#traumatized mannequin

[mykinkyyandere]

For the head cannon you wrote about five “Traumatized Mannequin” do you think he would get Allison to rumor his darling into forgetting what he did?

I think he is depressed and desperate enough to want this. He would talk to Allison about it eventually.

[zetadraconis11]

Don't forget that MC actually has a shop in Hogsmeade. and the things that you can collect from the animals and plants.

But with the Animals only what they want to give.

That too! MC was a lil moneymaker, lol

The only disappointment was that you couldn't REALLY sell things in the shop. Like, you could sell clothes, but that's normal. I wanted to sell my surplus of plants and things, but I couldn't. We were robbed.

So this is how I imagine the group would be/react...

*in the MC's shop in Hogsmeade*

MC: If you need any potion ingredients, let me know, and I probably have some you can use.

Garreth: Really? Like...mongrel fur and spider fangs?

MC: Yeah, I've got a whole cubby for just jars and jars of spider fangs. I even alphabetized which spiders they came from! I was very bored.

Garreth: Wow...You probably want some payment, right?

MC: Eh, I'll give you a student discount. You don't have to pay. Just don't completely wipe out my storage.

Poppy: Is that...THE giant Venomous Tentacula leaf?

MC: Yep. Hobhouse didn't want to come with and get his own leaf, so I thought some herbalist would love to buy it.

Amit: Wow, you have such an array of scarves.

MC: So many of the same ones. I figured someone would want to buy a few.

Natty: I cannot believe you have your own store! Was it expensive?

MC: Not too expensive. I managed to save up some gold-

Ominis: You mean Galleons.

MC: Yes, those. Anyway, I managed to pay upfront, and now, I've got this place! Oh...what time is it?

Sebastian, checking pocketwatch: It's almost nine.

MC: Okay, everyone out.

Garreth with arms full of jars: I wasn't done perusing your supplies!

MC, once they're all outside: I made an agreement with the poltergeist, and he gets to have the store after nine.

Natty: Wait...what?

Amit: Did you just say poltergeist?

MC: Yeah, when I bought this store, the owner was in cahoots with the poltergeist that lurks in the shop. He drove past owners mad, but I managed to make an arrangement with him.

Poppy: ...Can we go back to the part you said a poltergeist lurks here?

MC: There's a chest that leads you down to his elaborate labyrinth of spooky things. There were mannequins, flipped rooms, and stretched hallways. Then I fought his "monster", which was a troll-sized pile of furniture.

Sebastian: You faced all of that ALONE?

MC: Oh yeah. And then when I went to report to Officer Singer about the owner, the owner easily stopped her, and I had to face that mental witch alone. So, not THAT unusual for me. Just annoying.

The group:

Ominis: ...

Ominis: HOW ARE YOU STILL ALIVE?

[markthemannequin]

Hi Mark

OOC

jaw drops

[inlovewithaspiderguy]

anyways. makes me cry every time

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 99

Part 1 Part 98

Steve spends a short three days in the hospital before they start the discharge. It’s surprising, somehow, that spending time slowly dying in the Upside-Down is more traumatic on the body than literal possession. Eddie can’t wrap his head around it. 

He’s sitting on Steve’s bed, hopefully for the last time, hip to hip as he kicks his feet out over and over again at the same tempo of his beating heart. Steve’s got their fingers interlaced on Eddie’s thigh, flexing his own fingers to that same rhythm Eddie’d started up. 

“You think it’ll be much longer?” Steve asks, slumping his head to the side and atop Eddie’s shoulder.

His hair tickles Eddie’s cheek. Eddie wants to reach up and smooth it back, but Steve’s still holding his hand, and the other one doesn’t quite reach. 

“Nah, the old man’s good at getting what he wants.”

“That’s because he’s got the same big, sad eyes as you.”

Eddie squawks in fake affront even as warmth pools in his cheeks. Few people have mentioned a resemblance, and it makes him go soft and gooey every time.  “I don’t have big, sad eyes!” He shakes Steve’s hand around gently in his - he’s always, always gentle. “I’m too tough.”

Steve snorts, small and tired. Even with relatively minor injuries, neither of them have been sleeping well in the small hospital cot. It’s starting to show in the circles beneath Steve’s eyes. Eddie wants to bundle him up in the backseat of Wayne’s truck and tuck him into their bed at home.

They won’t even have to come back. All they’ve got is some sort of cream for Steve’s burns, and Eddie’s bruised ribs and broken nose  are supposed to heal all on their own. His concussion’s already behind him, even if things still go a little wonky if he moves his neck too quickly. 

They can just convalesce. Maybe Wayne will bring them soup. Or burgers from the diner and a strawberry milkshake to split. Anything will be better than the mind-numbing sterility of the hospital, as long as they’re together. 

If only Wayne would hurry the hell up. 

It’s not Wayne who walks in. It’s not any of their friends, or family, or an unnamed doctor in blue scrubs. It’s not anyone he recognizes at all.

It’s a perfectly matched pair - like salt and pepper shakers at a fancy diner. Eddie feels his shoulders curl, a silent question mark to their upright forms. 

The woman looks like a mannequin, in her gray pencil knit skirt and matching cardigan, belted tight enough to make her look like a wine glass. Her hair is a windswept brown and her chin’s raised just so. 

The man’s suit is a pewter gray, matching her skirt perfectly. He has his hands stuffed into the pockets of his slacks, like he’s posing for a catalog as he looms imposingly on the threshold. 

She knocks on the frame of the door, calling a quiet, “knock knock,” as the man strides in. 

Eddie feels Steve’s hair brush against his cheek as he sits up and twists, to look at the new arrivals. Eddie doesn’t look toward him, can’t tear his eyes away from the pair, as the woman comes to stand beside the man, photogenic smile plastered to her face, even as the man glares down at them.

“Steven,” he says, eyebrows furrowed in an expression Eddie knows intimately. He’s seen it on Steve’s own face enough times. It’s less charming on the older, meaner model. 

Steve drops his hand covertly and shuffles slightly to the left and away, leaving Eddie’s hand to flop to the mattress, bereft. 

“Dad,” Steve replies.

Eddie turns, can’t not when Steve’s voice comes out so even, so lifeless, so dead. It’s just like when the mind flayer was running the show. Like Steve’s not there at all.

He is though. And that feels worse, because as Eddie stares at Steve’s perfect profile, he can almost see the years of distance and berating stacking themselves into the clench of his jaw and that familiar furrow of eyebrows. 

“What do you have to say for yourself?” His Dad doesn’t shout, but the hiss somehow still feels like it’s echoing off the bare walls of the hospital room.

Steve flinches back. Eddie sits on his hand as it twitches without his permission to grab onto Steve’s own. 

“For what, sir?” Mrs. Harrington’s perfect face scrunches up into a wince as she looks sidelong at her husband’s stony face. He opens his mouth, eyebrows angrier than ever, and Steve blurts, “I’m sorry.”

It doesn’t help. 

“Sorry,” he says evenly, like his fist wasn’t clenched in preparation for a strike. “Do you even know what you’re apologizing for?”

Steve sits, wordless, as he stares up at him, unblinking. 

Mrs. Harrington sighs. “Oh, Steve.” It sounds sympathetic, but Steve’s back curls in, arms wrapping around his ribs as he looks down at his own hanging feet. 

Eddie sits on his other hand.

Steve remains silent while storm clouds bloom above Mr. Harrington’s head.

Mrs. Harrington sighs, crossing arms and tapping perfectly manicured fingers against her own forearms, that same familiar beat that Steve gravitates toward without any of the soul.

“Sweetie,” she starts, no warmth in her voice or eyes. “I understand that you might have been feeling a little sick, but that’s no excuse for the state you left the house in.”

Eddie looks at Steve out of the corner of his eyes, and sees Steve looking right back, eyebrow quirked up in a silent question Eddie doesn’t know how to answer with witnesses.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says again, looking back down to the linoleum between his feet. 

“You’re sorry?” Mr. Harrington demands, voice raising with each syllable he utters. “You flooded the house, Steven!”

Steve flinches at the sound of his name. Eddie reaches out for the connection between them and plucks it, thrumming it like a guitar. Steve smiles, just a little, down at his socked feet. 

It’s a mistake. Mr. Harrington’s nostrils flare. Eddie sees the resemblance in the way his nose leans just slightly to the left, almost charmingly crooked. But there’s none of that familiar light behind Mr. Harrington’s eyes. He’s an empty pit, a bottomless well.

“We’ve had to replace all of the carpeting on the second floor,” Mrs. Harrington cuts in, looking down at her nails, uncaring as Mr. Harrington’s incensed further by her words.

“We wouldn’t have even known if the Allen’s hadn’t called us!” He’s shouting now, gesturing wildly toward the open door like whoever the Allen’s are, they’re waiting right outside, watching the show.

Mrs. Harrington sighs. “Oh, Richard. Don’t make a scene.”

As if spurred on by his wife’s chastising words, Mr. Harrington’s voice only gets louder. “You soiled the carpet beyond repair.” He punctuates his words with a raised finger, like he’s counting down all the sins he’s ready to lay at his son’s feet. “You made a spectacle of yourself in front of all the neighbors.” Another raised finger. 

He points both fingers  at Steve’s face, finger close enough to his nose that Eddie wants to snap out and bite it. “You left the garage open to be ransacked!” And here comes raised finger number three. 

Steve’s curling further and further into himself, creating distance between his Father’s wagging finger and his vulnerable face. 

“Leaving the door open, Steven?” Mrs. Harrington asks, just as aloof and uncaring of the scene in front of her, even as she says, “we could have been killed.”

Eddie can’t help the snort that comes out. It’s all just such a cartoonish display, almost unbelievable even as he watches it play out in front of him. He slaps his hand over his mouth, but both their gazes have already snapped over to him. 

Well, better him than Stevie. Stevie, who Eddie’s seen with that same curled posture hiding in his closet, and looking up at his own goddamn house from the passenger seat of Eddie’s van.

He’d been straight backed facing down a demogorgon but just the sight of his parents has him fading into himself. No fucking way. Not on Eddie’s watch.

Eddie slaps his own thighs once, sharp enough that it stings. Mrs. Harrington jumps, just a little, at the sound. Eddie stands, shifting on the balls of his feet until he’s just slightly in front of Steve, ready to defend. 

“Wouldn’t you have to actually be home for that?” Eddie asks.

Mrs. Harrington gasps, hand over her cheek like Eddie had slapped her. “Excuse me?” she asks, at the same time that Mr. Harrington demands, “who are you?”

Eddie puts his pointer finger to his chin, pouting like he’s really thinking this through. “You know, I think you’d know that if you were ever actually around.” 

Steve stands, shoulder to shoulder with Eddie as his Dad takes a threatening step toward Eddie. 

“This is Eddie,” Steve says, voice flat and cold. King Steve’s come out to play. Eddie grins, manic and wide in that way that’s always worked to rile up cops and teachers alike. It works just as well on the Harrington’s. He sticks out his tongue and almost laughs again when Mrs. Harrington takes a startled step back. “You’d know that if you gave half a shit about me.”

Mr. Harrington scoffs as he looks Eddie up and down, eyeing the rips in his jeans, the frayed hem of his t-shirt, the unkempt length of his hair. He turns away, dismissing him without even a word as he looks back at Steve. 

“It’s time to go,” he says, glaring down at his son. “We’ll talk about this at home.”

Steve takes a step away from Mr. Harrington’s grasping hands. Eddie reaches out, interlocking their fingers again and squeezing tight. The splint on Steve’s finger sticks out awkwardly, digging into Eddie’s own hand as Steve squeezes right back.

“Eddie is my home,” Steve says, like that isn’t the most romantic thing he’s ever heard.

He almost swoons, even as Mr. Harrington rages, looking between the pair of them, making connections Eddie desperately hopes are true and even more desperately hopes the man won’t go spreading around. 

“Last chance,” Mr. Harrington says. “Or we’re-”

He doesn’t get to finish. Wayne chooses that moment to walk in. His stance goes loose immediately, gaze sharp. 

“Richard,” he says. Calm, cool, and gruff as he meets both their enraged eyes, one after another. “Nora.”

Mrs. Harrington sucks on her teeth, mouth pursed as she holds her silence. Mr. Harrington has no such compunction. 

“Who the hell do you think you are?”

Wayne raises his eyebrow before turning his back on them to run his eyes over Steve and Eddie in turn. “You boys alright?” Steve nods, but Eddie raises his hand to flap it back and forth in a wishy-washy gesture that Wayne grimaces at. “Ready to go home?”

Richard scoffs, taking a threatening step forward. “What do you mean home?” Steve flinches as the last word lands with derision. Steve doesn’t respond, just looks down at his own shoes with a clenched jaw. 

Mrs. Harrington sighs, and it lands in the room like a blow. 

Wayne’s eyes have gone hold and hard as he turns around and steps fully in front of Steve. “Steve’s been staying with me for over a year,” Wayne says, tone modulated and controlled even as his hands clench. “And you didn’t even notice.”

“Steven,” Richard says, a warning hidden in his tone. “Last chance.”

Eddie leans around Wayne to look between the pair. He resists the urge to pull Steve behind him. Eddie squeezes his hand and is floored when Steve’s shoulders immediately straighten, chin raised just so, like he’s keeping his crown straight atop his head. 

He stands, shoulders back, head held high. Eddie stands right along with him. 

“I’m not going with you,” Steve says, boring holes into his Father’s head with the force of his conviction from behind Wayne’s shoulder. 

Mr. Harrington’s  jaw clenches with whatever he sees on Steve’s face. He reaches his hand out, palm open and beckoning. “Give me your keys,” he demands, curling his fingers like he’s in a cheesy karate movie and begging his opponent to make the first move. 

Steve laughs. “You want my car?” His laugh is hollow. “You’ll have to go get it from the trailer park.”

Mrs. Harrington eyes Eddie and Wayne like she’s putting pieces together he’d rather she not have. Even still, she turns away with an airy, “Come on, Richard.” When he doesn’t immediately follow her directions, she continues, “this isn’t the place.”

Mr. Harrington’s snarling like a dog, finger still raised in threat as he hisses, “this isn’t over,” before turning and striding through the door with enough careless force that his shoulder hits the frame with a meaty thwack. 

“See you next year, then!” Eddie calls, waving bitchily at their backs. 

They all stare at the open door, waiting for an attack that never comes until Mrs. Harrington’s heels stop echoing down the corridor. 

“What the hell was that?” Wayne asks gruffly. 

Steve’s jaw is clenched, as he glares out the open doorway, but at Wayne’s question, he slumps, stepping closer to Eddie until he can lay some of his weight onto Eddie’s shoulders. It hurts his ribs, but Eddie takes it gladly, wrapping his hand around Steve’s waist. 

“Just the usual,” Steve says, sounding exhausted. 

Wayne eyes him critically as Steve avoids his gaze. Eddie squeezes Steve’s side, flickering his fingers against his waist just to feel him wriggle against the feeling. 

“Alright, kid,” Wayne says, reaching out to squeeze both their shoulders comfortingly. Steve slumps further into Eddie who gladly takes his weight. “I think it’s about time we all get home.”

Eddie smiles, bumping his hip into Steve. 

He was already home. After all, Steve’s right here. 

Part 100

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso @best-selling-show @v3lv3tf0x @bookworm0690 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @wonderland-girl143-blog @nerdsconquerall @sharingisntkaren @canmargesimpson @bananahoneycomb @rainwaterapothecary @practicallybegging

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

The Dogs

Jennifer Jareau x fem!reader Warnings: violent crime (I mean it is Criminal Minds...), nudity (but nothing graphic/sexual), trauma, nightmares, hurt/comfort, established relationship (let me know if I've missed anything) Word count: 1.5k

Summary: Takes place after the Tobias Henkel incident (02.14 & 02.15). JJ comes home from this case deeply traumatized and super guilty about Reid, but she's not used to showing emotion or needing comfort. Reader is there to show her that it's okay to be weak.

“JJ.”

She jumped when you said her name, shivering under the shower stream. She’d been in there for over an hour, silent, unmoving. You’d poked your head in to check on her a few times, but she’d said she wanted to be alone. You were worried about her. You’d been worried about her since that call the night Spencer went missing. The way her voice had shaken, you could tell she wasn’t okay, but you could also tell that she wasn’t ready to talk about it.

Spencer was safe now, doped up on Dilaudid, but coming off of it safely at the hospital. JJ would still be there if Hotch hadn’t made them all go home to sleep.

It was late, but JJ wasn’t sleeping. At first, she’d had the water so hot you were afraid she’d burn herself, but now she’d been in there so long that the hot water was out, and you could see her body shaking under the cool stream, her eyes glazed as she stared at nothing.

She didn’t talk to you as you stepped into the bathroom, didn’t even look at you. You couldn’t tell if her face was streaked red from how hot she’d had the shower or from crying, but either way it was clear that JJ was not okay.

You turned off the water and she shook violently, whether from cold or trauma it was hard to tell. You tried to meet her eyes but she wouldn’t look at you. It was like she was numb, like she’d gone into some kind of coma. You didn’t know what to do to help her, so you just tried to keep her body safe and comfortable.

“You’re freezing, honey,” you whispered, carefully draping a towel around her shoulders and wicking the moisture away from her body. She let you dry her off, still and silent, like a mannequin. So unlike JJ, who usually liked to be the one in control–of her body and yours.

You gently cupped her face, worry covering yours, then took her hands. “Come here.”

You led her to the bedroom and pulled pajamas onto her. Underwear. Sweatpants, sweatshirt. She sat obediently on the edge of the bed as you combed her hair, tugging her knees to her chest. Lastly, you got her a glass of water and made her drink some of it. JJ didn’t speak once the entire time. She didn’t look at you. She didn’t touch you. Honestly? You were terrified. She wasn’t okay. She didn’t have to be okay, of course. But you wanted her to be able to show it. But maybe this was how JJ showed she wasn’t okay. Maybe it was different from your way.

When she lay down in bed, you carefully draped the covers over her, gingerly climbing in. You watched her for anything–any sign of life, any sign of anything other than being nearly catatonic, but she just lay there, wet hair splayed around her, eyes glazed and distant.

You hesitantly wrapped an arm around JJ’s waist, pulling her gently into you. You kissed her shoulder, using your other hand to run slow fingers through her hair. It felt odd, almost uncomfortable, to hold JJ when she wasn’t also inching herself back to get as close to you as possible. When she wasn’t lacing her fingers with yours, resting her arm on yours. But you held her nonetheless. Whatever JJ needed from you, however she needed you, you would be there.

“I love you, Jayje,” you whispered. “I’m right here.”

She said nothing, and you turned off the light, wrapping your body around JJ’s and trying your best to translate all the love and care and devotion you held for her through the fabric of your skin. Soon, you fell into a fitful sleep, JJ bundled tightly in your arms. You’d never let her go again, not when she was like this.

You woke up sometime in the night to JJ turned away from you, sobbing so hard she was shaking and coughing. She was curled on her side in the fetal position, and she looked for all the world like a bedraggled puppy. Your heart shattered. She always tried so hard to be strong. For you. For all the other people on her team that she assumed had it “worse” than she did. And she was strong. She was so strong. But even the strongest people have to let themselves be weak sometimes.

You felt like you might cry yourself, watching her fall apart. “Oh, honey,” you breathed, nearly jumping over her so you could look in her eyes, so you could wrap her up and pull her tear-stained face to your chest.

“Shh,” you cooed, pressing your face against the top of her head as you held her. “It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

“It’s my fault,” she gasped between sighs. “He almost died!”

“JJ, baby, that was not your fault. It could’ve been anyone. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I left him alone,” she cried, shuddering.

“Honey, shh,” you continued, rocking her. “It’s not your fault. Spencer’s safe. You’re safe.”

But she couldn’t stop crying. You’d never seen her cry so hard, so hard you thought she might throw up. You kept shushing her, holding her against you like a baby, rocking her and soothing her. It broke your heart to see her like this. You would do anything, anything, to take away this guilt she was feeling, this trauma that seemed to be swallowing her whole. And, somehow, at the same time, you were also so deeply honored that Jennifer Jareau felt safe enough around you to let herself fall apart. You just wished she didn’t have to.

When her sobs quieted to small, shaky shudders, you brushed her hair out of her face, wiping away her tears. She had huge circles under her eyes, and she could barely keep them open.

“Jayje, honey, go to sleep. It’s okay, I’m right here.”

“I can’t,” she admitted, barely above a whisper.

You furrowed your eyebrows. “How come?”

“The dogs,” she answered, shivering, tears glistening in her eyes again.

Of course. She’d seen a woman ripped to death by starving dogs and then had to shoot the dogs to protect herself. Who wouldn’t have nightmares after that?

You cupped her face, placing soft kisses on her forehead, her eyelids, on her mouth, wet with tears.

“Just try, honey, please,” you begged. “You have to sleep.”

Another tear dripped down her face.

“I’ll stay up, okay? I’ll be right here if you get scared.”

“I don’t want you to have to do that.”

“JJ,” you breathed, rubbing your thumbs along her eyebrows as she struggled to keep her eyes open. “It’s okay. I love you. Let me take care of you, alright?”

JJ seemed to have used up all the fight in her. She buried her face in your chest, exhaling deeply, and let her eyes stay closed. You kissed the side of her head and cradled her there and as you watched her fall asleep–tear-stained face half-covered by your sweatshirt, fists gripping onto handfuls of it, the little huffs of breath that you knew meant she had fallen asleep–you knew there was not a thing in the world you wouldn’t do to protect this woman.

You were just about to drift off when JJ jerked awake, gasping and flailing.

“Hey, hey,” you said, pulling her close. “It’s okay. You’re okay, you’re safe. I’m right here.”

She looked around with frightened eyes then, as her heartbeat and breathing slowed again, twined her legs with yours. She wrapped both her arms around your abdomen, squeezing you tight, as if she was afraid she’d drift away in the night, as if she wanted to be tethered to you. 

You held her so tight that night, so close. Usually JJ was the protector, JJ was the strong one, but tonight it was you, and you were glad to do it. You knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that you’d fight off a thousand rabid dogs to keep her safe. That you would enter into the dark recesses of her mind to fight off all the dark things that lodged there. That you would shield her very body with your own.

Something changed that night, between you and JJ. But it wasn’t a bad change. It was like the ringing of a bell, the finding of an equilibrium. It was you knowing that you could be strong, and JJ knowing that she could be weak. It was the somersaulted back-and-forth of a relationship going still and peaceful in the knowledge that you were each other’s lifeline, each other’s outstretched hand, each other’s port of calm in a whole world of storm. It was love that let itself be seen. You couldn’t go back. And you didn’t want to.

[a-court-of-fics-and-errors]

Keep Moving Forwards, Part 18

Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Master List

To follow this fic, follow tag "Keep Moving Forwards Fic" or comment to be tagged in future parts.

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, detailed descriptions of direct physical abuse, and scenes of men hunting women with implied sexual assault. Please read at your own risk.

Word Count: 5.5K

Author's Note: This is a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

While you told Kai you would be going back to the inn, you didn’t feel fully comfortable entering a room where his father might still be awake, unsure how to navigate the awkward silence. Instead of heading straight back, you let yourself meander through the streets, the cold nipping at your nose, turning it a bright red as you sniffled lightly. You smiled politely at the well-dressed females wandering alongside you, their coats lined with furs and shoes polished for winter. Your own attire was more than a little worn, with a practical jacket far from fashionable but essential for survival.

As you made your way down the paths, past the baker’s square and through the arts district, where peddlers sold art worth more than everything you owned, you observed the chic, modern clothing hanging low on mannequins in fashion halls, with females of all ages drooling over the craftwork. Gradually, you found yourself wandering closer to the outskirts of the city, where things began to look familiar. The music of the city faded into the background, and wreaths became less grand, more hastily strung together with bits of wire but festive nonetheless. The streets were more iced over, clearly not as well-maintained as the inner parts of the city. Snow, scraped to the side, was dirtied and blackened from the roadway, piled high and unmelted by the afternoon sun. Your boots slapped into the slush, kicking up bits of snow onto your pants as you huddled closer into yourself. Clotheslines strung above cut through the fae light, casting long shadows.

You knew this place—the faded green awnings, now with more holes, but recognizable nonetheless. The wrought iron stairs with handrails frozen over, icicles trickling down from them, were just as familiar. You squinted down the alley where the faelight shone in small patches. Somehow, this felt much more recognizable than the squares and inner city where you and Kai had strolled. It perturbed you how little you remembered of those places, yet here, memories flooded back.

You remembered chasing bouncing balls down the street gutters as other fae yelled at you to get out of the road, the rabble of children laughing without care. You recalled sitting on the stoop of the now-closed and boarded-up café with your mother, sharing a sandwich. In your memories, this place always seemed brighter, more lively. Now, a gloom settled over the visions. Your mother, still slightly blurred, appeared skinnier, her wrists and ankles bony. The roadways, which you imagined as clean cobblestone, were now filled with more debris and waste. The rose-colored glasses of your childhood were giving way as you made the long trek down the last alley.

Windows were gated over, with faded lights scraping their way through the grime. From a few streets over, you heard a man and a woman laughing—a maniacal, crazed sound. You turned at what sounded like footsteps behind you but realized it was only snow falling from the patchwork metal roof above. Every hair on your body stood on end as the light seemed to be sucked from every shadow. The sound of your boots on the ground was the only noise besides the dripping water and the subtle murmurs of those inside their homes.

As you reached the end of the alley, the faded green door, now more brown than green, came into view, illuminated by the small flickering fae light above it. The knocker, which you remembered so vividly, now tarnished more than you recalled, stood before you. Letting out a slow breath, you watched it curl into the shadows. The knocker, a fae female with nothing more than a piece of cloth draped around her body, her curves accentuated as she smiled slyly, held the knocker below. As a child, you thought she was beautiful, often standing in the doorway just looking at her, the knocker slowly swinging in the breeze. Now, her face was more tarnished, the wood below splintered and peeling. You read the sign to the right of the door: “Titania’s Temptations & Pleasure House.”

Your heart stopped. You remembered Titania, a boisterous older woman who often took you and the other children living in the apartment on evening walks, offering candies and sweets as some of the children cried for their mothers. Titania, who your mother always referred to as Madame. Titania, who had been there for your first steps when your mother was working. Titania, who had tried to keep you and your mother from leaving, begging her to stay. It couldn’t be the same.

But it was. Your breath caught as you tried to parse through the memories. So much of your time in Velaris was spent with your mother—days and days of memories that now seemed untrustworthy. You looked back down the street, recalling how children ran about playing while their mothers and a few odd fae males sat on stoops. You always thought they enjoyed watching the children play, cheering you on in games. Now, you more clearly recalled their gaunt faces, purpled under their eyes from lack of sleep. Many were thin, wearing not much more than their undergarments as they lounged in the sun. Occasionally, a fae would come down the street, and all the children would run up, begging for sweets or coins to spend in markets, surprising the fae with their requests. Titania would holler from the upstairs windows to stop pestering them. Then, with eyes cast down, the fae would knock on Titania’s door, be let in, and leave a short while later with a rosy glint on their cheeks.

You continued to recall memories. During the day, the children weren’t allowed inside the house, and at night, you all slept in quarters with your mothers, or those who could be there. The pieces slowly came together. Your mother was never around at night, only during the day, except on odd days when she had work. When you finally asked her, she told you she washed laundry. And you, being only a child, with memories laced with lies, believed her.

Your eyes filled with hot tears as you stood on the doorstep, a sob choking through your body as you tried to shake the awful feeling rising inside. Your mother worked in a pleasure house. You were raised in a pleasure house. All your memories circled around this place where your mother sold her body. 

You shook your head, sniffling as you stared at the door knocker, now more hideous than melancholic. Why had you done this? Why did you come back here?

Turning, you descended the steps, slipping on the ice and falling hard on your tailbone, causing a sharp hiss to escape your lips as you sat, tears flowing down your face. 

You sat in the dirty snow, a few echoing sobs escaping your lips. The faint tolling of a bell sounded in the distance, eleven gongs before it subsided. Moments later, the door of the pleasure house creaked open, and out descended various fae, both male and female, none of them looking at each other as they pulled their clothing tighter around their bodies. They walked past you without a glance as you wiped the tears from your eyes.

A familiar voice behind you made you turn. Standing in the doorway was a gaunt, bony fae woman with pale, almost yellowed skin. Her hair was an unnatural, bright red, and she lounged leisurely in the doorway, wearing nothing more than a bright red silk nightgown that barely skirted past her hips. Her nails, matching the vivid red of her hair, tapped idly against the doorframe as she spoke to a male fae whose face was obscured by the collar of his jacket.

“This ain’t no charity,” she hissed. “You don’t pay, you don’t play.”

The male fae whispered back, covering his mouth, “I can get you the payment by next week.”

The woman traced a long line up the center of the male's chest with her elongated, cat-like nail. “Now you listen to me. In my eyes, you’ve already stolen from me and one of my ladies. I expect not only repayment but double. If you run off, I’ll have no problem sending someone to find you in whatever hole you’ve crawled into.” She flicked his nose with the tip of her finger. “Understand me, my love?”

The fae male nodded and walked down the steps.

“Oy, you,” the gravelly-voiced woman called out to you. You turned to her. “This ain’t public property. Get your dirty ass off my stoop.”

You quickly stood, wiping the tears from your eyes and the grime from your rear as you took a few steps forward.

You heard the door creak slightly as the woman went to close it. Without thinking, you rushed up the stairs, shoving your arm between the door and its frame. “Wait!” you called out.

The woman whipped her head around toward you as she shut the door. “Are you stupid?” she hissed. “Get the fuck out of here.” She grabbed your hand, her bony fingers pressing into your own as she pushed your arm out.

“Wait, please!” you pleaded as the door slammed in your face. You pounded one fist on it. You heard the multiple locks clicking into place as you cried out, “I’m here about Sile!”

The locks paused on the other side of the door. Then they unlocked, and the door opened slightly, held by a chain. The woman with the red hair peered out at you. “What about her?”

Panting slightly, your breath visible in the light of the hall behind the woman, you said, “I’m her daughter.”

The woman surveyed your face and then, seemingly in recognition, gasped slightly. “Y/N,” she said more than asked.

“Yes.”

The woman shut the door, unchained it, and opened it fully, peering over your shoulder slightly before beckoning you inside. “Come in, come on, you’ll be letting the draft in.” You stepped past her and, as though you had just come in from playing, wiped your feet on the mat underneath you.

“I should’ve known it was you, with that mess of hair!” the woman said as she took you in. She gripped you by your shoulders, holding you at arm's length as she surveyed you. “You look just like your mother.” She ran her hands down the length of your arms before throwing you a smile. Although her face seemed aged with time, her eyes still held a lightness that you remembered from so many years ago.

You smiled back at her. “It’s good to see you, Titania.”

Titania pulled you close and wrapped her arms around you. Awkwardly, you wrapped your own around her small, bony frame. “You too, my love,” she said, pressing a red-lipsticked kiss onto your cheek, which you knew would leave a stain. “Where’ve you been?” she asked, turning you to take your coat off your back before hanging it on the hall rack. “Come on, let’s get us some tea.” She gestured down the hallway, and you followed her, taking in the sights and sounds of your childhood.

The carpet on the floor, once a place where you lay staring at the wallpapered ceiling with its patterns of overlapping branches, now showed stains on its red cloth, and the ceiling’s paint was peeling. The walls were lined with photos of the women who worked in the house. Some you recognized, while others were unfamiliar. You looked for a photo of your mother but couldn’t find her face among the many.

You followed Titania into the small kitchen, which had not much more than an old woodstove with a few dirty pots and pans on its top, and a sink with a dripping faucet. The familiar cadence of the dripping water brought back memories of playing with dolls under the table your mother had made for you from sticks and weeds. Titania beckoned you to sit at the kitchen table, which you did, the chairs now fitting your body instead of forcing you to climb up them as you did years ago.

Titania filled the kettle as the faucet rattled water out of its spout, then placed it on the stove before coming to sit across from you at the table. Her brown eyes scanned over your face. “I never would have thought I’d see you again,” she said.

You smiled lightly. “I thought the same.”

“Why are you here?” she asked, reaching her hand out to take the one you had placed leisurely on the table.

“I’m here for the festival.”

Titania leaned back in her chair, casually tossing one skinny leg over the other. Her red nightgown barely concealed anything as she propped her elbow over the back of the chair, perching her face on her spiked nails. “Oh, so we’re just in town to visit?”

“I’m here with a friend,” you responded.

“I always wondered what happened to you,” Titania said distantly, looking intently at you.

“It’s been a few years.”

“I’d wager more than a century,” she shot back.

You nodded as the kettle started to whistle. Titania jumped up to pull the pot off, then took out two teacups, both chipped in various places, and placed them on the table, pouring the steaming liquid into each. “So,” she started as she placed the kettle down and resettled into the chair, “fill me in.”

You picked up the cup, feeling the heat push through the thin porcelain, and traced your finger around the lip. “What do you want to know?”

Titania scoffed. “Well, my love, you’re the one who’s been gone. I ain’t seen you since you came to my knee.”

“I’ve been in the mountains.”

“I could’ve figured as much,” Titania responded. “And you’ve just now decided to come pay your old lady a visit?”

“I didn’t know how to get back,” you replied, pulling the cup to your lips and taking a sip. The heat singed your flesh, and you pulled it away quickly.

Titania chuckled. “You ain’t got enough sense to ask for directions?”

“Mama told me we couldn’t come back.”

Titania rolled her eyes. “Your mother was a fool.”

You looked at her, scanning her face, which held a displeased look. “What happened?” you asked.

“With what?”

“Mama, me?”

Titania leaned forward, her gown falling open to reveal her incredibly pronounced collarbones. “What do you know?”

You shook your head lightly. “Only that she packed us up and moved us out. She told me we couldn’t come back.”

Titania nodded. “And your mother, where’s she now?”

You looked around the room. “I was hoping here.”

Titania tilted her head slightly. “You thought she was here?”

“She told me she was going back to the city. A long time ago. And then she never came back.”

Her face fell. “Oh, my love, I’m sorry. If she came back, she didn’t come here.”

You nodded, not surprised. It would have been too easy to find her here, if she was anywhere. “The last I saw of my mother was when she was leaving with me that morning.”

You let your hands cup around the warmth of the tea, looking down into the swirling browns as you asked, “Why did she leave?”

Titania shrugged, leaning back. “I don’t know. I tried to stop her, but she insisted on leaving.” She tsked, “You were so sad, cried like you’d wake the whole city when she pulled you down those steps.”

You furrowed your brow. “I don’t remember that.”

Titania nodded. “Oh for sure, you were sobbing, throwing a fit, begging for her not to take you from Gramma Nia.” Titania picked at her nails.

You shook your head. “I remember leaving and feeling excited.” Was your memory wrong?

“I can’t tell you what happened once you were down the street. But when I last saw you, those tears were as big as dewdrops.”

“And she didn’t say anything about why she had to leave?”

Titania sniffed lightly, pulling her teacup to her lips and leaving a red stain on the edge as she cleared her throat. “Your mother was a very paranoid female, always looking over her shoulder and jumping at shadows. As long as I knew her. She just kept saying it wasn’t safe to stay here.” You just peered into the cup in your hands. “You used to love it here.” Titania smiled lightly. “You’d run around the halls, singing those little songs you’d make up. I can’t tell you how many times I had to tell you to get out of the street because you were getting into other people’s garbage. You were always my little adventurer.”

You smiled. “I remember that yellow ball we had that we used to lose in the sewer gutter.”

Titania guffawed. “Oh yeah, and you’d send one of the little boys down the grate to get it back. They’d be smelling like shit for days after, but they couldn’t say no to you, or you’d wallop them.” You laughed lightly with her. “You loved that little ball, told me it was the best birthday gift you’d ever gotten.” Titania sniffled through a laugh. “Do you remember that little girl, Wren?” You shook your head no. “She was pretty little when you were around, but she would follow you around like a little puppy. You used to get so annoyed at her touching your toys you’d come running into the sitting room screaming bloody murder, ‘Gamma Nia, Wren touched my stuff!’ and then I’d go out and find little Wren with her hand in her mouth just smiling.”

You smiled. “I think I remember her now. She had that little rag doll she carried everywhere.”

Titania nodded. “That’s right! She was a sweet kid, always wanted to be just like you. You were her hero.”

The room felt warmer with the shared memories, the nostalgic laughter easing some of the tension.

You looked puzzled, “What-what do you mean?” 

Titania looked up to you through her turned down eyes, “I just-those memories, those were things we did together.” 

“You were always playing some game. And you’d rightly piss off the other children by changing the rules or bossing them around, even some of the older ones.” Titania ran her thumb over the stain on her cup. “I always told Sile that you were gonna grow up and run this place someday.” She laughed a bit louder. “I remember you used to play High Lady. You’d put on one of your mother’s entertaining gowns and shoes, and you’d go clomping down the hall ordering everyone to move out of your way.” Her laughter grew. “And then you made me take you down to our bakery so you could show off to Henri.”

You looked up at her. “Our bakery?”

Titania’s eyes shone with light. “Yeah, the little bakery on the corner. I’d take you every morning for a cuppa and a scone.”

You swallowed. You had always remembered your mother taking you.

“And Henri just loved you. He’d always tell you that you were the finest lady in all of Velaris, and you’d twirl for him in those heels.” Titania seemed lost in the memory.

“It sounds like we had a lot of fun.” You tried to smile at her.

Titania’s lips curled slightly at the corners, the smear of her lipstick much more defined. “I tried to keep you busy. Especially since you had no manners in knocking before barging through doors. Can’t tell you how furious I used to get when you’d interrupt a client and lady.”

You chuckled lightly, trying to pull any of those memories from your mind. “I wish I could remember that.”

“What do you remember?” Titania asked, leaning onto the table slightly.

You thought through the memories. “I remember walking along the river with Mama. I remember playing in the squares, and I remember the trips she would take me on into the mountains.” You laughed lightly. “I remember that when the summer storms would roll through, I would hide under the bed. And if it was night, I’d wake up and cuddle into Mama.” You looked up at Titania, whose face had hardened slightly, her brow furrowed. “What?”

Titania shook her head out of whatever trance she seemed to be in, relaxing her face. “Oh, no, nothing.” Then she smiled.

You looked at her intently. “What are you thinking about?”

Titania threw her hands up. “What are you talking about? Nothing. I was thinking about the memories.”

“Yeah,” you started, gesturing to her, “but you made a face.”

Titania made a tight-lipped smile and looked down at her cup. “Sometimes, the memories aren’t always as sweet as we think.”

You shook your head lightly. “No, no, Mama and I did those things together.”

Titania licked her lips lightly, smearing the lipstick more. “No, my love. We did those things, except the trips to the woods.”

You shook your head more. “That can’t be right.”

Titania sighed, leaning forward once more and grasping your hands in hers. “My love,” she started, “your mother was a very troubled woman.” Your face fell, brows furrowing as you listened. “And she—she would fall into these spells, where she would just sort of lie around all day. I tried to get her up, get her back to work, but she just wouldn’t. So I’d send her out.” You shook your head lightly. “If she couldn’t work, she couldn’t stay; that was the rule. So I’d tell her to go out, get herself back up, and then come back when she was ready.”

You looked down at the table. “I remember her being around.” You looked up at Titania. “I remember her being around a lot.”

Titania threw you a small, sympathetic smile. “Whenever she was around, and she was,” she paused, “when she was on the right track, she would spend all the time with you she could, but she—she had problems.”

You felt a slight rising anger. “What kind of problems? She was sad? I mean, look where she was!”

Titania’s face hardened. “Watch your tone, my love.”

“No,” you cried out, “no, you would throw her out when she wasn’t ‘performing’ to your standards!”

“I would not!” Titania shot back, her fist pounding into the table, making the cups rattle. “Your mother was troubled.”

“You keep saying that, but you're not explaining what that means. What do you mean, troubled?” You glared at her.

Titania shook her head, looking down at the table. “Your mother—she,” Titania seemed to be searching for the words, “your mother relied on certain substances to feel normal. To be able to get out of bed.”

You looked at her, puzzled. “What do you mean, substances?”

Titania sighed. “Your mother, before I found her, was making some very dangerous choices, and she’d gotten in with a rather rough group of people. She was pretty reliant on Luster.”

“Luster?” You asked.

“You haven’t heard of it?”

You shook your head.

“You must have been really deep in the mountains.” Titania chuckled. “Luster is a euphoric. Fae that use it breathe it in as a shining powder to feel like they have some sort of spark in them. It’s cheap to buy and a lot of times is laced with other drugs to make it more potent. I’ve heard them say that they feel like there’s fire in their veins and that the world suddenly seems more colorful.”

“And it’s bad to use it?”

“Fae that use it, like your mother, and a lot of the fae that work in this area, for a long time, seem to not be able to be without it for long. If they go without it, they can go through Lusterburn, and they just sort of seem to be sleeping when they’re awake, or they become enraged, everyone seems to have a different response.”

“And you would throw my mother out for using it?”

Titania’s eyes hardened. “I’d make her leave when she used it around you.”

You leaned in. “Why would you do that?” Your brows furrow in confusion and anger.

Titania’s lips tightened slightly. “I don’t want to talk about this.” She leaned back.

Your face hardened as you commanded, “Tell me.”

Titania ran her tongue over her teeth as she gazed at you. Her leg bounced nervously under the table, and her heel clicked against the floor. “I don’t want to ruin the memories you have.”

“Apparently they’re all wrong anyway.” You responded quickly.

Titania sighed, her eyes softening. “Your mother was an addict, Y/N. She did things she wasn’t proud of, but she loved you. I didn’t want you to see her like that. I didn’t want you to see her when she was down, she’d just ignore you, or scream at you, and you’d cry for hours and she just- she wouldn’t care. That’s why I made her leave when she was using. I couldn’t bear to listen to you seem to lose all hope.”

You swallowed hard, processing the revelation. “So, all those times she left...”

“She was trying to get clean,” Titania finished for you. “She wanted to be the mother you deserved.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you realized the weight of your mother’s struggles. Titania reached out and took your hand, squeezing it gently. “She loved you more than anything, Y/N. Remember that.”

You shook your head, distraught, trying to sift through the memories that you had held so dear, that had kept you going on the darkest days. “She left me,” you whispered softly, to no one in particular. As the words left your lips, they cemented the uncertainty of years gone by, and you considered whether it would have been better to continue living in ignorance.

Titania squeezed your hand again, her eyes turning down to the table. “I’m sorry I don’t know more about what happened to her.”

Without looking at her, you just replied, in a soft whisper, “I don’t know if I want to know anymore.”

The fae across from you took a deep inhale and exhale, as though she had let something go finally, after holding it in for years and years. “She tried to do right by you, Y/N. You have to know she wanted better for you, and whenever she would go on these benders—when she would come down, she would just sob and beg you to forgive her. She really did try.”

“I wasn’t enough.”

“You were more than enough.”

You looked up through your lashes, now heavy with tears, as Titania looked down at you, her mouth fluctuating in discomfort as she tried to find words to make this better. “I wasn’t enough to make her stop. She didn’t choose me.”

“My love, we don’t know why she left you.”

You shook your head. “She didn’t come back either. Even when we were in the village, she would disappear for days, telling me she was going hunting, or to visit someone, or to go gather supplies.” You paused, “And yet, when she never came back with anything, I didn’t question her.”

Titania brushed her nail down your hand. “I know, my love.”

You looked up at her. “Why didn’t she leave me with you?”

Titania took her turn looking down, her heel still clipping on the floor. “Your mother didn’t want you to end up as a pleasure lady.”

You scoffed, “What? She didn’t want me to carry on the family business?”

Titania’s face shifted to one of slight anger. “She didn’t want you to make her mistakes.”

“But we had a good life here,” you cried, tears hitting the table in soft thuds.

“You survived,” Titania responded quickly. “I tried to keep you safe, to feed you, to educate you, but you were sick constantly. You had these fevers that would spike often, and the healers didn’t think it right to use their time and resources on you. But every night when you would lie there,” Titania stopped as if she could see you before her as a child, “you would shake with the chills, and your face would be red, and you wouldn’t speak, just smile at me. Smile like nothing was wrong. And you would ask for her, your mother. You wanted her with you to make you feel better.” Titania choked back a sob. “And when I would try to find her, between clients, to bring her to you, she would just tell me to do my best with you and that she would see you in the morning.”

You wondered if being so sick, combined with your youth, was why your memories seemed so cloudy.

Your lips quivered under the weight of the words that hung in the air like daggers. “Why didn’t you take me anywhere?”

“I tried. I tried to get your mother into a sanctuary, in the library, under the House of Wind,” she paused again, “but the females there didn’t want to take in anyone who might bring in Luster and tempt the others who hadn’t been using it. And I tried to get you to go, but you just wouldn’t. You wanted to stay with us.” She looked up at you. “I’m so sorry, my love.”

You let a sob leave your throat as it burned through you. Your head swam with confusion at everything you felt your life was and had become. You couldn’t seem to stop trying to find her, your mother, her face long since forgotten in your mind, replaced by shadows and blurs which you now thought looked more like Titania than her.

Titania looked at you, her eyes full of sorrow, the red of her lips merely more than a pink now. “She would be proud of you.”

You shook your head. “She would despise me.”

“Look at where you are. Look at who you have become.” Titania urged, her hand lifting yours off the table.

“I have become homeless. I’m mated to a male who hurt me and did things to me I can’t even force myself to think about. I ran from everything and everyone. I have nothing. I am nothing. I’m no better than her.” You shook your head.

“You are not your mother,” Titania whispered as your tears clouded over your sight.

“I don’t even know who that is.” Another sob escaped you, raw and guttural. “I’m so tired, Titania.” Your body convulsed with the force of your emotions, wracking out through coughs and sobs. “I’m so tired of running and hiding. I’m tired of being hurt and never fully healing. I just—” A fresh wave of grief surged, making you gag on the bile rising in your throat. “I’m tired of pretending like the world is anything but lies and pain.”

Titania’s voice was a fragile whisper, filled with sorrow and helplessness. “I know, my love.” Your face grew hotter and wetter, tears and snot mingling as your shoulders heaved with choppy, pain-stricken sobs. She watched you fall apart, unable to stop your anguish. “You are lost,” she finally said as your sobs turned silent, “You are lost, but you are not forgotten. And you may not know the way back, but you can’t stop trying to find it.”

“I’m so tired.” You lifted your gaze, meeting Titania’s tear-filled eyes, the kohl that lined them streaking in black drifts down her cheeks. “I’m so tired of searching for anything.”

Titania’s smile was small but filled with a fierce, enduring love. “You’re not alone, my love. Not anymore.” She squeezed your hand. “And while I won’t let you call this your home, I will always be a home for you.”

Your lip continued to quiver as you looked at her, this woman who you had forgotten but who had never stopped thinking about you. She sat across from you, so full of hope for your future, despite her own life being bleak. Her love and faith in you were palpable, a lifeline you hadn’t realized you needed.

You smiled lightly, a simple gesture that seemed to mean the world. Titania rose from her chair, dropping to her knees before you, wrapping her arms around your neck and back. She held you tight, and in that moment, you felt the promise of home. The sweet scent of peppermint, a fragment of a lost memory, washed over you. You thought of her, of Titania.

As you wrapped your arms around each other, Titania’s bony frame seemed fragile, almost breakable at your touch. “I’m not angry with what you do,” you whispered. Titania pulled back, looking at you with tear-filled eyes. “You take care of people. You offer them a home and hope.” Her lips began to quiver. “I don’t care what you or anyone else does for money. I care about what you do and have done for others, and I can’t thank you enough for what you did for me.”

Titania let another tear roll down her cheek, her gaze locked with yours. “I could have done so much more for you, my love,” she said, her voice breaking. She turned away, but you pulled her back.

“You did what you could.”

The two of you sat there for a few moments, looking into each other’s eyes, sharing a connection forged in survival. You were two survivors of a life neither of you had asked for, yet you had saved each other, drifting apart only to be brought back together by fate. In this moment, in this kitchen, you were alive and filled with hope, held together by memories that refused to fade.

To my readers, I promise this is still an Azriel fanfiction, the boy will be back. @thatacotargirl @mcuamerica @lilah-asteria @florabelll @fightmedraco @marvelbros-oneshots @mariahoedt @quinzzelx @romantasyreader28 @minnieoo @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @annabethgranger123 @krowiathemythologynerd @scatteredstardustt @romantacyreader28 @caroline-books @slytherintaco @sevikas-whore @sidthedollface2 @405rry @sleepylunarwolf @acourtofbatboydreams @quiettuba @julesofvolterra @skylarkalchemist @darling006 @rhysandorian

[rjalker]

[ID: A screeenshot of an article preview, showing a small mannequin tiredly dragging a disposable mask, titled, "NPR: Wrestling With My Husband's Fear of Getting COVID Again: My husband is high risk and still takes COVID precautions. I want our old life back." End ID.]

Article link. Has been saved to the Wayback Machine.

Every other week, Jackson meets with a support group for family members of people who were critically ill with COVID. Many of the participants are women who "are having to negotiate their husbands' fears of socializing, traveling or even going to the doctor," he says.

So we're implying that immuno-compromised, traumatized people who are at serious risk of dying from another infection of Covid, which almost killed them the first time, are misogynists now, because their wives, who only had mild cases, want to have more fun and not care about safety.

(Sarcasm: Cool. Great. Totally normal. End sarcasm).

And pretending it's some horrible terrible unspeakable thing for someone to wear a mask outside. As though that's somehow harmful.

I really fucking hate our society.

oh and also the whole article is lightening "would likely die" to "could get very sick".

[blushing-blushy]

hmm, just thinking about how Jon would be actually and horrifically traumatized during s3. he got kidnapped and tortured for a month by an evil mannequin (yeah we joke about the lotion but imagine what they had to do to keep him from trying to get out - tied up much of the time, allowed to sleep?  maybe - forcefed probably or at least extremely malnourished - probably beat up a few times at first by our lads B&H when he tried to escape - and probably honestly wishing for death - i mean 100% my guy would accept Michael’s offer, this man had been through hell and needed a quicker way out. god.). oh and then he also was nearly killed by Daisy, serious enough to leave that damn scar, and had to help her bury a guy she HAD killed. and then Jude Perry and all that horror that a bad burn causes - at home therapy i imagine to get any kind of feeling back into his dominant hand, i mean hell, he probably became somewhat ambidextrous at that point...

i just think about this so much. he goes through so much hell, and Tim hates him, and... just.  i mean Martin is there but Jon’s hardly there enough to really see him. no wonder Georgie tells him to talk to him, he’s basically the only other person at the institute who even treats him like a human. he’s probably so traumatized by touch at this point that he can’t be touched at all without thinking about Nikola or Daisy. and heaven forbid him being ok with shampoo or soap or aloe for his burns because it reminds him of being manhandled by inhuman hands. 

i just... it makes me so sad. A+ jonny sims for writing a character more horror-appropriate than this man. 

[mykinkyyandere]

what if five severely punished darling for something they didn’t do (to the point where darling is very traumatized) and then finds out what actually happened?

Traumatized Mannequin

AO3

Pairings: Yandere/Dark! Daddy! Five Hargreeves X Traumatized! Are Regressed! f!Reader

Warnings: Yandere, dark, overly traumatized/ drugged/ numb/ kidnapped/ isolated/ living doll/ (forced) age regressed reader, obsessive/ possessive/ delusional behaviours, past abuse, dub-con touching, bottle-feeding, daddy kink, grown-up Five

A/N: It was supposed to be a short answer but it became long enough to be headcanons so i made it a little longer & detailed.

Your trauma breaks you and he can't fix you back. Just like a mannequin, you remain unresponsive while he's taking care of you. You can't speak or resist. You either just stare blankly or you cry. He knows what he did to you and it traumatizes him too. He was supposed to protect you from all harm, but he did you the most harm. He feels like a monster, he hates himself. But his way of dealing with his terrible mistake makes him feel better: Treating you like a sensitive mannequin.

So now everything's very different for both of you. No more rules or punishments. You're now a living being that needs to be protected more than a human being. Like a poor little pet. It was already like this before, but not completely. You weren't this broken back then.

The way he talks to you, the way he treats you, it's all like he's communicating with a timid creature rather than a human. It's like you're having a hard time understanding him and your first instinct is to shut yourself up because of your trust issue. He talks to you so softly and constantly reminds you that he's not going to hurt you because you often forget that and cry in fear. Sometimes you keep crying so hard and he tries to calm you down in his arms, sometimes you just keep quiet and he pats your head. There is a deep sadness in his eyes as he looks at you.

He tries to spend all his time with you, and if he can't, he gives you sleeping pills. He's with you every moment you're awake and takes care of you as if you need full attention, as if you would die if you were alone. He never deprives you of his care and compassion. He never lets you remember loneliness and experience it more. He's never been this delusional. He will never forgive himself for what he did to a poor vulnerable girl like you.

He kisses your head, says he loves you and hugs you. He lays you down, reads you a bedtime story and makes you sleep on his chest. He swears to hide his cruel side from you forever. You can play with your toys and watch as many cartoons as you want. He'll buy you a room full of nice gifts. He'll even play with you as much as you want. Just don't freeze. Please move the doll in your hand, please react to what you are watching. Say something like you used to.

He adds medicine to your milk so that you don't get scared or cry more because you became very sensitive to sudden movements and noises. He takes you in his lap every afternoon and makes you drink all the bottle before you take a nap. He gently wipes the tears from your cheeks with his thumb and whispers everything is okay.

He got what he always wanted, now you're completely his. But he didn't want it to be this way. It hurts him so much to see you like this, so he takes your pain away with drugs while he takes his own pain away with alcohol. He had never been this drunk before. His only consolation is to hug you while you sleep. To smell your hair and apologize to you over and over. Every night.

[yourlocallyneysimp]

The real test.

Summary: How will they act if they went in a haunted house with you? Would they hide behind you or protect you?

Characters: Hu Tao, Lyney, Lynette, Scaramouche, Albedo, Itto, Venti, Columbina, Mika

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

Hu Tao-

If you go to a haunted house with Hu Tao, you're on your own. She would be so excited that she would just run off and leave you behind. While you would scream at every jump scare, on your left, Hu Tao would most likely be laughing at the cheap costumes and having a lot of fun. Would she be a good Haunted House partner? Probably not.

Lyney-

Lyney would protect you from anything so when you asked if he could go in the haunted house with you, he quickly accepted. The whole time though, he had this smug look on his face each time you jumped or had any sort of reaction, you were hiding behind him so you didn't notice that he was amused, but he won't stop teasing you when you both get out. 😒

Lynette-

Lynette would be pretty confused about what all the hype about. She's always heard haunted houses were fun and could get you excited but when she went inside, she was dissapointed to say the least. The entire time, during every jump scare, her expression would stay the same. She's just like," '-'."

Scaramouche-

Scaramouche would act like hes all that before he goes into the haunted house and even laughed at it claiming how stupid it was. Even though you were annoyed by his confidence, you still went in with him. Fast forward to when you are halfway through the house, hes laughing at your shaking form and saying how weak you are. Then unexpectedly, a fake zombie comes from around the corner, and when I tell you that man SCREAMED bloody murder. He was quiet the rest of the way and even had a hand holding onto your shirt. He did not let go.

Albedo-

Albedo would be pretty interested about why humans enjoy these places with fake costumes and cheap jumpscares, but he still wanted to find out. So Albedo offered to come inside with you. He was probably taking notes in his head about every reaction you had while walking in front of you. You hid behind him secretly thanking Albedo for being unfazed for most of the trip. Even though he decided to go in just to observe, he still made sure you were behind him.

Itto-

Itto was super confident about going into the haunted house and even said he could go into the house by himself which impressed his gang. (Except for Shinobu) Shinobu still asked for you to follow him inside because she didn't trust that he could go in there by himself without getting into some sort of trouble. When you catched up to Itto, he was still walking pretty fast ignoring all the cardboard ghosts that would try to go after him. You and him decided to talk for a bit while you tried to ignore the little jumpscares, Itto seemed unbothered until a fake 8 ft. tall ghost camed out of no where and jumped in front of you two. Using his instincts, Itto accidently punched it while screaming. Luckily is was a mannequin so no one got hurt, although looking at Itto's face you knew he was a bit traumatized.

Venti-

When you went into the haunted house with Venti, he was a bit drunk so he was screaming at everything (Even at the chair). This did not comfort you at all since you were uncomfortable yourself, but you were stuck with him. Throughout the whole trip, Venti and you would be screaming together while running around like mad men. I can confidently say that he's not the best haunted house partner, but still makes things lively.

Columbina-

Columbina was for once not busy with fatui work so you dragged her to a festival the city was holding. She was confused on why you would want to go into a haunted house, but she didn't question it. She was just happy that she could spend some time with you, so you both went inside hand in hand. Her expression would be the same, smiling and giggling every time you squeezed her hand, but you did take notice of how Columbina never let go throughout it all. ❤

Mika-

You and Mika would be perfect. You both would be running around screaming together. Even though you both made it out eventually, at least you got through it together 💙(With Mika barley conscious).

[magnetarmadda]

@tmaappreciationweek Day 5: What If? What if they kissed after Jon went to America, huh?? What if?????

Martin first realized how desperately he wanted to kiss Jon in the aftermath of what was apparently his second kidnapping. He'd gingerly helped clean and rebandage Jon's wounds, touched Jon's skin as little as possible, and made them both tea as they sat in the quiet, dim break room. Looking over the brim of his mug, he'd been struck with the feeling, that he'd like to kiss it all better for Jon. He hadn't been unaware of his feelings before that, of course, but it was something akin to being hit by a truck, and he'd choked on his tea. Jon's subsequent frown and murmured, "Okay?" had done unfair things to Martin's heart. But Jon was thoroughly traumatized, couldn't handle skin contact at all—Martin had accidentally touched a finger when passing over tea, and he'd almost completely broken down. So Martin tied his feelings in a series of complicated knots and dropped them into the sea—they were far from relevant right now.  Then, the phone calls. So many phone calls while Jon was in America, nearly every night, and the intimacy had grown. What started as relatively stilted, mostly on-topic phone calls had given way to casual, friendly conversation, and then soft mutterings of, "I miss you." So Martin had made up his mind. He wouldn't push, of course, but with the potential end of the world from clowns and mannequins looming over their heads, he'd decided there was no point in holding back his feelings, in at least saying aloud the growing affection in his ribs—affection he had started to hope was returned. Looking at Jon now, Martin's holding onto every piece of remaining courage he has. Jon's smile is soft and a bit sleepy, but his eyes are shining as they sit down for tea, as though this is routine. Jon is telling a story about his flight back, something about a seat partner who didn't believe in sharing arm rests, and Martin is grinning. The words don't matter, not really, just that Jon is here, telling this story, and that Martin can see he's alive and whole and not kidnapped again. Christ, Martin loves him. Martin chokes on his tea, reminiscent of that night weeks ago, when the intensity of his desire to comfort Jon had lighted itself upon him. "Martin?" Jon asks, eyebrows furrowing and one hand reaching out for Martin. "Are you all right?" Still coughing a bit, Martin nods frantically, trying to clear his throat. He stumbles over his words a few times, but somehow manages to convince Jon that he's not dying from his own tea. (That would've been embarrassing.) Whatever else Jon was going to have said, his face curves into a fond smile, and the lines around his mouth crinkle as he says, "I missed you." Giving one more cough, this one mostly to cover his embarrassment, Martin repeats softly, "I missed you, too." "O-oh," Jon says, eyes widening in surprise a bit, but he looks delighted. "R-really?" Martin laughs, he can't help it. "Of course, Jon," Martin replies, still smiling. He could leave it here, let the moment pass, but Jon's eyes—happy, surprised, a little sad—spur him on, and Martin yanks on the bundle of courage he'd amassed. "I'm mad about you, you know." Jon seems to have no idea what to say to this, and Martin can feel himself getting redder and redder as the seconds tick by.  He's considering retracting his words—well, not exactly, but trying to smooth them over and then make as graceful an exit as possible—when Jon stands abruptly.  Martin realizes the enormity of his fuck-up and begins to apologize, but the words die on his tongue when Jon stops in front of Martin's chair. Jon places his hands atop Martin's shoulders and then he's kissing Martin, and Martin finds he doesn't care one wit about an apology.

[twistedoverbloat]

I have fallen deep into the Sun and Moon Fandom of FNAF

Eclipse Yuu

A new animatronic that was supposed to be Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex, but was activated due to the fire breaking out. Eclipse Yuu barely managed to get out of the place before hiding out in abandoned mansion. They found the mirror via an accident and has been in TWST ever since.

Eclipse Yuu ends up with Cheka more times than not either by Leona dumping the child on Eclipse Yuu or Cheka actively seeking out Eclipse Yuu.

Eclipse Yuu ended up cleaning and fixing up Ramshackle almost at the speed of light due to their programming and how dirty the dorm was.

In comparison to Sun and Moon complex attire, Eclipse Yuu wears simplistic clothing attire like this;

If the Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex didn't burn down, they would've wore something like this:

Despite their scrawny frame, they're actually capable of lifting up Magic Wheels easily.

Eclipse Yuu's role as one of the daycare attendants was brought up by Cheka and they responded that they were supposed to be a therapist for traumatized children and teenagers, but was recently changed into being something similar to Sundrop and Moondrop.

✨️✨️

Eclipse Yuu and Glitchy Red AI Yuu can't be around each other for too long due to the latter's glitching out Eclipse Yuu's programming. Though, they do actively talked to each other whenever they have the chance.

Toddler Yuu gets taken care of by Eclipse Yuu more than the other Yuus either because they're too busy or they don't want Toddler Yuu to get hurt.

Cross Sans Yuu was confused by why Eclipse Yuu lacked a soul, but was still very intrigued that Eclipse Yuu was very animated in their expression and personality.

Sonic Yuu often naps whenever Eclipse Yuu around due to the comforting nature that Eclipse Yuu has around them.

Bayonetta Yuu helps them with their fashion and often encourages them to take a break.

Lolita Yuu has a dress design concept from them that they managed to draw for her, so she's working on that and also likes listening to their excited rambles about their day and what they did.

OMG THIS IS SO COOL!! I love the idea of Cheka going to Eclipse more than Leona. I think he's pay Yuu to watch over him, since he knows that Yuu won't let anything happen to a kid.

I feel bad for Eclipse and Glitchy not being able to be near each other. Toddler would love them as a older sibling.

Cross being confused would be so funny, I feel like Eclipse would try and explain how they are alive.

Sonic would have good naps with Eclipse. Bayonetta being an older sister confirmed. I feel like Eclipse would gladly be a mannequin for Lolita.

[vulto-cor-de-rosa]

>you work in a clothing shop

>evil mannequins come alive and try to kill you

>random man shows up

>saves you

>tells you his name is "The Doctor" whatever that means

>explodes the shop where you work

>tells you to forget him

>you don't forget him

>you try to find him online

>you find another random guy who knows about the doctor

>random guy tells you that the doctor is an immortal alien who can travel time an space

>you don't believe him and go have dinner with your boyfriend

>your boyfriend is one of the evil mannequins and trys to kill you

>The Doctor shows up and helps you, killing your evil mannequin boyfriend

>The Doctor takes you inside this blue box that is bigger on the inside than the outside

>The Doctor explains that your bf is probably dead (oppsies)

>The Doctor takes you underneath the London Eye where there's a weird plastic alien thing that wants to rule the world by controlling the mannequins

>Also your (real) boyfriend is there and alive (Yeey!), although a little bit traumatized

>with your gymnastic skills you kill the weird plastic alien thing and save the world

>you get out of there alive and well with The Doctor and your (very traumatized) boyfriend

>The Doctor asks you if you want to travel with him and ditch your bf

>you say "sure why not?"

>you ditch your (even more traumatized) bf and run away with The Doctor

Did I get Rose Tyler right?

[thatsweeird]

The Umbrella Academy s3 spoiler!!

-Okay i'm so fucking pissed of rn u have no idea, literally.

Five spent his whole life in that fucking apocalypse, 45 fucking years, alone, without food or water, toxic air, a fucking mannequin who believed he was human because HELLO GOOD MORNING EVERYBODY HE HAS A FUCKING TRAUMA and he has seen the dead bodies of his family multiple times, lived with the commission just to be able to go back to who exactly? his ungrateful sibilings? who? the ones who don't appreciate him and accuse him of causing that fucking apocalypse for pleasure because he has nothing better to do? as if all of it wasn't for him a fucking trauma he has experienced three times since he was what, 13 years old? Really? And not to mention that they always blame him for everything i mean fuck off honestly.

He did everything for them, literally. He pushed himself over and over again, got hit, beaten, lost an arm, nearly killed and all this over and over while they... what? What have they ever done for him? Everyone calls him an asshole as if this asshole wasn't the one who saves your life without batting an eye after disappearing. He's back after 17 years of missing (or at least for THEM were 17) and, without even sleeping, he immediately started looking for a solution. Oh poor them all.. are you lost in a timeline all alone? Well he was alone for 45 years and he was a fucking kid and I'm so sorry if he was trying to fix the mess you caused in 17 years and he took you all with him losing his strength and suffering just to save your asses so yeah, be alone in another time it's surely a fucking shit but up to 10 minutes before you were crying because you were going to die and he saved you, again.

I'm really tired of this. He's insulted, not appreciated and much more and has had a life full of shit and not even a break if not that nap in the hotel and all that for what? Try to save sibilings who don't care about him? I wonder why they can't just say thank you to him or acknowledge the fact that he's the one who puts himself out there for all of them and never gets anything in return. No one appreciates him, no one recognizes all the effort and what he went through for them, ever. Not even once.

Even in the end when Allison made that mess and everyone lost their powers, he was left alone. The others didn't bat an eye, didn't say anything and didn't even look at him, they simply allowed the brother who saved them multiple times to find himself in the body of a thirteen-year-old without powers and completely alone without even looking at him. When Allison has been bad and acted like shit all season then it's okay because she's in pain but if Five tries to save them and they make more mess then what? Then he did it on purpose, right? And he's what, just an asshole without feelings? But are they at least aware that his life revolves around their safety and nothing else? We want to talk about Luther who, again, blames Five because Sloane was not there? hello?? doesn't he know that Allison did it all by herself?? why blame him? fuck off u all honestly.

And no, this is not a competition to see who is most traumatized and who deserves more and you know what? They're fucking lucky with that because he would win hands down after not even a second because he lived 60 years of shit just for them and I don't care about who will go against me because these are facts.

Don't you agree? That's okay, of course I accept it but please don't start discussions. I recognize that everyone has suffered but it seems to me that everyone is there for each other except when it's Five because when it's him it's okay, right? So it's just the old Five who gets drunk and is an asshole, right? I look very angry because I am, believe me.

(the only one to say good things to Five was Klaus during their trip but I didn't expect anything else from Klaus <3)

[mayimkjs]

A Comprehensive Guide to Which Kayano is the Killer

This is like, an entire section of FOOL's MATE so this will probably change. I'm probably not going to update this post, but if your interested in seeing if anything's changed, I encourage you to look at the research doc. This section also has a lot of things that were taken from replies to a post I made on Reddit back in February. All contributors will be credited.

Overall, what this post is, is a compilation of all the theories I've seen about who did what.

Intro

There’s no way to know who committed the murder yet. There are multiple possibilities of who is the culprit. 

We also don’t know how recent all of the murders are. It seems that Mikoto was working right up until he wound up in MILGRAM it seems. Some of the murders do seem fairly recent (ie. Fuuta is still shaken up, Muu saying “before I knew it, I was here” during her first interrogation when asked about the police).

Who is the victim? How many people were killed?

I believe that only one person was killed. In each MV, we only see one person directly killed. All of the mannequins in Double could represent how many people caused him to break due to stress. Here is a list of possible victims, ranked by how likely they are.

His boss (Chief / チーフ)

One of his coworkers

A gang member

A stalker

An abuser

A random person

His dad

Other Alters

Why is his boss the most likely victim?

MILGRAM is careful about giving people names, even if it's something as simple a nickname. He’s the only other name we’ve seen in Mikoto’s story. We’ve also only ever seen one other person. This might be his boss. 

John

John is Telling the Truth

Even though Mikoto is the prisoner, John committed the murders. There are 2 possible reasons for Mikoto being the prisoner in this theory.

MILGRAM isn’t working correctly as it’s never had to deal with someone with DID and thus, marking the host as the prisoner and letting John do as he pleases. 

Since Es, Jackalope and Mikoto didn’t know he had DID, Mikoto is treated as the prisoner since he is the host. (u/Nekokittykun)

He doesn't remember details due to being in some type dissociative or otherwise non-coherent state.

John Forced the Other Alters into Dormancy

A theory that sprung up after the release of Double as none of the mannequins have faces. They’re season 2 trailer line can also be interpreted as John talking about the other alters, right before he attempted to get rid of them all. In Double, the majority of the mannequins appear in the train, which is likely representative of Mikoto’s mind. Then John breaks and "kills" them. 

John might not have killed anyone.

Why is it that MILGRAM treats Mikoto as the prisoner if John is the one that committed the murders? It could be what was just mentioned, or he didn't do it. There are several holes in John’s story; he just killed whoever and does not remember how many he killed. This would leave Mikoto or Midokoto to be the culprit. 

The reason why John acts aggressive, is because he thinks that's the best thing to do to protect Mikoto.

Mikoto as the Culprit

Mikoto killed someone and John is taking the blame. His actions caused him so much stress that John was born. Some scenes in Double that add to this are:

The scene after he gets off the phone with his mom, Mikoto is surrounded by blood and he quickly switches to John.

When Mikoto and John communicate, all of the blood is in Mikoto’s shot. 

There are multiple variations of this theory. 

Why he Can’t Remember

The murder was traumatic to the point of John being born to handle the trauma of Mikoto’s crime and holding all his memories of the murder. John only has hazy memories of the crime and this could explain that. He knows what he did is wrong so he wants to make himself out to Es as the ideal monster that needs to be slain. (u/Sleepy-Head999)

An extension of the last theory, John is trying to cover for Mikoto to protect him. He’s trying to make himself look bad even though he technically didn't do anything. 

He knows what he did but he can't physically remember what happened because it triggers a switch due to stress or he just doesn't remember it. 

Mikoto is very clever and manipulative. He's actually confident about his talents and abilities and knows how to deal with people. He’s been lying the entire time. (u/Chareste17)

Despite John saying that Mikoto would have reached his limit if he hadn't been born, Mikoto actually did reach his limit. Mikoto killed someone because of it, and John was born from that.

Why Did He Do It

Because he feels he has no control over his life whatsoever, he did it as an unhealthy way to forcefully gain control. 

He snapped from the stress. 

Midokoto as the Culprit

Mido manipulated John to commits the murders. He turned all of his pent up emotions into a weapon to get what he wanted. 

Multiple Culprits

Joint Effort Between John and Mido

In MeMe, it seems John and Midokoto are working together. John does the deed and Mido deals with the cleanup and aftermath. There are 2 variations of what happens next.

They are working together to keep this from Mikoto. Mido also has gave John special treatment, as seen in the lyrics to MeMe. 

Mido was watching John and suddenly stepped in to deal with the aftermath because he didn't trust John to deal with it. 

“Joint Effort” Between John and Mikoto

Mikoto briefly fronted when John was about to kill someone. During the murder scene in MeMe, the first time the train passes, it goes left. The second time it passes, it goes right. Using the train directions from Double, this means that Mikoto was in front. He either thought he was in a dream so he swung the bat or John was in the process of swinging the bat. Midokoto or John quickly fronted to deal with the damage. This would make Mikoto a culprit. 

Mikoto Started the Attack, John Finished

This explains that shot in Double where the background is white but the person in the scene is John. Mikoto initiated the kill, and John fronted in the middle of the swing. u/madokabri

Mikoto killed one person, John continued to kill

Mikoto first snapped and killed someone out of his pent up stress. The murder was traumatic to the point of John being born to handle the trauma of Mikoto’s crime and holding all his memories of the murder. He saw that it helped Mikoto in some way, so he continued to kill people who bothered Mikoto a dangerous amount. MILGRAM is judging Mikoto on his one murder which he doesn't remember due to John holding those memories. 

Mikoto is Responsible but John Committed the Murders

Mikoto is what caused John to kill in the first place. Due to Mikoto not creating proper boundaries with others, things kept getting piled on top of him until the stress was to the point where John was born. John doesn't remember exactly what happened because he might have just been born.

In MILGRAM, you just need to be responsible for someone’s death. Mikoto would also be a witness, and if you are a witness but don't do anything, you will be considered an accomplice to the crime.

u/Nekokittykun

Mikoto was being Blackmailed

In Japan, getting fired puts a stain on your record and makes it extremely difficult to find a new job. Getting fired by a top-tier advertising agency would be even worse. It would destroy any chance of Mikoto gaining any opportunities for the rest of his career. So his victim had evidence of him doing something unfavorable. 

Him and the victim met up to talk about the blackmail and it escalated to the point were Mikoto killed him. He brought the bat just in case something happened where he had to defend himself. After he realized what he did, John fronts to take care of the rest. When Mikoto wakes up the next day, he can disregard it as a bad dream.