your legs.  The better I treat you, the better you can rest.  And your body needs rest to heal your burn.”

He noticed that you made no comment on his withdrawal, which a part of him appreciated; it helped him avoid the discomfort of shame that was always associated with it. Still…

“It’s not like I’m going anywhere, doll.  I won’t be needing them.  Besides, the drugs help.” He replied.

You eyed him for a moment, assessing.  “How about I just do your calves then?” you bartered.

He assessed you in return before he gave a small half-smirk.  “Deal.”

By the time you’d treated his calves down to the tops of his feet, you were definitely grateful you didn’t have to do any more.

PING……..PING……

You rubbed at the bridge of your nose, feeling the onset of a headache as you skirted just shy of overload. You closed your eyes, hoping maybe the lack of visual stimulation might make the auditory more bearable.  Or at least bearable enough that you could actually move your body instead of feeling frozen.  But it only made it worse, allowing your brain to hyperfixate on it. You covered your ears against it as you struggled to find your way out of it, to regain control of yourself.

While you lost yourself in your senses, Dabi watched you in displeasure.  He’d made sure to have everything ready before you showed up.  He even made sure not to light up a cigarette, as much as that had grated on him, since he knew the smell would linger long after. But clearly, something was bothering you.  What had he missed?

He watched, waiting, giving you time to figure yourself out or ask for help while he secretly tried to decode the mystery.  Your eyes were closed, your hands over your ears.  Was it multiple sensory attacks?  You flinched again.  And again. There was a rhythm.  So, it was something you were hearing.

Curiously, Dabi closed his own eyes listening for anything that stood out.  Slowly, the quiet sound of water dripping greeted his ears like a whisper.  He opened his eyes just in time to see your flinch match with the sound.

That was it.

“It’s the shower.” He commented. 

It wasn’t a question – it was a statement.  You opened your eyes and looked at him with surprise before giving a nod, your hands still over your ears.  He knew his shower leaked for a bit after he used it, but he’d gotten so used to it that he just tuned out the sound by this point.  But for you… especially after using your quirk on him…

Why didn’t you just get up and leave?  Why stay here if it was bothering you this much?  Obviously, you wanted to get away from it…

Maybe you couldn’t.  Maybe, for some reason, you were stuck in what you were experiencing, unable to find your way out.

Dabi could relate to that.

And he didn’t like it.

He stood up and closed the bathroom door before returning to sit in the chair in front of you, waiting.

You could still hear it. But it was manageable now, muffled. Quieter.  You could feel yourself start to process the rest of what you were feeling.  The pain on your back; the feel of your clothes, your hair; the smell of Dabi’s body wash, fresh linen… cigarettes.  Slowly, your hands lowered from your ears as you focused on each sense, identifying all you recognized.  The world was still loud around you, but at least you could somewhat function again. Slowly, you opened your eyes to see him watching you through an unreadable expression.

“Better?” he asked.

“Much.” You replied. “Thank you.  Again.”

“It’s fine.”

A heavy, awkward quiet filled the space, and in that moment, despite Dabi’s kindness, all you wanted was to be back safely in your room.  Maybe it was because you were feeling overwhelmed by your own emotions, unable to properly control how your heart pounded around him, or how you couldn’t keep your eyes off him. Or maybe it was the way he kept looking at you, his expression unreadable yet his gaze intense, as if you were all that he was focused on and he was determined to discover all of your secrets.

Either way, you felt an ache grow within you, threatening to drown you. But you couldn’t focus on it, couldn’t dismantle it or bury it, not while your brain fought the senses overwhelming you. You could handle one or the other… but you couldn’t handle both.

You needed the comfort of your room; you needed your safe space.

“I’m… going to go lay down.” You said quietly, as you grabbed your bag.  It felt heavy in your hand.

If Dabi noticed the shift in your mood, he didn’t say so.  Instead, he stood from his seat and shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants.

“Yeah.  Me too.” He replied.

Despite the suddenly aloof atmosphere, he still walked you to his door.  After you left, he leaned his back against the cold wood and ran his hand down his face.

So much for not caring…

________________________________________________

Part 10 ________________________________________________

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[robininthelabyrinth]

Three Gates - on ao3 (for content warnings check Ao3) - on tumblr: pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5, pt 6, pt 7, pt 8, pt 9, pt 10, pt 11

- Chapter 12 -

The Nightless City was grand and glorious, as luxurious as Koi Tower and as tasteful as the Cloud Recesses, and Meng Yao would burn it all down in a heartbeat for the chance to return to the familiar sparse stone and metal of the Unclean Realm.

Wen Ruohan had forgiven him for murdering Wu Bixian and blowing his cover once Meng Yao had explained the circumstances, although he’d been displeased; Meng Yao had had to work his way back into his inner circle the hard way, inventing monstrous machines for him to use in his Fire Palace, where he played at treating torture the way other people viewed sport.

Meng Yao had once dreamed of torturing his enemies – initially defined as anyone who insulted his mother, but later expanded to include anyone who made a serious effort to harm Nie Mingjue and recently he had been considering an additional expansion to loop in the same for Lan Xichen – but now he realized that torture was boring and burdensome and messy, and a quick execution was clearly much more effective.

There was a lot less upkeep, for one.

A lot fewer tormented doctors as well – that poor Wen Qing would probably have never picked up her needles if she’d known this was where she was going to end up using them, that was for sure – and anyway, neither of his lovers would have approved so it was all a moot point anyway.

Possibly former lovers.

Not that they’d ever actually made it to the stage of being lovers, what with Lan Xichen’s sect rules and parental trauma, Meng Yao’s nightmares of the brothel, and Nie Mingjue’s experiences with Wen Ruohan…

Probably for the best, actually, given what Meng Yao now knew about Nie Mingjue – something that he was almost certain that Nie Mingjue did not know about himself.

A few months at Wen Ruohan’s side had certainly been enlightening on that front. As Meng Yao might’ve suspected, he treated even the people in his clan about the same as wooden furniture, useful to varying degrees but all ultimately disposable, and someone like Meng Yao, a talented retainer he’d stolen from another sect and who had no way out, made for amusing company.

Wen Ruohan had in fact heard the rumor of someone in the Nie sect being born as a yang furnace, very likely from Wu Bixian himself in an attempt to get rid of what he perceived to be a stain on the sect’s reputation, and he’d investigated, ultimately figuring out that the person in question was Nie Mingjue. A yang furnace, Meng Yao learned, was considerably rarer than a yin furnace, requiring the right horoscope and lucky (or unlucky) parentage, and was considered far more precious – people with that constitution would have an incredible talent for cultivation themselves, but would also be able to magnify, many times over, the cultivation or even cultivation potential of those with whom they engaged in dual cultivation.

The furnace’s consent in the matter was not required.

After discovering the truth, Wen Ruohan had apparently gone back and forth for some time in deciding whether to snatch him up immediately, training him up as a concubine reserved for the use of the Wen clan, but one of his more esoteric specialists had told him that the sort of intense cultivation techniques he had in mind would likely kill a child and, more importantly, that the positive effect on his own cultivation would be magnified if Nie Mingjue’s cultivation were higher when he began.

“Sect Leader Wen’s patience is admirable,” Meng Yao said with the sort of smile he’d worn when talking to the brothel owner that used to beat his mother on a regular basis just so she’d ‘remember her place’. “If only I had known..! I am not so certain I could resist such a temptation for years on end.”

Wen Ruohan laughed. “Well, I must admit I gave it a half-hearted effort a few times. The doctors did say that a few times early on wouldn’t hurt.”

By hurt he meant damage to Nie Mingjue’s ability to cultivate, or to cultivate with others, not to the lifetime of nightmares and terror that Nie Mingjue suffered as a result of his unrelenting pursuit.

“Though on that subject,” Wen Ruohan continued, a faint smile on his face, “perhaps you’d like to take a look at the room I’ve prepared for him, and let me know if you have any suggestions – anything you think he’d enjoy for the times when he’s not – in service.”

“Of course, Sect Leader Wen.”

“Naturally, if you also have any proposals regarding any of your marvelous machines…”

“Naturally, Sect Leader Wen.”

“Good,” Wen Ruohan praised. “If you please me well enough, perhaps I’ll let you take a turn once I’m done with him.”

He had other requests, too, which were even less savory – mostly storytelling, Meng Yao casting his mind back to his days at the brothel and even in desperation some of the artwork Nie Huaisang insisted on collecting to describe all sorts of scenarios for Wen Ruohan’s evident enjoyment.

Meng Yao took a bath as often as he could plausibly manage it, and still felt unclean.

(Chiwen, hidden away as best as he could in the room he’d been assigned because a Nie saber did not voluntarily enter Wen hands, screamed in his head. He hated everything about what they were doing.)

It was amazing, Meng Yao thought, how far self-deception could go: he had thought, once, that he would be able to distract and dissuade Wen Ruohan without losing anything along the way, that he could sell himself without counting the cost, and at the last he realized that his mother had been right about warning him not to get used to making deals with bad men.

Wu Bixian, too. He had thought that Wen Ruohan’s goal was domination of the cultivation world, his pursuit of Nie Mingjue only a means to get there or at best a distraction, when in fact Wen Ruohan wanted to be a god, to break through the barrier of cultivation and rise up to the heavens, and he believed that Nie Mingjue could get him there.

And yet Wen Ruohan, too, was deceived – he thought that everything in the world was meaningless grist to that great ambition’s mill, thought that everything he did was for power and power only. And yet there was the great care and attention with which he had filled the prison room in the Nightless City with all the things Nie Mingjue liked, things that he’d figured out from casual mentions in discussion conferences, the fascination in his eyes when Meng Yao told him stories that were sometimes so very boring and mundane, the casual way he dismissed even his own heir’s death at Nie Mingjue’s hands…

Perhaps the interest had been merely practical once, but it certainly was no longer.

At least the war was going well.

Not much else was.

His letters with Wen Ruohan had been belatedly discovered and publicized, his betrayal becoming widely known – Wen Ruohan deliberately cutting off Meng Yao’s route of return, no doubt. The fact that it was a good move, and one Meng Yao would have done if he were in his place, did not make it any easier to swallow.

He had always assumed he would be there to explain the letters to Nie Mingjue.

He’d said so many cruel things in those letters over the years, hurtful things, things he didn’t believe but thought that Wen Ruohan would like to hear – things about Lao Nie, about Nie Mingjue, about Baxia, about Nie Huaisang…disdainful, wretched things, lies that had flowed so easily out of his brush when he’d thought it was all a game.

He didn’t want to think about Nie Mingjue hearing them – seeing them – reading them –

He didn’t want Nie Mingjue to think that was how he really felt.

Some days, in the middle of the night in the too-brightly-lit core of the Nightless City, Meng Yao put his head in his hands and felt the prickle of tears in his eyes. He should have known better, he thought. He shouldn’t have tried to take it all on his own shoulders; he shouldn’t have assumed he’d be able to explain, that he could swear on Chiwen that his motives were pure and that all would be easily forgiven; he should have told Nie Mingjue what he was doing early on so that it would not come to him as a surprise –

He should not have repeated his mother’s mistake from all those years ago.

(“They don’t trust us!” Lao Nie had shouted, his voice still audible behind those stone walls, and Nie Mingjue had gone silent, the words hitting their mark and leaving a wound, before he’d started arguing once again.)

Meng Yao had originally planned on having both Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen act as his contacts during the war, but instead for his sins he got stone-faced Lan Wangji and, eventually, red-eyed Wei Wuxian, who was clearly still deeply shaken by the near-destruction of the Lotus Pier and how close he had come to losing everyone he loved.

(Meng Yao killed time in between boring torture, nauseating dinners with Wen Ruohan, and interacting with his two contacts in trying to figure out how to get said contacts to confess their obvious attraction to each other without ever actually telling them to their face that they were being idiots.

How anyone had ever compared him to Wei Wuxian – citing their status as fatherless children being raised by sect leaders alongside their heirs – he honestly did not know; the boy had a genius for cultivating and the arrogance to go with it, but simply no common sense whatsoever. Meng Yao was his exact opposite.)

They had both briefly been guests of the Wen sect, brought in by the same invitation that had been forcefully extended to Nie Huaisang; once they were there, they were given to Wen Chao to lead and reshape. Obviously that went about as badly as anyone could imagine, Wen Chao being what he was.

Nie Huaisang had been there too, of course, and Meng Yao hadn’t dared go anywhere near him. It wasn’t that he doubted his own acting abilities, or Nie Huaisang’s for that matter, but rather his own perception. Nie Huaisang was a very good liar, and if Meng Yao got it into his head that his own blood brother didn’t believe him, he might very well fall apart.

So he didn’t go.

That turned out to be a mistake.

Apparently, not showing up was seen as some sort – admission of guilt, perhaps, because the second Nie Huaisang returned to the Unclean Realm, things started going very badly indeed. Many of his old contacts stopped talking to him or even disappeared, even the ones he would have sworn Nie Huaisang had no knowledge of, and he didn’t even want to think about how many of his plans ran into obstacles that had nothing to do with luck and had everything to do with Nie Huaisang’s Nie temper.

Meng Yao only hoped that the cause of the temper tantrum was his failure to apologize for not letting Nie Huaisang properly into his schemes, and not that Nie Huaisang thought –

Surely Nie Huaisang would have said something to Wei Wuxian or Lan Wangji if he didn’t believe Meng Yao to be trustworthy? They were peers, had been schoolmates, and a few months together was more than enough time for Nie Huaisang to get the measure of them – he had to know what they were doing on his behalf, surely, and he hadn’t stopped them, so…

Sometimes Meng Yao thought that his circular rationalizations would drive him mad, long before anything else about this horrible life of his did.

(He also thought, sometimes, about how his mother would feel – how she did feel – about what he was doing, and whether she approved or not. He usually tried to stop thinking about it as soon as possible.)

At any rate, the sect heirs had all escaped after some unfortunate encounter with a corrupted Xuanwu that made Meng Yao twitch in fear when he belatedly learned about it, and soon after that the war began in earnest.

The Nie sect took Heijian, as had always been the plan; the Wen sect’s cultivators threw themselves against their iron wall without any success and even some heavy losses, especially whenever Nie Mingjue himself there to lead battles. The Lan sect was scattered after the burning of the Cloud Recesses, but Lan Wangji’s early warning had preserved more of their lives than might have otherwise been accounted for – the attack on the Lotus Pier had been similarly blunted through timely advice, although Jiang Fengmian’s stubborn refusal to take immediate action had resulted in injuries, some rather serious.

Two major attacks, in under a year – the rest of the cultivation world was alarmed. A sizeable number chosen to give in at once, while others opted to join the opposing forces, and war was everywhere.

Meng Yao had hoped that his information would be enough to tip the balance, that he could play the same role he’d played against Wen Ruohan in the past – acting as an interruption, but never quite tipping his hand. Never pushing for the real reward, taking the big risk…

The war dragged on.

There were some close calls – some difficult battles. People were dying on both sides. Several times there were reports of terrible injury to key people; the death of someone he loved was only a matter of time.

It seemed that he didn’t have a choice but to take more dramatic action.

Evil, Chiwen screamed in his mind, just as he had every day since Meng Yao had arrived at this horrible place. Kill it!

Meng Yao wished it was so easy.

“Do you mind if I borrow your brother?” he asked Wen Qing, who glared at him but accepted the jar of wine he offered her. “Just for a while.”

“None of your machines,” she said at once. He couldn’t blame her.

“No machines,” he agreed. “I need a courier.”

She paused, then put the wine down. “Out of the Nightless City? Safely?”

He smiled.

Wen Ning was delighted to see Wei Wuxian, and the feeling was decidedly mutual – Meng Yao had picked Wen Ning in part because of the extraordinary initiative he had taken at the Lotus Pier, initiative that made the entire Jiang clan quite fond of him – and Wei Wuxian happily agreed to smuggle Wen Ning out of Qishan to deliver a private message.

“Make sure he gets to Lan Xichen,” Meng Yao instructed. “A message can be compromised or lost – a person, not so easily.”

“I’ll do my best,” Wei Wuxian said, and almost looked approving, like he thought that Meng Yao was doing this to save Wen Ning from the worst of the war.

He had no idea what Meng Yao was doing.

“Wei Wuxian,” Meng Yao said when they were about to leave. “What does Lan Xichen say about me?”

A blink, there and gone. “He fears for your safety, and hopes you are well.”

“And – Nie Mingjue?”

He didn’t bother asking about Nie Huaisang. If his brother didn’t want someone to know how he felt, no one would ever have the slightest clue.

Wei Wuxian hesitated, and Meng Yao waited, and in the end Wei Wuxian finally said, “I don’t think I’ve heard him say anything about you at all.”

Meng Yao nodded. It was no less than he’d expected, for all that it felt as if his heart were shattering. “Thank you. Please go.”

Wei Wuxian would take Wen Ning to Lan Xichen, and Lan Xichen would believe the words of a person more than he believed a letter – it was his nature to do so, especially when that person was as serious and earnest as Wen Ning, who seemed so trustworthy and who would never knowingly tell a lie.

But a person who would never knowingly tell a lie could still be made to carry one, and so Lan Xichen would listen to Wen Ning, and he would take what Wen Ning told him to Nie Mingjue, and Nie Mingjue – who might have questioned information brought by Wen Ning but who would never question Lan Xichen, the way he had previously never questioned Meng Yao – Nie Mingjue would listen, and believe, and act on that belief.

He would go to Yangquang –

And Wen Ruohan would be waiting for him.

Sometimes Meng Yao hated himself.

[silvershewolf247]

Honestly it seems like some fans have trouble seem outside of Malcolm's pov, which is understandable given he is the show's protagonist and very sympathetic one at that. That being said regardless of how well intended Malcolm was he did make Ainsley doubt her own sense of reality and was projecting by assuming she wouldn't want to know or couldn't handle knowing. Yes the way Ainsley went about making that point was completely messed up but she did have a point to make.

Okay first things first, sorry it took me so long to get to this, I had a lot of thoughts to put together before I responded because I need to talk about Ainsley. 

I’ll start with the fact that I seem to emphasize with Ainsley more than a lot of people. Maybe it’s because I am the youngest sibling, with older brothers. Maybe it’s because I have “easier mental illnesses” like OCD and ADHD in comparison to others. Maybe it’s the fact that one of my older brothers has much more severe mental health issues and I’ve been reminded how lucky I am in comparison to him and others. Maybe it’s because my mother has been my best friend since I was a teenager. Or maybe it’s because I try to be someone else's emotional support while neglecting my own mental health until I eventually snap. Maybe it’s the fact that supportive figures in my childhood have turned out to be less than ideal as of late. Bottom line, Ainsley is someone I care a lot about, and I need to talk about what is going on with her. And why she isn’t evil or abusive. 

Let’s start out by debunking one argument. That being Ainsley’s lack of remorse over what she has done. Now this argument bothers me for a few reasons. Firstly, because Nicholas Endicott was a monster who deserved what he got and everyone on the show acknowledges that. Like Jessica and Malcolm do not morally disagree with killing him, Malcolm says flat out that he deserves to die. He’s just scared of being like his father and scared of losing his friends, this is an important distinction between him and Ainsley that I will get into. Secondly, we don’t see Ainsley’s initial reaction aside from her nearly crying in Malcolm’s flashback. According to Halston, she found out at some point around episode 4. Martin might have told her during their visit, she might have figured it out reading his journal, it could have been the nightmare she tells her mother about. We don’t know, we just know that by this point she has dealt with it. 

Going back to Malcolm’s fear of losing his friends. Malcolm’s guilt is from having to lie to his found family at the precinct. That is what makes him feel awful. This is something Ainsley does not have. She does not have any found family to lose. Malcolm has to keep lying, Ainsley doesn’t have to. Obviously it eats her up less. Speaking of Ainsley’s support system, or lack thereof, let’s go through it.  Starting up, Jessica, mother of the year, diminishes her daughter's career, blatantly insults her, emotionally neglects her for twenty years and snaps at her whenever she expresses her problems, undermines her issues, this only changes after she murders a man. Next we have Martin Whitly, out of her life for twenty years, literal serial killer, and yet somehow the most emotionally supportive member of her family. Then there’s John Watkins, Mr. Boots, childhood bestie, possible paternal figure, child groomer, who ultimately tries to murder her in favor of her brother. Gil Arroyo, Malcolm’s adopted dad who seems to find her incredibly annoying and only talks with her when somethings wrong. That leaves us with Malcolm, emotionally broken older brother and the only person Ainsley feels she can trust. Yeah, that’s destroyed. Malcolm shattered that trust with his actions. Malcolm is afraid of losing everything, Ainsley already did. 

Now we’re up to Ainsley’s actions in this episode. No they weren’t gaslighting. Malcolm was not forced to question his own sanity or memories due to her actions, he was just scared of her and for her. She just lied to him, an incredibly shitty lie that horrified him, but it was just that, a lie. He also wasn’t breaking down due to it, he was scared for his sister, but he honestly seemed pretty kept together throughout the episode until the end. At which point his frustration seems to stem more from the situation he’s in and what he’s “had” to do for her. Now I fully admit that what Ainsley did was shitty. But it doesn’t make her toxic. If it does, then Malcolm is as well because he does the exact same to the people he investigates. Was it abusive, maybe, but so’s gaslighting your sister, slapping your son, and punching your friend. But these aren’t patterns of behavior, they’re one time things that happened during highly stressful and emotional situations. Speaking of which. 

Yes, Malcolm did gaslight her. Gaslighting is a technique used by a lot of awful people, Malcolm doing it does not make him awful, but he lied to his sister about her memories and perception of the world and it made her emotionally spiral for months. In comparison, Ainsley let this go on for maybe two or three days, a week at most. I’d also be remiss if I didn’t mention that Ainsley gave Malcolm several opportunities to tell the truth. He had the entirety of Bad Manners and Head Case, during both of which she gives him reasons to come out with it and tries to get him to do it. She was trying to make him prove that she could still trust him, he failed to do that until he got a concussion and Ainsley decided to make sure that he never did it again.  

Now Ainsley did something horrible, I fully admit that. That being said, don’t act like Malcolm would have just listened if she told him not to lie to her again. She’s already told him and her mother to stop shielding her. Now there were definitely better ways to do this. Or if she was going to scare him, scaring him and then telling him the truth the next minute, hour, morning, which would still be bad, but less so. But Malcolm is someone who learns a lot better by experiencing than listening. She was trying to show him what consequences his actions could have had. Scaring him straight. She took it way too far, but the motive was understandable. 

Finally I want to dispute this idea that Ainsley is being ungrateful towards Malcolm. Firstly, she thanks him profusely in the first episode of the season. Secondly, she didn’t ask him to do this for her, and the show fully implies he might have screwed them both over by doing this instead of immediately going to the police and claiming self defense. Finally, Ainsley killing Endicott has been thanked by no one. Remember how he was going to have Malcolm sent to prison and only by getting rid of him was Malcolm able to get the DNA evidence properly refuted. One could argue Ainsley took a great risk and saved him too. Ainsley saved Malcolm from prison just as much as Malcolm saved Ainsley. 

Look Ainsley is flawed, I wouldn’t love her if she wasn’t. But let’s not act like she’s crossed the moral event horizon with this. Or that she did this completely unprovoked and everything she said towards Malcolm was invalid. Both of them are broken and in pain and I hope by the end of this they can grow even closer than before. 

[rivalsforlife]

What're your exact thoughts on AA5?

ooh anon are you sure you want me to get into this?

It’s... complicated? Like, as a game on it’s own, it... still has MAJOR flaws but it’s not too bad. As a sequel to AA4? Pretty terrible. 

I guess let’s start with that angle. What makes me angriest about AA5 is that it kind of... completely erased any chance of proper closure to some of the story arcs and themes that AA4 opened up. Like, people will try to claim 456 as a “trilogy”, but it’s nowhere near cohesive enough to pass as one. AA5 pretty much pushed Apollo (who was supposed to “succeed” Phoenix as the protagonist, being kinda the point of the case literally called Turnabout Succession) to a secondary character role. It shoved Trucy completely out of the spotlight so her only role was to hang around the office and then get kidnapped once (which has such little role in the story it’s completely forgettable). It completely abandoned Klavier and had him come back as a kind of bland “ja achtung herr forehead I’m a rockstar ;)” character who only shows up to play a minor role in a minor case. In contrast with, say, how JFA treats the major cast from the first game (consistent protagonist, Maya having a bigger role and more of her history and family drama explored, Miles getting huge amounts of character development and being a major part of the emotional arc) it is an extreme letdown. It also just automatically brings back Phoenix as the protagonist and... doesn’t even touch on the lasting consequences of his disbarment? Not even just the “he became a lawyer again right away and doesn’t really bring up the effect disbarment had on him” kind of thing, but the story itself kind of forgets about him being disbarred. For a game entirely about the public’s perception of the legal system being in the dumpster, not one person ever questions Phoenix’s eligibility as a lawyer or whether he forged the evidence. Like, sure, he was cleared of all charges, but that doesn’t mean that the public would automatically see him as innocent, especially considering his massive influence over the trial that essentially proved his innocence! Like, “oh, you practically ran this trial that said you didn’t forge evidence? Okay, we love you, you’re a hero.”

And I do love Athena, and I like her overall story with Simon, I like them both as characters and I like their general plotline. I just think it came in at a veeeery bad time. Adding Athena as a protagonist in the same game you add Phoenix back as a protagonist means that not only do none of the protagonists end up with the sole focus of the game for their development, but also her major role in the plot pushes back any chance for exploring the story of AA4. Athena gets a joint protagonist-assistant type role, so Trucy isn’t necessary anymore, since the only assistant role is filled by one of the other lawyers. So, no Trucy development. And as a protagonist she is immediately overshadowed by Phoenix in the very first case.

I... like to think the first case is a very good example of DD, because it starts with Athena being immediately overshadowed by Phoenix who is back to his normal trilogy self, and Apollo ends up bleeding on the ground.

I mean, in some ways, I get it, because this is a game that was written six years after Apollo Justice and had a completely new writing team, not to mention being on a completely different console, so already making a direct sequel to AJ would be complicated considering that a decent amount of the people buying the game possibly would have never played an AA game before (considering the 3DS ports weren’t there at the time.) And apparently Phoenix’s characterization in AJ, and AJ in general, was poorly received, so from a marketing standpoint they did kinda need to abandon as much as they could. But from a story standpoint, it’s really bad.

There’s also the issues with the plot in general, namely the “Dark Age of the Law”. Because... the law has been TERRIBLE in this series for as long as the series was around. If there’s a Dark Age, it’s been going on for a looooong time. And, of course, there’s no real way that Phoenix’s disbarment and Simon’s arrest were what initiated this Dark Age, because the people who have ALREADY been arrested should have been much, much worse. Like we’re talking about an undefeated prosecutor known for forging evidence, the Chief of Police, another prosecutor being accused of murder, not to mention the investigations games tackling down an ambassador and the former Chief Prosecutor/ head of the committee that’s SUPPOSED to stop corruption. After all that, the breaking point is a defense attorney and some rookie prosecutor?

(One good explanation is what Saturation’s take on this all happening is, but considering the games haven’t said it was like this...)

Also again with the issue of Phoenix’s disbarment. The game assumes that once Simon is cleared (in an unofficial trial) and Phoenix’s name is cleared (again in an unconventional trial) the public is magically going to start trusting in the legal system again. ... Good luck with that. There’s no way that’s going to happen.

And there’s also a lot of wasted opportunities with the whole “the ends justifies the means” nonsense in general. Like, I think I’ve talked before about how the first case of Apollo Justice pretty much embodies the “the ends justifies the means” approach. The evidence has been destroyed by the true culprit, and the only way to have them safely convicted is to present forged evidence: what then? Or even RFTA’s “there isn’t any evidence that this person is the culprit, but we KNOW they are, and if they continue to get away then they could hurt people, so isn’t forging evidence the right thing to do?” It’s a complicated morally grey thing they can dig into, but instead, DD goes for the “but I want to present forged evidence to win!!” which everyone can agree is wrong. 

(It’s also incredibly ironic that Athena talks about “Mr. Wright is going to bring us out of this dark age!” right in the middle of the third case when confronting Means, when, you know, Phoenix used the EXACT “ends justifies the means” approach just a year later. but you know, no one’s going to say anything about that, because Phoenix Wright is perfect and can do no wrong.)

Plus thematically the game is all over the place. Unlike say the second investigations game which had a solid theme about “bonds between people” with a focus on “bonds between parent and child”, I... can’t really figure out what the overall theme of DD is. When I replayed the game prior to UR-1 incident, I could come up with about like five things that they maybe focused on in the last case but none of them were concrete enough to be called the overall theme. Incredible that the game was written two years after the one with one of the most solid overall themes! 

Also, the villain was weak overall; they were TOO unpredictable and the fact that absolutely no one noticed something was off with him (particularly not the girl who can literally read emotions) was rough. Everyone immediately turning on him despite the exact same case talking about believing in your friends even if there is evidence against them is a little weird. And their motives, whatever organization they worked for, it’s all unknown (and completely abandoned in the next game, of course, so we’ll never know.) Which may be the point, not everything NEEDS to be solved, but the fact that none of the characters ever express concern about this (like why an international spy who killed someone to impersonate them has a realistic mask of Phoenix’s face) is also weird.

... This is a lot of negativity. Uh, there are things I do like, I swear. I like Athena and Simon, I like uhh... the soundtrack... ... ... you know I do like the game a lot more when I am in the process of playing it. Despite the undoubtable fanservice that was Miles’ appearance (OH THAT’S ANOTHER NEGATIVE THING, I didn’t like how Athena didn’t have a major role in the Phantom’s takedown despite that being the guy who killed her mom) I like being able to see Miles and I like seeing what comfortable terms he’s on with Phoenix now. Some elements of the individual cases were lots of fun (the father-daughter relationship in the second case, the focus on the friendship in the third case, and I enjoyed the DLC case overall.) ... This has gone on long enough, so I’ll leave it at that!

[innenofutari]

On Goro Akechi’s morals and forgiveness (character analysis, but also just a very rambly post)

Akechi is… a very interesting character, I have no doubt about this. Also my favorite of course, if you hadn’t figured that out yet by this giant text you’re about to read (sorry). I have a lot I want to talk about in regards to him since he is so intriguing and we actually don’t have that much info about how his thought process works so it leaves a lot of room for speculation.

In any case, in this meta in specific I’m going to be talking about Akechi’s...morality(?), forgiveness and his relationship with regret. I’m not sure if that’s the best word to define this but I’ll roll with it for now. I’ll try to be fair and talk about things as I personally see them, it’s totally fine if you don’t share my views! Now, onto the actual meta.

Starting off, as people are obviously aware, Akechi is a morally gray character, a darker shade of, but he’s a sympathetic and tragic character nonetheless. That much is undeniable, he was written to be sympathetic, even if I’d argue Atlus did a pretty poor job of it in Vanilla (he was still my favorite ever since then though lol) but he’s reached his true potential in Royal, which makes me immensely happy to see. I get so unbelievably happy whenever I see people saying Royal changed their perception of him and started to like him more! But even then, there are a lot of people who just can’t forgive him for what he did, and that’s only natural. I personally think that, if you don’t try to sympathize with Akechi and truly, truly try to understand his mind and history, you’re doing him a huge disservice. But, forgiveness is something that everyone is free to think and decide if he deserves it or not. In Akechi’s case, I feel like forgiveness is something much more personal to the player, and this shows between the Phantom Thieves too.

There is a visual novel I hold very close to my heart called Umineko no Naku Koro Ni (which I’ll be quoting relentlessly throughout this entire post) that illustrates what I think better than I could put into words, so I’ll be quoting that scene with a few tweaks for better context:

“You said you understood the culprit’s motive.”

“...Yes.”

“Is that motive… a satisfying explanation for why they’d [commit murder]?!”

“Who knows. That’s for you to decide. Even if I say it’s satisfying, that doesn’t mean it will satisfy you. …You have to decide that for yourself.”

I really like this. It reminds me a lot of Akechi’s situation. I firmly believe that this has no “objective”, “most correct” answer to, just your personal feelings, which are the most important. I, as a player, do forgive Akechi, I want him to have a happy ending, another chance at life, manage to live happily with Akira and have some fun for once. That’s what “forgiveness” means to me in this situation, but while some people may empathize with Akechi, they still can’t forgive him. They think he should stay forever in jail or die since he cannot be redeemed in any way in their eyes. Where do I wanna go with this endless blabbering you ask, and I respond, I just want to try and see Akechi’s actions through two different lenses.

Well, I personally don’t like downplaying the crimes he committed and dumbing it down to “he was being manipulated” because, even if this is not false, it is not entirely correct either. Akechi is so fun to speculate about because he’s a character who is always clashing against himself in various ways as if he was in a constant state of internal turmoil, and this is not very different.

Akechi himself made the choice to go to Shido. It is extremely unlikely that he didn’t know he was going to be using his new powers for murder. He may have been very young, but despite the fact that he was a child forced to mature prematurely, he knew exactly which type of person Shido was. When he walked into that deal he was aware of the consequences and had fully made peace with the fact that he’d be taking another person’s life. Now, I’m not saying that Shido never manipulated him because he did, but not with that particular choice. 

This alone tells plenty about Akechi’s morals. I believe that Akechi indeed has some level of empathy for other people, but I sincerely doubt he feels especially bad about the Okumura-like people he had to kill. He might feel bad for the family of the victims or just feel nauseated with himself, however, he doesn’t regret a thing. As if he had grown numb to it. ...Until a certain point, that is, but I’ll talk about that later.

I would also like to elaborate further on Akechi’s continuous conflict with himself, and this particular piece of Maruki’s confidant immediately reminded me of this:

He’s talking about Akira here, but isn’t it interesting to note that Akechi’s internalized and externalized realities are, in contrast to Akira’s, the farthest they could possibly be from each other? His sense of justice, childlike desire to be loved and seen as a hero, in contrast to the cold-blooded murderer he had become? It’s like there are two people fighting it out inside of Akechi’s brain (lol) which must cause him a lot of distress. I don’t believe that Robin Hood is a ruse or that his Detective Prince façade is entirely fake. The way I see it, they are his ideal, which he strayed so far away from he lost grasp of who he himself is.

In my opinion, Akechi has never cared about fame the slightest bit, he used all of that as an opportunity to act out the person he wished he was, just and virtuous, while still being the feral murderer and bloodstained person he is today. These are two integral parts of him that he has never known how to reconcile. It’s interesting to note that in the third semester he was the one who since the beginning advocated firmly to return to the harsh reality but he had spent the entire game living in the comforting “detective prince” dream he made for himself until the engine room scene happened. 

With the third semester context, the engine room becomes so interesting because that scene is akin to Sumire finding out she’s not Kasumi. It’s a cold bucket of water thrown straight to Akechi’s face and telling him to wake up from this lie he made to comfort himself and face reality: he is no hero. Despite the fact that he is, too, a victim, he is simultaneously a murderer who perpetuated with the cycle of his father’s aggressions and he cannot escape that fact. Worse, he was being manipulated all along and his revenge plan and arguably his only reason to live AND justification for his actions was completely crushed.

Once again, this Umineko scene illustrates what I think Akechi’s situation up until that point was like:

Akechi rationalized every awful, inexcusable thing he did as, “It’s for my revenge’s sake” and ran with it. He was incredibly blinded by his hate and ignored the weight of the consequences of his actions up until that point where everything came crashing down right in front of his eyes. There is no excuse and no justification for that.

However, Akechi was also abused himself. There is no excuse for what he did, but is getting back at the person who took everything from him so reprehensible a thought? Is wanting justice against someone who essentially ruined your life not understandable? Many people like to say “cool motive still murder” or things of the like, but I’m asking you again to put yourself in his shoes.

Yet AGAIN with a Umineko screencap:

I played this the other day and one of the first things I thought of was Akechi. A lot of people draw parallels between Akechi and Adachi, but that’s just so damn wrong and make me lose my hair so much and become completely bald because that couldn’t be farther from the truth and I’m gently asking you to reconsider. In the pic above, Adachi would fit the “homicidal maniac” mentioned to a T, and while Akechi is by absolutely no means free of guilt and much less a stellar person, his crimes were moved completely by his heart. 

For the people who use his choice to become Shido’s hitman to say Akechi does not deserve any kind of forgiveness and that he’s a murderous maniac, I ask you to at least think of what state of mind he was at that moment. Think very hard about it, imagine how completely bleak life must have looked like then, to the point that he risked everything on murder.

This is nothing more than my speculation, but I believe Akechi’s thought process at that moment was something along the lines of, “I have nothing to lose since my (current) life is completely meaningless". It was as if he had reached such a numb state he chose to forgo all his morals and humanity in pursuit of at least one thing that would give his life meaning, that being his hate for Shido, which I also think was the only emotion he ever truly understood well ever since his mom passed.

Since Akechi is all about conflicting emotions though, I would also like to remind you how vulnerable Akechi really is to any kind of affection. His “childlikeness” that Robin Hood represents was, by all accounts, still there. Akechi has a desperate need to be loved while simultaneously putting up walls and wearing masks, making it extremely difficult to have any kind of meaningful relationship. This is something that Shido thoroughly takes advantage of, too.

That’s also why one of his lines to Akira hit so much harder for me, following this reasoning. “If only we had met a few years earlier,” expresses many emotions at once. If Akechi had known something other than misery and hatred during that period of his life he would not have latched so thoroughly to that revenge plan. Akechi simply had nothing to lose, since he had nothing at all.

I mentioned earlier that Akechi doesn’t regret a thing, which I still think it’s true. Before he had met Akira, he truly did not regret a thing, but meeting Akira caused him a lot of strife because not only Akira is a person whose whole existence flaunts everything Akechi could have had if he hadn’t fallen into fate’s trap, but Akechi also experiences happiness through his connection with Akira. Hanging out and talking to him truly makes him happy, and it’s something more genuine than he’s ever known. Yet, it’s too late, because his choices were already set in stone and he had already pulled the trigger with no way to take any of the bullets back.

That’s why Akechi is so confusing, so controversial and sometimes uncomfortable to think about. There is no clear line between good or bad, he just is something in the middle. Akechi is both a person who ruined a lot of people’s lives with no regard whatsoever to the consequences but also a victim rebelling and retaliating against the person who took everything from him and made his life a living hell. That’s why it’s so hard for not only some players to form opinions about him but also downright uncomfortable for the Phantom Thieves to think about. There is no objectively best answer for what he deserves. It just doesn’t exist. Should he spend the rest of his life in jail, or dead, because his crimes were inexcusable? Or should he be given another chance at life to learn to be happy? It’s entirely subjective, and that’s why he’s so great to think or discuss about. 

Aaand that’s it, I’m grateful you read so far, hope I didn’t piss anyone off, also not gonna pretend this wasn’t very self indulgent because of the amount of times I quoted Umineko in it. Anyways, thank you!

SIDE NOTE: I didn’t write this recently, it had been sitting on my drafts for some months now and I found it again today and decided to just release it into the wild because why not? I think this was meant to be much longer than it is and to elaborate more eloquently on a lot of points I brought up (like the PT with Akechi) but alas, I lost the train of thought and so it Perished.

[muzzleroars]

with the daldabaoth au thing, imagine how hurt akira might be at first realizing goro wants to kill his dad :( he might even feel used like goro only liked him to get close to his dad

I ACCIDENTALLY JUST KIND OF RAMBLED ABOUT THIS AU BECAUSE I’VE BEEN LOVING IT SO LIKE. HERE’S SOME GODHUNTER DRAMA FOR YOU.

YEA that’s pretty much exactly how it goes ;o; akira is really fascinated by humanity and he loves to make friends, he loves to help people with his unique perspective, but he’s also definitely very guarded considering he knows what would happen if anyone found out who he is. so, very much like in canon, akira is great at getting others to open up to him, but he rarely does the same in return, too afraid that any personal details will be looked into and he’ll be discovered by the wrong people. as a cognitive being, akira does have a little bit of insight into the emotions and motivations of others, but being in reality really messes with his ability to be totally accurate (yaldabaoth retains this ability to a much higher degree, but he still has plenty of trouble himself as surviving in reality presents different issues for him), so he’s navigating social relationships with a lot less insight than he’s used to. initially he gains an interest in goro due to his minor celebrity status (akira is obviously drawn to popularity due to the public’s influence), and goro is interested in turn for, again, the same reasons in canon: akira is fascinating to speak with and his opinions often surprise goro. despite the fact that he really does seem to be a trend follower, goro notes that he often has very different ideas than most on whatever topic is popular, waxing incredibly philosophical about different viral trends in a way that’s oddly intriguing. and for his part, akira sees a perception in goro that’s rare for humans, an unparalleled acumen and the ability to mold himself to what the public wants in an utterly flawless way in order to achieve his fame while the real goro remains far and away from that persona. they both begin opening up to each other, letting their guards down, and it’s the exact perceptive nature that akira admires in goro that leads him to become suspicious of who akira really is. after all, despite their growing intimacy, goro never even learns where akira lives, let alone goes to see it, and akira has nothing to say of his family, his history, or his personal life. his friends at school know nothing either - ryuji and ann both shrug their shoulders to the questions, saying they’ve never seen akira’s home...although he has mentioned his dad once or twice, mostly about how he has a strict curfew and couldn’t stay out with them. it’s the most goro’s heard too...and he knows it’s not right, but he goes to dig into akira’s school records to find the information scant and impossible, fake addresses and fake names, “akira kurusu” not seeming to exist outside of shujin academy’s files along with the parent listed. neither of them exist...and goro understands the metaverse, having to achieve the fame he has in order to travel to the depths and find the shrine that had been abandoned - akira, obsessed by trends in a way that seems unnatural given the opinions and intelligence he’s demonstrated time and again. he almost wonders if akira himself might be god, but why would he go around inserting himself into humanity so openly? goro spends time debating how to question him without arousing suspicion, but once he receives intel that it’s suspected god has a child, he’s almost certain that’s exactly who akira is and the father he only mentions in passing, the one who’s never been seen or heard from himself, must be the creature goro’s looking for. 

it marks a shift in their relationship, goro hesitating in his mission for such personal, sentimental reasons, but no one else has a clue where to find god or his child, so he does have the luxury of keeping his silence for a time. however, akira notices the shift, sensitive to emotion and intention, and he begins to feel something...wrong about goro, flashes of anger, hatred, disgust directed toward akira...feelings of grief and guilt that come with them and it frightens him, it makes him distance himself from goro despite the pain it causes him. goro almost figures it’s for the best...yet he knows if he makes his move, if he tells the organization he works for that he found him, akira will suffer too, he’ll be ended with his father. so he tells himself he needs to be sure, that akira will only be killed if he truly is god’s child and this isn’t all a mistake that could see his life taken for no reason, so all that’s left to find is where he truly lives and confront whatever’s inside for himself. it’s stupid, it doesn’t make sense, if he does find himself in god’s residence, he’ll only have himself to kill that miserable creature without knowing what it might be capable of. yet...he tracks akira, follows him and finds his home over the course of days as akira often takes multiple and ever changing lines to arrive in his neighborhood, a precaution that makes goro’s heart sink as it only serves to be another nail in this coffin. but once he knows, all it takes is going to the home when akira isn’t present, forcing himself in and quietly, quickly with wide eyes and sweating palms searching each room...but when the upper floors yield nothing, he realizes all that’s left is the basement...and of course that thing would live in the basement, he’s seen the throne it kept in the bowels of that dungeon it called home. yaldabaoth had sensed goro’s presence long before he forces open that door, however, an unwelcome and unknown human filled with such conflicting emotions they induce a headache in the god. and in truth, that irrationality and unpredictability is somehow worse than a human totally intent on killing him - it makes motivations unclear, it makes the ailing god more agitated than he should be, and it’s an emotion not lost on akira, who rarely feels anything but composure from his father. how stupid had he been, he thinks, rushing home as fast as he can, he knew something was wrong with goro, he knew he had said too much and felt that sudden shift of emotion between them but he ignored it, he just tried to run instead of alerting his father to his missteps so that they might have left this city. but...he had hoped to be wrong, that he was reading things wrong as he so often does and besides...his father would be safe, he’s too powerful to fall isn’t he? (but akira knows being in reality has made him sick, he knows his father doesn’t admit to the weakness, he hides it from his child, but existing like this poisoning him)

and what can goro do? the basement is dark, dingy like the endless halls of mementos, but he knows he’s found god long before he actually sees him, feeling sick and repulsed, the sense of wrongness, of trespassing, of walking into see something his entire body rejects to experiencing...it all pales to actually laying eyes on the being they’ve been looking for, however, a poor parody of humanity. its eyes all lock onto him, six of them on its face, an additional four on each hand that it uses to observe him too, its mouths full of sharp teeth, body covered in dizzying geometric patterns that disappear under the vestments of a priest. goro hadn’t known what to expect but the sheer size of it is even overwhelming, just tall enough to fall into an uncanny valley, its skin a true white with shocks of blood that burns an angry red (but it can’t be blood, can it?) and hair that turns to feathers at its tips, something that tried so much to be human but has failed. yet yaldabaoth doesn’t move, he observes goro quietly as he senses the mix of emotion from him, an intent to kill being overridden by something else, at least for now. even as goro draws a weapon, levels it at the deity that refuses to move, he can’t pull the trigger on it, knowing he would lose akira too...but how can he sacrifice his autonomy and everyone else’s to a monster? he tries to speak to it but it doesn’t answer, although he can see that the mouths on either side of its face twitch into different expressions occasionally...and he can’t stand that indifference, that silence, the creature that created them and abandoned them without care...the creature that surely had made him suffer so without a second thought. his mind makes up, motivation and rage clicking into place and only then does yaldabaoth move, a split second before goro’s reflexes can fire on him and it only serves to piss him off more - this thing knows how he feels, it’s reading him and only stayed still until now because it sensed his indecision, his hesitation....his hesitation for his son’s sake. its eyes narrow by fractions and those toothy mouths smile while it seems the other frowns deeper, obviously now understanding the source of goro’s conflicted emotion the moment he thinks of akira. the god finally opens its mouth but just as quickly it seems to think better of it, an action that rattles goro before he hears the basement door slam open again and almost in an instant, in a moment too impossibly fast, his gun is now pointed at akira. his eyes are nothing like they had been before, that composure, the cool sharpness of them replaced by pain, by hatred, by the red sting of tears in betrayal, of righteous anger and animal-like fear for an entire existence threatened, the panic of survival and the hurt of that panic coming from someone you had trusted so much more than any other. goro can’t stand it, he knows what akira thinks now without a single word traded between them...a godhunter that had used him to track his prey, the deity that now grabs akira with all four hands to remove him from the line of fire and the first words goro hears him speak tell his child to run, to find somewhere far from this city, but akira refuses. this is all his fault. he led a hunter here to his father, a father that’s only here as he is now because he won’t leave akira on his own, but when he and goro look at each other once more, akira pushed back and partially hidden, goro’s gun lowering inch by inch, what can they do? one of them should die here, yet in that instant they reach an impossible impasse, neither of them willing to sacrifice the other despite being so opposed to one another. the god is silent, watching goro closely in his unpredictable indecision once more...but goro can’t raise his gun against akira and this monster...the thing all of humanity wants dead now shielding the boy he loves, so where does that leave the hunter? he has to leave, has to run from them and escape that horrifying, suffocating basement, escape his own hesitation and the revelation that he has fallen in love with something that isn’t even human, the spawn of that repulsive god. he can’t sacrifice his own need for revenge, the need to free humanity from an oppressive will, but he can’t sacrifice akira either...and things only get more complicated from there.

[cantquitu]

The Baaba Maal concert was Jan 20th. Heathrow was supposed to insinuate Harry going to LA to support Louis through the stunt… do y’all actually read the Larrie theories before debunking them?

I don’t think Syco was sending messages. And you know I don’t think that. You had to resort to a strawman fallacy to attempt to ridicule my argument. I don’t think Syco gave a damn WHAT the fans believed or that they had a coherent narrative in mind, they just wanted fans to focus on something that wasn’t one of the members of the most profitable act they’ve ever had fathering a child at the same exact time that they had the last few dollars to squeeze out of it, especially because the perception of that member as a father could potentially drive away hundreds of thousands of incredibly profitable fans (or are you gonna argue now that 2015 wasn’t the biggest year in terms of % for the Larrie fandom?)

Fine, convince yourself that Mark the sound guy had absolutely no idea he was encouraging fans to believe a whole ass child was fake. He never read one reply to his tweets, he never read one text message. No one in the crew realized it either.

Im not even saying that he should understand the entire lore of the Larrie cult. I’m just saying the very very bare bone basics. He didn’t realize it!! Poor Mark had no idea. He went through all the trouble of getting the bears a phone and a phone number but never even read ONE of the text messages fans sent. Poor innocent Mark.

I really hate that y’all are the face of “the antis” because y’all make us look like idiots who can’t actually explain how and why Larrie beliefs are ridiculous and we just ignore their points. You can’t even say “yeah, it’s possible that Syco (which was bound to have marketing department who looked into fan engagement) noticed that fans were theorizing about the bears and saw the imminent upset Louis’ baby announcement could cause in a crucial moment of the band and decided to encourage the tech guy that was behind it to continue and maybe hint harder”

Like? What is so strange about that? I don’t even think Syco told him what to do. Just to deflect from what was happening and engage fans so they don’t stop supporting the band, but he make the decisions, obviously. I don’t think anyone in their right mind believes there was a table of executives saying “ah, yes, now put a wedding dress on the big Bear! Genius genius!!” And of course most of the Larrie interpretation of the bears wasn’t hinting at anything. Mark probably knew fans would make the theories fit even if he didn’t plan anything to make them fit. I only think he tried to soothe the fanbase by sending positive messages when things got dicey for them (the baby being born, pictures of the baby…), hence “Larry ok”, “little book of calm”, “coping with diarrhea”, and the implication that Harry had gone to LA to see Louis. The Twitter seemed half nonsensical and half reactionary. The concert setups were obviously all nonsensical, which is why 6 years later Larries are trying to figure out what the hell the dude meant with nut tree.

Btw, we don’t know if the guy is gay. Kinda weird for you to make that assumption.

"I don’t know what motivated this man to do what he did. I have no clue. The only explanation I have is that it started in good innocent fun and when Syco saw the engagement it got from fans they decided to use it to their advantage, since they probably wanted to maximize profits and knew a good chunk of the fanbase would be turned off by the news of Louis becoming a father"

I only know what you think via what you tell me you think in your anonymous asks. I think your theory is ridiculous. I get that you're outraged by that and are incredulous that I don't agree with you; you don't have to keep coming back to tell me. Though the backtracking is kind of funny.

Meanwhile you keep attempting to put words in my mouth. I'm posting your ask so you can see what it looks like when you have a one-sided argument with yourself ("Are you gonna argue now that...?.", "Fine, go ahead and convince yourself that Mark...") while you work out and expand on your conspiracy theory.

As it somehow isn't blatantly obvious to you, I'll make it clear: I have zero intention of "explaining" or debunking Larries' delusional theories about teddy bears six years later. They do not warrant an explanation beyond what I've given (by "narrative" I was referring to your narrative) . I don't care if you - an angry, anonymous person on the internet- think I make "antis" look like idiots.

[spookyc]

I sure do!!

Well then, I shall divulge.

So, in my talentswap Kiyo is the protagonist as he is the ultimate detective. Originally this was just because I thought it fit but I definitely have more of a definite reason as to why I chose him for the ultimate detective. So a big thing I wanna do with this au, is to give more of the unpopular characters a spotlight, this can be seen with the main central group of the game, Kiyo as the ultimate detective, Tenko as the ultimate astronaut, and Angie as the ultimate child caretaker/assassin. (Which, yeah, It's kinda funny how these three ended up being the main trio considering what happened with them in canon) And when I played v3 I always thought Kiyo was super interesting, not only his talent but also his entire personality. It was so unlike what you would expect from the typical dr cast, I mean the creepy guy of the cast isn't the main antagonist? It was so different and it drew me towards his character, and I even indulged in a few of his free times which were always super fun just because I learned something new with each one.

And then, well, chapter 3 happened. I don't believe I have to explain what happened with that. I remember being kinda bummed out, I mean, the creepy weirdo just ended up being a creepy weirdo, a creepy weirdo who was abused by his shitty sister, but a creepy weirdo nonetheless. Didn't help that I have a brother that I'm decently close with; the entire thing just made me very uncomfortable. So I figured it would be super interesting to go through a story with Kiyo's lenses, to understand why he believes the things that he does and to give him a second chance, in a way.

Also when I really sat down and thought about it, it made a lot of sense to me. Like, in this au I want to keep their backstories intact, (for the most part) and I also wanna keep the fact that they were originally pursuing their canon talents until an event happens that changes their mind. So originally Kiyo was still gonna go for the anthropolgy route, but on one of his vacations, he happened upon a murder case. In the beginning he planned to just observe how the scene would play out, but because he's so attuned with people, he ends up finding out the killer and has him arrested. After this he becomes fascinated with criminals, about their ideologies, their psychology, the history behind past criminals. And so he then redirects his path towards that of a detective, perhaps partially out of a sense of justice, but mainly out of a morbid curiosity to see, "how far the depths of humanity can go."

I also noticed how in the canon story Kiyo often likes to observe others and sorta likes to stay neutral on most topics and I feel this would really benefit him as a detective. But yeah! That's essentially the reason I decided to make him the ultimate detective but let's dive into more of his background and how he grows throughout the story.

So, let's just go ahead and get this out the way. The sister issue. Now, as I stated before, I have a brother I'm close with myself so the entire incestuous relationship with Kiyo and his sister makes me deeply uncomfortable. So I'm sorta divided on two options. 1. I could eradicate sister from Kiyo's story completely and pretend she never existed. Or 2. I keep sister but simply change the form of abuse she inflicts on Kiyo. I'm leaning more towards the second option as this way I'm not just neglecting the abuse Kiyo went through, but I also don't have to make myself uncomfortable by acknowledging the incest stuff.

Anyway! Moving on to the more exciting stuff. So, I still want to have Kiyo involved with the occult, or at least he used to be. See, possibly a year or two ago, (and possibly in regards to sister's death but I'm undecided on that) Kiyo performs a ritual that goes horribly wrong. And the result of this ritual enables Kiyo to see and hear the spirits of the departed. And while at first it was intriguing, it soon became annoying at best and mentally draining at worst. It's simply a fact of life he has to deal with, and due to this power he can see and hear the ghosts of his dead classmates throughout the story. Which is both a blessing and a curse.

Now, as for his development throughout the story, here's what I'm thinking. Now, Kiyo doesn't really have many confidence issues, he's proud in his line of work and he's unapologetic about his beliefs and such. And I wouldn't really wanna repeat Shuichi's storyline anyway. So, for this au, I think Kiyo's arc throughout the game will be learning to trust and gain acceptance amongst people he loves. Rather than the twisted perception of love that Kiyo gives off in canon, I'd want Kiyo's result from sister's abuse to be that no one loves him and no one ever will.

He then begins to believe that love doesn't exist, and not just romantic love, but any kind of love. But rather than grow depressed by this fact, Kiyo uses it as a way to uplift himself. Telling himself that he doesn't need love and that he's perfectly fine being alone. To put it bluntly he's basically just coping from the abuse, trying to use it as shield to protect himself when in reality it's just a sword pointed at himself. But then again, what reason would he have for not believing this? This very concept is what's made him such a great detective.

He doesn't take sides because he can't understand the reasoning behind either side, not in an emotional way anyway. And even though he's incredibly successful in his work, there's a part of him deep down that is terribly lonely. A part of him that longs for company, a part of him that wishes he knew why hatred always burns in the eyes of those he arrests. And it isn't until he's kidnapped and taken to the Ultimate Academy that he finally has to acknowledge this part of himself. This starts with his relationship with Tenko.

Which, as you might expect, doesn't start too well. Tenko of course still has her "degenerate male philosophy" (though after chapter 1 this part of her becomes severely toned down and we get to see what her actual character is like sorta like what canon should have done before chapter 3) but Tsumugi, (ultimate pianist) accompanies Kiyo for a lot of chapter 1 and this sort of slowly warms Tenko up to Kiyo. After chapter 1 tho, when Kiyo flawlessly solves the first case, Tenko sees how useful Kiyo is and grows a sort of begrudging respect for him. After the trial she congratulates him on a job well done and Kiyo appreciates the gesture, obviously being able to tell that it wasn't something she was particularly ecstatic to do. Chapter 2 comes around and if you read my ask about Maki (ultimate artist) , you know this is when she starts spreading the "rumor" that Angie is an assassin.

Kiyo initially doesn't buy this at all, because even though he's exceptionally good at reading people, Angie is a total blank for him, so he can't really confirm or deny the rumors. What he does notice, though, is that Tenko seems to he strangely angry at these rumors, growing visibily distressed whenever Maki brings them up. He doesn't really get it, seeing as though he's only seen the two talking a handful of times, but he brushes it off but he doesn't get involved with people's personal bis. Until Tenko comes to him. He's surprised to see her and even more surprised to see the angry expression on her face.

She tells him that they can't keep letting this go on. He asks what and she responds with the rumors. He agrees that the rumors have gotten out of hand but he asks her what she wants him to do about it. She tells him that he is the only one that the others will believe. And he's like, fair enough, but why do you care so much. And she responds saying, "Because I have her motive video." Kiyo is shocked by this info and asks why she can't just tell them herself. And she says that, "Well, because the rumors are true, she is the ultimate assassin."

Kiyo is again flabbergasted and asks Tenko if she intends on him lying and she says yes. He asks her why, in the most sincerest tone, truly not understanding why anyone would go this far to lie about someone they hardly know, Tenko responds. "Because something isn't right, Monokuma has to be playing some trick, there's no way Angie is capable of murder." Kiyo still doesn't understand, but seeing the fierce determination in her eyes, he knows he won't be able to refuse her offer. And so he agrees that tomorrow he will do his best to dispel the rumors about Angie and convince everyone that she isn't an assassin. And then, the very next day, another body is discovered.

Immediately the opportunity to clear the air is gone in the mass confusion. And it's not long after that everyone begins to pin their blame on Angie. So, Tenko approaches Kiyo again asking if she can accompany Kiyo on his investigation, but only on the basis of defending Angie. Kiyo, who isn't used to working with others, hesitantly agrees and the two form a reluctant partnership. Kiyo initially plans to work on his own but after Tenko finds a few vital pieces of evidence he grows more accustomed to her presence and the two actually bond quite a bit, although they don't admit it.

Eventually the investigation ends and the two head to the trial together, convinced that Angie isn't the killer. Of course the main lie of this trial is that Angie is not the ultimate assassin, the only real thing that was pinning her to this case. After that is cleared up, Kiyo, along with some help from Tenko, solve the case. All is well and good with the world it seems, until Maki speaks up. She asks Monokuma to show Angie's motive video, just to be 100% sure that she isn't the ultimate assassin.

Immediately Tenko retorts, saying that they already cleared up that she wasn't but Maki replies.

"Well, if you're so sure that Angie isn't an assassin, then you should have no problem with me showing this right?"

"Unless, you know something we don't?"

The others agree with Maki and demand that the motive video be shown. Tenko looks to Kiyo, demanding he do something but Kiyo shakes his head. "They're too far gone now." Tenko clenches her fists, but doesn't say another word. With a grin of pure malice, Maki tells Monokuma to show the video and he complies, if a bit reluctantly due to Maki's tone. The video plays and the truth is revealed, Angie is the ultimate assassin.

After the video the students erupt into an uproar, angrily turning towards Tenko and Kiyo and demanding why they lied. Tenko responds that if they hadn't lied, the rest of the students would have gotten them killed. They also turn on Kiyo, asking why a detective would lie. He responds saying it was the only way to get to the truth. He also adds that Angie being an assassin had nothing to with this case, they already determined the true killer.

But despite their statements many of the students are still outraged as they mount the elevator. They also notice Angie is not with them, as she seems to have disappeared during the chaos. Two individuals however observe the scene with twisted glee, Maki and Kiibo (ultimate supreme leader). After everyone gets off the elevator, Tenko approaches Kiyo. She thanks him for standing up for Angie, and this time she actually sounds genuine. She then admits that maybe he's different than the other degenerate males and that he's not so bad. Kiyo accepts the sort of compliment and Tenko walks off.

And for the first time Kiyo feels happy. Now he's felt satisfaction after a solved case and even sometimes felt contentment but, he can't remember the last time he felt happy. The last he felt like he belonged. And after this the two from a solid friendship, one that will carry them throughout the entire game and Angie joins the squad too and as much as I'd love to get into their relationship this post is far too long already and I wouldn't wanna waste anymore of your time. But! I hope this was enjoyable at the very least.

I really enjoy getting these asks because they always help me to flesh out the story and the characters and they're always super fun to write so if you ever wanna know about any of the other characters, don't hesitate to ask. Thanks for the ask!

[bumblbee123]

The ballad of songbirds and snakes

I saw a video in the tag shitting on the book, and rather than pick a fight with that person who probably doesn't care I figured I'd just dump my thoughts out here just to get them out of my head.

First, this person out the gate took issue with the fact that Collins is trying to make you sympathize/empathize with Snow. Honestly Collins could not have been more heavy handed with her intentions that yes you are supposed to relate to Snow because real world "bad guys" are people. They have families and hearts and everything that you and I have. And this is supposed to make it especially revolting that a human being can harm other human beings the way Snow does.

Second, the pacing of the book is less action packed than the original trilogy. Again this has an obvious purpose. We're supposed to pay more attention to the characters motivations and world building and analyze the way it mirrors our own society.

Speaking of world building, this isnt the Panem of the 75th Hunger Games, a well oiled tightly controlled machine. This is a version thats still finding its footing. Its teetering on the edge of yet another revolution that evolves itself to become more scary and authoritarian. So it's not inconsistent that details of this Panem are different from Katnisses.

And this last thing is incredibly specific that if this person does read this post they'll know its @ them, but the critique that this is not a dystopia novel and instead "dystopia light" really demonstrates that your biases going into this novel warped your perception while reading it. You're really gonna sit here and say that a child witnessing cannibalism in their fallen city is "dystopia light"? Really? And not to mention the rest of the districts are living out that dystopia even after the capital does regain some sense of normalcy so yeah it's still a dystopia dumbass.

[whitewolfofwinterfell]

Just ONE more...until I think of yet another question I'm dying to ask you a few minutes from now! What do you see as Buffy's greatest traits and worst flaws? Angel's greatest traits and worst flaws? In what ways (assuming they were human) do you see them as compatible? In what ways do think they're similar to each other, and what are their complementary differences? What jobs do you think they'd have as humans? What would they each be like as parents? What would they do in their spare time?!

Buffy’s greatest traits and worst flaws

Buffy is a very complex character with so many strengths, but equally, many flaws. Without a doubt her greatest strengths are her resillience and inner-strength. No matter what life throws at her she seems to have an incredible ability to keep moving forward. Even after Joyce’s death - which is undoubtedly one of the greatest tragedies anyone in this world will face - she’s able to compartmentalise in order to take responsbility of the household and step up to be a parental figure for Dawn when she’s still a child herself. Not to mention that she dies and is resurrected and somehow manages to find a way to keep going. What strikes me about Buffy is that even when she’s clearly struggling mentally and emotionally she never wallows in self pity. She accepts that the world is unfair and cruel and that everybody suffers in different ways and she does the best she can to carry on. Her other strengths include her leadership, confidence, determination and decisiveness. In every situation she finds herself in, Buffy is able to make tough decisions for herself and others. She never shies away from the responsibilities that go with being the Slayer, she owns it. She’s the one that everybody looks to when shit hits the fan and that’s a huge burden, but she never treats it as one despite feeling that way deep down inside. It takes so much courage to be able to make hard and fast decisions, particularly when those decisions impact the people around you, but Buffy does it all the time. Her morality is also a strength of Buffy’s. She has a strong sense of right and wrong, and although that view can sometimes be a little bit too black and white, she is never afraid to stand up and fight for what she believes is right no matter what it takes. Once again, that takes great courage. Speaking of courage, the courage and bravery Buffy has is staggering. Even when she’s afraid she doesn’t let it show, she always goes into a fight ready and raring to go. She’s also incredibly loyal and although she has a strong belief in justice, she has an ability to forgive others even when they sometimes aren’t necessarily deserving of her forgiveness.

As for her flaws, they’re very much the flip-side of her strengths. Her resillience and inner-strength can sometimes lead to her being emotionally unavailable and closed off. Her way of dealing with the responsibility of being the Slayer and the trauma, depression, grief and other powerfully negative emotions she faces is to isolate herself, shut away her feelings and focus on tasks. This means that she often doesn’t process or deal with her emotions in a healthy way resulting in her taking it out on others, or more commonly taking it out on herself (this is particularly the case in season 6). The way she would shut herself off emotionally also sometimes led to her not being perceptive of how others around her were feeling and being insenstive or dismissive of them. Simirlarly, her leadership and confidence means that she can be condescending and belittle the opinions and knowledge of others, believing that she’s superior. Sometimes her confidence can drift over to arrogance and she can’t always admit when she’s wrong or take the advice of others. Statements such as “There’s only me. I am the law” really show that. Furthermore, her decisiveness and leadership means that she sometimes makes decisions for others that aren’t hers to make or she doesn’t take the feelings of others into consideration as much as she should. Her courage and bravery can occassionally transform into recklessness and impulsivity whereby she throws herself into potentially harmful situations with little regard for her well-being.

Angel’s greatest traits and worst flaws

Angel’s greatest traits are definitley his compassion, dedication and selflessness. Angel will lay his life on the line to save the life of anybody, whether it’s his son or a stranger that he’s just met. He is fiercely dedicated to helping others and is genuinely able to empathise and sympathise with people in order to provide that help. Because of the uniqueness of Angel as a vampire with a soul he has an inherent ability to empathise with people (despite the fact that he believes he’s disconnected from them), because he’s lived for so long, has such a wealth of life experience, has experienced the darkest parts of humanity as a soulless demon and now feels the pure emotion that comes from having a soul. He’s able to see the good in everybody and to remain open-minded and non-judgemental in order to understand people’s lives, motivations and feelings. Despite how much good he does, he’s very humble and never seeks fame, glory or praise. There’s a lot to be said for the fact that every person Angel helps he does so because he wants to help. It’s that simple. He doesn’t do it because of some ulterior motive, it’s completely selfless. I mean, this is a man(pire) that was willing to die fighting an unwinnable battle. Angel is also a great leader, but in a very different way from Buffy. Angel isn’t a self-elected leader, he’s a natural leader that his friends look to because they trust his judgement and have faith in his decisions and ability to lead. Angel doesn’t assume responsibility because he believes he has the authority, power or skill to do so more than anybody else, he does it because that’s what his friends expect of him. As a result of this, he’s able to listen to the advice of his friends and even delegate responsibility, letting them to take the lead sometimes. This is all part of Angel’s kindness and ability to see the good in everyone. Angel has an ability to inspire and motivate those around him based purely on his actions and philosophy. He’s able to bring characters like Faith, Cordy, Wes, Gunn and Fred - all of whom felt disconnected, lonely, unappreciated and had very little self-belief when he first met them - and transform their perception of themselves. With Angel’s mission statement and leadership to provide them with direction and his care and support, they were all able to come into their own and hone their strengths, skills and abilities (which hadn’t been acknowledged previously) to make a difference in the world.

In regards to his flaws, I’d say that he can be very depressive and pessimistic, which is only to be expected from a vampire with a soul. Sometimes he can be prone to falling into a dark spiral and when he starts that descent there’s very little that can stop him. A lot like Buffy, this can sometimes be part of him hitting self-destruct. Angel carries a lot of guilt and self-loathing for his past actions, and in the moments that that catches up to him he struggles to put things into perspective and acknowledge the person he is now and all of the good he’s doing. He also has a tendency to fixate on certain things which causes him to lose sight of the bigger picture. This happens at various points with Buffy, Darla, Cordelia, Connor, Lindsey W&H and Spike. A lot of the time I think this stems from his  persistent fear that threats to those he loves are lurking just around the corner and doom is imminent (which, to be fair to him, it’s usually true haha). Angel also lacks confidence in his own abilities and is too humble. Being humble can never really be a negative thing, but I think that in the context of Angel’s character he’s too hard on himself and doesn’t give himself as much credit as he should for all the good he does. He often diminishes the huge importance he plays in fighting the good fight and the impact he has on people’s lives. Similarly, But Angel’s most obvious flaw (if we can even refer to it as such) is Angelus. Soulless vampires are evil, plain and simple, but Angelus takes this to the extreme. He’s a callous, vindictive, cruel, merciless monster that takes pleasure in inflicting pain on others and exploiting their weaknesses. Although Angelus is an entirely different character, it has an impact on how Angel acts. He constantly lives in fear of Angelus returning and with the guilt of Angelus’ actions. This results in him having a huge amount of self-hatred which festers inside him no matter how much time passes and which he can never get past or forgive himself for. However, Angel’s understanding and acceptance of this part of himself actually makes this somewhat of a strength of his. He hates that side of himself and repeatedly tells his friends that if he’s ever to lose his soul again they should kill him immediately.

In what ways (assuming they were human) do you see Bangel as compatible?

This is a very tricky question to answer, because I genuinely struggle to imagine Buffy and Angel as humans. The supernatural is such a huge part of their lives and such a definitive aspect of their relationship that if you take that away they become entirely different people and their relationship transforms as a result. Ultimately, what brings them together is their shared sense of isolation which comes from them being the only one of their kind - Buffy being the Slayer and Angel being a Vampire with a Soul. In addition, their fight against supernatural bads and desire to help others is a mission they share which unites them. There’s not very much that Buffy and Angel bond over outside of this, no shared interests, hobbies or commonalities that could be considered “human” that I can think of. So, I apologise, but I actually don’t know how to answer this question!

In what ways do think Bangel are similar to each other, and what are their complementary differences?

They’re both leaders who take immense responsibility onto their shoulders and have an ability to bring people together, to motivate and inspire them. Emotionally, they share similiar feelings of loneliness and depression that come from the traumas they face, the pressure of being a leader and feeling disconnected from the world they fight to protect. They’re resillient and have an astounding amount of strength which enables them to go on even after the worst has happened - Buffy has to endure killing Angel, losing her mother, dying and being resurrected; Angel has to endure dying, going to a hell dimension and being resurrected, losing Buffy, watching the mother of his child die in front of his eyes, having his son kidnapped by his own best friend, losing his son to evil, the woman he loves being possessed and impregnanted by an evil entity, losing his son forever as he wipes his memory, losing Cordy and Fred. I could continue, but you get the point. Buffy and Angel are able to keep moving forward when anyone else would simply lie down on the ground and give up. On a lighter note, they’re both goofy and have this adorkableness that seems to pop up during the most random times.

As for their differences, they have a lot but I wouldn’t necessarily consider them complimentary. I’d say that Buffy’s extroversion makes for a good contrast to Angel’s introversion. Angel keeps Buffy grounded and centered, whilst Buffy’s free-spirit captures Angel. Angel is also more able to remain open-minded to the possibility that demons have a capacity for goodness, whilst Buffy is usually much quicker to condemn demons without considering that they may not always be wholly evil. This means that Angel is able to encourage Buffy to reconsider her black and white view on the world and to give chances to those she may not have naturally, and on the flip side, Buffy’s outlook can remind Angel that not everybody always deserves a second chance or has a capacity to redeem themselves and set themselves on the right path.

Besides this, I can’t really think of any differences they have that are complimentary. The main differences I see between them come from the fact that Angel is so much older than Buffy and has completely different experiences as a vampire. Ths means that his motivations and priorities are quite different from Buffy’s, despite them being dedicated to a similar cause. Although Buffy accepts being the Slayer and fulfils her duties, she’s resistant to it on more than one occassion and when an oppourutnity arises to create more Slayers so that she’s not the only one she does so because she doesn’t want to carry that burden of being the Chosen One. In comparison, Angel is a self-elected hero. He’s not pre-ordained or chosen, he willingly dedicates himself to helping the helpless because he believes that’s his calling and he wants to repent for his previous sins. In an ideal world, Buffy doesn’t want to be the Slayer, she wants to be an ordinary girl, but Angel wouldn’t willingly choose to be human even if it was offered to him on a silver platter (which it is in ‘I Will Remember You’). Buffy, despite being the Slayer, is a human girl who longs for the things that most human girls do; to hang out with her friends, have fun, go shopping, spend time with family, graduate, get a car, go on holiday and do everything else that young people do. Angel naturally doesn’t care about any of that. He doesn’t think in terms of his future or building a life like Buffy does, he lives for the here and now and works off the idea that he will do everything he can today to make his life count for something.

What jobs do you think Bangel would have as humans?

I think Angel would be a Private Investigator. I know this is a bit of a cop out, because he was a PI on AtS, but it’s exactly the sort of job that suits him. He needs something where he can actively be out in the world making a difference to people’s lives but where he has freedom to make his own decisions and take on his own cases. He also needs to have action in his life and to have independence. Although he works well with his friends on AtS, he isn’t the sort of guy that necessarily works well in a team, particularly if he’s forced to work with people that he doesn’t know very well.

Buffy would be in fashion. I don’t just say this because she has great fashion sense, but because she’s able to see the essence of people and I feel she would know exactly how to use fashion and image to project that to the outside world. I also think that a creative and vocational career where Buffy can use her hands and put her ideas into practice would suit her personality down to a T.

What would Bangel each be like as parents? What would they do in their spare time?!

Well, we saw Angel as a father and Buffy as a kind-of-mother to Dawn, but I suppose as a co-parenting team I’d imagine them to be fun-loving but over-protective parents. They would definitley teach their kids self-defence; Angel would encourage them to read books and go to the ballet and theatre and musuems to ensure they’re attuned to the world around them and culturally aware; Buffy would be the discplinarian because lets face it Angel is just a softie; they’d attend ice hockey games every weekend where Angel would embarass the kids by yellling out all the time; Angel would tell the worst dad jokes in the world; Buffy would always try to make things fun and take any oppourtunity she could to have a family barbeque, parties or celebration; they’d sit down to eat dinner together every evening and Angel would cook (because Buffy’s cooking skills only extend to cheese toasties); Buffy would be the cool hip parent that every parent at the school playground would admire and envy; Angel would take on the domestic duties like cleaning, washing clothes and cooking but the kids would have a strict chore schedule that they’d get pocket money for; Buffy would be incredibly affectionate always smothering the kids with hugs and kisses and beaming about how proud she is of them.

[cosmicknives]

I really liked falloutfandomeventhub’s Meet The Muse template and thought it might be fun to fill it out for a few of my kiddos. And then, Animal Crossing happened and I got sidetracked for like a week. Oh well! Six’s was pretty much done so I’m tossing him up first. Enjoy the future Architect of an Independent Mojave~!

|| The Basics ||

Name: Sixpence Ira Richelieu Nicknames: Six, Courier Six Age: Twenty-Six Species: Retribution Made Human

|| Personal ||

Alignment: Lawful Evil actions mixed with Chaotic Good ideals? Six is an odd duck. Religious Belief: Six was raised alongside religious iconography, but his first family didn’t do any strict beliefs. They believed more in just collecting knowledge and sharing knowledge, showing kindness to others and the like. Six quite likes the Followers of Apocalypse because of that. Sins: Wrath, hands down. Virtues: Diligence? Kid does work hard and has pretty strong ethics for being partly wasteland-raised. Primary Goals In Life: Well, he’s always seeking out knowledge. His preteens and teen goals were probably like ‘be gay, do crimes’ and now him just really wants to free the Mojave from all hands that seek to own it. Because fuck them all. Especially Benny. He’s not sure how figuratively or literally he means that fuck either. Definitely something to figure out to. Languages Known: English, Latin, Spanish, and some Mandarin Chinese. He spent a lot of time studying and learning when he was younger. Secrets: He lost his right eye as a child and that’s why he favors melee weapons and why his perception is pretty low. He refuses to tell people because it’s a bit of blind spot for him and people have taken advantage of it in the past.

Savvies: Generally intelligent, but he definitely has a good handle of the Medical, Science and Repair skills. He really loves robots and robotics too. 

|| Physical ||

Build: Slender / Scrawny / Bony / Fit / Athletic / Herculean / Babyfat / Pudgy / Obese / Other Height: 5′7 Weight: (...I can’t calculate out realistic weights so whatever is reasonable for someone his size?) Scars/Birthmarks: Two scars on opposite sides of his head. It looks like it could be an entry and exit wound of a single gunshot to anyone who doesn't know better, but it's just the lingering marks of the two times he's been shot in the head. 1 Luck, indeed. Abilities: Extremely skilled combat medic, great at hacking both systems and robotics, can swing a golf club like its expertly sharpened machete, and he is a devastating liar when he has a motivation to lie. 'I've learned while, at least at first, it seems like the young courier wears his heart on his sleeve, it's just solidifying intent. You see what he wants you to see and when the pure extending depth of that finally settles into your bones… Well, I'll let you know when the chill leaves mine.' Restrictions: Incredibly guarded and emotionally closed, he has put up all the walls and scaling them is not simple or easy, absolutely hellbent on revenge when people slight him, very flirtatious but refuses to allow anyone past that stage, the very definition of hot and cold.

|| Favorites ||

Favorite Food: Grilled Nightstalker Tail! He'll also fist-fight a deathclaw for a box of Sugar Bombs. Favorite Drink: Purified Water, always. Though he's fond of Black Coffee and whatever it was that Dean made while he was scrambling around Sierra Madre. Favorite Color: Purple and yellow, as it reminds him of wildflowers. Favorite Music Genre: He's not picky. Whenever he can safely listen to something to fill the void, he'll take whatever (especially if it’s coming from ED-E). Favorite Book Genre: He devours any book he can get his hands on. That being said, folk tales and TS Eliot’s Wasteland are his favorites. Favorite Movie Genre: I don't think he's ever seen a movie. And if he had any interest prior to the events of FNV, Old World Blues completely killed it. Favorite Season: Winter! Favorite Butt Type: Classified! Favorite Swear Word: Fuck’s a good classic. Favorite Scent: Inks, old leathers, and rain on cement. Favorite Quote:  “Exvrgat Devs Dissipentvr Inimic.” The words themselves aren’t particularly significant to him. It’s just what’s on the sixpence coin his father left for him and something his mother often hummed to him like a lullaby at night. It’s something like ‘let God arise and His enemies be scattered’.

|| Fun Stuff ||

Boss Theme Music: My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark (Light Em Up)  by Fall Out Boy. The song links to a Homestuck AMV because I always pictured Six doing at least one Kanaya 3x Showdown Combo Curbstop in his lifetime, so it’s extra fitting to me. Loud Burper Or Soft Burper: Generally soft. He's spent a lot of time traveling alone so he tries to minimize his presence. Sings In The Shower: Yes / Not Really, No Likes Bad Puns: Yes / No / Only if they are relevant to the situation

[prorevenge]

Got my boss arrested for possessing child porn also resulted in CEO arrested for embezzlement.

I apologize for the long-windedness of this story. I'm not a writer, so I am just writing from memory and it got a bit longer than I had originally anticipated.

Almost 2 decades ago, I worked in the magazine publishing industry as an advertising and marketing manager. What this meant is that I sold advertising spaces in our line of various publications. You know those fancy clothing ads or product ads in between articles? Yeah those. And when you're good at it, you can make embarrassingly large stacks of cash. I was about 20 years old, making a very healthy $150K/year. So I thought I nailed a dream job.

My director, on the surface, seemed like the most awesome boss. He was charismatic, he knew how to lead. He was a retired Marine and was incredibly good at motivating his subordinates. He was friends with the actual Wolf of Wall Street, Jordan Belfort, and had him come in to our company to teach us how to close sales. And yes, I know how to "sell you this pen."

My director, we'll call him D, was in actuality one of the shadiest people I've ever met and his over confidence in his skills led to not only his downfall but also led to a huge scandal in the company resulting in multiple investigations including his arrest and the CEO's arrest on different charges.

I won't get into the backstory of how I started there or how I rose up the ranks under D. All you need to know is that he took me under his wing to train me as his protégé. D was known in the company to create advertising initiatives that would be insanely profitable. He would then move one of his subordinates into managerial role on that project so he would move on to the next initiative. What most people didn't realize was that his initiatives were only sustainable for maybe 2 to 3 years before they would start losing money. But because D was such a prominent figure in the company, the manager who took over the project would take the blame for it, citing "lack of proper management skills." So D was largely untouchable and never took the blame.

D put me in charge of one of those initiatives. But instead of losing money, I was able to sustain it for more than 7 years. This gave me a staff of 200 additional sales reps to oversee. I was also the supervisor, the graphic designer, IT, HR, and I had my own accounts to manage as well so I was working from 6am to 11pm 6 days a week. Not including my commute of 1 hour each direction in Los Angeles traffic. I knew I was working myself into an early grave.

One of the things I always thought was weird about how D managed his subordinates was that he required everyone to provide him with their PC login and password. Keep in mind this was the early 2000's and our IT was barely able to build a corporate network so this was our best way to monitor what people did on their PC's (or so I was told).

It turns out, after hours, D would log on to their PC's and would not just go through their company emails (it was against company policy to use Outlook for any non-company related communication. And this was audited by D weekly). He would also look through people's browsing history. He would set everyone's browsers to automatically save any passwords entered, so he'd read their browser emails (Yahoo, Gmail, etc.). His justification was that he was looking for any evidence of corporate espionage or violations of proprietary information.

One of the most irritating was that he required everyone to save their company Outlook .PST files (where emails are stored) to his network drive. This allowed him to monitor people's company emails from his own computer.

So when our team got so big, we had to hire our own accounting team. Because they fell under D's jurisdiction, he had access to their PST files as well (but our accounting team didn't know this). This allowed him to monitor a lot of financial communication between our parent company, and also predict where budgetary changes were being made.

D would use this to maximize how he strategized his next project initiatives. He clandestinely knew where the money was going to be before anyone else so he had time to come up with plans on how to get a bigger chunk of that cash. On the outside, his ability to do this seemed almost preternatural. But all he was doing was just reading confidential emails without anyone knowing. All accounting information was kept confidential just within the finance team, so they didn't know D was readily accessing this information. Like I said, our IT team was barely conscious.

D decided he wanted to take a 2 week vacation and left me in charge of monitoring duties. He showed me where the PST files were. Internally, I was utterly aghast at how much he was looking at our personal communications. But, I was young, naïve, and making a salary that most 20-somethings could only dream of so I thought this was normal corporate operations.

During D's vacation, one of our reps dropped a cigarette down a plastic drain pipe outside the office. Turns out he'd been doing that for weeks and the back up of cigarette butts eventually caught fire and it set off the smoke alarm in the building. We were forced to evacuate and close up shop for the day. Because I could work remotely, I copied all the PST's to my laptop and headed home. That's when I discovered something that will haunt me for the rest of my life.

In my haste to copy the PST files, I inadvertently copied D's to my computer as well. Out of morbid curiosity, I figured what the hell, why not? So I started looking through his emails. At first, I found emails to another director, where he was disclosing how he was able to 'go where the money is.' Turns out, another director in another branch was also doing the same thing and they were joking about how they were able to make so much money and set up the manager they left behind to fail. They talked about how they would share this financial information with advertisers, other publishing firms, etc. to put themselves in strategically advantageous positions for prime accounts. In a nutshell, what they were doing was sharing corporate information without tacit approval from the legal team. I saw junior associates get taken to court over this.

I also saw emails from several female colleagues who were mysteriously "removed" from the company. Turns out, D had 9 sexual harassment claims against him from these female colleagues. But because he was so profitable to the company, the CEO turned a blind eye, settled them out of court and then moved D to a different team to avoid any negative perceptions. Many of these emails between D and these female colleagues was very explicit, and it was very clear his advances were unwanted. Lots of dick pics, lots of pics of D and his wife engaged in sexual activities hoping the female colleague would want to join in, etc.

D also had a folder called "New Accounts". By this point, my image of D was shattered. The guy I thought was a great mentor was just a sleazebag. So I looked into that folder, and found a massive collection of some of the most explicit child porn. My mind will be forever haunted by the filth that I found there. Even just thinking about it now makes me want to cry for the lost innocence of those poor children. So I wanted to sink this guy.

My thought process was this: If I straight up reported the CP, it would be obvious where the reporting came from since I was the only one who had access to his PST file. I didn't want to have a vindictive angry Marine breathing down my neck. So instead, I reported the accounting irregularities through our anonymous company hotline. This would trigger an immediate investigation which includes a thorough audit of a person's computer. Even though D had his laptop with him on his vacation, his desktop computer was still very much online at the office.

Accounting and legal took the investigation insanely seriously. Things moved so fast that I got a call from D the next day with a request. "I need you to write up two notes. One note says 'This is my two week notice.' and the second note says 'I tender my resignation effective immediately.' If the CEO asks about me, hand him which ever note you think is best."

He wanted to resign and collect a severance before the investigation concluded, knowing that the company would have to call the police when they found his CP stash. If he resigned before the investigation finished, chances are the company would just sweep it under the rug since the "problem is now gone." I never handed the note to the CEO. And the police were called. D was arrested. His wife was also arrested. His daughter, which turns out, was one of the kids in the stash, was taken in by another family member who completely cut themselves off from D.

An added bonus to this was that the subsequent accounting investigation led to a discovery. Turns out the CEO filed bankruptcy for one of the magazines to secure additional $15 million in funding. But instead of applying that money to the failing magazine, he pocketed $12 million of it and spent it on lavish homes in other countries. This led to the CEO also being arrested as well.

I left the company shortly after, realizing that the entire place was a toxic shithole of backstabbing and the kind of behavior that went on was actually the norm at this place.

Last I heard, D was still in jail, the CEO was penniless, and the entire company was sold off to another parent company because it had gotten so toxic to be associated with it.

TLDR: Boss did some shady accounting stuff and I discovered he had CP on his computer. Accounting stuff was reported and police got involved to arrest my boss. Further accounting anomalies led to discovering CEO was also doing shady stuff with money and he was arrested as well.

​

Addendum: Hey all, I've been reading some of the comments and thought I would add some additional insight and thoughts behind my post.

Yes this story is factual. While the identities of the company and those involved will remain private, for those who have worked in high pressure sales environments will know that people like D are not a rarity. It's the nature of the type of people that get hired for those kinds of roles. If you've ever seen the Wolf of Wall St, you'll know the kind of people that were hired at this publishing firm.

Yes I was making that much in my 20's. I had been in magazine publishing since my mid teens. In the 90s I started my own print publication in the whole import automotive racing scene. It started small, but did gain some notoriety in street racing circles and help caught the attention of some very worthy advertisers. Being bilingual in Japanese and English, this allowed me to expand my magazine's advertising reach overseas to Japan where the street racing scene was in full swing. I learned very early on how to do advertising, marketing, sales, and publishing. However, once that scene started dying down the magazine lost its appeal so I took a lot of my advertising accounts with me to the publishing firm where the above story took place. Many advertisers are loyal to the sales rep and not the client.

The event of the story took place around 2008. While I had a team of 200 sales reps under me, most of their PST files were relatively small since most of their work was via phone sales. This company was incredibly old fashioned with tech. Like I said, I was the graphic designer. I knew how to use Photoshop, InDesign, etc. from my old magazine but I would never actually consider myself to be a professional graphic designer by trade as it was all self taught and very limited. I just knew how to make things "camera ready" (this means high enough resolution for print...300 dpi). Because I did a lot of graphic design work, I was given a pretty high end laptop for the period. The hard drive alone was 640GB (it was two 320GB drives in RAID0 array).

Evacuation of the office. Perhaps this was strongly assumed to be an immediate emergency evacuation. We sent everyone home while management assessed what the cause was with the fire department. That is what I meant by closing up shop. So it did give me ample time to copy over the PSTs knowing that I'd be working from home later that afternoon.

To whose who say they would happily work those hours for that kind of pay. I used to think the same thing, which is why I took the job. My base pay was $60K plus commission. And I made a lot of commission and I never missed a sales goal. I also made commission of my teams. Those 200 people were divided up into various sub-teams for each magazine we published. I earned commissions of their total sales as well on top of a monthly sales commission bonus for goals reached. Keep in mind this was just before the housing crash in 2008. People were spending money like it would never end. And our company raked it in. But here's the rub...I was so perpetually stressed. My girlfriend at the time, she was a sales rep on a different team, would cry in the car on our way in to work every day. I worked 6 days a week. I would be so stressed that my Saturday nights were spent in isolation on my computer playing video games. I wouldn't sleep until the sun came up on Sunday, then I would sleep all through Sunday until Monday morning. I was subsisting on 4 to 5 hours of sleep per day during the week. It took an incredible toll on my body. Many of my reps were coke addicts and we turned a blind eye to it because it helped them dial faster and sell more. Some of the managers would staff sales reps from temp agencies asking for people specifically who came out of rehab, knowing they'd relapse at this place where we'd either fire them for performance issues and not pay the staffing agency their hiring fees or they'd be so coked out they'd make a killing in sales.

To my shame, I never reported the CP. I had this image of corporate lawyers coming after me and fighting this never ending legal battle of trying to maintain my innocence. I was young, naive, and didn't know what options I had. That is why I went with the accounting route through the anonymous company hotline. I knew they would do a scan of D's computer and audit his emails which is why I moved his CP folder into a more prominent place for it to be found. Like many corporations, they are more concerned with maintaining a public image and this is something they wouldn't want getting out if it was reported to law enforcement agencies by an employee. I knew once they found that folder, they would be compelled to contact authorities anyway, so it removed the onus from me and removed me from the equation. Plus, after learning about D's darker side, I didn't want him or someone sent by him coming after me for ruining his cushy job. I went with the route I felt would involve me the least and protect my own self the most. I wish I could have reported it to the authorities. Now that I'm much older, looking back, I don't know what things I would have done differently. But now that I'm married and I have a stepson, I think about if I found his photo in there, I can definitely imagine me waiting for him to return so I could exact revenge personally. But that is a bunch of "what if's" and life tends to go very differently.

Our company IT. My office was a satellite office in downtown Los Angeles 45 miles away from our main HQ where the IT team was. It was set up specifically for my team of 200. To give you an idea how inept our IT team was, our IT project manager was tasked with hiring a consultant who would scope out and build us a custom sales/phone software that would link with our database of advertising accounts and other businesses in our database. We had one of the largest databases of businesses in this industry where competitors would offer us very large sums of money just for a portion of this database. Our IT team spent close to $1.6 million on this consultant, and in the end what we were told was a custom program was actually just a turn-key software...for inbound call centers. We were an outbound sales team. What this means is that we were given a program that wasn't custom built for us, had problems using our database, and was designed for call centers that received phone calls (eg - cell phone or cable company call centers). We were an outbound center. We weren't just a call center as many of our reps also traveled nationally to visit advertisers, so an inbound software was absolutely junk to us. Because of our IT's ineptitude, I had to learn a lot of IT basics myself. As far as browsers, most of our staff was using Firefox since it used to be fairly lightweight and quick.

Like many of the stories in this thread, I understand the skepticism. Some of the stories sound so over the top and sound like a fabrication. One thing I've learned from being able to experience quite a lot in life from early on is that there really are shitty people out there like D. The reason for the throw away account is because my main reddit account is used for work in my current industry and I, unfortunately, deal with the public in my job and I don't want this associated with my actual identity.

So why post this at all? I don't care about internet points or accolades, but I do appreciate the comments of support. In a way it's been a bit cathartic for me to share this publicly. I've told the story to coworkers before, and I've felt I never really had any closure with it. This doesn't give me any closure either, but being able to share it on a forum designed for stories like this does help with that burden just a bit. I hope D's daughter grows up to be as normal as can be expected from a situation like that. I still keep in contact with a few of my old sales reps. While I now live quite far away from Los Angeles, I do like to hear back from them to see they're doing ok in life.

Addendum 2:

After I posted this story, I reached out to a few of my former colleagues who I worked with during this time just to see if there were any additional bits of information I might be able to learn. Even with the few friends and colleagues I do keep in contact with, many of them left before this story happened and many were moved to other teams before the following hammer dropped.

One thing I found out tonight from a former colleague was what the aftermath was. After the CEO was removed, the parent corporation was deciding what to do with my branch. Because the embezzled money came from one of the magazines my team was on, during the legal hearings the entire office was shuttered. And it was done in a really shitty way.

Every employee at that branch received a FedEx letter on a Saturday stating their employment with the company was terminated. Again...on a Saturday. This was done to avoid having to do it face to face while everyone was at the office. Because this was a surprise, many of them immediately drove down to the office to retrieve their personal belongings only to find hired security guards who were instructed to not let anyone in. The now-ex-employees were understandably upset. Part of the reason was because of the amount of embezzled money, the legal teams needed to make sure employees weren't removing any potential evidence. But what this meant was that they weren't able to retrieve their personal belongings, and some even had their cell phones, valuables, and other items they wanted to retrieve inside the office. Apparently the office was locked for nearly a year before the staff was able to get court-assisted permission just to retrieve their personal items.

Since then, the building we worked in has been leveled and is now an area being gentrified and has totally turned into a modern, hipster apartment complex. When the toxic magazines/assets were sold off to a new publishing firm, luckily many of the employees were able to be rehired by the new publishing firm and are still working there. Fortunately, the new publishing firm is quite the opposite of the one we worked for.

(source) (story by FalconerXV)