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lene-loki · 9 months

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Sweet Salvation

Summary: Even though you already ended your toxic relationship, your abusive Ex-boyfriend still has got ahold on you. Addicted to drugs, he threatens every cent out of you for his criminal machinations. You are only working as a cleaning person for Nelson&Murdock and barely afford to live in your tiny apartement even without your Ex milking your wallet dry. One day you find yourself desperate enough to steal money out of your bosses office after hours.

Plagued with guilt you try to return the money before your boss notices it but Matt Murdock already knows and he's not happy.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Female Reader

Warnings: (I'm sorry if I forget some), angst, it's really dark, drug addiction, abuse (physical and emotional), swear words, attempted suicide, suicidal thoughts

A/N: It's not completely proofread yet, so please excuse any mistakes! ❤️

It rumbles in the hallway in front of the door to your apartement and your heart starts to race. Knowing all too well who's coming to visit you this late again. You can hear the clinking of keys, how they find their way to the keyhole while you automatically hold your breath. Fingers clamping painfully around the handles of your handbag, your knuckles turning white from the straining of your skin. The door finally opens and your Ex-boyfriend enters, having you wide-eyed and shaking before he can even say a single word. You aren't just afraid of him. You are totally terrified to the point where every fearful beat of your heart hurts so much inside of you that you would prefer to rip it out of your ribcage yourself.

"Y/N." He rasps menacing, his voice held low while he shuts the door. Trying to swallow you stutter a simple: "Hi."

Your saliva gets stuck from not being able to properly breathe and having your throat drawing itself together. You know why he came. It's the same reason why he visits you since you two were together. He wants money. You didn't know that he is a drug addict and further than knee deep into the criminal scene of Hell's Kitchen until it was too late. You thought breaking up with him would free you from him - but it was only the beginning and now you know the real him. The man he hid from you when you two met and you cursed every day that you have ever been involved with him. You know too much about him and his life and he wouldn't dare letting you off the hook that easily. He knows how to break you and get what he wants. He isn't even saying what he wants anymore, he just expects you to give him the money without any hassle from your side. Of course you would never cause any trouble - you are far too scared and weak to defend yourself from him and you know fully well what happens when you put yourself in his way.

You hesitate, still frozen in fear when he clears his throat impatiently. Shaking, you rummage your wallet out of your handbag and weakly put your entire cash onto his awaiting palm. You watch him as he counts it angrily.

"Fifty Dollars?! Are you serious?!" He roars.

The feeling of choking spreads inside of your throat as every bodily function of yours grows numb.

"I-I don't have more." You tremble, knowing that by the time you can finally leave for work you'll be covered in black and blue bruises.

He lets out a dry laugh, his forehead already covered in sweat again. You know all of the telltale signs when he experiences withdrawal symptoms again and at this state he's the most dangerous to you.

His own fingers are shaking. He probably hadn't had any illegal substances for quite a few hours.

"I need 400! Now!" He growles with emphasis in his voice.

"I don't have more." You repeat, your voice shaking and the absolute opposite to his vigor in tone.

Faster than you can react he wraps his empty hand around your throat. Even though he seems a little unsteady on his feet, you can't manage to get out of his strong grip. All of your fingers are desperately grasping his big hand in an attempt to loosen his grip. His face comes closer, his hand squeezes your throat some more and it's getting harder to breathe. You try to scream but your voice disappears like dust in the wind.

"I want 400 Dollars by midnight. Or else" his voive becomes scarily low, "I crush your pretty little neck." His hand demonstratively squeezes even harder around your throat and you can feel your consciousness walking on a fine line between reality and nightmare.

He isn't making empty threats. You learned the hard way that he means everything he says always a 100 percent.

When he finally lets you go, you stumble backwards, almost completely losing your balance. It's not until he left your apartement that you allow yourself to cry. The shock and the numbness disappearing, leaves you feeling every single emotion you had surpressed just minutes ago.

After you had calmed down enough from your little breakdown, you walk into the bathroom to check on your throat. A big bruise is already forming on your tender skin - impossible to hide. So your only choice left is to wear a turtleneck in the middle of August in case Mr. Nelson is still present in the office. You don't worry about Mr. Murdock since he is blind but sometimes you feel like he sees more than you think.

When you arrive at the law firm the sun had already set.

You step into the office and turn on every light in the room in an attempt to feel a bit more safe.

Just when you think that you're alone, you hear footsteps around the corner. Matt Murdock walks out of his office space and you clutch your hand over your heart, gasping wildly as if a kidnapper just caught you.

"Woah there." Matt smiles softly as he approaches you.

"I-I thought I'm alone." You pant still shaken from your encounter with your Ex-boyfriend.

He frowns and although his eyes are covered from his red lenses you can see his eyebrows furrowing.

"Is everything alright?" He asks so tenderly that suddenly your heart feels like its melting.

You are not used to be cared about. Matt's soft voice and his sudden interest in your well-being is throwing you completely off guard and you stand there speechless.

He tilts his head after another second of silence passes.

You shake your head, hoping to shake some sense into you again before you clear your throat.

"Eh- Yes. Th-Thank you for asking." You stammer your words but mean them sincerely. He shows you a crooked smile, obviously not believing you and you start to wonder how he even knows that something's up with you.

"You sure?" He pushes cautiously, afraid he could scare you off like a freightened deer. You instantly nod before you let out an akward laugh. "You nodded, didn't you?" He grins.

"Yeah." You start to tense from all the akwardness in the air but there's something else too.

You can't quite put your finger on what it is but the longer you look at your boss the more an unknown feeling spreads inside of your belly and strangely in your ribcage right where your heart suddenly looses its control - unable to keep its normal pace. For a moment you think its about to rip open your body from the inside and flee right into Matt's hands.

Your eyes widen and you can't help but to furiously blush at that sudden thought. Your cheeks are burning up and you wonder if you have to call the fire departement to extinguish this heat because you doubt that you get this fire inside you tamed by yourself.

But why are you suddenly feeling this way?

It's not like you notice for the first time just how attractive Matt is and how his voice is as smooth as honey.

"Uhm, I should get to work." You say after another moment of you gawking at your boss.

You try to push away your feelings which are seemingly clouding your sanity. Deep down inside of you, you know that you would never have a chance with such an handsome man like him.

"Oh, yeah, of course!" He says rapidly, scratching his neck with a breathtaking smile plastered on his face. "Then I let you get back to work. See you tomorrow, Miss (Y/L/N)."

"Good Night, Mr. Murdock." You can't help but to beam at him.

He accidently brushes your shoulder as he passes you on his way to the clothing rack. "Sorry." He giggles slightly while you are sure that your heart is by now exceeding every tempo limit on a highway.

You watch him as he puts on his jacket and unfolds his cane. He shows you a last smile as if he knows that you are looking at him before he leaves the office.

Now that you are really alone, the giddy feeling inside of your body caused by Matt slowly disappears and you are left with the suffocating fear of your Ex-boyfriend.

It suddenly dawns on you that you are in no way able to get 400 Dollars until midnight which means he's going to kill you.

Your knees start to shake and you try to distract yourself with your work.

~*~*~*~*~*~

For about an hour you manage to succesfully clean the little kitchen and the reception area. It isn't until you step inside Matt's office space that you get really consumed by very bad thoughts. It is the moment that you notice a glass jar with dollar bills inside on his desk that your fingers start to itch in need to grab that container.

"No, no, no." You tell yourself.

You are not a bad person and you wouldn't do this to Matt.

He would never forgive you for this. He would most certainly fire you for stealing money from his office - money that his clients probably paid him for his work.

You are depending on this job. You can't risk losing it.

You can already picture yourself homeless and starving.

Shaking your head so hard it hurts you try to focus on cleaning his space. But you just can't.

What choice do you even have?

Either you steal that money and get fired and homeless or you get beaten to death at midnight by your Ex.

You had to decide between pest and cholera.

Your heart is beating painfully hard inside of your chest, adrenaline pumping in an abnormal speed through your veins. Your hands seem to have a mind of their own as they turn up the lid of the jar.

For a moment you pause.

What if this was a trap and Matt left it there on purpose?

But even this concern can't stop you anymore. Carefully you take the money and start to count the bank notes. There are 500 Dollars in your hand. As honest as you could be in this situation you only take 400 Dollars and put the rest back inside the jar.

The guilt already eating you from the inside.

It is already past midnight when your Ex finally comes into your apartement - still having your key even though you begged him multiple times to give it back.

He rushes immediately to your shaking form on the sofa, raging and even more aggressive than he had been a few hours prior.

"I'm waiting, bitch!" He screames at your face after you seemingly struggle with moving a single bone due to your fear.

"Y-Yes." You stutter, jumping from the seating and running to your handbag.

You don't know what it is but suddenly you can't pull out your wallet anymore. He groans behind you, impatiently waiting.

But the immense guilt that you have been feeling this whole evening, makes you second guess if you could really live with disrespecting Matt like that. After all the trust he put in you to go behind his back and do something like this.

You can't do it, even if it means you get killed tonight.

You are already feeling half dead as you turn back around to the furious man standing in your flat.

"I-uhm actually couldn't get the money together." You say surprisingly composed given your current situation.

He let that humorless laugh out again that sends chills down your spine.

Frustrated he rubs his hands over his face as if he's trying to stay calm although he's been raging since he stepped a foot into your living space.

You try to prepare yourself for what's to come as he finally puts his hands away and looks you directly in the eyes.

You can't move a single muscle.

Everything hurts. From your toes to your forehead and everything inbetween.

You can barely hold yourself up as you lean with your entire weight on the sink in the bathroom - gripping the surface as if your life depends on it.

Sobbing loudly you try to take care of your wounds by yourself.

To the bruise on your throat came a few more in addition. Not even a turtleneck could hide that now. It is unsettling obvious what happened to you last night - that your Ex tried to choke you to death but fortunately failed.

But is it really fortunate that you are still alive?

Maybe it would have been better if he killed you. Or is it a twisted game of his to see how much more he can torture you until you break for good?

"You won." You whisper, keeping eye contact with yourself in the mirror. That was the last straw. You can't keep living in fear that he might kill you any day and with the aftermaths of this hurting. The only salvation for you has to be death. At least you can take your life by yourself without pain. You won't give him the satisfaction of dying because of his hands.

But you couldn't peacefully die like this - not with the guilt of the stolen money still tattooed in the back of your mind. You need to sort that out first before you can finally come to rest - forever.

You could manage to make your bruises look somewhat alright. There are only two in your face anyway, he focused mostly on your upper body and neck when he almost succeeded in killing you not too long ago.

The way to Nelson&Murdock is absolute hell.

Wearing a turtleneck and a thick scarf you are close to melting into a puddle in this summer heat. Only after the shock from your other injuries subsided you felt the unbearing pain in your throat. You also noticed before you left how hoarse your voice was and how much it hurt to even breathe. Yeah, you can't do this anymore and you won't.

You sneak into the office before Matt, Foggy and Karen come to work and put the money back in the glass jar on Matt's desk. Then you go back home where your bathtub is already waiting with a bottle of pills to put an end to this misery.

Your stomach starts to flutter in anticipation of what you're about to do at home. You don't care if you're even in the right mind at the moment to plan something like this or if it's the dumbest decision you ever made.

When you enter the building you notice a shadow underneath the door to your work space.

No, this can't be. You start to panick.

They shouldn't be here this early.

With your heart thumping in your chest like a horde of elephants stomping inside of you, you open the door and enter.

Already six pairs of eyes are set on you. All equally suspicious of you.

Matt, Foggy and Karen are standing at Karen's desk, watching you as if they awaited you.

You had no chance to return the money without anyone of them noticing it. That is it.

You are feeling like fainting when Matt suddenly tenses up so hard his shirt begins to strain against his body.

"Miss, (Y/L/N)? I would like to speak to you for a moment." You gulp at how serious his voice becomes compared to last night.

"In my office."

You are close to breaking your own fingers with how hard you are fidgeting them while you are sitting across from Matt.

He sighs when he suddenly takes of his glasses. You have never seen him without them before and you can't help the excited tingle in your stomach when he shows you his beautiful hazel eyes. It feels so intimate to you as if he's sharing a secret with you no one else knows.

Matt's gaze lands on your chin as he probably tries to focus his eyes on yours.

"Miss (Y/L/N)." He sighs again. "It is not easy for me to do this and I want in no way to accuse you of something. But something happened and I need you to be really honest with me." He says calmly, having you gulping down in guilt and shame.

Without moving his eyes from your face, he grabs something from the floor beside him and puts it subsequently on the surface of his desk.

Your eyes start to burn with building tears as you look at the almost completely empty glass jar.

Having to see his uncovered eyes during your inner turmoil somehow makes you feel even more intimidated by him.

"Last night when I left there were 500 Dollars in this jar. Now there is only a single hundread dollar bill left." He is stating matter of fact.

Neither raising nor lowering his voice.

Since you started working for Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson you had conversations with either of them in their offices of course - but none has ever been so serious.

Matt stays silent, patiently waiting for you to answer even though he didn't ask a question. He wants to give you the chance to be honest about what you've done. And this is the moment where you can't keep yourself together anymore.

Sitting there in pain, having not slept the entire night you realize just how much of a mistake you've done.

Before you can get a word over your lips, you start to sob. Embarassed by yourself you try to force yourself to be quiet but it's useless. Shaking, you wipe your tears away from your cheeks while still crying too hard to talk. Matt's facial expression softens a little bit as you cry obvious enough for a blind man to notice despite your best efforts to hide it.

"Miss (Y/N/L)," Matt starts but you interrupt him, sobbing loudly now. "I'm sorry." Your voice breaks, your injured throat hurts too much to bear.

His gaze falls, he doesn't even try to cover up the look of pure disappointement. He trusted you and you abused it.

That hurt even more than all of your bruises combined.

He doesn't speak a single word while you rummage the cash out of your handbag and return it to your boss. Ashamed you press a hand over your mouth, not wanting to let Matt know that you are still crying like a baby that made a mess in its diaper.

His fingers brushes the dollar bills that you put in front of him.

You can't read his expression.

Is he surprised you gave it back?

Did he expect you to keep it?

It is impossible to tell what he's thinking.

But then he finally talks again after all this silence where you've been crying and apolygizing.

"Why?" Is everything that comes out of Matt's mouth, barely above a whisper.

Now it's your turn to lower your head.

You can't tell him what's going on in your private life. He would probably push you into going to the police or sueing your Ex-boyfriend and that would just all make it worse.

Matt sighs yet again as he puts his head into the palm of his hand.

"I don't like to do this, but I have to. And you know it."

Blood starts to dripple inside of your mouth from how hard you bite down on your lip - dreading what he's about to say.

"You are fired."

The words leave his lips ponderously and weak as if he really doesn't want to dismiss you.

You nod your head, not caring if he sees it or not, in agreement since you knew from the moment you took the money that this would be the outcome.

"I will refrain from filing a lawsuit against you because you returned the money and" He takes a deep breath "I trusted you."

The last sentence hits you right in your chest.

It confirms to you that you have lost everything with Matt whatever you thought you had with him.

Trying to compose yourself and not to break down in front of him, you stand up from your chair.

You shouldn't care about losing your job actually. You don't intend to come back anyways but what really destroys you is how you betrayed Matt and have to die knowing that the last time you saw him - felt nothing but disappointement for you.

"I'm sorry." You say for the last time before you exit his office, keeping your head down low so Foggy and Karen can't see your tears which are still streaming down your cheeks.

Back in your apartement you can finally let everything out.

For hours you are lying on the floor, crying and unable to stand up. You just want to die right there on the spot, too weak to even walk to the bathroom where your pills waited for you.

You somehow managed to fall asleep on the floor in exhaustion, waking up hours later in complete darkness and hurting.

It is almost two a.m. when you finally manage to get up on your feet.

The bathroom door is standing open just like you left it. But you can't put your plan into action yet.

Something's still holding you back or maybe you are just a coward.

You don't care about how much your body is hurting, but you need to get out of your apartement. And the time doesn't matter to you as well.

You get dressed in sporting clothes and go for a jog to clear your head. You accept willingly to get mugged - that would really make your day perfect.

But in reality what's really torturing you is how you lost Matt.

What is really crazy considering you never even had Matt to begin with. The truth be told you always had feelings for him - deeper than a normal boss-employee relationship. And now all of that is destroyed.

Crying again you are running through the night driven by all of your emotions, bubbling to the surface after years of surpressing them. This is how you find yourself in front of Matt Murdock's apartement - too high on adrenaline to think straight. Your sanity has long been gone.

You need this.

You can't die with how things went.

Sweating and shaking you start to hammer your first against his door regardless of his neighbours.

It only takes a minute for your former boss to open the door. His eyes are half shut, tired and annoyed he tries to put his unfocused gaze somewhere without falling asleep on his feet.

You get extremely nervous all of a sudden. And then he furrows his eyebrows.

"Miss (Y/L/N)?" He asks irritated. It was always just professional between you two.

You don't even question how he knows it's you.

Pulling all your courage together, you get a step closer to Matt. Hesitatingly, you softly take his head in your hands - wishing he could see the look of admiration you always hold in your eyes for him.

He's not moving, curiously letting you do what you wanted to do since you met him for the first time.

Before the nerve leaves you, you place your lips tenderly on his.

Risking to get pushed away, risking to get your heart broken.

What you didn't expect was for him to return your kiss.

Can he taste all of the unspoken emotions you keep closed up in your heart because the way he puts his hands on your waist feels like an answer.

Overwhelmed from the feeling of his lips moving against yours, you are experiencing feeling you never felt before.

Your heart flutters when you realize that this is what you have been craving.

This feels like what you thought dying would feel like. But now you know what really heals you.

Matt is your sweet, sweet salvation that you want to last for infinity and beyond.

#marvel #mcu #marvel mcu #angst #imagine #charlie cox #daredevil #matt murdock #mcu fanfiction #matt murdock x reader #matthew michael murdock #matthew murdock #hurt #foggy nelson #karen page #abusiveboyfriend

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elderemorune · 3 months

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What a week.

TW: Suicide discussion ahead. Please be kind to yourself and don't read if you're not in the headspace for it.

A family friend passed away this week. I first learned about it a couple of days ago. Her name was Emily, and she was a lawyer. Damn fine one too. She and I weren't especially close, but I'd ask her legal questions on occasion, stuff like "Hey, how does founding an LLC work?" or "Hey, I just learned about this really cool business idea, can you point me to someone who can help me work out what I'd need to do for it?" It was professional, and I didn't know that much about her.

What I do know is that she suffered from chronic pain, and didn't have any tools to effectively manage it. The stuff that deadened the pain's addictive, and with doctors basically not prescribing opiates at all if they can help it, she was left in the lurch. Eventually it became too much to bear, and she just couldn't do it anymore.

She leaves behind a husband and children, whom are all kind and gentle folk. I recall meeting her partner at a baseball game with my dad once, he was a swell guy. Shook my hand firmly and made jokes about an ex-con marrying his lawyer. She just gave him a withering look, said "Don't be an ass, I don't even practice criminal law!" and we all laughed.

The pain overtook her, and it's hard to blame her.

I mean, can you imagine? Body aching all the time, no reprieve except when you're asleep? Doctors telling you you're engaging in drug seeking behavior simply because you'd like to have one good fucking day, just one?

My wife lives that life too. She's constantly in pain, her body fighting her at any given moment simply for the sin of having been born to parents who ardently refused to have her medical issues treated when she was a child, her dad and stepmom chiding her doctors when they said "She has a hormone imbalance brought on by precocious puberty".

"Oh she doesn't have anything wrong with her, she's just lazy and fat."

I'm digressing from what I wanted to talk about, sorry. That woman's been through a lot, and it's so hard not to get mad about it. Especially right now. I worry so much about her pain levels that I keep her supplied in marijuana and do everything about the house to the best of my abilities just to limit it as much as I can.

And while that's the worst thing that happened this week, I can't really say the rest was good. I mean, in comparison to suicide, sure I guess, but you know.

It's fucking weird when one finds out that your mom didn't actually want to be polyamorous again.

Oh yeah, my folks were poly in 2019, and that blew up massively in their faces for reasons that are not mine to share.

Anyway, I came to find out that my dad lied to my mom about how he met his girlfriend, Sarah. He said he met her on Reddit, but had lied about taking his dating profile down. He takes phone calls from Sarah every night at 5:00, when he's supposed to shut his office down and stop ignoring my mom for the day.

My mom has no desire to meet Sarah. Says "I can't, I'll hate her, and she hasn't even done anything wrong. I don't want to meet her."

As a polyamorous person in a monogamous relationship, there is a right way to do this, and a wrong one, and FUCK is the wrong one lying to your partner about it. I mean shit, I did that three fucking years ago! And while I would absolutely state that my behavior three years ago was of a significantly different (read harsh, mean, unkind, abusive), it started this way. With a lie.

Sure he came clean, but there's nothing that can be trusted about this relationship now.

So I finish talking to my mom about this because I have other shit to do and being angry at my dad for yet another reason isn't doing me much good. She closes out with this:

"Thank you for caring about me and having my back and being my amazing and wonderful son."

To wit I said "Well it's not like I can be anyone else, right? :P"

And completely unprompted, she says "Well you could be my amazing and wonderful 'child' instead of my son and you would still be the same as far as I'm concerned. I would still love you just as much. You're one of my favorite people."

For those who aren't good at speaking white suburban mom, this translates to "I would still love you if you were trans."

What? I'm still confused by this. About once a year, I sit down and take a mental inventory, you know, see who I was this last year, and compare that to who I want to be. That includes taking stock of my gender identity. That part of the process generally amounts to "Am I comfortable in my body? Yes? Good.", but if it were different then that's fine too.

Like, I'm not GNC, I'm not genderqueer, I'm just queer.

Apparently, because trans folks often use this term to refer to themselves, my mom had simply assumed that I was among that crowd.

Again, what? What a fucking leap of logic, mom! Well, at least we know you're an ally.

And also, I'm honestly crossing my fingers with the hope that you'll divorce dad. I love the two of you, but fuck are you awful for each other.

What else happened this week? Hell, I can't remember. Wednesday was weird, but I think I already talked about it previously. That shit with Ruth was a hell of a thing. I told my wife that I'm not going to any family events that Ruth is gonna be at unless my nieces are there. Then I'll just ignore Ruth and play with the kids. They fuckin love me. Hattie, my oldest niece, makes fun of me for "Talking too big" when she brings up God. They don't like Ruth either.

This is already getting kinda long, and I've got work to do, so I guess I'll update some other time.

Please be kind to yourselves.

#tw suicide #vent #blog #journal #mental health #polyamory #but wrong

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angstyandromanticwriting · 7 months

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Harley Quinn X FemWerewolf!Reader Angsty and Cute Prom Prompt

• Takes place before the first film (Suicide Squad - 2016) + Connected to previous prompts I’ve posted

!TW: Mention of previously committing murder, swearing, mention of dying after childbirth, mention of death, mention of previously having an abusive ex, self-doubt, implied suffering from depression, anxiety/anxious thinking, mention of previously being treated badly by family/insulted!

“But it’s true, Nugget,” Harley whined quietly, whilst you both were stood in the light of the veranda outside. It was finally prom night, and you’d, like you promised you would, told her the truth about what you were. “Even monsters need love,” she assured, and you frowned, looking away from her, before shaking your head; you wanted her to be afraid of you, especially after you’d killed Max not too long ago, for hurting her, and felt as if she would be better off without you, “a-and I’ll always love you for you, as well as the monster you are, I promise.”

“You - You can’t,” you murmured, “you just can’t; I’m not good for you-”

“Bullshit,” she interrupted, “you’re more than good for me, Y/n-”

You grimaced, a pained expression on your face, whilst your eyes began to darken, before you forced yourself to pin her against the wall behind her, surprising her, but she wouldn’t allow herself to get scared, or show any sign of discomfort whatsoever; she knew you were doing this to achieve something like that from her. “How can I be more than good for you when I could easily hurt you? I don’t have much control over myself, yet,” you stated truthfully, “I’ve not gotten that far, l-like my mum did, before she died, having me.”

“That wasn’t your fault, Nugget,” she reminded you, a hurt look on her face; she hated seeing you upset, like you were, now, “neither you or your mum had control over what happened, a-and stop trying to scare me away from you, because it’s not working - I love you, and nothing will keep me away from you, especially not you being a monster, or having the ability to turn into a large wolf.” You faltered, shaking your head, before turning away from her, whilst vivid flashbacks of your killing of Max were thrown back at you, making you feel even worse. Harley then timidly stepped closer to you, before shyly intertwining the fingers of her right hand with the fingers of your’s, prompting you to tense up, and forget how to breathe for a moment, whilst also feeling as if it was suddenly just the two of you outside; everyone else had disappeared around you both. “In fact, I think I love you even more, now,” she admitted, “just because you’re a cool, and cute monster; we don’t need to get a dog, now that I have you.” You couldn’t help, but giggle, amused, but you’d feel embarrassed as soon as you had, afterward, due to the sudden mood change you’d experienced. She smiled when she heard you laughing, finding it adorable, as well as magical, like you thought her’s was, too. “Hey,” she cooed, before delicately turning you around to face her, and she smiled lovingly up at you, prompting your heart to skip a beat, as well as eyes to glint, “no matter what happens, please know that I’ll always still love you at the end of the day - always; you’re everything to me, and I don’t wanna lose you, so please - please make sure that I don’t. You’ll stay, won’t you? For - For me?”

You hesitated, seeming unsure, and she frowned, a pained expression on her face, making you feel bad; you hated upsetting her - To do so always made you feel as if your heart might just shatter. Your sole purpose was to make her happy, and to keep her safe, but you found that hard whenever you remembered you’d killed her abusive ex, and whenever you remembered what you were. “I just-.. don’t want to get you into trouble; if anyone else finds out about me-”

“They won’t, I promise,” she assured, desperate to get you to stay, “and who cares if they do, anyway? It’s okay to love a monster, right? S-Surely.”

You shook your head gravely, and she would be disappointed, wondering why. “If anyone finds out about us; about what I am,” you spoke slowly, your voice close to a whisper; you were worried about people possibly overhearing the conversation, “they’ll hunt both of us down - Me for being a werewolf, and you for being associated with one.”

“But that’s stupid,” she remarked, before wrapping her arms around your waist, and you let your eyes lock with her stunning icy blue ones, easily getting lost in them whilst you did, “I’m sure if we tried to convince them somehow, t-that you’re not one of the bad monsters, they’d let us be together, and not harass us.”

You shook your head again, a pained expression on your face, and she frowned when she noticed that you appeared dejected, as well as disheartened, for a moment, as if something were attempting to wound you; you wished you were human, like her, sick of being chased out of every town you’d been to, except this one; they hadn’t found out about you, yet, and you were terrified of the possibility of having to leave; to run away, without her by your side. “They’ll never stop; we could never convince them that I’m one of the - good ones,” you contradicted, “love is blind, Quinzels; they’d laugh in our faces, before trying to harpoon us; we’d be lucky to escape them, if we did try to reason with them.”

She sighed, before giving in. “You’re right,” she replied, “we won’t tell them, then, and they won’t find out, I promise, let’s just-.. dance with me, Nugget; you promised me you would.”

You then appeared nervous, worried about doing something wrong; you were terrible at dancing, and had rarely done it in the past - at least just once, awkwardly. “Just - don’t laugh,” you managed, your voice barely audible, and she smirked, before tilting her head partially.

“I won’t,” she tried to reassure you, “just follow me, okay? If you still can’t, I’ll lift you up a little so it looks like you are.” You snorted, amused, prompting her to giggle, before she eased you even closer to her, and you both moved around slowly, trying to stay in time with the music. “You’re doing great,” she cooed, “honestly; you’re a real fast learner.”

“You really think so?” You inquired, and she nodded, surprising you. “My father, he - always calls me slow,” you murmured, and she frowned, remembering that she’d heard him do so before, a few days ago.

“Well you aren’t,” she assured, “he’s the slow one, Y/n, not you. You were right about everything earlier, even that love is blind, and I’m thankful that it is, even if you’re a monster, and can turn into a large dog.”

“I really thought you’d hate me,” you admitted, and she scoffed, shaking her head; she could never hate you, “w-what if - people did find out, n-not just about me, but about us - and decided not to tell anyone, whilst - whilst thinking that - we’re strange, or something-? You wouldn’t be deterred?”

“Of course not,” Harley answered truthfully, certain of herself, “if it’s a monster I’m in love with, then I’m glad to say so, especially when you’re a real beautiful one, too - And there’s nothing that could ever change that, I promise.”

“And if I - Changed, in front of you - You’d still love me?” You pried, and she nodded quickly, but you weren’t sure if she would, though you just looked as if you were a big wolf, when you were in your other form. “You wouldn’t be scared?” You pressed, suddenly stopping in place, and she shook her head, whilst wondering why you’d stopped.

“I’d have no reason to be scared,” she stated, before getting an idea, and looking around to make sure nobody was looking in your and her direction, which they weren’t, “think you could show me? We could go into the shed at the back - There’ll be no one there to see-”

“N-No,” you interrupted gently, your eyes full of fear and anxiety all of a sudden, “I’d lose you, if I showed you-”

“You won’t, trust me,” she urged, desperate to see, “c’mon, Nugget - I won’t be scared, or suddenly stop loving you, I promise - Show me, at least just once.”

You sighed heavily, before nodding, and intertwining the fingers of your left hand with the fingers of her right, so you could lead her away from the action, and toward the abandoned shed behind the building. “Fine,” you murmured, once you’d both reached it, “but-.. d-don’t watch whilst I’m changing; it’s not pretty.”

“Sure,” she replied, “though I’m sure it is; everything about you, and everything that you do is always mesmerising to me.” You managed a faint smile back at her, before closing the shed door, and she made sure to be facing the other way, whilst you undressed, and began to shift into your wolf form. Once you’d gone quiet, she slowly turned around, and would be surprised, finding herself staring for a moment, in awe; you were almost as tall as her, and had a completely white fur coat, as well as bold, and fiery orange eyes. “You’re - beautiful,” she whispered, and your eyes would subconsciously begin to glint, whilst your heart began to race, “and you know something? You don’t look like a monster, to me, at all - you’re amazing, Nugget; you never cease to surprise me. Now c’mon, we better get back to the dance floor, before the teachers start wondering where we are.” You nodded, before wincing when you remembered where you both were, currently, and shifting back after she’d turned to face the other way again. Once you’d gotten dressed back up, you accepted Harley’s hand, and smiled shyly, before she led you back toward the crowd you’d both previously slipped away from, as if you’d both never parted from it.

~~~~~

Hope you enjoyed it! ❤️

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monstergoblin · 1 year

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The Owl Pirates Chapter Twelve

First Chapter Tumblr Link HERE Previous Chapter Tumblr Link HERE Posted First On A03 Here It’ll be updated on A03 first and might take me a bit to get to updating it here as I always seem to forget about my tumblr. <3

Trigger Warnings Always Read Safe: Depression, Suicidal thoughts, Pushing down feelings, Overworking self to ignore feelings, Child Abuse (Belos is a bitch okay), Gaslighting, Self Gaslighting, Manipulation, Injuries

Chapter 12: Fun

The third day on Bumps island would be that last and if Hunter had a say in it he would be staying on the ship.

However, Hunter was not in charge of anything and was dealing with pirates after all,

Luz insisted on staying with King on the ship today. Leaving an odd number of children, which should be a great excuse to stay on the ship and not go about exploring this disaster of an island held together by the rules of an ex-captain.

Except Eda told Amity to watch Hunter. Instead of allowing the girl to pair off with Willow for the day. Willow in turn took to hanging with Gus and Matt instead. Amity was not about to miss out on the last day of Bumps island.

So Hunter was practically dragged back off the ship. Despite his protest of danger and ‘Luz can watch me”

“Well Eda put me in charge of you today.” Amity declared. “It would be another story if you hadn’t fucked it up the first night. “

He obeyed, following the purple haired girl around. She took off much earlier than Willow at dawn, and probably would have been on her way much earlier if Eda hadn’t stopped her to wait for Hunter.

“Dad said repairs should be done at noon, but we’ll probably stay one more night.” Amity stated as she gave a wave to Alador as they passed. “Lucky you might actually get to enjoy a night at Hexside.”

“I don’t want to go tonight.” Hunter stated crossing his arms.

“We’ll sit in the back tonight.” Amity declared. “I’ll sit next to you and defend your ass.”

“I can defend myself.” Hunter muttered,

“I do have to hand it to you.” Amity was eyeing a few places as they passed, It seemed the girl had finished her shopping and was actually looking for someplace to have fun. “You kept King safe, he wouldn’t shut up about it last night. How you protected him. Good job.” The last part was said so quietly Hunter almost missed it.

Amity stopped by a few places, a fortune teller which she asked Hunter to wait outside for- which was probably against the rules but Hunter didn’t mind the moment of quiet. Even with the eyes of pirates on him making it uneasy. Then she stopped by a jewelry place, a place she probably didn’t need to be in with the amount she wore already. Then she stopped by a gambling place where she played cards for a bit with strangers. She offered to pay for Hunter to join a round but he wanted nothing to do with it.

Belos always said gambling was a waste of time and effort.

Even if the kids made it seem fun back on the ship with their laughing and smirks.

Gambling was below him.

After gambling Amity took Hunter back to the fighting ring, where a few were in the rink fighting.

“Do we really have to be here?” Hunter complained as Amity found a spot on one of the stone benches and gave it a little pat for him to sit next to her.

“As much as I hate Boscha, this is a fun event. I wish it had been brought back sooner.” Amity shrugged watching those who were fighting with careful eyes.

Hunter hated that he also found these things fascinating. Watching the strange things that pirates allowed as ‘fair play’ in a fight. Like how the man used his peg leg to stop an attack from a sword.

Everything went in pirate duels it seemed.

Hunter winced as one of the swords stuck the man's arm. A wound Hunter knew hurt. The other man defended his friend letting the injured one recover before reentering the fight with the same fire the other held.

Belos would not approve of any of this back home.

Hunter shouldn’t either.

“And we have a winner!” The girl with red hair entered the ring- she seemed to be in charge of it. She handed the winnings to the victors. “Who else dares enter the ring and see if you have enough bite where your bark is.”

That was the lamest phrasing Hunter had ever heard.

“You any good with a sword?” Amity's question surprised him.

“I don’t want to-” Hunter stated. He had already told Lilith and Eda so. He did not want to fight here. Amity would not make him fight.

“It’s my gold.” Amity shrugged. “Besides, don't you owe me?”

“You already used that on being partners with Luz.’ Hunter hadn’t meant to sound so whiny.

“Come on, it'll be fun.” Amity grinned standing and dragged Hunter to his feet. She raised her hand entering the ring and pulled the poor boy with her.

“Amity again?” The red haired girl smirked as the two walked towards her. “I thought you still hated me.” She cooed. “Can’t seem to stop coming to me.”

“It's not about you, Boscha.” Amity scoffed. “This is how I bond with new crewmates.”

“I don’t want to bond with you!” Hunter complained.

“Then fight.” Amity raised a brow at him. “I’ll give you half the winnings.”

“I don’t care about gold.”

“Well now you do.” Amity pulled out her coin purse and handed Boscha a good chunk after counting it out.

“Forty” Boscha counted then shouted. “Sixty to the winner!”

Amity pulled out a sword from one of the bins around the rink and tossed it to Hunter not caring if he caught it or not- which he did- before pulling her own sword out.

“Willow says you’re fast.” Amity stated. “You know the rules?”

“You’re pirates, are there even any rules?” Hunter gawked as two took to entering the ring. A tall woman with short black hair and a man with fiery red.

“No killing blows, no major injuries, and go for their hair.” Amity listed on her fingers.

“Don't leave the ring.” Boscha added as the two other pirates paid their entrance. She skipped out of the ring as she got her payments and started the countdown.

He could do this. He could fight pirates, and even if they lost it was only hair- which would not look fantastic sure but it was better than dying.

“Fight!” Boscha shouted.

The woman seemed to target Hunter right away, he ducked under her blade before dodging behind barrels.

He was tired of all these shenanigans he was getting into on Bumps island. He much preferred it when everyone ignored him and let him do chores and read Rulers Reach.

“Use your sword, navy boy!” Amity called fighting the man with ease as she jumped onto a crate using it as higher ground and defended herself from his blows.

“I’m not even supposed to have one right now!” Hunter complained.

“Just use it!”

As the woman struck down with her blade Hunter brought his up to defend himself. The woman gave a grin as she used her leg to kick Hunter's leg loose.

His training kicked in as he lost his footing. He flipped around using his hand to not land flat and defenseless. He spun himself back up and faced his blade at the pirate.

He was Belos’s nephew after all.

Of course he knew how to fight.

“Cocky little rat aren’t ya.” The woman laughed. “Weren’t you on stage last night?"

Oh right, everyone had eyes on him still.

He met her blade as she slashed from his right and then lept over her leg that tried to sweep under him again. He wasn’t sure how else to go about this fight other than defend himself from her blows that came in one after the other.

There was no way he was going to take her down when his sword was occupied.

Except this was a pirates game right?

Hunter dodged behind a barrel and ducked around it spinning to bring himself behind the woman and kicked her before leaping away. It wasn’t enough to do anything but it was mocking and riling her up was what he was hoping for.

She charged him and Hunter stepped out of the way leading the woman to charging into one of the barrels losing her footing.

Hunter swiped a piece of her hair as she ran past.

That wasn’t so bad.

He held up the hair and looked to Amity.

She was fighting her own battle.

“I’ve got it.” Hunter shouted his smile showing off the gap in his tooth.

“Good now hold onto it.” Amity instructed, dodging a blow from the man.

Hunter turned back to the woman who had gotten up and was charging him once again. He let out an embarrassed squeak in surprise as he leapt out of the way landing on his butt.

He scrambled up as the woman turned back to him with a wicked smile that was sure to haunt at least some of his nightmares.

“I shouldn’t have underestimated one of Edas owls.” The woman cackled. “But we’re not done yet.”

The woman reached for his arm but Hunter ducked underneath her and booked it.

He ran away from the woman, keeping to the edge of the circular ring as she bolted after him. He could see amused looks from some of the people in the crowd as he looked behind him to see the woman not too awfully far away.

He just needed to buy time for Amity.

He circled around the rink keeping out of the reach of the woman and checking to look at Amity every so often.

Finally after he was nearly done circling the ring, when Amity held up a piece of red hair in triumph. Hunter was fast to follow, holding up the black hair and halting his tracks.

“Kid-” The woman panted out. “You- Are- Fast.” She wheezed as she stopped next to him and gave him a half-energized pat on the back.

“Thanks.” Hunter smiled at the woman.

“And we have a winner!” Boscha ran back into the ring darting straight to Amity, saying something Hunter couldn’t make out from his distance. Amity’s face dropped from happy to annoyed before she took the bag of gold and flipped off Boscha.

“That was hilarious.” Amity chuckled as she patted Hunter on the back. “We are so doing that again sometime.”

Hilarious?

He thought he did good, they won.

“Amity!” Willow called as soon as the two left the ring. She tackled the purple haired girl in a hug. “You two did so good!” She hugged Amity. “You’ve got to enter with me” She added to Amity.

“Sorry I’m done today. That guy took it out of me.” Amity smiled. “What about Gus?” She look over the girls shoulder to Gus and Matt who were making their way over.

“I’ll keep to my art of diversion.” Gus shrugged. “head on is not my style.”

“Fair enough. Maybe later.” Amity patted Willows shoulder.

“And you!” Willow turned to Hunter. “Wouldn’t enter with me but with Amity.” She put her hands on her hips but there was still a wide smile on her face.

“You should have seen that woman's face when you just ran around the ring.” Matt was laughing. “It was of pure shock no one expected it.”

Gus gave Hunter a pat on his shoulder. “You did good. Made me proud.” He acted dramatically holding his hand to his chest.

“Do I still get half the winnings?” Hunter looked to Amity who in turn pulled out the pouch and counted out half that she put in her own bag handing the rest to Hunter.

“Is that all it takes to win you over?” Gus smirked. “Money?”

“I was forced to enter.” Hunter defended.

“You sure were smiling big for someone forced to enter.” Gus raised one of his brows with a grin.

Hunter decided to ignore the comment.

But it was true, he hadn’t smiled in a while like that.

It was fun.

Belos would be so disappointed in him right now.

Who was he to have ‘fun’ with pirates?

“We’ll make you a pirate just yet.” Willow smiled and the words were meant in kindness.

But it filled Hunter with such dread.

“Can we go back to the ship now?” Hunter crossed his arms trying his best to keep a scowl on his face.

The kids all froze as they looked to him. Matt’s mouth fell open as his brows turned down, Gus backed away a bit with a small sheepish smile on his face and his brows furrowed, Willow’s smile dropped.

“Yeah, “ Amity said quietly patting Hunter's shoulder- and he hadn’t meant to flinch- he thought he got better about that. “Yeah, we can go back until tonight.” Amity assured. “And if you don’t want to come tonight, I’ll talk to Eda.”

“Okay-” Willow began. “Its- Okay - Bye guys.” Her smile returned but it wasn’t the same as before. Hunter didn’t know a smile could look sad.

“Bye Hunter. I’m glad you had fun.” Gus waved as Amity started to walk Hunter away.

“That was fucking weird.” Matt's voice carried, “I thought he was happy?”

Amity led Hunter back to the Talon without so much as a word. She glanced back at him a couple times to make sure he was still there. She looked at him like he was injured, but he hadn’t taken a single blow in the fight.

--------

It was a rule to always have at least two people watching the ship in Bumps docks. It was more people if they were outside safe territory, but Bumps was a place of peace- except for the occasional outburst- like yesterday.

Last night had stressed Eda out a lot, but she was still able to keep her cool despite everything. She chugged down drinks last night after the whole ordeal and would be lying if she said she wasn’t feeling the after effects a bit.

She allowed everyone else to run off to enjoy Bumps on the last day in port. It was relaxing with it just being Luz, King and her on the ship. Like old days before the whole crew was formed. If Gus and Willow were the first to return it would add to the nostalgia.

Except they weren't. Instead the ex-merchant led the ex-navy dog up the gangway in the afternoon. Amity looked back at the blond boy as he entered the ship and he made it straight to the stairs he loved to sit under.

“What’s up his ass?” Eda asked as Amity walked by the barrels Eda had arranged to allow herself to lay back on them.

“He was happy.” Amity sighed out- which wasn’t the answer Eda had expected. “Then he wanted to come back to the ship.”

“Huh.” Eda looked to the stairs where Hunter crammed himself. He looked ridiculous folding in on himself to sit in the small storage space gap. “Okay.” She sighed standing up and stretching. “I guess it’s time to be the captain.”

And the mother owl.

The little nickname Camila had given her was starting to stick. Eda couldn’t say she was happy about it but it was true.

Eda stopped on the bottom step of the stairs. Where she could hear Hunter but couldn’t see him. He wanted to hide under the stairs so she was going to allow him the little privacy the ship supplied. Though it made Eda wish he hid in the crows nest like Luz- it was far more private there. She could still hear King's squeals in excitement as he played with Luz from here.

“Bad day?” Eda asked loud enough the boy should hear. She waited a moment but with no response she added. “You know I kinda owe you too. King told me how you piggybacked him around. Kept him safe.”

There was no response. This child.

“I’m still deciding what I should do to make it up to you. Though the life of my son isn’t something easy to repay. Hell knows what they would’ve done to King if they got their hands on him. Greedy Fuckers.” Eda continued on as she laid down on the stairs looking up at the sails above. “Glad no one recognized you either. I didn’t think about it as much at the time but you are Belos nephew. Anyone of those fuckers could’ve wanted revenge.”

Was he even listening to a word she said?

“I could lessen your punishment.” Eda pondered. “Make it two weeks instead of four. Which isn’t nearly enough in my opinion but still need to learn to trust you.”

She allowed it to be silent for a few moments. Sometimes that would encourage Luz to talk. Though Eda would admit she wasn’t a very patient woman. She wished she could read the child's mind, possibly get some answers on how to help him or if they should even bother.

A small hiccup made her sit up and look over to the opening in the stairs she couldn’t see.

Any person with a heart would feel bad in this situation.

“Hey,” Eda rested her arms on her legs. “Camila taught me how to make amazing cookies.” She offered. “It’s not often we get to have them but if you like cookies?”��

That was the most old lady line Eda had ever said in her life.

Cookies?

So much for feared Captain Eda, She felt more like a grandma now.

“Oh no.” Hunter's little voice cracked.

“What?” Eda stood prepared in case something was wrong. “Allergic?” She faked the joke as she approached the opening slowly.

Hunter's legs came out of the opening first followed by his panicked self wiggling his way out of the opening. He looked up at Eda with wide eyes that were red from crying, his cheeks were still wet but he had a look of horror on his face.

“I stole a sword!” He whined, said sword in his hands.

“What?” Eda couldn’t help but snort. “Where did you even?” She laughed. “No- I mean- I can’t let you keep it- but good on you. Truly learning from the master.” She couldn’t help cackling at the boy's distressed face- and yes she felt bad- but it could’ve been something far worse than petty thievery.

“Amity and I-” Hunter panicked holding the sword as if it were cursed. “I didn’t mean to- I need to return it-”

Eda put a hand on Hunter's shoulder- she did not miss the way he froze- she had to calm herself down a bit- trying her best not to tease the boy- before saying “Where did you get it?”

“The fighting ring.” Hunter answered looking up as if an obedient soldier- it was sick. “Amity and I entered. I borrowed a sword, but- I forgot to return it” he looked down at the sword in his hands.

“Boschas then?” Eda smirked, grabbing the sword from the boy, if only to just make him stop acting like it was hurting him. “She won't even notice it’s gone. I’ll hang on to it.”

“It’s not right-” Hunter started but stopped himself mid sentence.

“It’s not a big deal.” Eda shrugged. “You didn’t do it on purpose did you?”

Hunter shook his head, not meeting Edas gaze.

“Well, there you have it.” Eda stated. “If it means that much to you I will return it.”

Hunter was quiet for a moment before whispering out a “Please.”

“Okay, “ Eda agreed, she did not want to talk to the arrogant child that was Boscha but she didn’t go against her word- most of the time. “Just know I don’t normally return things. Not really how I work.”

Hunter nodded, as if Eda had meant it as a ‘don't screw up again’. It made sense considering the young boy worked in the navy. Eda had a sneaking suspicion it went deeper than that.

“You going to explain what's got you so upset this time?” Eda sighed looking down at the boy.

Hunter's wide eyes glanced up to Eda for a second before returning back down. “I-”

“It’s not an order.” Eda felt the need to say it. “Your emotions are your own, and while I think you need to talk about it. To ask for help. I don’t want you feeling like it's an order. That’s not right.”

Hunter's mouth closed and he looked back to Eda. The fear in his eyes was still there- but something else was there too. Something new.

“Do you want to tell me?” She asked.

Hunter looked down and shook his head, biting his lip.

“Alright.” Eda huffed wishing the answer hadn’t been that. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Perhaps that was the wrong decision. Eda had never been good at parenting, maybe the boy needed to be forced to talk about his emotions. It still felt wrong, so Eda was going to follow her gut and let the boy approach her when ready. It seemed to help a little- if that look in his eye meant anything.

She was absolutely going to hold the ‘stolen’ sword over the boys head once he got more comfortable here. 13TH Chapter Tumblr Link

#Mine #My writing #TOH #The owl house #TOH AU #the owl house au #TOH pirate Au #The owl house pirate au #pirate au #toh fic #the owl house fic #TOH a03 #a03 fic #a03 writer #a03 #fanfic #fic writer

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immaturityofthomasastruc · 3 years

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Emotional abuse is NOT to be normalized.

Hello everyone! Anon from the “

I’m a victim of emotional abuse

” post. And today I’m going to explain my story of the emotional abuse I went through.

My story begins as a lot do, online. I was about 10 years old so I didn’t know what were red flags, and what relationships I should avoid. I had a very toxic friend group back then that enjoyed self deprecation and honestly bullying each other, me included. We used to do the cringe roleplays children do and making cringe oc’s. I met someone we’ll call Rin.

Rin didn’t bully me like the others in the friend group and very often came to me for opinions, and over all talking without making me feel like utter garbage. I ate up all the praise, all the love and support Rin gave me. However, even as early as friendship, they would get angry at me if I did stuff they didn’t like and would sometimes ignore me, sometimes verbally assault me into apologizing for things I really shouldn’t have.

»»————-————-««

For context, Back then I was both unmedicated for anxiety and I was going through a harsh time with my aunt and cousins living with us. When I was 6, my drug addict uncle committed suicide and I’d been living with them for about 4 years by that time. (No, my parents nor aunt told us he committed suicide. at the time, don’t worry) They made my life HELL, constantly getting me in trouble and generally putting me down.

Context: Rin was 16 when i was 10.

»»————-————-««

One day I was doing our daily playing games with the friend group and Rin when one of our friends, Rose, Told us we’d make a *great* couple. By that time I had some feelings for Rin, we’d voice call occasionally, to me they weren’t a stranger. Rin had agreed and in hind sight I was kind of pressured into the relationship.

All of the behavior I mentioned before, where they would get pissy whenever I did something they didn’t like or get nice when I did something they *did* like got WORSE. It’s nothing like what media presents, because when people wish to manipulate you they will without hesitation.

Rin began threatening bodily harm, showing me cuts if I did something vaguely wrong. They would tell me I was worthless without them. That if I’d “Only just listen to me I could make you the best girl ever!"

They found it funny when I’d get squeamish over topics, continuing the conversations and saying that if I’d just tell them that I’d like it then they’d stop.

One day when I was 11, it just got too much for me so I said we needed to break up. You wanna know what Rin did?

They threatened suicide. They told me if I left them they’d kill themselves. That I was all they were living for. That I was the love of their life and if I left them it’d be my fault if they killed themselves.

I was 11, I didn’t know any better about the situation but I knew I didn’t want them to die so I stayed. I stayed in the relationship. I tried 3 more times to break up with the same result. the same threat of Suicide. Sometimes with photos.

After that original threat they began getting s*xual. They began mentioning we should meet up IRL, despite us being several states apart. They began describing what they’d do to my body s*xually when we met IRL. They told me that if I didn’t want to fulfill their fantasy’s I was a bad SO. That I should only exist to fulfill their wants and *their* needs. It didn’t matter what I wanted.

when I was 12, I finally had an out. They had been stabbed and sent to the hospital. They weren’t online so I took the chance and broke up with them when they couldn’t do anything about it. They tried when they got back but I was long gone.

Now normally Media presents this as when a trauma victim starts healing and returns to perfect normalcy. That isn’t the case. Its been at least 4 years since I left them, since I got out of that situation, but I still have the fears. Have the insecurities. I still hear their voice telling me I’m worthless, That I’d be better off a trophy on their wall. That since I’m not their perfect ideal woman I should just shut up and be the best wife to the next man that decides I’m worth their time.

my anxiety’s voice, once a always changing one *became* their voice. I’ve healed, I’ve moved on from the abuse but their voice haunts me. Their Abuse has left mental scars that will NEVER heal.

This is why having Mental Abuse of any form be normalized is horrible. because it means more people like me will go through situations like these. and not be allowed to escape because we’re "over reacting”. Because we’re “just in hysterics. it’s perfectly normal!"

this is a serious issue that shouldn’t be brushed under the rug. Miraculous Ladybug is the WORST offender of normalizing Mental Abuse I have ever seen. because I KNOW the red flags. I have trained myself to see them. To protect myself.

Normalizing normal little issues is fine. But mental abuse? never. NEVER should ANY form of abuse be normalized because it means more victims will appear. This shouldn’t even be a thing but here I am. Having to fight for people to realize this isn’t a thing that should be just accepted.

TL;DR: My first ex threatened to cause bodily harm when i was 10, and when i was 11 threatened suicide for me daring to try and break up with them. I escaped when i was 12, only barely. Now my anxiety has taken their voice and haunts me to this day.

If you’ve read this long, thank you! and have some

kittens

for what I just made you read. Thank you for your time.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

First of all, I want to thank you for your bravery in coming forward to share your experience. I am so sorry you had to go through this. Nobody deserves to be treated this way.

Second, you still raise a valid point.

Media in general tends to downplay emotional abuse and parental neglect, a good example being Monica Geller’s relationship with her parents from Friends. Almost every episode featuring Monica’s mom showed her being insensitive to her daughter and constantly belittled her while undermining her achievements like prioritizing Ross’ new girlfriend over Monica’s weight loss in a flashback. Even if it was unintentional on her part, it still damaged Monica’s psyche, and this kind of treatment was always played for laughs.

The fact that even shows today tend to downplay mental trauma shows that people don’t really understand the kind of damage it can cause.

The way Chloe’s relationship with her mother is portrayed is a good example. At least Friends is targeted towards an older audience so it could be enjoyed in a morbid way by laughing at Monica’s misery, but at its core, Miraculous Ladybug is aimed at children. Children will see Chloe bonding with her neglectful mother and see it as normal, as a good thing.

The fact that Astruc still doesn’t get how bad Chloe’s upbringing was shows he doesn’t get mental abuse either.

You need to better understand mental trauma before actually trying to write it. Otherwise, you end up depicting mental abuse in the wrong way and give viewers the wrong impression of it.

#immaturity of thomas astruc #iota #thomas astruc #thomas astruc salt #chloe bourgeois #queen bee #queen b #audrey bourgeois

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sadistgalore · 3 years

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Harper and Killian: Please Don't Go

huge trigger warning for self-harm here. if you are in any way affected by this, i beg you, do not read this for the sake of your mental health. harper’s had a rough life, and she heals in unhealthy ways. again, do not read if you are sensitive to this topic.

Taglist: @tropes-for-my-md-daydreams, @whumptakesthecake, @all-whumped-out, @distinctlywhumpthing, @painsandconfusionfornow

CW: depression, bad coping mechanisms, referenced noncon/torture, abusive relationships, self-harm (cutting), emeto, hallucinations, stockholm syndrome, insults, implied drug abuse, near death, passing out from loss of blood, suicidal thoughts

Something was wrong.

Harper had felt it all day. It was like an itch that she couldn’t scratch. But she wasn’t sick, she wasn’t even that moody. She just felt depressed, and like she was doing something…wrong.

It wasn’t until late that evening when the feeling got worse, and the anxiety of feeling she messed up almost made her want to throw up. Jake broke up with her last week, but it was only a matter of time where he call again and she would run to him- like she does with every other guy. But being single like this made her feel so empty. Empty in a sense that she was expecting for something to happen. Phantom touches were scattered all around her body, and would flare up whenever she would fuck up. She needed something to get rid of those itches.

Soon after, Harper found herself hanging over the toilet bowl, dry heaving as heavy tears streamed down her face and sobs wracked her body. She felt absolutely fucking horrible, but she found out what was wrong with her. She had gone too long without being hit, or backhanded, or kicked in the gut, or pinned up against the wall as bruises were bitten into her neck.

Harper gripped the edges of the toilet bowl and screamed. She screamed and sobbed and yelled as her body just couldn't handle the feeling of being safe. She could’ve laughed if she wanted to, she was finally free from the abuse but she was so fucked up that she needed- no, wanted to be hurt.

“You’re pathetic.”

She looked up with shock, knowing she was alone in the apartment since Killian was getting high at the nearest dive bar. No one should be here, where did that voice come from? She flung her head back down as another dry heave came.

“Stop crying, it makes you look ugly.”

The voice was closer now, almost as if the source was just beside her. It was familiar, the disgust that lined its tone was something she remembered from before.

“Hello?” She whispered, too scared to even look up from the head of the bowl. Harper was shaking terribly, and she felt her head grow heavy.

“Get up. Stop being weak.”

She whimpered as she gripped the bowl tighter, and her tears splashed loudly when they hit the water. The itch grew worse and worse, and it finally spread to her arms, making them feel as if they were on fire.

“Harper.”

The girl finally looked up, seeing her ex-captor standing just in front of the door.

“Master,” she gasped, body automatically responding with his title.

Dark looked utterly disgusted as he stared down at his former pet, mouth turned down into a grimace. “You’ve been gone from me too long, my pet. You’re fallen out of your place.”

“Please,” Harper pleaded, not exactly sure for what as her head fell back down again. It really hurt now. Dark was the last person she wanted to see, but she couldn’t go on not being punished.

“I’m not going to do it for you, Harper,” he stated plainly and when she looked up again, he was gone.

She took a shaky breath as she rose from the toilet bowl, the itching in her arms unbearable. She opened the medicine cabinet, trying to ignore her pathetic ugly slutty face when she met her reflection in the mirror. With shaky hands, she grabbed Killian’s face razor and made her way back to the corner to the bathroom.

I need this, I need this, I’ve been bad I deserve this.

She held the razor to the wrist of her left arm, and didn’t stop to the think about the consequences once the red liquid flowed down her limb. But the itching didn’t stop, she needed more pain.

So she cut. And cut. And cut.

——

Killian came back to their apartment around two in the morning, stumbling as he struggled to lock the door. He slipped off his shoes, trying to be quiet for the sleeping Harper, and made his way to the bathroom to piss.

He opened the door, and almost fainted at the sight. Harper was hunched over, arms bloody and pooling down into a large puddle around her. She still had the razor gripped in her hand. There was so much, too much, red.

“Harper!” He screamed, running towards her and roughly threw his shaving razor out of her hand. “What the fuck did you do?!”

Harper slowly woke up after she had passed out, and the itching came back, stronger than ever. “No!” She screamed after seeing the razor on the other side of the bathroom. “No, give it back!”

Killian quickly grabbed her hands when she flung herself at him, but the force sent them both crashing down to the floor. Harper was on top, but she couldn’t get away due to Killian’s tight grip.

“Let me the fuck go!”

“No! You need to calm the fuck down!” Despite his drugged state, he managed to flip himself on top of her and pin her to the ground, wrists above her head.

Harper’s breath stalled as Killian realized the position she put her in, not thinking as he let her go in regret and quickly apologized. The girl stared at him for a moment, and used that advantage to reach beside her and grab the razor. Killian reacted quickly, though, and grabbed her arms when her back was turned to him.

He jumped as she let out a scream that turned into a wail, struggling and not caring the strain on her arms that were tightly gripped by Killian.

“Please,” the young man begged. “Just calm down, don’t do this to yourself!”

Harper continue to struggle and sob against his hold, ignoring his kind words and her mind became clouded.

Pain, pain, need pain can’t be happy I’m always his I’m never free never free

She looked up, and saw that Dark was back . “Always so disgusting,” he commented, making her feel even worse. Her head was pounding and the craving burned.

“Please, Master!” She screamed, startling Killian with her tone. “Please, hurt me!”

Killian looked at her in shock, confusion in his face as he saw no one was in the bathroom with them. He noticed she was staring at something in front of her intently, and realized what this whole thing was for. He had days like these, too.

“Hey, Harper,” he shushed, running his hands through her hair. “You’re okay, he’s not here. It’s just us, he’s just in your imagination.”

Harper blocked him out and just wailed wordlessly, finally resting her head on his shoulder once she ran out of energy. Killian didn’t even the tears notice the tears falling from his own eyes. “Please don’t do this,” he pleaded, voice breaking. “Please, Harper, you’re beautiful. I love you, don’t do this, please. I love you.”

“I love you,” Dark said with his usual smug grin, looking down at her.

Harper shook her head and shut her eyes, trying to block him and the pain out. “I hate you,” she whispered. “I fucking hate you, just let me die.”

Killian just shut his eyes and held her tight, hoping she didn’t mean the words she said. She passed out again a minute later, leaving Killian to cry alone and pray that his friend would wake back up.

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helheimraptor · 2 years

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Don't say that - Sam Winchester

TW; mentions of abuse, suicide and trauma - aka based on a real ex of mine so haha, uh also tarot cards are used and its not a traditional deck I use so that may be different to yours if you use them :)

I let out a sigh as I fall onto my bed, my headphones softly playing my playlist for moods like this, the ones where you wanna be alone because everything is a little too intense.

I start to shuffle my tarot cards as I zone out and think about all the good and bad memories of the last few years, it sucks but it's my life. A few bad exes, some shitty friends, some loss of family and friends from this life and you get the summarised version of my mental state.

Today is the trauma from a shitty boyfriend. I realised how badly it hurt me despite being over it so I've decided to see what my tarot cards have to say, see if there's any insight into what I'm feeling and just to find some comfort.

Three cards jump out at me instantly, the second one I didn't even notice land on top of the first one. I look at each one and laugh a little bit.

Ten of Shields [reversed]; Issues with isolation and loneliness

"That explains a lot," I mutter to myself as I flip over my next card.

King of Swords [reversed]; Emotional manipulation and the clarity of realising that it's happening

"Well duh," I flip over my last card.

Ten of Wands; Overworking, hard work will pay off but sacrifices in mental health will be made.

"I knew that already," I sigh and sit on my bed for a few minutes in silence as my music plays in my headphones.

I see the door creak open out of the corner of my eye and I pull my headphones off and give Sam a soft smile.

"You okay in here?" Sam asks me as he sits at the end of my bed and sees my cards sitting in front of me. "Oh."

I give him a closed smile and nod, "I needed to take a minute and got answers that I needed to hear, they actually summed my emotions up really well at the moment."

"What's goin on then?"

"Trauma healing essentially," I say softly as start to pick up my cards and put them away.

Sam gives me soft eyes and a knowing smile, he's been here before and he knows how hard it can hit me some days. He scoots up the bed and opens his arms and I crawl into his arms, the mix of the warmth and the weight that he provides as he lays us down makes my heart skip a beat, this is exactly what I need and he knows it.

"Why do you help me when I'm down like this? No one notices let alone is willing to help me," I ask as look up at him from where my head is resting on his chest.

"You take care of me on my bad days, so it's only fair, I don't deserve you, y/n," Sam says and he gives me a smile.

I flinch at what he says, expecting him to yell at me or start crying about how his life isn't worth living because he's worthless like my ex used to, Sam sees this and he starts trying to figure out what he did wrong.

"What did I say?" Sam asks me and he gives me some space.

"I don't deserve you, he said it when he was trying to get me to talk him out of suicide or whenever we had an argument," I whisper as I look Sam in the eyes as mine start to burn and well up with tears.

"I'm sorry Sweetheart, I didn't realise," Sam says as I crawl back into his arms.

"It's okay, no one knows about what he did," I reply quietly, really only for myself but Sam hears me and kisses my head before he starts running his hands through my hair.

"I'm always here to listen to what happened, you know that," Sam says into my hair.

I nod in response and start to listen to his heartbeat as we get comfortable and start to fall asleep.

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #supernatural oneshots #sam winchester oneshots #sam winchester x reader oneshots #fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural imagines

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papers4me · 3 years

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Fruits Basket, Se3, ep11 (part 1)

Breaking toxic bonds & accepting healthy ones isn’t a miracle. A bond that started with love could end up chained & toxic, another that started wrong could’ve become the joy of a life time. You can do it. Break the cycle of abuse & stand up for yourself, it is easy yet so difficult, you aren’t alone, tho, loved ones stand nearby cheering. Be kind on yourself, otherwise you’ll throw your life away. Life isn’t just happiness & joy, it’s also sadness & loneliness. Break free from the shackles that held you down. Embrace life & Live.

-Tohru’s “ I’m okay” mask is finally shattered! (the Importance of kyo’s rejection for her development):

This is the last part of tohru’s character development! The last few eps were abt her role in Akito’s redemption & their similarities. she staood up for herself & choose a path away from her mom while keeping her mom’s memory in a healthy manner. No more planning my life according to mom’s wishes, no more talking to mom ‘s picture 24/7. Now, I’ll plan my life & move forward even if it is with the guy mom said she cant forgive. even If it is without him, I’ll move forward. I love him so much, yet I won’t force our bond & let go. So easy yet so difficult!. tohru doesnt know anything abt kyo after her fall. All she remembers is his heart-broken face as he wept beside her. Those tears on his face, she caused them. He cried cuz it is too painful to see her hurt. She was a burden to him! tohru restored to her old coping mechanism of pretending “ i’m Okay” & smiling. She did so numerous times before. Always worked. No one noticed. Except him. Se02, ep7. he urged her to show her true fears. Now, she’s faced with a pain so big she can’t pretend no more. the pain of loosing him. She cried in front of yuki! The smile & chatting abt chores couldn’t conceal the running tears! Yuki’s first time seeing her like that. Se01, ep14, yuki wondered how could tohru smile after her mom’s death. She can’t pretend no more! She’ll have to wear her feelings on her sleeve! cuz it IS ok to do so! She tells kyo to give her a moment to compose herself. She couldn’t lie & pretend like she did with yuki. Here she either run away or just try to compose myself! I LOVE THAT! This way, whenever kyo/tohru fight or have any misunderstanding in the future as a couple, you’ll know tohru won’t just bear it & pretend, “ i;m okay” No! she’ll talk to kyo & express herself! I LOVE THIS SO MUCH! It gives her so much strength as a human & I’m happy all the obstacles & set backs in kyo/tohru’s romantic journey has led them to be better ppl little by little to build healthier & more realistic love!

-The mechanics of writing a compelling slow-burn romance:

1. Igniting the romantic feelings slowly: Slow burns don’t work with love at 1st sight. It must first sparkle naturally, slowly & subtly. Both kyo & tohru repeatedly stated they don’t know exactly when they first fell in love. The author’s decision to create an environment where the two live together is a genius way to start & nurture their romance quietly & subtly. Kyo was tricked to stay in shigure’s house while tohru had to stay cuz she had no home, Natural reasons that force the two to spend days together & get to know each other gradually.

2. Dynamics of their personalities: For slow burns to work, the two characters need to be similar yet opposites! Kyo & tohru are both kind, endearing, innocent, good at chores, independent & hardworking. They both have history with their mothers that is filled with love yet traumas. However, tohru is calm yet prefer maneuvering around subjects, can’t stand up for herself, reads ppl easily, tends to trust ppl easily & disregard herself. Kyo is fierce, strong, tends to distrust ppl, despite ppl loving his spontaneous character, he has hard time figuring out if they’re mocking him or teasing him, very straightforward with his words & actions. The similarities helps them understand each other, however, the differences creates chances to clash & come even closer thro various situation. Ex, se01, ep2, kyo apologizing for hitting her head with the table which created the situation where she needed to confess she always loved the cat zodiac! It is HER gush of emotions that struck kyo. ppl really want my friendship? the cat is loved? Thro those difference they learned to better themselves so they won’t hurt the other, kyo toning down his anger for her, tohru desiring to know him even more as he becomes even more awkward.

3. Creating natural, realistic & convincing obstacles that prevents them from being together: This is the most important part! Slow-burn is two characters in love & cant be together despite everyone wanting them to be! if the reason that stops them from uniting is trivial, stupid, one-sided, can easily be solved, then the slow-burn would be a fillery & no one would cheer for it! Takaya-san is a genius!

Kyo can’t be with tohru cuz he thinks (a) he killed her mom! we saw thr flashback, he could’ve saved her & couldn’t save her. It was a split of a second difference & he hates himsef for NOT trying! that split of a second also prevented from thinking of better ways to save her than holding her! it happened to fast, he couldn't think of a better alternative cuz this was his 2nd time loosing someone (b) his mom’s sucide being pinned as his fault created this immense guilt & defeated feeling that “ no matter what, I just cause death & misery! There’s (c) too!, he knew tohru! thinks she deserves the world & cuz he didnt save her mom, he watched tohru talk to a freaking picture for two years! heck! he is the only one who can see thro tohru’s “ i;m okay” mask, so in se01, ep 14 in the grave yard! kyo wasnt the only one who is sad! tohru was too! & kyo could tell! (d) her mom’s death is the reason tohru is accepting shigure’s offer to stay with them rent-free in exchange of doing housework! (e)? he saw her confess crying her heart out abt missing her mom so much that she imitated her dad! so tragicly sad! (f) he saw her die in his nightmare!! how can he accept her love,now? Perfectly orchestrated obstacles!

Tohru, unfortunately, in the anime it wasn't that clear due to shortening her backstories & trauma in se03, ep6. But she too couldn’t see herself confessing love to kyo. Tohru is has low self-esteem, always thinks she’s a burden to others, an orphan who just wants her mom, so scared, lonely & sad! we the audience believed the mask! we saw her work her motherly charm yuki, isusuz, kisa & believe her issues are not that deep. tohru wont cry for herself but shed rivers for others! grief is so ugly it broke her! I cant let go of mom, must keep her always in my heart, such a hard emotions to write & I believe 100% the director couldn’t understand her grief & decided to split ep6 between her, kyo, isuzu & shigure. But Tohru struggling to confess to kyo is no laughing matter. ppl who are grieving find it the hardest to live after the loved ones die. they wont mostly commit suicide, they are alive, but they arent living. they just go thro the motions & live for the sake of those around them but not themselves. Tohru deciding to confess to kyo is her deciding to live for herself.

4. Writing a perfect psychologically & emotionally packed climax: I dont need to explain how perfect kyo’s rejection of tohru in se03 ep9 was. How much we felt for him yet were mad at him. He we were “ ugh! kyo no!!!! I mean I get why you do that , but you idiot no! come back! poor kyo! He was just so sad & broken! OMG he’ll kill himself after finding tohru’s injured body!! he totally would! his nightmare came true! But Tohru reached him! she wanted him to be okay! he wont kill himself but still feels hella guilty! but so utterly in love with her that his instinct upon seeing her come to life after near death is kiss her! Perfect display of psychology & emotions! filled with right, wrong, sad, happy, guilty, innocent! basically so human~ As the audience you MUST have this mixture of feelings of wanting to hug him so bad cuz this boy has been killing himself for years now yet want him to stop & just see that he was a good boy afterall. Tohru is THE best girl & if the audience are cheering for kyo to be with her, kyo really deserves her! The only problem is for kyo to see that now.

5. The Perfect wrap up of all romance: If you make your audience suffer the slow-burn this long, you gotta reward them good! & Takaya-san delivered! Just like how the entire romantic story is realistic, the reunion must be as realistic too! Tohru is hurt by kyo;s words. Facts remain his words were hurtful to her. I love that was addressed! tohru gets to tell her side, too! If you love someone, you are bound to be hurt by them as much as be happy with them. Simply cuz they matter so much to you! you arent one person, but two ppl coming together. Kyo must work hard for this confession. Must run & chase her. Must earn her proper! He gets on his knees, I cant express how important that is! he is way taller than her, Imagine apologizing while she looks way up & he looks down? He gets on his knees & apologize like a man, for every mistake, all while not loathing himself. He aint going back to that deep abyss again. He did wrong by her & he is owning up to his mistakes. Give me one chance. I’m not gonna force you with persistence or guilt you into taking me. Give me ONE chance cuz i deserve it & no more. The choice is yours. She asks to confirm, he shows her, they kiss, they hug, they are rewarded with a blessing from the heavens! One of the most simple yet emotionally fulfilling confessions in anime!

- Hugs over kisses: (And her kiss hugs her & the curse was lifted):

Prince charming kisses the princess & she wakes up~ they live ever after~ except furuba is all abt “ eternal ever after is not true, real life is where the real love is”

Kyo kissed tohru once, she didnt wake up, she didnt even think he loved her back. didnt even remember the kiss.

Kyo hugged tohru once. se01, e024, He initiated it, tohru was all in tears, surprised, happy & so utterly in love. he called her name for the first time ever, for a brief moment, they both connected, they both comforted each other. The rain stopped, he became a man not a monster, she got him back. She got her kyo that she fought for with none other than kyo himself.

kyo hugged her again, se03, ep6. They both initiated it. He made the first move, pulling her just a little closer, she made the second move & hugged him hard, he transformed, it was a moment were they both connected, both so sad & broken, both feeling needy for the other, both desperate for the other, both just living the moment. the result is them coming closer, her wanting him more, him realizing her love, there is no escape. Admit it. she loves you. You can tell.

Kyo hugs her again today. He asks permission. No spur of the moment feeling. But a long lasting permission to be together. To hug. He wants to hear her acceptance of his cursed body. “ is ok to hug you? this body will cause you pain as it wont be able to fulfill your wishes of constant hugs & intimacy”. She responds, permission granted, for love, for hugs, for a life long acceptance of you as a whole. weakness & strength, sadness & happiness. I accept you all in better & worse! we’re invincible. Why? cuz we understand love isnt magic. It is a path for us to walk together~~~ reward curse break!

Every time kyoru are closer it is a hug. The one thing the zodiacs cant do. A hug. They can kiss. But cant hug. comes this Zodiac Ruler girl so lonely, away from ppl, so sad, meets a cat boy who comes to the house she’s living in, a house away from ppl, the boy is drawn to the girl, However, when the boy needed to leave, the girl was able to let go despite loving him, the boy comes again, this time wanting to stay, the girl accepts the boy. They both accept the realistic reality of life. Embrace the obstacles & the achievements, celebrates the weakness above the strength. Both so imperfect. Both so endearingly dumb! that’s why the girl’s hug broke the boy’s curse. The girl’s acceptance of the cat broke all curses.

Side Note:

Kyo’s confession is so kyo! so straightforward, so direct, & so physical. He’s on his knees, holding her hands, looking at her eyes. “ i want to be WITH you. If I’m gona live, I want to to do it with you & no one else! cuz I love you” that’s it. That’s all. So sincere & so romantic!

it is crazy how different tohru & kyo are now after the confession! she stood confidently & happily & said “dont you know, I love you!” all while teasing him, her giggle is so girlish & cute! my girl is a happy woman in love! long buried the angelic mother image of se02! YES! also, kyo’s happy face is love! Dude! when was the last time he smiled so freely? Did he ever do that? He smiled in se01, ep4 with kazmua, but not like this! T_T. my son is healing~

Kyo’s “ i wont ever feel afraid if you’re with me” is a huge growth from his “ I want to protect her” mindset. Now he realizes it is two-sided mutual desire. She gives him strength as much as he does! <3

I dont like open eye while kissing, but here it is so perfect for tohru in this moment! cuz she spent days thinking kyo rejected her & even ran away as soon as she saw him, now he’s not only confessing, apologizing, admitting she is his life, but also kissing her signaling they’re romantic couple. kissing on lips is so personal, what more evidence she needs? still, her thoughts? “ it’s like a dream?” aww~~~ tohru~~~ my precious girl! she just cant believe all her suffering is over, now? She was just practicing “ i’m okay” smile & now she’s an official girlfriend to the man of her dreams? He just bent da kneeee~ go for it queen!

yuki’s face when tohru cried is exactly what I meant of “ allowing yuki to have strong facial expressions”! XD these types of faces humanize yuki so much into the teenage boy he is! Unfortunately the anime team only sees him as the pretty prince in most times. That’s why fave yuki is when he’s with kakeru. He becomes so un-princly as he should be.

Speaking of yuki, I see you anime team~ postponing his moment into next ep so him & machi wont be overshadowed by the long awaited kyoru!! While this defies the perfection of all cursed zodiacs breaking on the same ep making akito’s breakdown less perfect & poetic, I take it as the anime team admitting they underdeveloped yuchi & decided let’s give them more screen time & not putting them in close distance from any couple. A week later ep is enough with lots of time. I dont mind at all, I’m just saying more time after/while confession is not what i was hoping for~~ sigh~ At least I hope yuki would say sth along the lines” all this time I was looking at you, i realized i love you” to imply he was thinking of her as a lover not his kindness for someone he helped. I just dont want their love to be sudden simply cuz yuki needs happy ending. oh well~ I’m sure whatever it will be, the anime will give it utmost attention.

That sad moment when kagura wasnt allowed a moving image. lol. girl was given a still image that didnt even move with the breeze! T_T

Not gonna lie... the scene with kazuma & kyo was underwhelming. Why the wide shot? I mean you dont need budget for that. Just give me a closeup from the waist up with kyo head buried in kazuma’s chest. Dont need to waste budget on kazuma’s face, either.... do the old trick of hair covering eyes & show me glittery tears~ why the awkward shot of kazma towering in his own house! how tall is this man & why cant he he fix his roof?...lol

Also, shigure, you got scars man... who can hurt shigure? akito? gotta be her. I dont think hatori scratches...lol.. Aya? nah~ too busy with Mine! yup, akito... another steamy night? could be, she’s changed as he wish now. But scratching a face is weird while..um..kissing? a quarrel? but why? I bet she wants him now & we know he wants her....

More on part 2! especially abt the curse’s lore~

#Fruits Basket #Anime Only #happy paper #final season #part 1

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gentrychild · 4 years

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Suspected Traitor Izuku Ideas

Note: Sorry this ended up being super long! I just really love the idea and wanted to put in some ideas of what I think could happen. It was all too long to fit into a couple asks, and I figured you would prefer a submission than 7+ asks in a row. These are also just some fun ideas I was thinking of for the au I thought you might enjoy lol

- - - -

Izuku gets interrogated and at first goes along with the questions. He doesn’t realize why he is there at first, until they ask more and more questions showing they suspect him for something. After the second or third question about his relation to the LOV he pieces it together. They think he’s a villain.

And instead of having a confused smile or nervous laugh, his eyes widen and he whispers “you think I’m the traitor.” It wasn’t hard for him to figure it out, after all he spent so much time analyzing and trying to deduct things quickly from situations where he barely was given any information, and they practically threw the answer in his face. He was probably one of the few students who was fully aware that there was a traitor from looking at the previous attacks.

He starts to shut down after realizing this, and when people start yelling or slamming things out of anger (because no one was actually going to get physical, but that doesn’t mean the rest of the room was off limits) he unconsciously reverts back to his old habits from when he was quirkless.

This can include, but is not limited to:

- A smaller frame to protect vitals and give less room to be hit

- A quite and passive voice to try appeasing their anger

- Distracting himself from the emotional pain by focusing on the physical stuff. Mentally keeping track over where everyone is, what they are doing, and how much of a threat they are to him

- Looking for any and all possible exits, even the ones that would result in him being hurt on his way out, just in case things get worse (and he fears that they may hurt him worse than before. In a world full of quirks, it’s easy for someone worked up to forget how easily they can kill someone, and Izuku probably has experienced more than once a situation that became life or death because a middle schooler was too worked up to process how much damage they were about to do)

- Eyes downcast due to fearing that eye contact would seem like he’s defying them or trying to irritate them in purpose (thanks Bakugou for that one)

- Holding back sudden movements or flinching, when going to the point of possibly hurting himself on purpose to prevent him from acting out.

- Holding his breath every time someone moves, but forcing his body to relax/tense up in case they attack him. When your body tenses up, it can absorb him impact, but can also cause other things like knives or needles to hurt more when they cut/go through the skin. So when there is someone who has a weapon visible (probably a means of intimidation) he quickly figures out which way will hurt less and forces himself to go through with that because of the constant thought of ‘just in case’

- Forcing himself not to cry or break down. That’s what some bullies want, but sometimes it also makes them even more upset. It gives them fuel, and always ends bad for the victim.

The teachers and others accusing him of being the traitor takes these signs as him lying or trying to hide the truth, those who don’t think it’s because he’s lying see the 'experience with interrogations’ aka trauma reactions and think he was trained by the villains to act this way. No one thinks about the fact that some of the reactions are clearly not helpful with interrogations and that the villains would train him to do the opposite (ex: stay calm and keep eye contact. You don’t have anything to hide and looking away makes it seem like you do).

The only two people who know his past refuse to acknowledge or bring it up.

All might doesn’t because he can’t risk the consequences of OFA getting out, but also because he only has a vague idea because of when he was shoeless himself.

Bakugou refuses to acknowledge the signs and the relapsing to his habits from middle school.

No one else realizes the cause, and as a result they accidentally reopen the trauma that Izuku hadn’t healed from. No, he had taken it and stuffed it into a box to avoid acknowledging that he was hurt. So he never talked to anyone about it, and as a result it just festered in his mind. His intrusive thoughts from all the victim-blaming he went through never went away (because let’s be honest, gaslighting and victim-blaming are things he probably went through as a result of the bullying. He couldn’t help being quirkless, but the bullies will latch onto anything and everything they can. And because they wanted to prevent themselves from having anything marked, if they made him think it was his fault then they felt it lowered the chances of them being reported)

During the pause of interrogation when they are having Tsukachi enter and he’s about to come in, he almost send himself into a dissociative/depressive episode because of his thoughts. He forces it back when the doors click open, thinking 'no, it’s just like before. No matter how much it hurts, wait until you’re safe. You’re not safe here, they will use it against you, so you have to wait until you’re alone and safe to finally break down.’

As a result, none of the adults fully realize how broken he is after the trap/interrogation is over. But its only a glimpse that they see, and nothing more. Because Izuku’s learned that weakness = vulnerable = targeted and hurt.

And now that he knows almost all his friends- no, his classmates were involved he knows he can’t break down anywhere near them. He can’t go over and let them know how broken he is or he thinks they’ll turn against him even more.

Someone brings up the 'logical’ aespect of the interrogation and their suspicions before he leaves and Izuku’s thoughts use that and forces it against him. 'It was only logical. Everyone was convinced you were going to hurt them, that you were evil. Of course they had to do it.’ He repeats it like a mantra in his head. 'It’s only logical, they did what they had to, and it’s almost over. You’re almost done, it was just the logical thing to do.’

And why is it this that he repeats this, instead of being angry or upset?

The victim-blaming.

His own intrusive thoughts were fuelled by the victim-blaming, and because it was what hurt the most, it was also what he was most accustomed to.

But when he finally gets back to the dorms, to the 'safety’ of his room, he knows he can’t break down. Not yet. After all, if they went through all that trouble because they thought he was the traitor, who’s to say they didn’t do more? His resurfaced paranoia/anxiety from the trauma makes him search his room for hidden cameras and microphones, desperate for at least one safe-space.

He finds nothing, thank god, but then he keeps pushing back his breakdown in search of exits, ways to avoid the most dangerous people or most likely to turn on him, ways to get by unseen and to avoid any situations that would be like Middle school. He stays up making notes and maps of the school and how to best protect himself because 'You’re already used to this. Shouldn’t have expected anything different. Stupid, idiotic, Deku. You put off finding the saferoutes because you thought it would be better to try playing nice. Look where that got you, now you have to stay up and make up the months of ignoring the inevitable.’

He doesn’t sleep that night, and when it becomes time for class he still hadn’t given himself time to break down. So he returns, but doesn’t pretend to be friends with any of his classmates anymore. He uses the ways he maps, brings out old tactics, just with the hope of making it through the day without being hurt or breaking down.

Lunch comes, but he doesn’t eat. He goes to the roof, finds an elevated area with no cameras and where people are unlikely to see him and sits down. It takes a moment, just a mere second of sitting there alone before he breaks.

He cries and let’s his regret and anger wash over him. All the feelings he had been pushing back finally breaking free and coming loose. He doesn’t eat, he never got the time, and right as he is starting to realize how badly hurt he really is, the bell rings signalling he needed to get to class. So he forces himself up, pushed all his emotions away, and tries to clean himself up in the bathroom.

He ends up in a dissociative state the rest of the way back to class, and when the others ask why he’s acting different or 'weird’, he doesn’t respond. He barely registers anything the rest of the day and when teachers try calling on him, hoping for some kind of reaction, they get nothing. He doesn’t process that he’s being talked to and just sits there dissociating in a desperate attempt of forcing himself not to break down again.

When classes end, the others try talking to him but eventually give up. He slowly realizes after everyone left that he was alone and he picks up his stuff and walks to the dorms on autopilot. He gets to his room and shut the door, and finally let’s himself finish the breakdown from on the roof. This time, though, he finally lets himself cry over everything. The entire past of abuse and neglect from his peers and adult figures in his life (minus his mom), the suicide-baiting, the victim-blaming, the bullying, accusations and mistrust, all of it. And he finally fully, truly breaks.

- - - -

#Ah yes more people who loves to hurt Izuku #Welcome #suspected traitor Izuku AU #submission

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mandoalorian · 3 years

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Sugar and Spice [Maxwell Lord x Reader] - Chapter 7

Summary: When you are evicted from your apartment by your toxic ex boyfriend and have no place to go, who do you turn to? Alone in the city as the countdown to Christmas begins, you find yourself applying for a job as the assistant of the world’s biggest entrepreneur; Maxwell Lord. Little do you know, he has other intentions for you. No doubt about it, this Christmas will truly be like no other.

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: Smut, mentions of a previous verbally abusive relationship, typical 80s misogyny (but very little of it), mentions of food and drink, alcohol consumption. This is a sugardaddy x sugarbaby fic soooo… a daddy k!nk too oops.

But in this chapter - suicide mention, more angst

Author’s note: GRAB YOUR TISSUES.

MASTERLIST

PREVIOUS - CHAPTER SEVEN - NEXT

Bruce motherfucking Wayne. You couldn't believe it. You pondered why he was at the Black Gold Cooperative Christmas gala— perhaps he was a friend of Maxwell's? They were, on the surface, very alike; both hailing from wealthy families and CEO’s of the most prestigious international conglomerates. You sipped on your bubbling champagne and laughed as he cracked a joke with you.

You had completely lost track of time. The music was loud and the ballroom was bustling with people of high importance. Everyone looked marvellous in their designer outfits and styled hair. You hadn't even seen Maxwell, that was until you hear him tap a glass, raising the attention of everyone including you and Bruce. The room fell obscenely quiet.

Maxwell was… nervous. He was good at being on television, but live speeches in front of all these important business associates, his mother and the president? That was terrifying. His eyes scanned the room for you. When his gaze finally landed on you, you shot him a warm and encouraging smile and he felt a gush of relief wash over his tensed up body.

"Hello everyone, I'd like to thank you all for joining me this evening. Firstly I'd like to thank the president for letting me use his beautiful home as a function," Maxwell spoke into the mic, his words earning an applause. "It has been a pleasure to meet you, sir. I wish you all the best for your presidency." you knew how much Max disagreed with the president and practically cringed at the fauxness of his tone. Maxwell spoke for a long while about the past year, the highs and the lows of his company and what Black Gold Cooperative had been through. Rubbing your eyes, you let out a shaky yawn.

"Hey?" Bruce whispered, putting his champagne glass on the bar. "Wanna get out of here?"

You were taken aback by his proposal. What exactly was he suggesting? Bruce Wayne was, by far, one of the more handsome men in the room. And he certainly seemed nice. He hadn't given the staff attitude (unlike Maxwell, who was rude to everyone he saw lesser than him), and he had been nothing but kind to you.

"I-" you sighed, glancing between Maxwell who was on the stage, and Bruce who was by your side. "I really shouldn't." you rejected him, and Bruce nodded sadly.

"No worries," he replied, taking a sip of his champagne.

"What do you think of him?" you asked, out of the blue. Your eyes were heavy as you drank in Maxwell's appearance. There was just something so fascinating about him. He wasn't your type but from the moment you met him you were so compelled to him.

"Who?" Bruce responded, cocking a curious dark eyebrow.

"Maxwell Lord." you pursed your lips into a thin line. He was charismatic, the coverboy of Forbes, a household name. He was Maxwell Lord.

"I think it's a shame, what happened to him when he was a kid," Bruce shook his head and your head snapped to face him. "But, the man has built his career and fortune on lies and greed. He thinks he's some kind of hero but really he's just… a lonely, broken little boy."

You were about to ask Bruce what he meant, what happened to Maxwell when he was a kid, when a thunderous applause erupted in the room and Maxwell padded off the stage. "I should go see him. But it was lovely talking to you." you smiled at Bruce. You leaned in, brushing your lips over his cheek. He smelled delicious. Another man drenched in expensive cologne, no doubt, but nevertheless you were sad to leave him.

You made your way past through the crowds of people in the ballroom, trying to peer over hundreds of heads in-attempt to find Maxwell. You just about made out his dark blonde head of hair talking to the president. You hurried over, holding your gown in your hands, careful not to trip over.

"Hey!" you gasped, placing your hands on Maxwell's back. The suit was soft in your hands, you didn't want to let go off him.

"Hi," Maxwell smiled, his eyes gleaming now that he had finally found you. "Uh, I'd like to introduce you to the president of the United States."

"The pres-" your jaw dropped as you shook hands with President Reagan.

"She's quite the gem," the president nodded, his hand stroking your arm. The contact was more than enough to make you uncomfortable.

"Yeah but, we're just friends." Maxwell insisted and you felt your heart sink a little. It was exactly what you had told the press, but hearing it from him was devastating.

"That's good then. Because I'd like to introduce you to my daughter Margaret." the president beamed, taking the hand of his daughter and thrusting her into Maxwell. She fell into her chest and he caught her just in time, albeit stumbling backwards.

She had tight blonde curls and pink glossy lips, her pearl earrings bringing out the blue in her ice cold eyes. "Oh, hi Mr Lord," she purred affectionately. You scrunched up your nose in disdain as he gently pushed her off him.

"Pleasure to meet you Margaret," Maxwell smiled, shaking her hand.

"Please, call me Maggie," she replied, not breaking eye contact once.

"Right Maggie…" Maxwell laughed awkwardly and you took a step back, scowling.

The burning feeling of jealousy rinsed through your body. This was outrageous— you had no reason to be jealous. Yours and Maxwell's relationship was strictly business only. But it didn't mean you had to enjoy seeing that woman leaning into his chest, his arms wrapped around her.

It seemed that everyday you grew more and more angered and confused by your feelings. It must've just been something in the December air.

"I'll be at the bar," you mumbled as Maxwell and Margaret continued to chat.

You sighed, walking back over to Bruce with a frown.

"Everything okay?" Bruce asked, concern dripping from his tongue. You didn't reply, shaking your head sadly and staring into the oak wood bar like it was going to give you answers. "Two glasses of your finest house wine, please." Bruce called over the bartender before turning back to you.

"Trying to get me drunk, Wayne?" you rolled your eyes.

"I'd never," Bruce replied, placing a hand on the small of your back. "I just know we're both going to need plenty of alcohol to get through this evening."

"Touché." you agreed, taking a swing of your drink and shuddering at the strong taste.

"Where do you hail from?" Bruce asked, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "Never seen you around before. And trust me, I'd recognise someone as beautiful as you."

"I-" you felt yourself blush under his touch, and subconsciously lean into his hand, biting your lip. Just then, you spotted him. The man of the night. Maxwell Lord barked your name, anger crossing his dark brown eyes. "What is it?" you sighed, taking another sip of wine.

"I didn't know you'd be here." Maxwell snarled at Bruce, grabbing your hand and interlocking his fingers with yours. His action was rough and harsh but you felt butterflies just from his touch and his possessive nature.

"My father would've wanted me to be here," Bruce smiled. "When your mother invited me, how could I refuse? I think your father would've wanted me here too. Don't worry, I've placed a donation…"

Maxwell dug his finger in Bruce's chest. "You don't know shit about what my father would want."

You were confused, making quick glances between the two men who were, quite frankly acting like little boys. "And you do?" Bruce chuckled. "Your father is the reason for your success. He built his business on hope with the aim of helping those less fortunate than him. And what did you do? You turned it into an abomination… all his hard work, gone. Because you're greedy."

"Bruce!" you gasped, speechless at the businessman's cold words. You turned to Maxwell with pleading eyes. "Max… maybe we should leave." you placed a hand on his shoulder but his glare didn't tear from Bruce. You had never seen so much hate in his eyes.

"No," Maxwell breathed eventually. He couldn't even bring himself to look at you, his gaze finding the floor as he shuffled his feet sadly. "You can stay. I'm leaving." Maxwell murmured.

"Max I'm coming with you," you began to protest.

"No." Maxwell repeated, this time his voice was more stern. "I'm going home with Maggie. You're clearly more comfortable here, with Bruce. Wouldn't want to spoil your evening."

"Max?" you whispered as tears pricked your eyes.

"Good night." he said finally, before walking away with his head held high.

"What a man." Bruce tsked.

You turned to him, blindsighted by rage and picked up your wine glass from the bar. You didn't know how to react, you didn't know what to say. You were left so bewildered by the dialogue between Maxwell and Bruce. All you knew was that you had never seen Maxwell so hurt in his life. And that did not sit well with you at all. You threw the remenints of your wine all over Bruce, drenching him in the expensive liquid.

"You're a real jerk." you spat. The music stopped and everyone turned to face you. "I don't know what is going on with you and Max, but stay away from him." you gritted before storming off.

You tried to locate Margaret, spotting her by the Christmas tree as she overlooked the dancers. "Hey, Maggie?" you asked.

"Oh it's you," she spat, looking you up and down. "My name is Margaret."

You wished you had kept a little wine to throw over her. "I don't care," you shook your head. "Have you seen Max? Has he spoken to you in the last few minutes?"

"No? Why?" Margaret asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

"Shit okay, nevermind." you replied, spinning around on your heel.

You raced to the lobby, asking a member of staff to call you a cab. She gave you a judgemental look but followed your instruction none the less. Letting you know when your can had arrived outside, you raced out into the thick snow. Low and behold, the paparazzi were still there, snapping photos of you as you ran to the taxi. They screamed your name, asking questions about why you weren't with Max and why you were taking a taxi home. You ignored them, pushing past them furiously until you reached the yellow cab and slid inside. Your gown got caught in the door but you didn't care. You needed to see Max. You needed to make sure he was okay. Your heart ached knowing he was upset.

You arrived to his penthouse in your ripped gala dress and messy hair, still running to the reach the elevator. When you got to his penthouses the warmth and familiarity relieved you.

You closed the front door gently behind you and tip-toed to Maxwell's office. Before you could open the door and let yourself in, you heard gentle sobbing. It was quiet and there was the occasional pause before a sniff and a cry. You leaned against the wall, trying to process what you were hearing. Maxwell Lord IV was in his office, crying. You felt a pang of pain in your chest. Maxwell Lord doesn't cry— and yet here he was. You suddenly felt defensive and you wanted to know what had happened. You decided you could push your argument to one side. You slowly opened the door and stepped inside.

Maxwell was sat at his desk with a half drunk bottle of whiskey. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his shirt had the top three buttons undone. His fingers were laced in his dark blonde hair and you noticed he was tugging on it out of frustration. He hadn't noticed you standing there yet. You took a deep breath.

"Max?"

You watched him stiffen up and wipe his eyes. He didn't turn to look at you— he didn't need to. Instead, his gaze burned into the amber coloured scotch in the crystal glass. He felt ashamed. Embarrassed. He didn't say a word. Cautiously, you approached him, with slow and light footsteps. As you neared him you noticed his eyes were sore and red and you wondered how long he had been crying for. You crouched down to his level and gently pressed your hand into his back, rubbing comforting circles.

Maxwell gulped as you touched him, but still didn't say a word. He was afraid that if he opened his mouth he'd croak something ridiculous out or just as easy burst into tears. He knew it. You were there for him, as always. You had come back for him. His guardian angel— the only person who truly cared about him.

You cupped his cheek and turned his head to face you. He did so, willingly, his glossy brown eyes gazing into yours. "What happened, Max?" you whispered, your fingers gently tracing his golden tear stained cheeks. Max stayed silent and tried his best to suppress another sob. "Was it Bruce?" you whispered again, and leaned into him, resting your head in his lap.

Maxwell dropped his hands into your hair and your eyes fluttered shut under his gentle touch as he softly stroked you. "It's so much more." Maxwell admitted, his voice breaking slightly. "Bruce's words tipped me over the edge. This time of the year is already so hard and my mother… at the gala…."

"What did she do, Max?" you stood up from the floor and pulled a chair up so you could sit next to him.

"She always puts these ideas in my head," Maxwell admitted. "Fuck- I should know better. My whole life she's tried controlling me. And I know it's wrong but I still let her get in my head."

"What ideas?"

"It's always been about my father. Didn't want me to make the same mistakes he made. So she'd do everything in her power to ensure that, no matter what, I put the business first. She tells me it's my legacy. That I must finish what my father started. And my grandfather. And if I don't- if I don't, then I've failed them."

"Your father… Bruce mentioned him." your voice was quiet and you didn't know whether or not you were overstepping by bringing it up.

"Did he tell you what happened?" Maxwell asked you and you shook your head. "Because it's not public information. Bruce only knows because his family… his parents helped my mother cover it up."

"Cover what up?" you asked, almost afraid of how he was going to answer.

"The suicide." Maxwell deadpanned, looking at you with glossy eyes.

"Your father?" you were speechless, your heart breaking at his words.

"Yeah." Maxwell replied. "I was sixteen."

"Why?"

"I don't know… he. He never left a note." Maxwell crossed his arms over his chest. "I- I'm sorry. I've never spoken about this before. My mother chose to cover up the suicide because she said it would bring shame on the business."

"Shame? But it's- it's not shameful. It's…" you were really struggling to find words, all you could do was console Maxwell, as your friend if nothing more. "Your mother does not get to choose your legacy." You told Maxwell, taking his hands and squeezing them gently. "This is your life Max. Don't let her control it."

"I freaked out on you at the gala because my mother came and she told me that I should leave you-" Maxwell paused before correcting himself. "Fire you. I mean. I don't know. She told me that the weakness in my father was his love for his family, and his love for her, and his love for me. She told me my grandfather was the same and now- she sees that weakness in me. She blames you. Says I've been different since we began our arrangement," Maxwell scoffed. "She says you distract me. I didn't realise it at first. But I think she's right." Maxwell looked up at you, teary eyed. "She thinks if I marry Margaret sales will boost and… once again she's right."

You felt yourself freeze up. "Max…" you whispered, not knowing what to say or how to even process his words. Was he about to terminate the contract? Was he going to tell you to walk away and leave?

"I can't-" Maxwell choked out a sob. " I can't let her keep controlling me. After seeing you with Bruce, I was so fucking afraid of losing you for good and it was all her fault. I won't choose between you and the company. And she can't make me choose. But you know, if I had to? Fuck. I'd choose you."

"Maxwell don't be ridiculous," You shook your head sadly. He'd had a lot to drink. He was emotional. He couldn't be meaning these words. "You're an amazing CEO, look at the greatness that you've led Black Gold Cooperative to. Front page of Forbes three years in a row. No business in history has earned as much as yours in profit. You've done this by yourself. Sure your ancestors founded Black Gold, but Max, you've been working your ass off since you were sixteen."

"I don't want to hear it," Maxwell cut you off and took another sip of his whiskey. "I just want to make my father proud. I loved him so much." he sniffed.

"Your mother said that your father's love for his family was his weakness. But I believe that it was his strength. That warmth in his heart he passed down to you, and Max, I'm so glad he did. Because I feel it. I feel your compassion. I feel your love. Before we met everyone said you were cold and distant… but you've shown me more care in the past ten days than I've felt in my whole life." You smiled at him and he gazed longingly into your eyes. "In the end, your father cared more about protecting your family than running the risk of exploiting Black Gold Cooperative. He chose love over his business. And for that reason, I know your father would be proud of you because I'm proud of you."

"Nobody has ever told me that they're proud of me."

"They haven't?" You furrowed your brows together and Maxwell shook his head sadly. You wrapped your arms around him and he nuzzled his face into your shoulders.

"You've shown me what love can feel like." Maxwell mumbled into your skin. "Never- never believed in it until I met you."

"Oh Max," you felt a tear slip down your cheek.

Max pulled away from you and cupped his hands around your face. He whispered your name and gently brushed his nose against yours.

"I think," Maxwell swallowed. "No. I know. I know that I've fallen deeply in love with you."

Taglists: let me know if you wish to be added!

December Magic: @100layersofdaddyissues @mrschiltoncat @honeymandos @thisisthe-wayson @this-cat-is-dea @blonde2bomshell @maiyaaaa0130

Permanent: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #maxwell lord #max lord #maxwell lord x reader #ww84 #wonder woman 1984

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91percentpynch · 3 years

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lonely heart - kevaaron au pt 4

oh look it‘s me, coming out of my dark hole to make you suffer with a super sad chapter with a nasty cliffhanger:) so get your tissues ready and enjoy!! okay first of all sorry that i didn‘t update this in a g e s and that it‘s rather short and for the cliffhanger, but i‘ll try to update it more regularly now:)

check this out for the other parts:)

trigger warnings: drug abuse, mention of suicide, mention of mental health issues, very sad aaron, mention of blood

“You were too good for me”, Aaron whispered into the void. “You were way too fucking good for me. You made me a better man. And I fucked up”

Aaron got up as he felt the tears burning in his eyes. He knew he wouldn‘t be able to sleep alone tonight. Like every single goddamn night since he left Kevin. Like every single goddamn night since he made the biggest mistake of his life.

„Taylor?“, the blonde haired boy murmered, „You up?“

„Babe, you know I‘m up. My girlfriend lives three states away, we talk every single day at the same time as you call your man. Not that I would be able to sleep when you call him, cause a) i love Day and b) you‘re always sad and high and end up in my room anygays, so did he take the phone darling?“

Taylor was Aaron‘s roommate and the closest thing he had to a best friend. She had been there for him every single day, cuddled him, held him while he cried and dried his tears afterwards. And Aaron did the same when she misssed her girlfriend too much.

„You do realize he is not my man anymore, I fucked that up. Big time. He did actually take the phone just to tell me to fuck off and stop calling“

„You could always go over there and say it in his pretty face. Didn’t say you can’t come over did he?Pro point: Might lead to making out“, Taylor said while taking him in her arms. „Plus another pro point: you‘d get sober again. And you‘re less moody. No offense but a Kevin-less Aaron is hardly managable, like you‘re either a whiny little bitch or you‘ll give me the death glare of the cenutry. Legit worse than Andrew‘s and I called him a cute little baby boo once when I was drunk and he almost stabbed me right there with a look on his face like I just murdered Neil in front of him“

„Tay, I take that as a compliment. And we both know Kevin’s a bit of a dumbass so he did not exactly tell me Not To Come over just stopp calling. Anyways I don‘t even know where he lives. And stop talking about me getting high, you do the same shit“

„Yeah but I know my limits and I have not the same history as you. And for the i DoN‘t EvEn KnOwS wHeRe He LiVeS, phone number. Now“

„O- okay“, Aaron said and told her Kevin‘s phone number while Taylor calmingly stroked his back.

„Neat, got him“, Taylor said after a while. „He‘s with the scary big dude and his adorable little boyfriend I think? I have their address right here, I think we‘re gonna visit them tomorrow cause it‘s like 4 am right now and we don‘t wanna rob him his beauty sleep plus we don‘t want to wake the scary big dude. And I‘m pretty sure the adorable small golden retriver boy could and would stab us“

„Did you just stalk my ex and located his phone at 4 am like fucking Garcias in Criminal Minds?“, Aaron said confused.

„Anything for you big guy. And as I said I miss Day‘s pretty face, preferably in your pretty face so you shut the fuck up about how stressed and depressed and lonely you are.“, Taylor chuckled as Aaron looked at her shocked.

„Well I miss Casey, preferable in your face so YOU shut up“, Aaron was never as good in witty remarks as his brother. Especially high Aaron.

„Babe I think it‘s time for you to go to bed, you‘re not fun when you‘re sad, high and tired. Come here, let me cuddle you, while you whiney little bitch sleep“

Aaron slowly went over to Taylor and into her loving arms, laying down, trying to fall asleep.

After a long while aaron drifted into sleep, just to be greeted by familiar smaragd eyes. In his dream Kevin and he never broke up. Kevin was on top of him, his hands gently discovered Aaron‘s body, touching him as if he was sacred, something to worship. Kevin‘s lips were at Aaron‘s ear whispering sweet nothingness. Aaron‘s hips moved against Kevin‘s loving touch. „Stress release“ Kevin called these holy moments in dawn. „Highlight of my day“ Aaron called them.

The dream was as beautiful as it was cruel. It was as if his body, his mind were as much refusing as able to believe that Kevin was gone. It was his own fault, Aaron knew it. But the ever present voice of his mother, disapproving and disgusting, in his head was just too much for him to handle. He thought - foolish as Aaron was - that the pain of living without Kevin would be better, less cruel, less painful. But he never knew real love and therefore never experienced its lost. Until that faitful day. Until Kevin took his bags and left.

Aaron was used to pain. The hot one after an extraordinarily vicious hit. The cold one when his mother died. The numbing one when the hunger was growing more and more unbareable. But nothing was even slightly as hard to handle as the loss of Kevin in his life.

Kevin was the first good thing Aaron had. He gave him a will to stay, to try, to give this stupid sport everything he got. And Exy turned into more mundane things like getting his eating routine under control or getting a more or less acceptable sleeping schedule. The dark days were still there, for both of them, and they would probably never leave them completely alone, but they got less. And when they did happen they would hold each other together.

Ever since he fucked up things with Kevin, Aaron had more and more dark days. The voice of his mother telling him he‘s a failure, the bored stare of his brother and Aaron convincing himself Andrew wouldn‘t even bet an eye if he died, the voice telling him the world would be a better place without him growing louder and lourder every passing day.

Logically he could say that the death of a single person wouldn‘t change much for the over all world population, expect maybe it‘s some kind of insane mademan dicator or someone important, but still. It made sense. All he did after all was fucking up, being a failure, never good enough, never perfect.

His lonely heart only screamed Kevin‘s name and he knew if Kevin didn‘t take him back, his life wouldn‘t make much sense anymore. Well he would definetly not tell Kevin that. He would not manipulate Kevin into loving him, because that wouldn‘t be much better than not having him at all.

Aaron woke up the next day around noon. He didn‘t really feel like getting up, like getting up was simply too much. But Aaron knew he had to. He didn‘t want to worry Taylor more than he already did. And it would end today. One way or the other.

So he got up, put on the first pair of black jeans he could find and the first sweater his hands could find. Ironically it was one of the sweaters Kevin gave him, on the third of december last year. It was one of Aaron‘s favourites as well.

„Ready for the big Day, small guy?“, Taylor said winking at him.

„Not really? What the fuck am I supposed to do there anyways?“, Aaron replied on his way to the coffee maker.

„Talk to him? Deliver one of those borderline cringe big speeches. Get im flowers. Break into his bedroom and say ‚Draw me like one of your french girls‘, naked of course“, Taylor laughed at the face Aaron made, listening to her suggestions.

„I think I like the big speech. I mean I‘m shit with words, but I‘m sure you want to help your boy getting ‚his man‘ back, right? Also what kind of flowers would you give someone you dumped cause the voice of your dead mother told you it was wrong and disgusting, which you never told him for obvious reasons?“

„Honey, you‘re so fucked up sometimes, I love you but you should go to a therapist or something. Also I‘d say sunflowers or roses? I don‘t speak flowers man, I‘m the tech nerd. Not the romantic one, the nerd. But we‘re gonna make a snazzy speech and you‘re gonna get your man back“

After their typical breakfast - if Aaron didn‘t forget to eat again - they sat down together on the living room floor, paper and pen ready, trying to write the world changing speech.

„Why is this so fucking hard? Why can I only tell him how much I love and miss him when I‘m high off my ass“, Aaron complained.

„What about you don‘t think about him that much. Just tell me what you love about him and then we write that down?“, Taylor suggested.

Aaron took a deep breathe and closed his eyes. „I loved him because he was the first one who saw me. Aaron Minyard. And not just the other Minyard, the lesser twin, the shadow of Andrew. He looked at me and somehow chose me. Even if he could have had everyone else. He chose me, even though I‘m not special. Kevin chose the failure when he could have had the first prize. He looked at me and saw something worth loving, worth keeping around. Hardly anyone could tell Andrew and me apart. But it took him less than a day to do so. Kevin is strong, so so strong and somehow chose the most fragile thing he could find, took it and made it worth soemthing. Kevin made me feel something. Not numbness. Not pain. Something warm and beautiful and living. He gave me a reason to stay alive. Kevin made my life bearable, he made my life beautiful. We were both broken and we would probably still be broken if we were together but we softened each other‘s edges. Kevin believed in me when no one else would. He knew how I felt, knew what I needed and when I needed it. Kev gave me love and safety and I kicked it with my feet. This man is like a god who fell for whatever reasons for a homeless man. And I know I don‘t deserve him but I also know I cannot live without him. And I know that I must tell him that before it‘s too late. If it‘s not too late already“

Taylor wipped a tear out of her eyes. „That‘s it. You tell him that and we‘ll get him back“, she said. „Can I hug you?“

„Sure you loser“

„Ah there is my boy“

They spent the rest of the afternoon writing down the speech, making edits here and there. In the end Aaron collected the pages and went to his room to change. He replaced Kevin‘s sweater with a simple black jumper, put on his Docs, got his keys and left.

Aaro did feel a little uncomfortable, stalking Kevin like that. But he knew this was his chance to fix things. This was his chance to get Kevin back, to make his life worth living again. Which to be fair was a bit selfish, but you are allowed to be a little selfish sometimes, aren‘t you?

Jean and Jeremy‘s apartment complex was a 15 minute drive away from the flat Aaron shared with his three roommates. Theirs was fanzier, obviously. After all Jeremy was a professional Exy player and Jean was some kind of semi famous artist or fashion maker or whatever. They could give Kevin the world. They could give him what he desereved. All Aaron had to offer was an apology and his love. No money. Not yet anyway. Just anxiety, depression and stress.

But if Kevin was willing to take his love, to give Aaron one more chance, he promised himself Aaron would make it count. He will tell Kevin how much he loves Kevin every single god damn day. Aaron will get therapy and work on his issues. Sober up and this time for good. He will do anything to be worth of god‘s love. Just that god in his case was a twenty two year old boy with black hair, forming soft waves at the end and a smile that will make the sun jealous. Eyes made out of smaragd. Lips so sinful and kissable.

Aaron sat down in front of the door, waiting for his courage to come back to him. He could do this. He would get his man back.

Hours passed, or maybe it were only minutes or seconds after all before someone came closer. Ever so slowly Aaron lifted his head, just to look in the ever so familiar green eyes, big with shock.

„You said to stop calling. You never mentioned face to face conversations“, Aaron said, his voice hoarse.

Kevin stared at him as if he was a ghost, a reminder of his past life, something he rather wanted to forget.

„Look I know I fucked up. I know I‘m not good enough for you. I know you deserve the world and I cannot give it to you. And when you look me in the eyes and tell me you don‘t feel anything for me anymore, no love or hate or affection or whatever humans feel, I will turn away right now and go and never come back. Never bother you again. But if you allow me to apologize, if you however decide to gieve me one last chance, I prepared this whole ass speech for you“

Aaron was sure they could hear his heart beating against his chest, roaring, screaming to return home. To return to Kevin where it belonged.

Kevin‘s eyes wandered to the floor, his fingers automatically closed around his left wrist. A nervous habit. Just another little part that makes Aaron‘s heart ache.

Slowly, almost painfully slowly, he lifted those unbelieveable beautiful eyes and met Aaron‘s golden ones. Kevin studied him and the world around them stopped.

Out of the corner of Aaron‘s eyes he could see Jean going still, his breathing too calm, too even. It‘s the same thing Andrew does when someone fucks with Josten. At least his death would be fast. Or slow. Whatever. Aaron didn‘t really care, without Kevin it wasn‘t worth anygthing anyway.

„Why“, Kevin said after what feels like forever, „Why would I forgive you? Why would I give you another chance? Why would you think you can come back here just to fuck me over again? Aaron I loved you, I really did. I always will. You were my first love and maybe, yeah maybe, my last one. But right now I can‘t. I just, I just can‘t. Please leave. Please leave me alone. For now. Maybe, one day we can talk about it. But right now I cannot handle the thought of you to leave me. To tell me all these beautiful lies, to cut me open and leave me to bleed out. I love you“, tears were running down Kevin‘s cheek. Tears Aaron one day, a long time ago, promised himself he would never let Kevin feel again. Pain. Sadness. Everything because of his failure, because of his weakness, because he‘s a fucking piece of shit.

„Thank you for giving me a reason to stay. Jusst remember that you were my light, my warmth, my happiness and I never stopped loving you. Never will. Please just be happy“, Aaron replied as he turned around to walk to his cars.

When he was sure he was out of ear shot, he let himself feel. Feel the pain. Feel the loneliness. Feel the numbness and the cold and the hatred. It was in that moment, that moment where he was alone and nothing more to lose, that he decided that it was enough. He would end it. End it tonight.

„Thank you“, he texted Taylor. „I‘m glad I didn‘t eat you in the womb“, he texted Andrew. „You were not so bad after all“, he sent to Neil. And lastly „Thank you for taking me under your wing“, to Nicky. They would understand. It would take them some time but in the end they would feel better. They would be happier without them. Because at the end of the day he caused them pain and wasn‘t really worth a thing.

So when he got in his car, tears running uncontrallably down his cheeks, he knew what he had to do.

#all for the game #the foxhole court #the raven king #the king’s men #kevin day #aaron minyard #ship: kevaaron #kevaaron

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deathduty · 3 years

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Pain of the Week || Deirdre & Milo

TIMING: Current LOCATION: An alley somewhere PARTIES: @deathduty & @wickedmilo CONTENT: discussions of addiction, drug abuse and drug use. Medical blood (for first aid), gore (removal of debris from wound), suicidal ideation (death imagery) SUMMARY: A vampire finds a banshee in an alley. A vampire decides to help; a banshee calls him stupid. OR two grumpy people insult each other

Milo wasn’t drunk, but he definitely wasn’t sober, and as he wandered down the empty suburban streets of White Crest, he used the alcohol in his system to suppress any memories of Dani, and his parents. Avoidance wasn’t exactly a healthy coping mechanism but he couldn’t care less about that fact. So long as he could stop thinking about her, so long as he could stop thinking about them. If only for a brief, blissful moment in time, he wanted to forget what he was, his new life and the complications brought with it. But when had he ever gotten his way? When had life ever been that easy, especially now? The scent of blood hit him first, followed by the quiet sound of ragged breathing, and he realised the town had well and truly swallowed him whole when his first response wasn’t shock, or fear, or concern. But rather frustration, and resignation. He was growing used to unusual situations, growing used to being chased, or hurt, or coming across others who were being chased, or hurt. It made him wonder whether White Crest had always been this dark. According to his supernatural friends, it had been. And yet, how could anyone be so unaware of the violence? He had been living in ignorance for twenty-two years, oblivious to the things that were happening around him. And now that he was finally being forced to address them, there didn’t seem to be an escape.

Regardless of his annoyance, regardless of another walk home being interrupted by something that was very much not his problem, he knew he needed to offer his help. As selfish as he was, as self absorbed, and inconsiderate, there were certain lines he wouldn’t cross. Sure, he might steal someone’s wallet to pay for a hit, or look the other way during a bar fight he didn’t want to get involved in. But leaving somebody alone, and injured, when there was nobody else around, felt beyond wrong. In the same way he had insisted upon helping Raina, he knew he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t insist upon helping this person. Whoever they were, whatever their circumstance. Letting out a pointed huff of breath, he changed direction, crossing the street to head towards the source of the blood. It was easy to follow the scent, and it didn’t take him long to reach a small alley between businesses, the buildings closed and locked up for the night. “Uh… hello?” He called, eyeing the woman he could see sitting between the narrow brick walls. Her legs were flat against the floor, and his eyes were drawn to the pool of blood steadily building beneath them both. “Are- are you okay?” Wow, what a ridiculous question. But he wasn’t exactly well versed in the etiquette of helping bleeding strangers. “I mean, you know... can I help?”

Deirdre was used to pain. Sometimes, it seemed she lived in it—cycles of her pain, other’s pain. Sometimes, it was just a matter of what pain of the week it was. This week: her legs. Some creature had found her to be easy prey. It clawed and scratched and stabbed and bit at her legs, as she tried to kick it away. Normally, she was a killer. Normally, creatures of that sort never got close enough to hurt her. But she stared into its hungry eyes, and knew it was not a creature of malice. And perhaps she had grown tired of all the pain she caused, but she couldn’t bring herself to do more than let loose and harmless scream and stumble away. With Deirdre’s palms screaming red as she scraped them along the rough alleyway brick, she tried to find steady footing. She couldn’t walk like that, she could hardly stand. Soon, she wasn’t doing either. She slipped to the floor, hissing and cursing on her way down. Getting home wouldn’t be as easy as hailing a cab in the night hours. She didn’t know how many minutes passed with her sitting on the damp ground, painting with her blood, only that when she did open her eyes, a boy was staring at her.

“I don’t need your help,” she hissed at the boy. “And I don’t want your help. Do I look like a charity case? Do I look like I need help? I’m perfectly fine, you idiotic--” Her leg protested. Deirdre winced and leaned forward, beads of sweat rolling down her face. “I don’t need…” She reiterated, “I don’t need…” Normally, she never asked for help. As it turned out, she wasn’t her normal self. “...help me…”

Milo raised his eyebrows, almost shocked out of his hesitance by the venom behind the woman’s words. “Okay, yeah- fuck me, right? The guy asking you if you need any help. It’s not like you’re bleeding on the fucking ground.” He laughed, resisting the urge to give her what she wanted. If he left her alone it would certainly save him a lot of trouble. Moving closer, despite her rather forceful insistence, he realised there was an edge to the scent of her blood, something sweet, and alluring, and decidedly not human. Whatever the Hell she was, he could only hope she wouldn’t pose a threat to him. Not when he was genuinely trying to do the right thing. Without giving the memory permission to surface, he was suddenly thrown back to his first attack, his first time drinking human blood. He had been in an alleyway just like this one, only a stranger had been offering him help. He had killed them. He had watched them die. Apparently good intentions meant jack shit in this town.

Watching for a brief moment as his company seemed to struggle against the pain she was in, it took a surprisingly short amount of time for her to admit defeat. Eyeing the blood on the ground, taking a moment to ensure he wasn’t about to lose it, he forced himself to focus on the task at hand. Apparently other people weren’t the only danger now, he was very much a part of it. A new member of the twisted, underground community responsible for so much pain, and suffering. But he was determined not to hurt her, and hopefully, if she became aggressive, he would be able to fend her off in her current state. His parents were doctors, they had basically been grooming him his entire life to follow them into the profession. If anybody could do this, he could. He needed to try, at the very least. “Oh, so now you want the idiot’s help?” He asked pointedly, moving to crouch before her in an attempt to find where the blood was coming from. “Are you going to tell me how you’re injured or would you rather insult my intelligence again?”

The boy was not human. Deirdre knew this because, as he neared, he stank. Not of sweat and questionable body spray like most human boys of his presumed age range (how old was he? 16?) but the way she had grown up on. A stench that buried deep in her heart, filling her with warmth. Being a banshee meant she knew these things; being fae meant she was tasty to the undead of the world. She groaned. Was he going to use her legs like a water fountain? The last thing she wanted, after being attacked, was being licked by a boy in an alley. “No, I’d rather just insult you,” she hissed, “you pea-brained, piss-filled, wet bread ex-human.” It occurred to her that she should probably be kind to the boy who might help her. It was a thought that didn’t linger for long. “Do you even know what to do?” She asked in more of a grumble. “And I don’t need your help, you prepubescent—” She wheezed again, cursing as she gripped her leg. Don’t be mean to the boy who can help—this time, the thought lingered.

“I’m sorry,” she conceded in a whisper. “It just...hurts. I think...I think there must be something stuck in my thigh. Normally I would be healing now but…” Deirdre winced and knocked her head against the brick. Through clenched teeth, she tried to point the spot out to him. “I was attacked,” she explained plainly, “what else do you think happens in this town? And you can’t see my ass from your angle, but I’m a real snack.” She tried to smirk, but in her state, the best she could do was a tight-mouthed, toothy wince. “Are you going to help me, or not?”

Milo listened to the woman berate him, almost amused by her insults until she called him an ex-human. His expression hardened, and he glared at her. It wasn’t as though he needed the reminder of everything he had lost, especially not now, when he was trying to help someone. “Yes, actually. I’m sure that comes as a fucking shock.” He bit out. “My parents are doctors, they kind of raised me to follow in their footsteps…” Leaning back on his heels, he eyed the woman. The fact that she knew he wasn’t human implied she wasn’t human herself. The smell of her blood had made him suspicious, but her words offered him undeniable confirmation. Usually, he would be annoyed by the knowledge. Where were all the humans in White Crest? Living normal lives? Away from this chaos? But he actually felt a strange spark of hope. If she wasn’t a human there was a good chance she healed a Hell of a lot faster than one. Continuing to glare, he sincerely hoped he didn’t look prepubescent and she was only trying to get to him. Jeez, the thought of being perceived as a teenager forever wasn’t exactly a fun one. “I’m 22, asshole.” He muttered. “Like, actually 22, before you ask.” It felt necessary to add given what he was now, even if it did essentially out him.

Beginning to carefully roll up his sleeves, he chose to ignore the apology. He had a reputation for utilising his sharp tongue when he was angry, upset, or hurt in some way. He knew exactly what the woman was doing, the least he could do was make an effort to be understanding. “Yeah, no shit it hurts. In case you hadn’t noticed, you’re bleeding out in an alleyway.” He made an effort to soften his tone, matching the way she had carefully softened her own. “How is your healing?” He asked. “If we get this shit out, are you going to be good to walk?” He knew that healing abilities greatly depended on the severity of the wound, but he figured she would know better than him just how badly she was injured. His mind running through the various ways of dealing with a potential stab wound, you weren’t supposed to remove the item until you were safely inside a hospital but that wasn’t exactly an option here. “Hm, I’m gay. Don’t flatter yourself.” He countered, resisting the urge to point out she could still be considered a snack. Only literally. “Yes, I’m going to help you. Why else would I still be here putting up with your bullshit?” He asked. “I’m trying to figure out the best way to do this- show me where you’re hurt? This thing that attacked you, I’m assuming it wasn’t a person… do you know what it was?”

Doctors... Deirdre stewed the thought in her head. Parents that wanted him to be a doctor, but now he was a vampire. Was that tragic or funny? “You look like a teenager,” she muttered instead, turning her face away from him. Sympathy for a stranger wasn’t her style, she wasn’t about to make it. Yet, as she decided she wasn’t going to ask, wasn’t going to care, was simply going to make this kid help her and then throw cash in his face, something he said stuck out to her. Actually 22. She turned back to him and the annoyance in her features softened. “Are you new?” She asked him, “newly turned, I mean.” Deirdre opened her mouth to say more; part of her wanted to say she was sorry, another part knew there was no point. He must’ve been sorry enough for himself. His parents wanted him to be a doctor, he was a vampire. She turned her face away again.

“It’ll take me a bit, but I’ll be fine,” the banshee sighed, turning her eyes to the dark sky above. “I don’t heal like a zombie, but I heal faster than a human. And I’ve been hurt worse, and walked in worse conditions.” As he continued, she turned back to him, surprised to find a chuckle escaping her lips. “Well, you’d still know a good ass when you see one, wouldn’t you? Or are you tasteless and stupid?” Deirdre reached down, tearing up her dress to get it out of the way. “It was--” She grunted, the shrill sound of ripping fabric cutting her off. “--something like you.” Deirdre glanced up. “A spawn. Something you very well could’ve been turned into.” She paused, having torn up her dress enough to expose the wound. “Assuming, of course. Maybe you’re of the brain-eating sort, I don’t know.” She pointed out the spot where the cut was the deepest, where she felt the most pain. “I think maybe its nail broke off, or a finger.”

Milo glared at the woman, giving her his most powerful deadpan stare. If she wanted him to help then she needed to stop insulting him. At least, he spitefully wanted to think that. He had a feeling both of them knew he couldn’t bring himself to walk away from her. “And thank you for that boost of confidence.” He countered, his tone dripping with sarcasm. He opened his mouth to continue, to make it clear how annoyed he was by her consistent mutterings, but he witnessed her expression shift, and was caught off guard by her next words. He wasn’t expecting sympathy, or empathy, or whatever this was. He hadn’t been given time to build up his walls, and the alcohol in his system certainly wasn’t helping him to hide his pain. “New enough.” He admitted. “It’s been a few months, not that it’s any of your business. What are you going to do, plan a memorial? Tell me you’re sorry that I’m going to look like a fucking teenager forever? I don’t want to hear it.” He pointedly turned his attention to her leg as she began to tear away the material of her dress, hoping he could hide his expression.

“Give me that.” He said, holding out a hand, gesturing for her to fully tear away the strip of material. At least then he would be able to stem the bleeding. He could only hope supernatural creatures followed a similar logic to humans when it came to blood flow. Faster than a Human. That was good. Even if stemming the blood flow didn’t help it to congeal around the wound, she would begin healing the moment he removed what was embedded in her flesh. He nodded to let her know he had registered her comment, resisting the urge to roll his eyes as she continued. Jeez, did she ever shut up? “Well, maybe I’m a bottom and I have more important things to worry about.” He countered, saying the first thing that came to his mind because he couldn’t bear to give her the satisfaction of winning. Feeling his heart sink at the mention of a Spawn, he didn’t need the reminder of how close he had come to becoming one himself. How somebody had killed him, and turned him, not knowing what his fate might be.

“You think I don’t know that?” He snapped. “Lucky for you, I’m still Milo, and I think I’ll be sticking with blood.” Were there vampires who ate brains? Or was she talking about zombies? Maybe she didn’t know which undead creature he was. He shelved the question for another time. Harsh would know, and the man seemed to have a strange sense of patience when it came to his never ending questions. Wrinkling his nose at the mention of a nail or a finger breaking off, he wasn’t entirely sure which possibility was more disturbing. A Spawn was a person, after all. Or a Spawn used to be a person. His heart broke for whoever had been forced to suffer in such a way, whoever had lost themselves to become such a monster. “I don’t exactly have any tweezers, are you going to be good if I like- get in there and remove whatever it is?” He had no other choice, it needed to happen, but asking for permission first felt like the right thing to do. “I’ll do it as quickly as I can. I’m not out to hurt you, even if you are incredibly annoying.”

It wasn’t Deirdre’s business. She knew that. This child—Milo—was telling her that. She was telling herself that. And yet, her mouth opened without her meaning for it too. Her voice drifted out soft and warm and apologetic. “Did you get a memorial?” She asked, “you could have one now. All the dead deserve to be remembered; as they were, and in your case, as they will be.” But it wasn’t her business, and she liked calling the brat annoying more than she did thinking about how sad and terrible his life must’ve been. All their lives were, that was just the thing about pain anyway.

“You would be a bottom,” Deirdre said, hoping it came off as scathing as she wanted it to. Her legs burned, and the only person who could help her was some tragic undead child. That alone was enough to make her grumpy, but as Milo suggested it, she realized the bratty vampire would have to stick his fingers into her thigh. Which was exactly as terrible as it sounded. “Some vampires don’t realize,” she clarified with a groan, preparing herself for the pain to come, “how close they were to becoming something else. If it had just been a different vampire that turned up. If the intention had been different…” Her words trailed off, knowing she had no real point to make. “You’re stupid,” she said suddenly, as she realized she was being too nice to him. “Go ahead and stick your hand inside. I very well can’t do it myself, or else I wouldn’t be here.”

Milo faltered, opting to feel anger instead of the many emotions threatening to break through and overwhelm him. Who did this woman think she was, asking him such personal questions, questions he hadn’t even considered until now? It infuriated him because he didn’t want to feel. He didn’t want to think about everything he had lost, the fact that he really was dead, the fact that somebody had targeted him, killed him, and clearly walked away from his body without caring what might become of it. “I was born and raised here.” He snapped, an edge to his voice as he tied the strip of material around the top of her thigh. His movements were probably sharper than they needed to be, and he definitely tightened the knot with more force than necessary, but it was proving to be a helpful outlet for his frustration. “Kind of hard to have a memorial for someone you see walking around at night.” When the blood flow had been stemmed, he began using the sleeve of his hoodie to scrub away as much blood as he was able to. It was coating her skin, making it difficult to see exactly where the injury was. “I don’t want a memorial.” He insisted, only briefly looking up so that he could glare at her. “I don’t want to be remembered. I’m still here… saving your ass.”

When he could adequately see the entry point of whatever was embedded in his company’s flesh, he began to roll up his bloody sleeves, ignoring the sweet scent that permeated from them. “Yeah? Don’t be jealous because my sex life is more interesting than yours.” He countered, despite his sex life currently being very, very uninteresting. After becoming a vampire, the last thing on his mind had been getting laid. He was far too focused on maintaining his existential crisis. “I do realise.” His voice was dripping with bitterness, and he made no effort to hide that fact. Her words were drawing out memories he would much rather forget, he was being forced back into the fear, and anxiety he had been drowning in the night his life had been stolen. “I’m stupid?” He demanded an explanation, refusing to let the comment go. “Really? Why? Because I got myself killed? From where I’m sitting it looks like you nearly did the fucking same like, ten minutes ago.” Giving her no warning, the moment she offered him permission he slid his thumb and forefinger into her puncture wound.

The anger in his chest was almost helpful, it allowed him to concentrate on anything but what he was actually doing. Ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of heat, muscle, and slick blood, It didn’t take long before he discovered what he assumed to be the nail or finger. Slowly he began to inch it backwards, so that he didn’t lose his grip. It seemed to have scraped against bone, which was definitely why it had broken off, and not been pulled out when the creature had been forced to withdraw. He shuddered to think about how painful it must have been for the woman beneath him, about how painful it must be for her now. As irritating as she was, he couldn’t bring himself to delight in her pain. He wasn’t that person. He had vowed to never be that person. So he was careful, and considerate, his movements slow, and gentle in a way they hadn’t been only moments before. “I’m sorry- If I do this too quickly I could cause more damage… just- a couple more seconds, okay?”

“That’s not true,” Deirdre was quick to retort, wincing at herself. Perhaps it was a sensitive subject for her given Morgan’s death? Yes, yes, that sounded right. Deirdre sighed and clung to that explanation. Morgan had mourned herself and pained over the lack of recognition of her death in the world. The idea of a memorial sounded nice to her. Did it sound that way to this child too? “To move on, to move past it...wouldn’t it be something to face? Memorialize? Wouldn’t you want to? Don’t you think someone other than yourself should mourn you?” Deirdre winced again, this time from the pain and jostled forward with ragged breathing. She could see the child glaring at her through the corner of her eyes, and truthfully, she would too if some lady she was forced to save was trying to philosophize about something she didn’t know. But Death was a force she knew well, better than anyone else ever could. She was born to it. She lived by it. And one day it would claim her servitude.

But that day was not today, and she wouldn’t let it be. To die in the hands of a bratty vampire would be embarrassing enough to cause her ghost to haunt the alley forever. And she would’ve liked not staring at damp bricks for eternity. “My sex life is very exciting, thank you very much,” Deirdre huffed, “in fact, it’s very active and just yesterday my girlfriend and I—why am I telling you this?” She groaned, knocking her head against the brick behind her. It seemed all she could do was lean forward or back, and both caused undesirable pain. “No you’re stupid because you’re stupid,” she growled, “and I didn’t—I’m not going to die. I’m not going to die. I’m not.” She always worried any wheeze or cough of pain would be a scream waiting to rip out of her, but if that was the case, it would’ve happened ten minutes ago.

Unless it was the child’s shoddy doctor work that would do her in. “I’m used to this,” she confessed, addled with pain that grew sharper and sharper as the child dug around. But what she’d said was true. She knew a life of pain, she had been raised to endure it. Deirdre had suffered far worse than this, and that truth was the only thing that kept her awake and hissing. But in her agony, where the world turned dark and then white, she always thought it was like looking into Death. It smelt like fresh cut grass, and it sounded like the jingle of cow bells. The sort of place she’d like to be, the sort of place that wanted her. Unfortunately, in the moments between her spasms of pain, it was just old brick to look at. “Were you a med student when it happened?” Her head rolled to the side, staring at him. “Bright prospects? Future to look forward to? Boyfriend waiting for you?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to move past it- you know what, no. We’re not having this conversation.” Milo snapped. He had more important things to worry about, he refused to get drawn into an argument. “No.” He insisted, his tone laced with aggression. “I don’t want other people to mourn me. I’m still in their lives, I’m still here, I’m still me. There’s nothing to fucking mourn.” Of course, that wasn’t true. There was an awful lot to mourn, but he wasn’t about to admit that, not when this woman clearly thought she had the answers to all of his problems. Laughing, unable to help himself, the sound was sharp, but not devoid of genuine amusement. He enjoyed the fact that he had clearly gotten to her. The pain might be making her delirious, or keeping any filters she had in place from working, but his attempts to annoy her had evidently been successful. “I don’t know, but you sound awfully defensive.” He replied, ignoring the comment on his stupidity as he focused on his task. For a brief moment he could see an element of fear, or anxiety. Something that made the woman beneath him seem incredibly vulnerable. It didn’t feel right to continue in their back and forth when she was quite literally in agony.

“I know you’re not.” He assured her. “You’re going to be fine, okay? I just gotta remove this thing…” It didn’t matter to him what she was used to. Be it pain, dangerous situations, clumsily applying first aid while sitting in a pool of blood… nobody deserved to hurt like she was currently hurting. Chewing on his tongue as he concentrated on what he was doing, he was still in the process of carefully drawing out whatever had created the puncture wound when she decided to ask about his past. It seemed every time he softened towards her, she found a new way to upset him. He considered her question, despite not wanting to. For the first time ever his heart was aching for the life he would never have. He wasn’t the type of person who went to med school, and settled down. But until recently that had been his own choice to make. Now he couldn’t do those things. Even if he wanted to, they didn’t feel like options. He wasn’t going to find a stable career, or a boyfriend who loved him. Nobody was going to grow old with him. Choking on an emotion he couldn’t quite place, he dug his fingers into the woman’s injury with an unfair amount of force. “No.” He admitted, his voice cold, and distant. “I gave up any chance of that when I chose getting high over going to class.” Twisting his fingers yet again, he tugged at the object embedded in her thigh, his jaw set, his body tense. “And I don’t date.”

“Not ‘move past’ but….” Deirdre held her tongue; he didn’t want to talk about it. And she, for that matter, wasn’t supposed to care about it. “Don’t you want them to know how it hurts?” She was speaking partially to herself now, delirious with pain and knowing the child didn’t care to listen anyway. “How much you’ve lost? You’re still here, but you’re not you. Not the same. Maybe you’re better off like this. Maybe it’ll be okay. But don’t you want someone to remember that you had a life? A life that was worth living?” And then he laughed, and the sharp sound broke her train of thought. “Or something like that…” she mumbled.

And then it was her turn to laugh, and she did so readily. How funny to be comforted by a stranger. “I’m not going to die because I woul–“ Deirdre’s sentence halted with a cry of pain, she bit down on the inside of her cheek until she could taste sweet copper simply to stop herself from screaming. Her lungs burned as she swallowed down more gasps of agony. As annoying as the child was, she thought it would be wise not to scream right at him. Maybe she really would die, it almost felt like the child was trying to kill her. “Just take it out, you grape-sized-brain having stinky child!” It wasn’t her finest insult, but control in moments of impulse were her specialty, and so she also thought it was wise to censor at least some of her thoughts around the boy. “Not ‘give up’...” she spoke through clenched teeth, “you didn’t give anything up, you idiot. Nothing is over until–” you die. Or, that was the adage her family imparted. But he was dead, and what did that mean for him? “–until it’s over.” She rasped, “and don’t act like sadness and loneliness is the only choice you can make.” Deirdre huffed. “Idiot.”

“I am.” Milo snapped, his voice cracking with emotion, giving away how terrified, and upset he was by the statement. His biggest fear was losing who he was, and now somebody was here, telling him he already had. Blinking away tears, he took a deep breath, desperate to hide how badly her words had affected him. “I’m still Milo, and I still have a life. So you can stop it, okay? Just- just stop it. I don’t give a shit about memorials, or mourning… I don’t…” He swallowed his emotion to the best of his ability, focusing on keeping his hands from shaking. He was trying to do something good, something selfless. Why did it have to be so difficult? Glancing up briefly, he didn’t get to hear why the woman knew she wasn’t going to die, but maybe that was for the best. Her cry of pain reminded him of why he needed to be careful, and despite his inner turmoil, he genuinely didn’t want to hurt her. He didn’t like hearing how much agony she was suffering.

Then she was insulting him again, and it was everything he could do not to make his task hurt even more than it already did. Apparently it was going to be a constant back and forth. “Most people are smart enough to not insult their doctors.” He muttered, any bite from his voice long gone, replaced with a melancholy sense of resignation. “And if you call me an idiot one more time I might actually leave you here.” He added, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose as the object steadily became visible. “I’m not acting like anything. I’m not sad, or lonely, so you can fuck off with that bullshit-” He broke off as whatever the spawn had left behind finally came free. It was solid, but not enough to feel like bone. More like cartilage, or keratin. The shape vaguely resembled a nail, but certainly no human nail. It was thick, and rounded, as though it had been pulled right out of a claw. Even covered in blood, the sight of it was enough to cause a jolt of disgust, and repressing a shudder, he threw it away. Whatever it was, he wanted it as far away from him as possible. He heard it clatter against the asphalt, but forced himself to focus on the wound. A fresh surge of blood had been drawn from it, but there was no indication that it was still actively bleeding. Wiping his fingers on his hoodie he looked up to catch the woman’s eye. He wanted to say he had done everything he was able to, he wanted more than anything to walk away, but he couldn’t. Not before making sure she was able to walk herself. So he set his jaw instead, letting out a huff of breath. “You know your body better than I do, is there anything that might accelerate the healing process?”

Deirdre closed her eyes, listening to Milo’s annoyed bursts through the lens of her fatigue. He sounded like he was trying to speak to her through a wall. And she felt like she was sitting in the pasture again. Beyond them, jingling; wind chimes, cow bells, fae running around with their wood-carved instruments. The sort of place she’d like to be. The world stretched thin, yawned and gasped and snapped back to wet bricks and bloody messes. And the child, who sounded a touch more melancholic than she remembered leaving him off. Must be the inevitable loss of her colourful company. To his credit, her leg did feel better. She ran her hand down, and pressed her palm to the wound. “You’re pretty sad,” she said, looking over at him, “and you sound pretty lonely. But I bet you know both those things already.” Deirdre looked at her leg; she would heal in time, but the thought crossed her mind that she really might just owe this child a great deal more than she was willing to admit. She wouldn’t have died. She could’ve fished the damn thing out herself. She was sure of these things, and yet… “Thank you,” she said sincerely, the first genuine comment to leave her lips so far. “And I’m sorry. And you’re right, you know, you are still Milo. And I’m Deirdre.”

The banshee turned her attention to the sky, lazy clouds rolling over bright moonlight. Not everyone who died in an alley got such a sight, and she wasn’t even dying. “My jacket,” she gestured to it, “you’ll find some cash. Take it.” But, to her surprise, the boy was still standing there. As if waiting to know she’d be okay. “Oh, yes,” she smirked, “if you let me call you an idiot a hundred more times I’ll heal so much faster; insulting children sustains me.” She eyed Milo, wondering if he just might storm off instead. “I’ll be fine,” she assured, “you’ve done everything you can for me.”

Milo couldn’t bring himself to argue anymore. The anger, and annoyance was still burning in his chest, but it was clear the woman wasn’t about to believe a word he said. And that was a lot of energy to expend when it meant getting absolutely nowhere. Regardless, he still wanted to open his mouth and insist he wasn’t sad, or lonely. She said the words with such conviction, as though she knew him better than he knew himself. But the voice in the back of his mind, the one usually responsible for whispers of self doubt, had him wondering who he would really be trying to convince. “Agree to disagree.” He muttered finally, glad to see a little colour returning to her cheeks. It appeared as though her pain was fading. If it was still present, it was far weaker than it had been only moments ago. Faltering in surprise at the unexpected thanks, he realised her voice had taken on a new tone, one he hadn’t heard from her before.

He wasn’t entirely sure how to react. After everything they had said to each other, he could hardly consider her a friend. Yet she was making herself vulnerable, admitting he had done something to help her. “Oh… uh, you don’t have to thank me. It’s whatever...” He insisted, feeling suddenly awkward. And then she decided to tell him he was right, he was still Milo. The relief he felt was difficult to hide. It was almost as though she had been holding his identity, ready to crush it in her fist, and now she was handing it back to him. Intact, and unharmed. “Deirdre.” He echoed, committing the name to his memory. “I’d say it’s nice to meet you but…” He gestured vaguely to the pool of blood she was still sitting in. “You’ve also taken every opportunity to insult me so…”

Glancing down at her jacket pocket as she insisted upon drawing his attention to it, he wasn’t about to reject her offer. Maybe somebody else would have, but he knew how valuable money was, how easily it disappeared when you kept such expensive habits. “Thanks.” He said quietly, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small wad of cash. Shooting her a pointed look as he pocketed it, he should have expected something akin to another insult. “I’m not a child.” He countered, taking one last look at her leg. It already seemed to be in the process of healing, but he had a feeling it would be a while until she was able to put any weight on it. “Are you sure?” He asked, needing to know before he essentially abandoned her. “I mean- I can stay here if you want me to?”

“Don’t take it personally,” Deirdre groaned, “I insult everyone.” She paused, “actually, do take it personally. I want you to be insulted.” She expected him to run, she hoped he would run. Instead he stood there, staring at her with worried eyes and reluctance. Her stomach tensed. She turned her face from him, sickened. She wanted to tell him to stop, yes he had helped her out but she wasn’t expecting him to care. She didn’t care. And she was sure, more than anything, if she told herself that enough times, it would be true. “Have you ever tried nectar, Milo?” She asked, looking over at him again. “Seems to be popular among vampires. You know, that money you have could buy you a good drink. Take it and go find some vampire bar.” She knew what she was doing, and as her mind protested—if the boy already knew, he didn’t need a reminder. If he didn’t, then she shouldn’t have been telling him. But she grinned, toothy and lopsided, eager to assert to the world that she was still the apathetic woman she was made to be. She had spared the spawn that tried to eat her out of a foolish idea that the creature was pitiable. But she wouldn’t make that mistake again. She didn’t care. Despite it all, she didn’t care. She was Deirdre Dolan, born to an ancient religion of pride and sacrifice. She was not going to die in the alley. She was not going to be kind to some stranger.

“Go on,” she urged him, “get out of here. I’ll be fine, and I’ll heal better if I don’t have to look at your sad face.”

Milo continued to glare at Deirdre with the air of a parent waiting out a tantrum. The woman could say whatever she wanted to say, she had already managed to ruin his mood. He was tired of trying to decide whether he cared about her wellbeing, or wanted to outright abandon her, so he settled on making it clear she was an incredibly irritating presence. If this was what being a doctor felt like he was grateful he had managed to avoid that particular path. Even if becoming a vampire was the alternative. His expression shifting suddenly at the mention of Nectar, maybe he shouldn’t be surprised that she knew what it was. But it was jarring, hearing somebody mention the substance so casually. “Once.” He said, his voice cold, and curt. “I woke up dead.” Finally straightening up, brushing off the blood that had dried on his hoodie, he watched some of it as it flaked away. It still smelled enticing, but he wouldn’t let himself dwell on that. Not now. “I’m not going to a bar,” he muttered. “I’m going home. Or I was going home before you decided to interrupt me with this bullshit.”

Feeling a surge of annoyance at the sight of her grin, he could only assume her pain level had taken a dramatic dip. As much as he hated the fact that it apparently made it easier for her to get to him, he was undeniably proud that he had been able to help in some way. His medical knowledge of the supernatural was questionable, but it seemed basic first aid was applicable to most creatures, human or otherwise. Pulling a carton of cigarettes out of his pocket, he sparked up, pointedly taking his time now that she was clearly trying to get him to leave her. He was more than ready to go, though he would be lying if he said he wasn’t satisfied by knowing he could annoy her a little in return before eventually giving her what she wanted. Exhaling a breath of smoke, he faltered, wondering if he really did have a sad face. He hoped not, the idea of people being able to read him so easily made him uncomfortable. And he wasn’t sad, was he? But he could worry about that another time, maybe spend a few more hours staring at himself on his phone’s front camera, attempting to see what other people saw. Tapping ash dangerously close to where Deirdre was sitting, he finally turned on his heel, resisting the urge to look back as he walked away from her. It still felt wrong, leaving her alone like this, sitting in a pool of her own blood, but he trusted her to take care of herself, regardless of whether he would ever admit that out loud. If she said she would be okay, she would be okay. He had done his part, and if he was lucky, he might never have to see her again.

All of a sudden, guilt flooded Deirdre’s stomach, choking up her body. Slowly, she dragged her blunt nails across the wet asphalt, swallowing back the apology that wanted to free itself from where it was lodged in her throat. She’d only been trying to hurt him, yet knowing she had succeeded in some regard left her mouth acidic. At the very least, his opinion of her would be soured, and wasn’t that what she wanted? She imagined some measure of control and relief in making someone hate her just as much as she did herself. And she could only hope that he did; anyone who had seen her this vulnerable ought to. But he stood there, letting smoke collect in the air and in her nose--scrunched up in distaste. It went without saying that banshees in general didn’t appreciate smoke much, though Deirdre didn’t share her mother’s venomous hatred for it. She only turned to look up at the stars again, Milo’s smoke occasionally obstructing her vision, to her displeasure. She didn’t say anything, and he didn’t either. When the acrid smell of tobacco cleared the air and wet footsteps receded beyond what she could hear, Deirdre turned finally to face the world around. If she was lucky, she’d never have to see Milo again. If she was really lucky, he wouldn’t realize how much of a liar she was.

Her legs were not okay. She was not okay. But Milo had his own problems; people like him often did. He ought to be spared what lived in the shadows, as much as someone like him could be. He wasn’t all that bad, really. Not that Deirdre would ever tell him that.

After all, she was never going to see him again.

#wickedswriting #pain of the week #c: milo #wickedmilo #chatzy #suicidal ideation tw #addiction tw #drug use tw #drug abuse tw #medical blood tw #// jessie is the best and milo sTOLE MY HEART AND ATE IT

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gamergirluprising · 4 years

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(WARNING SENSITIVE INFO WILL BE DISCUSSED OR GIVEN. IF YOU CANNOT HANDLE INFO REGARDING SELF-HARM OR BULLYING I’D ADVISE YOU NOT TO READ ON. VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED)

Hello, everyone, I’d like to share somethings that have urked me and outright surprise me when getting deeper and deeper into this whole shebang cause honestly, this is too much to NOT notice. If you're wondering what I am talking about I am referring to all the stuff I found out about Viv and the fact that she never truly seemed sorry for what she's done to said people based on what I have found out and what she's said in recent years.

Now you all may say "G, she said she's sorry and that's that. Don't bring up things that happened years ago or have been resolved." and look, man, I'd leave it alone if it was CLEAR that she was truly a person of her word, wasn't a hypocrite, and didn't cause 3 people to be suicidal and cause/know of witchhunts that she KNOWS happened and/or wanted to happen. You guys can like her all you want and defend her, but be sure they are good defenses, understand WHERE I am coming from, and be mindful of what I am saying. Don't just ignore everything she did just cause you THINK she's super nice or because she's your idol.

I will also emphasize that I wish for NO ONE to send any unnecessary hate or anything of the like to Viv. You don't stoop to someone else's level just cause they did some bad crap. I just wanted to say any of this, loud and clear, cause its straight facts that shouldn't be buried just cause she wants to hold onto her image the best she can. That isn't at all fair to those victims who have been wronged and had their names tainted over her destructive and mean-spirited hypocritical behavior. AGAIN DO NOT ATTACK VIV AND DON'T THINK ME CALLING HER OUT IS A REASON TO HATE HER. We can be better than her in terms of handling things. Do not also think me calling her out shouldn't have been done JUST CAUSE you don't wanna hear it or not. If you don't wanna see it, you don't have to read it.

with that being said, LET'S DISSECT.

S T A R V A D E R

First I have to start off relaying to you guys what Starvader had stated at the beginning of the document so you'll get a jist of why she even spoke up in the first place.

"I type this document with no malicious intent only my personal thoughts on how I feel recently about the situation since its been on my mind well every day now since 2013. At least five years I’ve had thoughts below as to my personal experience of meeting an ex idol and why sometimes meeting your idol isn’t the best approach. For me, that ex idol is Vivienne Medrano creator of Zoophobia and Hazbin Hotel. I’m not aiming to defame this creator nor do I think people should stop liking their work or stop supporting them. If you like their work there is nothing wrong with that but I will refuse to silence myself any longer due to how much this rarely leaves my mind and tends to come up. This has been a situation swept under the rug and most would probably state ‘ well why are you bringing all this up now it was so and so years ago you guys squashed this etc etc “ that being the case, sorry doesn’t fix emotional trauma that comes up frequently during depressive episodes and comments do tend to stick to people in a certain way. Apology or not, words have a heavy weight to them."

I put this here even though I will be putting a link to her doc because people will most likely not read or press the link and just act as if Starvader wanted blood. No, she stated her mind and was clear when saying she wanted no harm done to Viv.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/e/2PACX-1vRX8VEoTS7Xot7D9u5i7MMEgtT44mNEtgpl4FY7QDZCA7ZY2j-CTJF7Uw_JwSJ6WUQNVvaTQv60Igte/pub

In this link It tells anyone who comes across it what she and some others mentioned here had to go through when being compared by Viv, wanting to do what's right and still being "called out" and bullied while getting hate sent to them, and having been told how her dreams would never ever be achieved and that she should practically give up, how she put friends against one another, etc. It showcases screenshots of these examples.

It all began with the accusation of art theft. The very thing she played the victim in with someone else. I'm sure some of you old-time fans of Viv know who this person was and are aware of the beef they had with one another. After reading Starvader's Doc, I want you to look at the post Vivziepop made to defame someone known as

D O L L C R E E P

This may be a throwback to you and you all may have thought this person was abusive. I won't say that they did absolutely nothing wrong since they themselves have said they did some wrong in the situation, but I will say that one was more of a problem starter than the other.

http://web.archive.org/web/20151008172207/http://enoughisenough-dollcreep.tumblr.com/post/125101370456/my-experience-with-dollcreep

Notice in this post that the very things she did to Starvader she said DollCreep did to her and how she tries and paint DollCreep as this SEVERELY abusive person. Hell even in Starvader's document you'll see that DollCreep told SV that he talked with Viv about the whole thing regarding SV and Viv and she apparently listened at the time. Not to mention that the screenshots Viv put in that post were either take(very possibly) taken out of context or not even bad to begin with (though his reply about the face thing was odd and shouldn't have been addressed b but due to circumstances, I think that's why he was so cautious). I don't know DC like that, but this kinda makes me feel as though he wasn't a bad person Viv makes him out to be and more her trying to destroy his image ENTIRELY for her benefit, cause till this very day she still calls him an abuser and someone she doesn't want to meet again.

if you continue on into the post she made, you'll see that she has made characters, EERILY SIMILAR to DC's, some WAY MORE than others. SV was willing to change some of the designs and even wanted to stop, Viv, however, seemed to take great offense over such an accusation and took to social media to make her frustrations known. SV kept this hidden from 2013 to 2018.

Oh btw, if you read the doc you'll see that SV wanted to commit suicide. DC actually attempted it. The cyberbullying ran that deep and it ANGERS me.

here’s what someone who saw the sitch had to say.

https://web.archive.org/web/20170619163024/http://dcs-personal-blog.tumblr.com/

can find everything here regarding what DC said about the sitch. You guys DO NOT ATTEMPT TO HURT THIS PERSON. It actually pisses me off that people even attacked DC and blindly believed Viv. It’s Johnny Depp’s situation all freaking over again

Here’s the picture of Viv saying that he was abusive, completely ignoring her behavior, and knowing hate would be sent to DC. Again won’t say that DC was completely innocent but damn man, was this necessary? DC even said that they talked it out and everything

https://vivziepop.tumblr.com/post/179705403534/im-only-going-to-say-this-once

Don’t even get me started on the whole character credit fiasco that Viv refused to properly fix.

https://krieg-was-taken.tumblr.com/post/101438542866/dollcreep-kibadoglover45-dollcreep-even

Look at this as well.

https://web.archive.org/web/20200104224648/https://tyacutie123.tumblr.com/post/125800399071/beware-of-abusive-artist

it mentions SV again, but it also brings into light a parody character meant to mock DC during all of this drama.

https://killapunk.tumblr.com/post/125896144245/dcs-personal-blog-enoughisenough-dollcreep/amp

DollCreep does the same thing back and is treated like the enemy. Hypocrisy at its finest.

now, most of you guys will be saying that this all happened in the past. It’s over, some will say, She’s changed (some of you may even say that these people deserve it. Yes people actually have said stuff like this to me or others) but here’s the problem, She still pulls crap like this to ruin people or to make others feel stupid. Just last year she was laughing with JaneGumball (who APPARENTLY made up with the victim) saying that she deserves it for being rude when the girl just said her opinion and was still a fan of Viv at the time, meaning she didn’t even mean to hurt Viv’s feelings and, hear me out, even if she did WHY FIND HER CYBERBULLYING FUNNY AND JUSTIFIED OVER AN OPINION? What sort of logic is that? That’s GREATLY immature and unnecessary, especially for someone her age (She’s 27 or 28 guys while the victim was 15, come on man!)

and I’m sure some of you know what happened with the person who made a meme regarding HH and other animated cartoons.

She’s VERY MUCH AWARE THAT THEY WERE ATTACKED....and this is how she responds....wow O K A Y.

So no, she didn’t actually change because she most likely didn’t think she had to. People kept supporting her thus making her believe that what she did was correct. Oh and Faust is practically Viv as well. (As seen by the SV doc and this tweet thread)

https://twitter.com/melonbea/status/1206994000563068930?s=19

Hell Viv seemed to ignore this too, as well as a lot of shipping drama if it involves a specific ship, but I won’t delve too deep into that subject since I am not very aware of the things that go down in that side of the fandom.

and there’s this

https://afraidofmonsters-headcanons.tumblr.com/post/188662798256/so-lets-talk-about-this-blog-the-fandom-and-viv

and this

https://historia-kq.tumblr.com/post/190882421127

I’d advise you guys to hear these things out.

Oh and Viv is the type to be a Hypocrite regularly,

https://twitter.com/VivziePop/status/613097846603026433?s=19

I could send you all the screenshots of her tweets but that should be another post on its own cause THERE IS A LOT. Like her Cancel Culture tweet, that tweet where she said, and I quote, “The hypocrisy is strong” back in 2014, November 29th. That time she had a thread of tweets saying, and I quote “never let someone dictate your value as an artist! Never seek the approval of someone else and conform to what they say you should do!” Despite doing this to StarVader.

If you guys want screenshots I can either personally DM or make a post showing her hypocrisy. Cause honestly this is rather, dare I say it, TOXIC. She’s manipulated people and has used them when they don’t abide by her rules or make a mistake that could have been resolved privately, she attacks and it’s saddening. I am TIRED of people getting hurt by her and I am tired of her abusing her power. If she wants to change I am COMPLETELY DOWN for that, but change starts when you want it. You can’t say sorry and expect people not to see past the lies or see that you obviously didn’t change. Sorry should mean what it means, feeling regret or penitence, but if you don’t at all exhibit these things then how are we supposed to believe that you are at all sorry for anything you’ve done currently AND in the past? I mean damn dude did you guys even know what happened to the cosplayer that Viv was mad about?

https://boricua-moonbakery.tumblr.com/post/616407364553310208

Now look, if you like Viv’s content, that’s your choice. I for one very much do like some fan content that i’ve stumbled onto and find some very creative and my cup of tea and while I’m not a huge fan of HH I still very much find the premise very creative. What I do if a creator of something is majorly sketch or strange I simply seperateb the content from the creator. I simply wanted to point out things many peeps don’t know about and any person who is a fan of Viv, I hope you’d at least understand WHY I am at all saying anything I am saying. I want there to be justice but I want things to be fair. I don’t want Viv to get hurt, but I want her to actually learn from her mistakes. I am not here to discourage you from anything, it’s your choice if you choose to stay and I will not judge you for it. I am a girl who SIMPLY wants people to be more aware of who exactly Vivienne Medrano is. She’s mistreated both fans of HH and ZP and it boggles me.

If you guys want more info, like her tweets that I mentioned, just message me.

END OF DISSECTION

#hazbin hotel #vivziepop #vivziemind #vivziepop drama #vivziemind drama #vivienne medrano #vivienne medrano drama #cyberbullying #hypocrisy #Trigger warning #tw #content warning #vivziepop critique

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caffeinated-chaos-bean · 3 years

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Mid-2021 Blog Update

Hey guys.

So... It’s been a while. Quite a while... and I want to lay some things out as to why I’ve been gone and the blog has practically been dead in the water for half a year, if not for a whole year.

I want you to know that what I’m going to say will be in heavy detail. I’m comfortable speaking on it, and what information doesn’t just include me will be using either public details that I know I can share or will be put in a short and sweet manner.

This is your trigger warning: If you need to click off or scroll past due to the mention of extremely bad mental health, toxic relationships and households, the mention of depression, anxiety, and suicidal thoughts, please do so now.

. . .

First off, I’ve lessened the amount of time I’ve been online due to my mental health. I was put on antidepressants as well as told to take anti-anxiety gummies in November and will be weaned off of those starting this October. A lot of my family and relationship drama on top of the world practically shutting down and going into chaos thanks to COVID-19 just took a major toll on me. With so much on my shoulders, stress from living with said things on my shoulders, unsupportive family members, and an emotionally distant partner, I was at one of the lowest points in the life. I’d never had to be on mood-related medication in my life until last November. I’d always been able to handle what was thrown at me, but mid- to late-2020 was what knocked me down that low for the first time in my life. Suicidal thoughts came and went (they weren’t often, only when I couldn’t bottle my emotions up any longer but didn’t have a way to express them either), but even when they did, I knew that it was just in my head. I never once chose to act on them, because to me, that is not a way to solve a problem or escape your inner demons. All it does it put your personal suffering onto those around you -- your friends, family, and those who cared about you even when you don’t see it -- and it doesn’t do anyone any good. When my doctor asked me about suicide, that’s the very explanation I gave her. Yes, they happened, but I’d never act on them; it’s not a way out and it puts your pain onto others and only worsens the situation for the long-term.

Aside from that, though... I move on to other personal reasons for my absence that helped trigger what was mentioned above. Mid-August of 2019, my then fiancé's mother was murdered by two 17yr old boys of whom she and their family knew. Going off the information that was made public, one boy had mixed meth with marijuana prior to the killing. He claimed that my fiancé’s mother mouthed off and made a derogatory comment about his deceased mother, thus sparking the incident. While he claims to have only stabbed her once, the autopsy report shows that her head/face and upper torso were “hacked, slashed, and chopped” repeatedly with “various sharp, bladed objects”. Not only did they murder her, the two individuals also set the grass around her body on fire along with her home. When we found out about this having happened, I had no idea how bad it would have turned my relationship upside-down. My now ex-fiancé didn’t come from a great childhood, there was abuse and CPS, among other things. But he had managed and was a good person. He could make me laugh and tear up at his jokes, sang beautifully, and did everything to make those around him happy. When he lost his mom, it broke him. It shattered his very being, because not only did he know the two who caused it to happen, he also was unable to reconcile and make amends with his mother for what he went through as a child. He was robbed of being able to forgive and be on good terms with her, and it broke him. He stopped communicating with family, he took bereavement after being pulled from work by family the day it was confirmed to be his mother only to to fired 3 months down the line when he tried to go back (fuck Walmart for that btw), and was slowly becoming a hypochondriac. He stopped talking to me, he would cry in his sleep, and grief made him lash out as was expected. But as the days dragged on, his motivation and care towards finding a new job dwindled. He and my mother would fight endlessly and I was caught in the middle of it, as we all were in one household. There were times in which I would keep my phone on my leg and record for my own personal documentation should I need it due to how bad my own mother would belittle me, belittle my ex behind his back, and just scream and go off. When I’d turn to my ex for comfort, he wasn’t much help due to his own deteriorating mental health. He took to discord, specifically the Vampire the Masquerade community, as his escape from reality. He eventually would hardly talk to me at all, show no compassion, and at times I tried to speak with him about getting a new job or suggesting part-time ones that I felt would be easy and as stress-free as possible for him, I would be shooed away without a word; if I tried to further my attempt to have the conversation, he eventually got an attitude and would just say “Bye!” over and over again while shooing with his hand to get me to leave. There were many days where I’d get off work and sit in the bathroom for an hour and cry because of my frustration and how I felt stuck between two people I cared about deeply (ie. my ex and my mother).

My ex has since moved out and no longer lived with us. He and I are no longer together, and he has cut off all communication to me along with his family. He isn’t living in California anymore, really. He met up with discord friends and is in another state. That’s the last I heard from him. That’s the last his family heard. He doesn’t talk to us or attempt to reach out or respond when his family reaches out. I still very much care about him and want him to get better, but if he has to do so by being away from everyone, then so be it.

While I was letting - or shutting out, rather - the emotions I was feeling once he officially moved out, I relapsed with my anxiety tick; with my trichotillomania. I have a good number of smaller, thinned out spots in my hair from unconsciously pulling out strands of hair when my emotions didn’t know how to regulate. I’m still fighting to get this under control, as I do still catch myself doing it and so does my mother. It currently is not as bad as when my ex first moved out and I had to adjust back into sleeping alone and without someone next to me, but I do still pull. I am looking into trying to get my sister to order me a HabbitAware bracelet for me this Christmas in order to help get my tick back under control. I know its something I will live with forever and go in and out of doing, as there is no cure or medication to curb trichotillomania, but its something to help me be more aware of how often I do pull and to train it to no longer be a muscle memory response.

Most recently, I’ve had to stop taking melatonin. I’ve had bouts of insomnia since my ex left, and eventually I took enough melatonin to not only build an immunity to it but also a slight dependence. I was taking more than I should have been, and I noticed the signs of it and have stopped taking melatonin altogether. Due to this, I have switched to hempseed oil gummies. I take 2 before bed and they have helped wonderfully. But, due to how easy it was for me to become dependent on melatonin, I do plan to take brief breaks from the gummies to avoid a similar situation. I also do not plan on seeking an insomnia medication due to the same reasons. I knew what I was doing was wrong and I knew i was becoming addicted, and due to this I do not wish to risk it happening with a prescription sleep medication. I will deal with my bouts of insomnia as they come.

I also am conquering my insecurities towards others knowing I am a fan of Michael Jackson; a moonwalker. In elementary school (5th grade, 2009), I went through a heavy obsessive phase when he passed. I’d never heard of him, and when I listened to his music that firs time I was instantly hooked. I was ridiculed at school after I performed “Thriller” during a talent show; I had classmates going as far as saying that I must want him to kidnap and r*pe me if I enjoyed his music so much. I didn’t understand the gravity of those comments back then the way that I do now that I’m 23, but I still knew to an extent that what they were saying was in now way a good thing. I shut out his music from mid-6th grade all the way until this year. I hadn’t listened to a single song aside from hearing “Thriller” on the radio during October. For my birthday this year, I had a friend take me out of town and get away for a day. The entire time, she surprised me by playing hours of his music when in the car with her. It has since reopened that connection to his music and I’ve been listening to his songs with a fresh take, with the mind of an adult who can comprehend his words and understand finally what he’s saying for each song. As such, I’ve become more comfortable with others knowing I’m a moonwalker. You can have your opininos of the man, you can choose to believe the tabloids and junk media or make your own conclusions after assessing the details and documents of his life, but I will enjoy the same freedom of opinion.

I know this is getting pretty long, but I wanted to fill those who still might be checking up on this blog for any sort of update or spec of life coming from it in on what’s practically killed the blogs for a good chunk of time.

I do plan to slowly start doing stuff again after Halloween. I have a video made that I plan to post for Halloween and I look forward to letting Kikumi and the others be open for asks again. Until then, may the wind guide you all. I hope everyone can have a safe and wonderful rest of August. I will see you in October.

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