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starshinewriter · 8 months ago

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The Caretaker, The Protector and The Observer

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Summary: Everybody has a different role in their family, these are the triplets'.

Alternative to Ao3:

Ever since Huey was little he liked taking care of people. It started with his brothers because their Uncle was always too busy with adult things to see everything happening and he was the oldest. He was quick to fall into the role, to instinctively know whatever they needed and how to provide it. His Uncle was the one person he never attempted it with. He said that he took care of them- not the other way around, and that Huey needed to focus on himself as well as his brothers. Still, Huey helped out around the houseboat whenever he could and that seemed to make things easier for his Uncle.

The rest of his family, it took him a while to figure out how to look after them. It was a whole new learning curve, he didn't know anything about them and it was a lot more trial-and-error than he was comfortable with. Webby was the easiest, she quickly fell into the triplet's fold like she had always been there and became the sister they never knew they wanted. She let him in more than the others did and eventually he built up an instinct with her too. Mrs. Beakley was the hardest, she was like his Uncle Donald- always taking care of everyone else and never letting anyone help her out. So he did small things around the mansion instead.

He knew he didn't have to take care of everyone, but the truth was he liked it. He liked knowing everyone was okay and he liked having control. That was his way to do both. Of course, it didn't always go perfectly, there were times where he said the wrong thing or tried to guess what was wrong instead of just asking. But there were times it went great too, he said exactly what someone needed to hear and it made their day, he made things easier for the adults. Those times outweighed the bad ones. Those times made him feel secure. Like he was needed. Like he was useful for something.

Every time he told his brothers that it made them mad, but not at him. They told him that he didn't need to be useful to be wanted, that he didn't need to be needed to be loved. That he couldn't take care of everybody unless he took care of himself. And he... well he always believed them. Believed in them.

It was time the caretaker started taking care of himself.

If Dewey could describe himself in one word it would be protective. Protective of his friends, protective of his family, protective of his brothers. Nothing was happening to them on his watch. It started when he was younger, his brothers pulled in on themselves often and he was the only one around to do anything about it. He protected them from everything- the dark, bullies, even their own thoughts if it came down to it. It didn't matter to him, if something could hurt them he was there to chase it away. He was even protective of his Uncle, but there wasn't much he could do about that. He was a kid and his Uncle had adult problems, and he was quick to remind Dewey that he knew how to look after himself. Dewey believed him, he had never met an adult as wisened as his Uncle. Still, he hung up the phone whenever one of his Uncle's bad bosses rung the houseboat with unreasonable demands and beamed in satisfaction as his shoulders slumped in relief.

Moving into the mansion, well, it kinda put a wrench in the works. How did you protect someone like Scrooge McDuck, or Bentina Beakley, or Webby Vanderquack? You didn't, not really, they didn't really need it. Well, sometimes Scrooge needed protecting from his ego or Webby needed protecting from getting taking advantage of because she didn't understand how the world worked. But they didn't need to be constantly checked in on like his brothers or saving every two seconds like his Uncle. They were pretty self-sufficient. And don't even get him started on Mrs. B. So yeah, protecting those three was pretty hard, but they counted on him to protect his immediate family and that was enough.

He had always felt an almost obligation to protect the people he cared about. It was the one thing he took from his Uncle Donald, that and his love of music, and it was something he couldn't ever really regret. He wanted them to be safe and if he had to be the one to do it then he had to be the one to do it. That didn't mean it always went well. Sometimes when he was protecting his siblings he put himself in harms way or he stood up for his family when they wanted to stand up for themselves. But that didn't mean it always went bad either. It seemed to go more good than bad actually. He pulled his siblings out of their heads, he made sure everyone was safe and unharmed on adventures. He was praised. He was noticed.

Of course when he told his brothers that they weren't as thrilled. They thought he had worth outside of what he did for other people, that he didn't have do to anything to be noticed. That he couldn't protect anybody if he didn't protect himself. And he... never thought about it like that. But he would try, for them he would try anything.

It was time the protector started protecting himself.

For as long as he could remember Louie observed things. It was as natural to him as breathing, his Uncle Donald told him he was born observing things. That was why when something was up with one of his brothers he was the first to know. And why he knew exactly what to do. His Uncle, while as easy to read, was harder to help. So he looked for the little things. When they needed more money he left coins around the house, when his Uncle was extra stressed he made sure he and his brothers didn't cause too much trouble, when times were really hard he made his appreciation for everything well known. And that seemed to be enough.

Everyone else was harder. He didn't know them like the back of his hand, he didn't know how to read them. But he did pick stuff up. Scrooge felt guilty about something, and that something probably had something to do with their Mom. Webby was worried that she was too weird to fit in anywhere. Mrs. B could rival their Uncle in her protectiveness, for the similar reasons too. Enter Louie. He let Scrooge rediscover his family instead of pushing them away again. He made sure Webby was included in whatever the triplets did. He never made fun of Huey's schedule knowing it would always get home in time. And eventually they became easier to read too.

Did he like being observant? Not always. He saw a lot of bad outcomes, worst scenarios- that his family didn't. But that was what allowed him to make sure something too bad didn't happen. Of course being observant wasn't without any flaws. Sometimes he saw things that people wanted to keep private, sometimes he figured things out when he really wasn't supposed to and made a huge mess. It happened more than he'd like, but the good balanced it out so he wouldn't complain too much. He saw an angle that got their family out of whatever predicament they had gotten into, he helped smooth out a petty argument. It was the only time he felt good for something. It was the only time he felt included.

He would never tell his brothers that in a million years but they seemed to know anyways. They pleaded with him to see that he was good regardless of what he brought to the table, that he didn't have to stay on the sidelines to be apart of something. That if he kept observing everybody he would miss himself. And he... he didn't know what to think really. All he knew was that they were usually right when it came to him.

It was time the observer started observing himself.

But see, what was really special about the triplets was that they had all three of these traits and could switch between them at a moment's notice. Whenever the circumstance called for it one of them was stepping up, regardless of what their traditional role was. They knew each other as intimately as people had ever known each other so they knew what to do in those situations. They knew each other, so they knew how to apply each of those roles to one another as needed.

Huey was a caretaker, but there was no one he took care of more than his brothers. Dewey was a protector, but there was no one he protected more than his brothers. Louie was an observer, but there was no one he looked after more than his brothers. And that was the way they liked it.

#ducktales 2017 #huey duck 2017 #dewey duck 2017 #louie duck 2017

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aroaceconfessions · 2 years ago

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I'm not sure if what I want to confess is more about a-spectrum or neurodivergent maybe but it's about feeling things in a different way than the rest of your surroundings - so maybe some other Aro and Aces would relate?

My memories of reacting "different than normal" begin early:

- as a preschool kid when I was told that I "look pretty" - my reaction was: cry. Maybe I was just a bashfull child not knowing how to deal with a compliment but my mom always thought it was unusual.

- in my primaly school whenever I've been called "brave" after having a shot, vaccine or blood sample taken - my reaction was: feeling confused and kind of humiliated. It got to be clear: the feeling was not caused by having injection itself - but by those words that were meant to be a compliment. Why? At that time I was one of the very few children never crying of fear before vaccination but I thought that everyone else was reacting stupidly (what was the point of crying? they could not avoid the vaccine anyway!). But in my head it was them who were weird, I was normal, obviously: a mature and reasonable little person among those unrationally behaving kids. And now adults talking down to me and making a fuss over my "bravery" when I was just being normal - felt like rejecting my rationality and maturity! By them I was assumed to be just another unreasonable child who only exceptionally behaved the right way. Also if I was told "it won't hurt at all" before injection - it felt wrong as well: I took really a lot of shots (treating my otitis as 3 yo) and I've been perfectly aware of that it DOES hurt but in bearable way - so why must you lie to me?! Just do what you have to and let me go, don't treat me like an idiot!

- years later, in my early 20's - when I noticed my peers getting excited about hot stuff and sex topic I felt the same as with injections: I am that rare reasonable, grown up and seriously behaving person surrounded by overreacting immature youth. I got interested in sexual stuff myself too, but unlike others - I felt like it's nothing to joke at and like nothing I ever wanted to talk about with anyone. My interest in sex gradually became some kind of passion - but it was strictly theoretical and never attached to any particular person around me. Now I already studied scientific stuff about it as well as movies and pictures for years - and whenever I hear anyone using a word "virgin" or insinuations that someone who never had sex therefore is naive and unexperienced - I get that feeling of being humilated: like rejecting my knowledge and maturity all over again! Just because I never done it myself doesn't mean others know more about it than me!

- I know I'm aro-ace cause I never enjoyed anyone touching me in the sexual way or using too much diminutives when talking to me. Just thinking about it makes me feel confused again - as if I was mistaken for somebody else. Sorry, I am independent adult person, not to be used as a sex toy nor be treated like a child - talk to me, treat my body serious, don't underestimate me!

- I feel less uncomfortable thinking about pain. Like when I use electric depilator to remove my legs hairs - it feels satisfying and almost pleasurous. When I went to the spa once with my friend - I could not force myself to take a massage (I hate being tickled so much I might reflexively hit someone in defence). Yet I enjoyed having a body peeling very much. I guess I'd rather like to be scratched than caressed. I sometimes wonder if maybe I would potentially enjoy BDSM instead of sex?

Is anyone else of you Aro and Ace people feeling so confused about others misinterpreting your attitude? Like about diminishing your actions as exeptional and not treating you, your words and your knowledge seriously enough?

Submitted May 3, 2023

#aromantic #asexual #aroace #aspec #aro #ace #arospec #acespec #arose #neurodivergent #sensory issues #overstimulation #impostor syndrome

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an-aura-about-you · 5 months ago

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guess what we have all decided it's too lazy a day to go on a hike, so I'm jumping right into Handbook for Mortals Chapter 3:

when we last left our hero, Scheherazade started yelling at Mac the technical director because he made the oh so unreasonable request of asking to schedule a meeting with her to go over the mechanics of her trick so it can be safely incorporated into the show. because, y'know, no other technical director in the world would ask that. Charles comes up to end the row, takes Zade to his office, and asks her to tell him everything. the chapter ends there and we're never gonna see that meeting.

which means it's time for Chapter 3: The Hierophant

-Zade talks about how for the first time she's really out on her own as if she doesn't have baby's first job at daddy's show.

-I don't understand why her first day would be with wardrobe. seems like her measurements could have been taken during the week that the administrative slop was taken care of.

-there's a tangent about Halloween costumes and Zade mentions how she always wants her costume to both be completely recognizable and something so unique that no one else has it. do I even have to mention how not possible that is? it may not fit the letter of having your cake and eating it too but it certainly fits the spirit.

-for some reason Zade has to strip down to her underwear for her measurements. I know this is for cheesecake purposes, but I've had my measurements taken before and I was able to just. wear my clothes. I COULD see this making more sense in a Vegas show since skimpier costumes might need more precision, but there's no indication of that? besides, I would think the most important aspect of the costume for Zade's dive is that it would be a swimsuit.

-we're introduced to Zade's chatty costumer Lil and more or less get her whole backstory. however, we're not seeing Lil say it. we're just seeing Zade think it to us. and she ends up tuning Lil out as she continues to get measured. this is another part of what I was talking about before about how Zade wants people as objects and not as people. she doesn't care to listen to Lil, doesn't concern herself with any sort of professional camaraderie. you don't HAVE to be friends with your coworkers, but coworkers are one of the easiest sources of friends in one's adult life since a lot of friendship relies on proximity at the start of it. and Zade is essentially alone in Las Vegas, so making connections is actually pretty vital. but Lil only matters to Zade as far as what she can do for her, like giving Zade compliments or making Halloween and renfaire costumes for her.

-and now Zade feels awkward because she doesn't have anything to compliment Lil on in return for Lil's compliment to her. now this might just be a guess, but do you think you MIGHT have some idea of what to compliment her on if you, oh, I don't know, paid attention to her while she was talking to you?

-Zade gestures to some costumes and asks, "You make any of these?" which sounds like a risky move if you haven't been paying attention to the conversation since she very well might have mentioned that.

-and we get the first of our infamous italics breaks, sections of the book that follow a character besides Zade so they appear to be in the third person. as for why Sarem does this, my guess is that she's one of the like 17 people who read EL James's The Mister because that book does the same thing between its two main characters. however, there are sections of the italic parts in this book that this IS still from Zade's first person pov, so I'm not sure what exactly is going on.

-also the whole reason we jump to another perspective is so we can catch Mac peeping on Zade while she's in her panties. can't miss the optimal view for cheesecake.

-like. I'm no prude about this, but there are right and wrong ways to do the cheesecake and this is just engineered all wrong. let's look at a slightly better example from Lunar 2. in that one, it makes SENSE that Lucia would have to undress completely because she's wanted by Althena's Guard and her dramatic red and black outfit is too distinctive. our protagonist/her love interest Hiro does not look in on her, but pervy Ronfar finds a spot because he wants to watch. Hiro accidentally sees what's happening but only because he's trying to block Ronfar's view and falls into the room. it's obvious why the scene is here, but Hiro still retains a measure of higher ground because he didn't initiate it or willingly participate.

-I also want to take a moment to say that this scene confirms Zade is whiter than white. We will come back to that.

-(though I guess that really isn't surprising since Zade's family have been landowners in Tennessee since the 1700s. I know we're never gonna come back to that, but I'm also not gonna forget it.)

-man, we are pushing the "enemies" part of this enemies to lovers arc. you guys had exactly one spat. yeah, a Meet Ugly can be sufficient fuel for a while, but it's been a week and there hasn't been any other word of how Zade and Mac might grate on each other.

-actually if I'm gonna be talking about enemies to lovers, I'm gonna talk about how to do it well because it feels so easy to botch. now obviously writers can write whatever the hell they want and I don't have to like it. but the dynamic I personally crave with enemies to lovers is people who are equal but opposite and recognize that. they don't have to recognize it right away, but it does work best if they recognize it during the enemies stage because from there comes respect for the enemy, and that's the foundation that they're going to land on when they're inevitably pushed onto common ground. we sometimes see this sort of thing in superhero comics when they have to work together with a villain from their rogues gallery that is into crime for reasons besides hurting people. the hero in that situation knows and trusts that the villain won't do any killing because they have that moral in common even though they are otherwise on opposite sides. this sort of team-up also requires an acknowledgement, spoken or otherwise, that the hero and the villain have complementary skills that aid them in this shared goal. to me a good enemies to lovers arc should have that kind of flavor.

-oh geez I haven't even mentioned Tad yet in this. I probably should since he's Thomas Ian Nicholas's character and thus a major side character. he's Mac's best friend, and he catches Mac peeping on Zade. he's just here to do what I'm gonna guess is the same shtick his character does in American Pie. though I will give Tad this: when someone asks him why Mac's so moody, he at least leaves it at, "Don't worry about it, it has nothing to do with you." I can at least respect that. (it might be the only thing I respect about him, but hey.)

-hey we finally got the introduction to our other love interest Jackson! holy shit, the mess of who this character is is way more interesting than the character himself. let me see if I can cram in all the juicy bits. Jackson in this book is the front man for this fictional version of real life band the Plain White T's. he is also Jackson Rathbone's proxy character, the guy who played Jasper in the Twilight movies. Rathbone's here because he was in the band 100 Monkeys, which the author used to manage. I hesitate to call this cringe because I'm usually a proclaimer of "cringe is dead long live cringe," but holy shit is this supremely awkward. especially since Rathbone's gone on record saying he doesn't like Sarem too much.

-"Why can't I form sentences that actually make any sense right now?" I mean why start now?

-oof, the repetition about Jackson's guitar and Zade wondering if he's in the house band.

-Jackson is impressed that Zade knows how to play the guitar. I'm gonna put a little reminder here that Chapter 0 of this book ended with Zade listening to a Chicks song, an all women band where every member can play the guitar.

-and we're back for another installment of When Is This Story Set? Jackson has shown up to give Zade a tour of the place and she has to run back to get her phone. He quotes Right Here Waiting by Richard Marx, and our 25ish year old protagonist got the reference right away. this indicates to me that Zade is probably around my age since I also got the reference but don't know if the majority of people younger than me would because that song came out like three years after I was born. the only reason I got the reference is because the song was on one of those compilation albums that was advertised all the time when I was little. I was 25 in 2011, so this actually sort of tracks with the year we got before and the story might take place in the early 2010s.

-also I find that hilarious if Sarem is still insisting that she'll play Zade in the movie that still hasn't been made because if she IS around my age, well, I'm 38 now. the "teens" in the movie version of Grease are more convincing.

-"I had been so scared about my decision to leave home" well you did a poor job showing it because the chapter when you left home had you singing along to your radio in high spirits.

and that's what we end the chapter on, Zade being glad she decided to move to Vegas because hot boy. I'm tempted to move on to the next chapter because hoo boy is THAT going to be a shitshow, but either way I'll end this post here.

#aura reads handbook for mortals

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ryuichirou · 8 months ago

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Replies

A bunch of shorter replies today! Starting with a question about commissions and a then slowly diving into shippy territory…

Anonymous asked:

question for the chibi commission

if we’re adding more characters and want them in color would that add to the price? like would it add to the $25 for more characters in color?

Yes, in general $40 is the base price and +$25 is for each additional character. So, a drawing of three chibi characters in full colour would be $90.

But if you have a large group of characters or a big set of chibis, the price will be calculated in a different way (depending on the specifics of the commission itself).

Thank you for your interest and sorry for the late reply!

Anonymous asked:

Hi, I sent a fanfic draft to my server concerning teenage romance (M-level stuff) and a member (abt 16) positively replied I'm "a responsible artist not exploiting the subject matter". Am I being unreasonable finding this response extremely backhanded? That I'm classy and restrained enough to get a pass from antis who'd otherwise harass me? I wanna ask you given your experience dealing with those kinds of folk.

Hi, Anon!

Honestly, this would’ve rubbed me the wrong way too, so I see what you mean. It really feels like it’s “you’re better than the rest of these freaks, but you’re still on thin ice”, as if your art only exists to get their approval. Still, I don’t want to put words into that person’s mouth though, who knows what they actually meant.

Our experience is that we just don’t deal with those kinds of folk. We avoid minors as much as we can because they tend to stick to this attitude of “well if you do it like this it’s okay, but don’t make it weird”. But it’s not exclusive to minors; we avoid adults who talk like that too. We just feel like it’s always the same thing: even if you try to be as unproblematic as possible, you’ll end up being their punching bag sooner or later, so is censoring yourself even worth it in the first place?

But this is how we feel about it as someone who doesn’t get this type of comments, Anon. We are on the other side of this situation, where they would tell us “Why does it have to be sexual?” “Why do you have to draw siblings like that, what about other characters?” “Why don’t you just ship him with someone his age?”

So yeah, even though that person technically complimented you, it does sound super condescending to us personally, as if they’re just patting you on your head for not breaking their arbitrary rules. Then again, if they’re a minor, the server is clearly a safe space for them, so maybe it’s not a good place to have this type of discussion… I wouldn’t really know.

We, based on our specific content and circumstances, decided not to waste our time trying to reason with them, but once again: I can’t know for sure what that person meant when they commented on your fic. I can only guess that if you were to write something spicier than M, they would act betrayed and disappointed, and that sucks. We just stick 18+ on literally anything we do also to get rid of the majority of toxic people, especially children.

For us, it’s easier to be a terrible person overall than to try and follow their constantly changing rules of what is acceptable and “a responsible way to portray something” – they’ll claim your passable content has been yucky all this time as soon as they want to be done with you.

I hope this makes sense…

Anonymous asked:

HELP HELP RYU YOUR TWEEL/IDIA ART IS SO GOOD!!!! I LOVE THE BLOOD ON THE TILE AAHHH!!!! i love how it goes in the grout, very real. very amazing. i've always liked seeing the flow of blood, it adds a good amount of realism (but not too much!!!) i stand with your katsu because those fish CANNOT go unfucked.

AHh thank you so so much, Anon!! I am so happy to hear that hehe! I’ve been trying to work on how I draw blood, so it’s amazing to hear that it looks good.

Katsu and you are people of culture and lovers of fish, and honestly this is beautiful. I am so proud and happy for you…

Anonymous asked:

Idia….why the freak are you falling like Mikan? I suppose next you’ll fall and end up with no pants and all tied up….

YES, EXACTLY LIKE MIKAN. Oh my god. This is because he’s been playing too many videogames, now moe fall physics affects him in real life. Whenever he falls, his pants magically disappear, and the rest of his body is… well.

Anonymous asked:

… I want to touch the butt….✋👁👄👁🤚

I want to hold the butt…👐

I’m assuming you mean Idia’s moe butt, and I that’s the case, go ahead and do it! Be careful though, the guard dog might bite you…

Anonymous asked:

Digging your Catherine AU. Any more art or headcanons?

Thank you so much, Anon! We had no idea anyone would like this AU when we first posted it hehe, I’m still very excited when people comment on it.

But unfortunately, I can’t give you anything new. As I stated before, it’s been quite a while since we’ve played the game, so we don’t have much thoughts or any new art for now :( We just wanted to convey a vague concept because we liked the idea of Azul being Katherine too much lol and then the rest of it just made sense.

Anonymous asked:

How do you think tsums have sex?

Passionately. Animalistically. Roundly….

We haven’t seen the tsum event yet, but I’m sure we’ll have more opinions about their reproductive system when we do lol For now I just think they jump on people (…I mean, other tsums, other tsums!) and rub against them violently until something happens. Do they even have genitalia?

#replies

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archivalofsins · 9 months ago

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I was meant to put this up a earlier today but got distracted and just finished it now. So, here it is.

This is just some musing about how it's funny Kotoko said the person most and least like her is Futa trial one.

Isn't it funny that Kotoko said this trial one,

Q.09 Which of the other prisoners do you think resembles you the most?

Kotoko: That’s a hard one. I’m only able to answer based on my guess on what they did. But I think the one that probably resembles me the most is Futa? Though he’s also the person who resembles me the least.

Saying the guy who came in here with a focus on taking responisibilty for and looking after those younger than him resembles her the most but the least certainly aged well.

Braze you! Voice Drama

I don't really care but- They're all a bunch of weirdos. For some reason loads of them are way too calm. Despite the situation we're in, that is. The one's I don't particularly like are Shidou and Kazui the old geezer duo.

Trial 2 Written Interrogation

Q.03 Are there any prisoners you like?

Futa: I don’t think it counts as “like”. But I’m grateful to Shidou and Kazui.

Even though we're in a state of emergency here- Even though they're the oldest out of all of us. They're acting like they don't have a care in the world. I can't believe they're so unreliable. They're good for absolutely fucking nothing! Is that so. Ah, Haruka and Mikoto are completely useless by themselves. I really have to take the lead with them. Hmm~? Not to mention, I'm not exactly going to be relying on the girls either. As everyone's representative, I told all of them that I'd give you a good scolding. So, that's why I'm here as of now.

20/09/18 (Futa’s First Trial)

Futa: Haa…… haa…… Ok……

Kotoko: What’s up, Futa. ……your breathing seems a bit uneven?

Futa: Huh!? I’m getting ready to fight. That guard is looking down on all of us……!

Kotoko: ……hmm. Is that so…… I’m looking forward to it. To seeing what your “justice” really is.

Ah! So, that's why you got so worked up. But for someone who's meant to be their representative you were trembling an awful lot weren't you? Uh... That's because that one called Yuno said that she suffered a lot fo violence during her interrogation. I was actualluy trembling with excitement!

From the beginning Futa has emphasized his belife that those older should be looking out for and helping those younger than they are. Especially in times of emergency like the one they find themselves in. Something that has continued into to trial two.

Trial two written interrogation.

Q.02 What do you think of Haruka?

Futa: I can’t afford to be worrying about other people at the moment. Anyway, he’s not a little kid.

He's made this mindset of his blatantly apparent over the course of trial one even before he went on trial. So, the fact that Kotoko says he's the most like her but also the most different really does make you wonder what makes them so different. Is it the fact that she sees no difference between children and adults. That she doesn't care about the ages of wrongdoers?

More than likely. Because Futa has made it apparent that he certainly does. Not only that but he holds those older to a higher standard than others. Then what about Mikoto he said he had to take the lead with him but he's older. Futa's in college he shares classrooms with people Mikoto's age it's not unreasonable for him to see Mikoto as more of a peer than someone with actual seniority.

Also, Kotoko and Shidou similarities in the portal timeline-

20/06/18 Amane: Thank you very much for teaching me. ……but, though I realise it’s strange me saying this after I asked you, I must admit it’s kind of unexpected. You give off the impression of someone who wouldn’t want to get involved in things like this. Kotoko: ……well, you’re not wrong. I’m surrounded by people who could all be murderers, so I don’t plan on going out of my way to talk and make friends. I can’t let my guard down. But I like ambitious people like you. If you want to study more, then I’m happy to teach. Amane: I see…… You look scary at first impression, but I quite like the way you treat everyone equally regardless of whether they’re older or younger than you. You don’t just treat me like a child or anything like that. Kotoko: Treat you like a child? Hah, you’ve got to be kidding. Back when I was your age, I was already the person I am today. I don’t have any plans to let you get away with something just “because you’re a child.” ……remember that. There, I’ve finished marking. 83%. How do I put it… Even though you act like this, it’s not like you’re super brilliant at studying or anything, huh.

Saying that they were already the person they are today when they were younger prisoners ages.

20/07/11 Shidou: ……Kajiyama-kun, um…… do you happen to like natto? Futa: Huh? I don’t particularly care for it one way or the other…… Hah, what, are you not able to eat it? So even an adult like you who seems so composed all the time still has a pathetic side. Shidou: ……I’m not really like that. ……that’s just what it is to be an adult. When I think back…… I don’t think much about me has changed since I was around your age. Getting older…… it doesn’t mean something drastic is going to change about you. Futa: ……what a depressing outlook…… Well, guess it can’t be helped. Here, I’ll give you my boiled spinach in return. Be grateful.

#gunsli rambles

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aeoki · 2 years ago

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Grand Slam - Epilogue 4

Location: Yumenosaki Grounds (Sports Festival) Characters: Tomoya & Aira

Aira: …Speaking of “producers”.

What do you think of what that Kurone person said yesterday?

Tomoya: Right… It feels like we heard something absurd, huh.

Aira: D-Did you believe him, Mashiro-senpai? All that fishy stuff he said about the “bad thing” and the taboo stuff?

It’s totally a lie – a joke.

Tomoya: Yeah. But from what Kurone was saying, the important part is that there are a lot of people in the higher-ups who don’t think it’s a joke and believe in it.

Aira: …………

Tomoya: Apparently, Kurone’s “Broadcasting Accidents” project got cut because they came into contact with the taboo.

The people with power covered it up by saying it wouldn’t work out. It looks like Kurone got a penalty on top of that. It’s just awful.

He’s a nice guy, though. He hasn’t gotten used to working as a “producer” but he’s doing his very best.

He doesn’t complain about the troublesome idols and works super hard. I’m actually pretty angry that his project was unreasonably cut.

I suppose this is how Anzu-san must have felt back then.

Aira: ? What do you mean?

Tomoya: You probably don’t know this, but there was a time when we did our best as “Ra*bits” but our efforts weren’t rewarded.

I still remember the first “S2”. There was almost no one in the audience, it was practically empty.

Hajime has always been a crybaby and after that performance, he burst into tears. As for me, to be honest, I couldn’t even let out a single tear.

My heart was empty and I was dumbfounded. I had led a pretty blessed life up until that point.

I got along with my family and I had a lot of friends.

My studies and physical abilities were pretty average, but it wasn’t because I was bad at them or anything…

No one scolded me or made fun of me, and I wasn’t discouraged, either.

That’s why that was the first for me. Being ignored felt like my entire existence was denied.

Aira: …………

Tomoya: That was way harder than being hated or attacked. I was surprised to see that could happen in real life and I was baffled.

I didn’t want anyone to feel the same way I did.

Aira: Is that why you paid attention to an underachiever like me? It’s not like you’d gain something from doing that, but you still took care of me…

Tomoya: Well, I guess wanting to act like an upperclassman is part of it, but I just can’t leave people like you or Kurone alone. Hajime was like that too a long time ago.

I’m normal so I can tell what the exceptional parts about you are.

It’s your individuality. Compared to me, everyone has something amazing about them.

But they don’t really notice that. And that frustrates me. No, I just think it’s a waste.

That’s why, at the very least, I’ll reach my hand out to those that I’ve discovered. I’ll grab it, hold it up high and show it off to the whole wide world.

Showing the amazing things you’ve found to the adults around you is the same as what kids and small animals would do.

It looks like that’s what I love to do.

By showing off that amazing thing, it feels as though I’ve also become that very thing… Uuu~ I can’t really explain it.

The thing I’m holding up is a reflection of the brilliance that the amazing people give off and it makes me feel like I’m shining a little too.

That’s why I’ve always liked those sorts of amazing people. I like idols from an extraordinary world – like, from within the TV, who shine brightly like the sun.

I liked them so much, I wanted to become “that”.

Even though I know very well that I’m not suited for it, I still submitted a form stating I wanted to enrol in Yumenosaki.

Even if I’m just a supporting actor, I still yearned to be the protagonist who shines and glitters brightly.

Aira: In my eyes, you’re shining more than you realise Mashiro-senpai.

You’re super duper shiny. So shiny I can’t even keep my eyes open.

I was a fan of yours way before we had our first conversation together.

Tomoya: I see.

Thanks, Shiratori. Ahaha, I called out to you because I wanted to cheer you up, but you’re cheering me up instead ♪

← Previous Chapter ᠂ ⚘ ˚⊹˚ ⚘ ᠂ Next Chapter →

#grand slam

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troglobite · 2 years ago

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it’s really fucking hard (impossible) to have any kind of healthy reflection or growth when every time you try and be an honest & straightforward adult in a conversation, & try to be like “well, here are my feelings, but i get it, that doesn’t change anything. you asked, and i don’t want to lie or dump things on you, so here’s my answer”

only to be met w some of the guilt tripping passive aggressive manipulative shit that completely turns it around and blames it on you

and then it’s like

“....was what i said/did terrible? am i being unreasonable?”

i legitimately just can’t fucking tell anymore

every time i think i’ve made some kind of step of handling my feelings & situations on my own, every time i think there’s been progress in our relationship where we know and respect boundaries and needs, i’m wrong.

and i’m sick of being wrong

and i’m sick of being paranoid and anxious that i’m always the idiot who’s not in the loop or in on the joke, who’s having something kept from them

i fucking hate it

i’m so tired

i’m trying so fucking hard to grow and be a decent person

and my life rn is literally: jobless, isolated at home until the pandemic is actually over, at LEAST three new medical diagnoses one of which is kind of scary just bc of what kind of meds i might have to take, fascism is on the rise, lgbtq people are getting murdered basically every day, and i have no independence or mobility on my own bc i am running out of money because again i do not have a fucking job and i CANNOT GET ONE BECAUSE OF THE PANDEMIC

i made so much progress in my life & was continuing on, and then the pandemic hit, &i’ve been gutpunched back so much and it FUCKING SUCKS.

and despite that, despite the fact that my base level anxiety is SO FUCKING HIGH that i CAN BARELY FUNCTION

i am trying to be a functional person in this relationship as much as i can

and instead of getting any grace or compassion or understanding or being met even halfway, i get blamed and gaslit and manipulated and guilted and all of this passive aggression

and i’m not trying to say she’s the villain here

but it’s impossible to NOT frame it that way

bc i am fucking trying and she appears to not be trying at all

and it hurts

it hurts to feel like you’re not worth any effort

you’re not worth listening to or respecting

you’re not worth the concern or consideration

i don’t get to be a part of any decisions

and it hurts, too, every time we’re watching tv and some parent on whatever we’re watching says “you stop living your life when you have kids. everything becomes about them. you do everything for them.”

and she just goes

“YEP”

it makes me wish i was dead

i don’t understand any world where that wouldn’t make me wish that

and she does it. all the fucking time.

so i’m sure to her, me not wanting her to do things THAT ARE UNDULY RISKY AND FUCKING DEADLY DURING A FUCKING PANDEMIC somehow seems to her like a fully grown kid demanding “more” of her bc i’m “selfish”

if there was no pandemic, i would never in a million years ask her not to go (which i didn’t even DO this time) or be AS SCARED as i am rn

but i guess that doesn’t matter

no matter how many conversations we have together abt how batshit other ppl are being abt the pandemic

she still does shit like this

and it’s like

no, i’m truly alone on this

literally no one in my life is like this

my friend of 16 years, who was great to talk to, even asked me

“what’s your limit?” wrt the pandemic

and i’m like

bro i just found out i have an autoimmune disorder. also i have access to information abt covid that you don’t bc our govt and media are failing us, on purpose.

my limit is when i won’t get covid anywhere i go

my limit is ZERO RISK

and that’s not stupid. it’s not. that’s a perfectly normal healthy perspective that our government SHOULD HAVE HAD.

this is terrifying and isolating and i just don’t even know what the fuck to do.

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hyperdemona · 2 years ago

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Hi, could you talk more about how you got out of christianity? I’m struggling with it as a radfem and lesbian which has caused me to internalize so so much homophobia and misogyny. I guess my main concern is about that god being the “one true god” and about revelations. There are some guys (wendigoon for example) who say that god has been helping women at that time (one that comes to mind is Leviticus 27:6, where god supposedly set a women’s value lower so it would be easier to reach because they were given little to no money back then). Honestly I’m still struggling with this whole religion and faith thing, I’ve gone back and forth dozens of times and I just want it to end.

For me, it went like this - I didn't just "leave" Christianity, I matured away from it once I left for grad school. It couldn't have happened anyway.

I was raised in a very traditional South Indian Christian home. I grew up reading the Bible, especially the Old Testament, which I found myself reading a lot as a young girl because my parents couldn't always buy me books, and I was a kid who loved to read. By age 9-10, I'd read most of the Old Testament, and I remember the extremely misogynistic laws of Deutoronomy and Leviticus often incensed me. It's odd that as a young girl, I recognised the sexism in religion and religious texts much more than I would in my teenage and young adult days. I don't think I am the only one either, this is very likely a female experience, as young, unhindered, children we have a much clearer view of the misogyny of religion, but we grow up to accept it as the truth by adolescence and adulthood, unless circumstances arise that make us start to question it. This was how it was for me. All the guilt and insecurity of adolescence and the repression of Malayali culture made me "turn to Jesus" and start taking my faith very seriously, to the point of OCD. I also loved conspiracy theories and stuff like Rapture theology and Young Earth theory, which I read about in the American Evangelical and right-wing websites I trawled from my home in Kerala. I was hooked on that shit. Things got better in my late teens as I stopped spending as much time on religious shit and went to college, but it wasn't until I was 22-23 that I really looked back faced all of that head-on and started realising that I didn't need any of it, and moreover, it's doing me a lot of harm, as well as making me a hypocrite.

Once you realise that there is no way Christianity (or any religion) is true, you just get used to the idea of there not being a God. You also realise that you were right as a child - God and religion are extremely sexist, and are intentionally so. Patriarchal religion is designed to function as a system of mental slavery for women. Getting us to accept it will make us more compliant in a male-supremacist society. Everything that you do - be it reading a book that opens your eyes and mind to women's rights and realities, spending a nice afternoon with your girlfriend and having sex with her because you love her, getting an education, bettering yourself, making a nice life worth living for yourself, perhaps with a wife or gf, all of that you do DESPITE what the Bible tells you to. This shitty religion will never accept you or let you be happy, and that's because it's not for you, it was made for the benefit of your future husband (which it says you are supposed to have btw and shame if you don't). At some point you gotta rid yourself of this toxicity and walk away.

Also the "One true God" is a flaccid clown who's always cartoonishly angry and vengeful because of various unreasonable things. Women don't need religion, religion needs women, to silently comply with it. The God of the Bible for me is really starting to look, speak, and act like an abusive, entitled husband trying to claim ownership of things he never created. I don't think he created shit, he's merely a liar, and an imaginary construct of male religion to usurp women's role in creating and bringing forth life. Religions are always anti-reality and doesn't accept natural phenomena like homosexuality, or especially death. It reflects male nature, men can't accept death because they can't create life like we can. So they try making up stories where a male God created everything, while all God does is claim that he created things that already existed in the Universe. Just like men claim the ownership of children that women birthed.

There is no God, prophet, or Messiah that will survive if women refuse to believe. If we walk out they gonna freak out lmaooo. Try it, and get your girlfriends, daughters, and female friends and relatives to try it too. ;)

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infinitemelancholie · 1 year ago

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I got my answer though now it doesn't sit well with me. Maybe because I got it early in the morning around when I sent out my question which made me feel bad. I really wish I just could've let it go this morning but somehow I just couldn't. Maybe I was just too tired to fight it but I think the reality is that I just wanted something to be upset over. I'm unreasonably frightened about being open and vulnerable especially since I'm realizing the more I am this way the more I'm exposing myself to being hurt. I think that haunted house got to me more than I realize. Not that it scared me because of what they did but because of reopening sources of my terrors. I've usually been really bad with horror stuff and I'm realizing more and more that it's probably because of my traumas and just growing up. I was afraid of slashers because they reminded me how nowhere is really safe. I was afraid of paranormal movies because of how little control over anything I felt I had. How helpless I've been throughout my life to do anything for me. I was afraid of monster/zombie horror because those monsters were relentless and never ending. That even despite my best efforts or no matter what I did, they were always going to be there. I was afraid of five nights at Freddy's and other jump scare types because of how much more I had to be on alert to feel safe, just like at the haunted house. I was scared of IT because IT would just know it's victims all too well. Imagine having a monster who knew everything about you. Knew enough to separate you from safety, use that to gain some kinda advantage or something out of you, and even torment you with your own fears. IT really is an adult predator. An adult abuser. An adult assaulter. Which is my experience. There was a religious possession movie which I think scared me because those supernatural, imaginary things were what I took comfort in a lot when I was growing up. To see something like that not actually be safe or a source of security was really terrifying. And that's why I was just freaked out this morning. It was like all of it was coming crashing down and I didn't know how to deal with it. Many of these fears are fears I don't know how to deal with and so now I'm going to have to work through them to work through them. I guess that's one of the optimistic parts of IT that though the kids were tormented by it as kids they were able to overcome those fears and torments and able to conquer them. That as they got older they became more able to face everything head on and come out on top. And that's what makes me like those kids. Because now that I'm an adult I too can face those fears. I too can provide for myself what I need to feel safe and secure. I too have that power, that ability to do those things. It's like how a past abuser reached out to me. I know I can face her. I know that there is no power over me that she has. And that's about all there is to it. The armaments are no longer just a fortress to keep me safe in, but an armor I wear to do battle in.

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itsallcomplicated · 1 year ago

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avril lavigne was so right, why r u so complicated?

Hi.

I'm not going to introduce myself, because frankly I made this blog because I feel like I've let SO many thoughts and emotions pile on as of the last four years of my life.

I used to have tumblr when I was 10, so as to keep up with my fandoms and see what the latest fanfic that everyone was raging about this week... Which in retrospect, fandoms and fanfic are largely a contributor to the endless amount of dread and anxiety I face everyday. Okay no, maybe that Larry fanfic (NOBODY JUDGE ME PLEASE I KNOW ITS BAD NOW I WAS AN IDIOT CHILD D: ) I read when I was eleven has nothing to do with my mental illness, but then again, I was reading a Larry fanfic, so yeah I think it may have been mental illness. When I used to be on Tumblr, I definitely didn't blog. I'm using Tumblr now, almost 12 whole years later, as a means of finding my safe corner in the world where I can document and write about the latest thing that has absolutely inconvenienced me and ruined my week. So instead of fanfics, I guess I'm coming back often to let y'all know if I'm doing well or if life has thrown me so many lemons and I just can't make enough lemonade out of them.

There were a lot of simple things about childhood. Especially a childhood that majorly grew up on the Internet, and also fantasizing about the glory of adulthood. My only examples of adulthood truly came from my parents and my older sister, but if we're really being honest here, I ADORED the Jersey Shore. Perhaps watching Jersey Shore at the young age of 8 wasn't necessarily the best idea, but goddamnit I wanted to be Snooki so bad. Of course when I was little, I didn't realize that that meant having to literally drink myself sick and deal with the hangxiety for three business days after. I think when you're little, it seems like adults can handle it all, even the ridiculous amounts of liquor and the confusing emotions of life. It doesn't seem like they have any issues to really deal with, other than paying the bills and keeping their family fed. It seems easy. But god is it so fucking complicated once you're actually an adult with bills and a mouth to feed. I miss feeling like I could do anything well and feeling so sure of myself, because frankly when I was little, I had the confidence to say that I would be an amazing adult. I thought being an adult meant you had the right to dictate your own way of living, and you no longer had to follow rules. I guess in a way that is still true, but I'm also kindaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa... a little bitch. I have to follow rules and be told what to do, because I have serious issues with keeping a routine and the moment I fall off, I will sink into a dark hole called my bed and turn off all the lights, and sleep for an unreasonable amount of time. So life isn't like the Jersey Shore, and being an adult isn't just about being drunk on the Boardwalk and figuring out the intricacies of love. Unfortunately, its all of that and way more.

But anyways, with Snooki being one of my idols and my older sister being the other person I could look up to, I really thought I had it figured out. I gotta be honest though, the way I wrote this, it makes it sound that I idolize Snooki, and like she's amazing, but I'm just trying to explain to you, whoever is reading this, that I thought adulthood was much simpler than what it actually entails. I truly thought adulthood was just the epitome of independence and I too could go out to a Boardwalk shitfaced whenever I wanted. But really, I have never felt so goddamn confused and trapped in my life! Nothing is really stopping me from walking around piss drunk, but I also value freedom and I do not want to be arrested like Snookers, and I also don't know how to control myself respectfully and I will do something foul. Love u Snooks.

I didn't ask to grow up, but I have, and now I have to figure it out on my own.

Well actually, that's not true. I don't have to do anything on my own, I can ask for help, but that is presenting a whole other issue within me that we simply can't get into in this blog post because then this will truly be all over the place. <3 I don't even know where this blog is going. I just needed to get these thoughts out for now. :)

#it's complicated #jersey shore #snooki

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livredebelle · 2 years ago

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Four.

IT TOOK ALL I HAD to not think about what had happened. I grit my teeth in annoyance. Ugh, how embarrassing was that! Quinn totally took advantage when I was feeling confused and still half-asleep. To take advantage like that was despicable. How could I continue to hang out and smoke with him?

Still... There was a voice in my head that told me that I was being unreasonable. This was the modern times, after all--no one would think anything of it. He was right; we were grown adults, and if it was something we decided, then that was that...

What was I thinking? I couldn't seriously be considering that guy's proposal. I shook my head, disgusted with myself. On my high school graduation day too...

I didn't really have any friends in school. Well, I did used to have one, but she had left school after our junior year to be homeschooled for our last year. She hadn't told me whether she was going to attend the ceremony. Things with her had been awkward with her due to a past grievance, but I still counted her as one of my best friends--the only one, actually. I never acquainted myself with anybody else in the school. As a result, the ceremony passed pretty by quickly. Towards the end, the principal gave some kind of bullshit speech about moving forward as adults into society and making a difference in the world. Such a generic story, blah blah blah. Sickening.

I'm the worst critic out there.

After the drudgery was over, I stepped out of school grounds and took in a deep breath. I had made it, all on my own. In a way, it felt good that no one from my family was here; if they were, they'd try to steal credit for my success, and undoubtedly say stuff like, It's all because we didn't abandon you. We raised you when everything in your family went to shit. Yet you moved out on your own. Ungrateful.

Had I made the right decisions in my life up until this point? I guessed not... If I had, would I still feel this hollow inside?

"Hey, I made it."

I looked over in the direction of the voice and made a face.

Quinn was there, along with Maria, who I was very surprised to see. Maria was the best friend who had been gone the past year due to being homeschooled. She was a short, petite girl who had her own share of demons, who had always been pretty and popular. She and I were an odd pairing for sure; in high school, none of our peers could understand why Maria and I were friends--because we were so different. It was hard to describe our friendship, exactly. We just happened to be going through some difficult shit at the same time; apparently, when you're down and going through a storm in life, it's easy to pick out the same lifeless look in another's eyes--it's like your own reflection. Maybe that was how Maria found me. Or maybe that's the way I found her... who knows at this point. I had to admit, I had thought about inviting Maria since she was the closest girl "friend" I had, but I had assumed she would be too busy; last I'd heard, she was getting ready to start classes at a faraway liberal arts school as an Art major.

She gave me a tight-lipped smile in recognition of the genuine surprise that must've been apparent in my eyes. It was a tender moment for the both of us, although it was unspoken--it was a reunion after a past storm. I felt my throat tighten.

"Hi... what are you both doing here?"

"You know, I was rather hurt that you didn't invite me. I would understand why you didn't invite this guy, but I've been with you since you were a scrawny, pre-pubescent teenager." Maria smiled, but as usual it didn't touch her eyes. Perhaps she still resented me a little...

"Sorry. I figured you'd be busy even without this. It's a silly tradition, to have your family attend and make a big fuss over something like this, anyway."

"Wrong... This is one of those traditions you should really keep. Wouldn't you agree, Quinn?"

"Oh, I have a name? I thought I was just 'this guy.'"

"My mistake... if that's how you want to be referred to after all, then..."

"Shut up. Anyway, I just thought if I brought her here, it would make you happy," Quinn said, rolling his eyes at her. Then he looked straight at me, and my face flushed a little. It was impossible, after all, to act like nothing had happened. If Maria knew what we had talked about last night, she'd kill me--or, worse, she'd ask for all sorts of embarrassing details, so I didn't feel like discussing it with her. Plus, she had so much more experience in dating than I did; this would feel like child's play compared to her.

"Here. For you."

Quinn handed me a bouquet of flowers, while Maria effortlessly put a money lei over my head. It was done before I had even blinked.

"Thanks." I felt myself blush because I was embarrassed. Is this what it felt like, to be congratulated for graduating? In secret, I was rather touched that they had come. It meant a lot more when people bothered to show up even when you didn't go out of the way to invite them. It meant that they were thinking about you.

Right?

"Are you all done here? If so, we should go grab some lunch. I bet you haven't eaten anything yet, have you?" Maria brushed out a knot in my natural hair that I hadn't bothered to curl or straighten for the occasion. It was too troublesome, and I hadn't thought there'd be anyone to show it off to.

"I think so... Let me go get my diploma. I think I left it under my chair in the auditorium."

Quinn sighed, annoyed. "You left something as important as that? Didn't you bother to check you had everything before you came out?"

I gave him a sour look. "I forgot. Why are you getting mad? Stupid." Then, I headed back to the auditorium to retrieve my diploma. Where did I sit... on the east side, close to the front bleachers, I believe. I made my way to my row and frowned; there was nothing under the chairs. Did I black out during the ceremony or something? It couldn't have moved on its own...

"Can I help you with what you're looking for, miss?" a gentle voice behind me inquired.

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wri0thesley · 3 years ago

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omg wait no hold on I just requested overhaul but then I remembered your overhaul thirst post about him pulling a "curing hysteria~" as an excuse and thought I'd request something along that vibe (no oun intended). I think that'd fall under orgasm control, overstim? (hope this is okay!)

hysteria antidote - overhaul x fem!reader (4k)

seeing nothing but the same four walls every day of your life is playing havoc with your brain. overhaul thinks perhaps you're suffering from hysteria. he has the perfect cure for that.

cw: not sfw/minors dni. dark content!!! dubious/non-consent. captive reader. talk of death, blood, etc. medical kink, gloves, fingering, overstimulation, orgasm control. misogyny. mentions of pregnancy/breeding. afab reader, fem pronouns.

[a/n: idk the internet said the 28th of may was his birthday so consider this both a birthday fic and a fic to celebrate 6k followers, sorry that i am gross and horrible but tbh im having a great time <3]

You really don’t think it’s unreasonable for you to be going out of your mind.

Since the Boss was taken ill, and Kai – Overhaul, you remind yourself, though he’s always just a little less sharp with you when you trip over the new name than he is with anyone else – took over leadership of the Shie Hassaikai, you’ve been pretty much stuck indoors.

Considering that you’re pretty sure he only has fond feelings towards maybe three people in the entire world, including you, you guess you ought to feel special about it – but all it actually does is make you feel like a trapped bird, caged and restless. It doesn’t help that all of the other members of the organisation have started being weird around you; people who you’ve known most of your adult life, people who you’ve worked beside and killed beside and done other horrible things beside (for the good of the organisation, of course)--

But now, they look at you like you might break at any moment. They treat you like an invalid. Their brows crease when they see you out and about, quietly murmuring; “Shouldn’t you still be in your room?”, avoiding touching you at all costs. There’s a kind of fear in their eyes, that they’re going to be told off for even speaking to you, that they’re afraid of being caught close to you.

And you know exactly who’s to blame for that.

You’d tried to speak to him about it, once; you’d thought that perhaps he might be amenable to your desire to do something to help the Shie Hassaikai. He’s always wanted to restore them to their former glory, after all! But after you’d let out your little impassioned tirade, his eyebrows had creased over the bird-mask.

“You don’t sound well,” he’d said to you. “Go back to your room. I’ll talk to you about it later.”

You had missed, at the time, that he hadn’t said ‘we’ll talk about it later’. He’d just said ‘I’ll’. When he had come, that is how it had been; the reassurance that he was keeping you safe. That he didn’t want you to be tainted. That he was keeping you well.

Your quirklessness has never been an issue before, but it certainly hasn’t been a boon. Still, for Kai--

“It’s disgusting,” he’d said, agitated by the discussion. You’d stared at his hands, thinking about the destructive power he himself wielded. “Quirks are a curse, and you not having one is just proof you’re not infected.” He’d looked up, golden eyes piercing directly into yours. “I’m going to keep you perfect.”

Overhaul is not a doctor, for all of his talk about illness and disease and plague. You think he could have used his quirk for something meaningful, once; but you also know that his burning curiousity, his disgust of anyone who deems tainted, his utter lack of morality . . . those are all things that would not have been welcomed in the medical profession. So instead, he deals in needles and pills and altering drugs in the underground labyrinth of the compound.

Sterile rooms, with examination tables and scalpels and impersonal, silver-grey equipment. Pill boxes that rattle when he passes them to you and tells you to take three of those a day, one of those, that one has to be taken to with food--

The idea that you won’t take them doesn’t enter his head, and though he has never . . . overhauled someone in front of you, you have walked past other members of the organisation mopping and disinfecting blood and gristle from sterile flooring.

It is better to go along with him, so you take the supplements and the pills and submit to the way he grabs your chin in gloved hands on the doctor’s chair, tipping your face up to shine a light into your eyes and watch your pupils dilate. But inside, you are screaming.

You’re not made to be locked in one room, occasionally allowed out to pace the hallways of the upstairs – never the underground ones, not any more – with restless footsteps and your muscles fizzing with desire to taste fresh air. You’re not made to stare at the same walls and breathe the purified air and think about how empty the compound is, now that Overhaul is in charge of everything--

(Too many knick-knacks attract dust. Pollen allergies act up, if there are too many plants, and he hates hearing people sneeze. Furniture should be easily movable and barren, to assist in the twice-daily cleanings of every room that people walk through.)

But it’s getting too much for you. Suffocating. You feel like you’re choking on air all of the time; you take the pills, because the thought of what he could do to you is terrifying, but sometimes you wonder if perhaps it would be better if you didn’t.

You’d woken up that morning to the sound of rain hitting the high windows in your bedroom, and you had longed to go outside in your thin nightwear and spread your arms and taste the air, smell the rain, feel it hit your body in fat droplets. Your entire being had ached. You’d tried to distract yourself, with what little there was in the barren prison cell that you called a bedroom – but when the door opened at four thirty exactly, and Kai had stood there with his face as impassive as ever, you had not been able to stop yourself.

Hand fastening around his upper arm (you shouldn’t touch him, you know you shouldn’t, but the same four walls are getting to you), you’d begged him;

“I want to go outside.”

If anyone else had touched him like that, they would already be splattered against the walls and floor. But all you get is a furrow of his eyebrows, careful fingers (gloved, of course; the latex against your skin always makes you shudder) pinching at your hand to get you to let go of him.

“No,” he says. “You’ll catch a cold.”

“I don’t care,” you’re petulant, you know, frustration bubbling up in every cell of your body. “If I stay in here for one more day, I will tear myself into pieces.”

“You’re being over-dramatic.”

“Kai—”

“Don’t call me that.” His rebuttal is sharp. “You know I’m doing this for your own good.”

Your face twists into something ugly. Overhaul hates it when you do that; hates the way your brow wrinkles, your mouth moves, your normally lovely face (one of very few he can bear to look at unmasked and not feel as though he is going to get sick from merely breathing the same air of you) marred.

“You’re not,” you hiss at him. “You’re doing this because you’re fucked up! Because you’ve got some weird fucking ideas about what’s clean and what’s unclean, because you’re on a power trip, because you don’t care about other people--” Your voice is pitching and modulating, all of the things that you usually try and keep balled up inside of you spilling out that the floodgates of how unhappy you are is open.

You’re breathing heavy as Overhaul, clearly irked by what you’re saying, tugs at the wrist of one of his surgical gloves. If he’s going to kill you, good – at least it will be better than this, you think, your breath coming in short sharp pants after the outburst.

He lets go. His hands fall to his sides. His golden gaze on you is very level.

“You’re hysterical,” he tells you. An exasperated laugh falls from your mouth.

“Yeah?” You ask him. “Of course I am. Do you know the last time I breathed fresh air?”

“Seven months, two weeks, three days.” He says it without blinking. Your shoulders tense. Has it really been that long? “You haven’t been ill once in that time. The world out there is filthy.”

“It’s normal to get sick,” you try and tell him, but Overhaul is moving forward; past the doorway, and into your room. The door clicks shut behind him, the sound of a lock ominous. You don’t think you’ve ever been alone with Kai in your bedroom.

In the medical examination rooms, sure. In his office. In common areas, back when he was just the boss’ troubled protege and not the boss himself--

His eyebrows twitch in disgust as he notices the dust on your bookshelves. You’d stopped letting any of the cleaners in here a month ago; you’d refused to clean in the mean time, taking whatever small victory against your captor that you could.

“You’ll give yourself respiratory issues,” he says.

“Good,” your voice is cold, but you realise you’ve backed away from him. For all of your attempts to stand up to him, you’re terrified. Everyone knows what he can do. “Better dead than here--”

Gloved fingers around your wrist, so tight you can practically feel them bruising.

“You don’t mean that,” he says. His voice has gotten softer, cajoling. You’re trembling in his grip. “I told you. You’re hysterical.”

“I know exactly what I’m saying,” you say, but your words feel like you’re spitting them out around a mouthful of gravel. “I—I’m calm--”

Your knees knock against your bed, but Overhaul is still clinging to you; still too close. Your heart is beating so fast that you can hear it pounding in your ears.

“You’re not. You’re hysterical.” He repeats it, calmly. The hand not on your wrist reaches up and cups your face, a gloved thumb stroking across your cheek as if you’re the most delicate thing he’s ever touched. The scent of the latex is overwhelming. “But that’s alright. It’s not your fault.” He clicks his tongue behind the mask. “It’s mine. All of this checking for the physical sickness, and I didn’t think about checking your head.”

You fall onto the bed as his knees knock against yours, your back hitting the wall. It’s just a plain, single bed; rumpled sheets, because you’d fought against any attempt for someone to come in and collect your laundry, too. Overhaul looks silly in your room, you think dimly; like a huge black crow in the nest of a small, frightened wren.

“If you fight,” he tells you, “I’ll disassemble you. I’d rather not. I don’t want to taint you by using my quirk. But . . .” He’s sinking to his knees in front of you, those same methodical hands pushing up the skirt of your dress. “If I did, I’d get a blank mind to work with. I won’t hesitate. But I’d still rather simply fix you without having to break you into pieces first.”

You know him too well to think that he’s bluffing.

After all of the vitriol you’ve spat at him, he’s unwilling to kill you. Would it be worse, to be mindless and brainless under Kai’s quirk? You’ve heard some of his failed experiments before; babbling, drooling, broken things. He’s killed them sometimes just to put them out of their misery.

What if he did that, and your mind remained perfectly capable – just utterly unable to communicate with your body? A prisoner in your own skin. Worse than even now. You swallow back the lump of fear.

“H-how are you going to do that?” You ask him.

You start at how cold the gloved fingers are on your bare thighs, as Overhaul pushes them apart. Cold fear prickles down your spine. You’re too scared to fight back, but everything he’s doing is making you want to run.

“Did you know,” Overhaul says, those same hands sliding higher, to tug at the waistband of your underwear. “In the past, there were rumours that doctors would cure hysteria by genital massage and stimulation?”

His words are very clinical, but there’s a thickness to his voice behind the mask that fills you with revulsion.

“It might be nonsense, of course,” he says. Your underwear is being tugged down, pulled around your thighs, your knees, your ankle. “They theorised that the best cure was regular intercourse, male semen, pregnancy and childbirth--”

“Kai—” Your voice is a soft whine, fear-filled. This time, he doesn’t snap at you for calling him by the name he’s left behind. He simply says;

“Spread your legs.”

You don’t want to. But you want to risk what he’s threatening you with even less, so you tearfully open them as wide as you can go. He shifts forward, and the tip of the beaked mask digs into your inner thigh as he studies you like you’re nothing more than a diagram, not a living, breathing person--

“Next time I’ll have lubricant ready,” he says, under his breath, and your heart seizes up at the implication that whatever he’s going to do to you, there’ll be a next time.

You start at the sensation of gloved fingers gently parting the lips of your sex, Overhaul’s golden eyes drinking in the sight of you spread open and bare. You’re shaking, but for some reason the way he’s looking at you – the utter concentration in his eyes – makes a curl of heat flare deep inside of you.

“Don’t,” you breathe, trying not to squirm. “Please--”

“I don’t want to have to,” he says. His tone remains calm, unbothered. “I’m doing it for your own good, you know that. Just helping you along.” One finger slides through the slit; the sensation of the gloves against your most intimate, heated parts makes the muscles in your thighs clench. It’s . . . not exactly unpleasant, but neither it is pleasant. “Do you think I’m getting any pleasure out of this?”

He doesn’t like getting his hands dirty. You know this; everyone knows this. If this particular thought was so unpleasant to him, you don’t doubt he’d have found somebody else to do it (the thought of one of the other members of the Shie Hassaikai doing this to you fills you with even more revulsion than the idea of Overhaul himself). But you can’t say that out loud. Not after what he’s threatened. So you press your lips together and shake your head, gasp dying in your throat as one of Overhaul’s latex-covered fingers prods gently around your opening.

“You’re getting wet,” he tells you, as if you can’t feel the shameful slick beginning to leak from you. “That will make this easier. Good.”

You hate that the praise makes another jolt of arousal go through you. You don’t want to like the feeling of his gloves, rubbing at your heated cunt; the sensation of a fingertip circling around your entrance, brushing the bud of your clit and making you want to clamp your thighs around his hand.

He sinks the tip of one finger inside of you and you jerk, your hips out of your control as you try and sink away from the intrusion. Overhaul clicks his tongue again in annoyance at you. The hand holding the lips of your cunt open moves, to land on your hip and pin you between the bed and the wall so you can’t squirm again.

“I’ll sedate you next time, if I have to,” he says. “I’m not getting anything out of this. I’d prefer not to have to do it at all--”

He’s lying. You know he is. But you can’t call him out for it, so you press your trembling lips together and try to stop tears spilling out from your lash line as the finger inside of you sinks further and further inside, past his first knuckle, right down to the base.

He crooks it inside of you and your hands curl into the bedsheets, nails digging into your palms through cotton. His touch is curious, exploratory; has he ever actually done this to anybody before? He slides over a rough patch inside of you with the latex-tipped finger and a moan escapes your mouth against your will, your head falling back against the wall. Narrowed golden eyes look up at you as he repeats the motion; taking in the gloss of your lips, the widening of your eyes, the way your shoulders are shaking up and down.

You can feel yourself pumping more slick out; helping the glide of his finger inside of you, as he begins to carefully thrust it in and out of you. His touch is made all the more impersonal by the mask obscuring everything but his eyes and eyebrows; you can’t even hear him breathing.

Your cunt is fluttering around him, pleasure swarming you in breathless waves as he withdraws his finger entirely. He lifts the glove to his eyeline, looking only vaguely interested in how the white latex glimmers with your arousal.

“I’m going to use two now,” he tells you – and that is all the warning you get before two fingers beside one another are opening you up, scissoring your tight channel apart with an ache that you feel up to your hips. You bite back the whimper, but you’re unable to stop the choked breaths that are falling from you as he fucks you with them in steady, constant thrusts.

A covered thumb brushes your clit; swollen, now. Sensitive. Standing to attention. Your hips attempt to jerk in his hold once more, a strangled noise that’s neither pleasured nor pain falling from your throat. You’ve touched yourself, of course you have – even recently, just to try and assuage some of the boredom that fills your exactly-the-same days – but Overhaul’s fingers and thumbs and touch on you are so entirely different from that.

He continues his assault over your clit, those same eyes watching you with that same detached, clinical disposition that he’s had most of the time. There’s a cast to them that suggests there’s something more, but whatever emotion – if, indeed, he’s still capable of that – he’s feeling about having you at his mercy in this way has been pushed to the back of his mind as his thumb rolls and pinches at the bud.

Your body goes all-over heat, Overhaul’s fingers still pumping in and out of you, the slick noises of your shaming wetness echoing around the prison of the four walls you’ve spent seven months in. You’re teetering on the edge of something, hot and needy and wanting – and as Overhaul’s thumb sweeps over your poor aching clit again, you tilt your hips forward for as much stimulation as you can--

And he pulls his fingers out of you.

The heat fades into nothingness as you let out a noise of disappointment. Overhaul’s head tilts to one side, considering.

“What do you want?” He asks you. “Say it.”

No. You don’t ‘want’. He’s wrong. You keep your mouth pressed tight now that the damning noise has fallen out of it; you have managed to not let the tears trembling in your eyes spill forth. Your gaze meets his, defiant and tired and afraid all at once.

“Alright,” he sighs. “If you’re going to carry on being difficult.”

He does it again; his fingers plunging into you, scissoring you apart, rubbing against your folds with a practised agility now that he’s done it for the first time. He has always been a fast learner; always been observant. His thumb is back on your clit with ceaseless assault, and all over again you feel heat begin to build up; tension that crawls into every crevice of your being and worms its way deep inside you despite how badly you don’t want this.

The hand holding your hip loosens somewhat, allowing you to messily thrust your hips into Overhaul’s stimulation. You’re torn; you shouldn’t want to hump against the gloved fingers stimulating you, you should be wriggling and squirming away. But it feels so good; even with the skin-tight covering of rubbery latex, Overhaul’s fingers seem to find every one of your weak points and exploit them.

There it is again, building up on you; a ball of tension in your stomach being gradually wound tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment. Your hips flex against his hand, your fingers clenching and unclenching on the bedsheet--

He denies you the peak of your orgasm for the second time.

And a third.

And a fourth.

“Kai--!” You’re too far gone to even think, after the pleasure has been pulled from you so cruelly, over and over again. The tears spill over your cheeks., rolling down in fat, shaming droplets. Overhaul’s eyes narrow.

“No,” he says, vehement – more emotion in his voice than you’ve heard all day. “You know what to call me.”

You know what he wants you to call him. You know that he wants to leave his old name behind, start again, be someone who can drag the Shie Hassaikai out of the shadows and into light and power once again – and he thinks that the name will help. You gurgle out a sobbing, strangled noise;

“O-Overhaul, please--”

Three fingers are plunged as deep inside of you as they can go, crooked to rub against your sweet spot; as Overhaul murmurs, detached but soft;

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

They thrust into you, his thumb rubbing your clit with firm, certain strokes – and this time, as the orgasm rushes up on you all at once, he doesn’t stop. He fucks you with his fingers through it, his thumb not ceasing the circling. Pleasure washes over you, finally, in great waves and crests. You feel yourself gush on his fingers, soaking him in your wetness (his eyebrows furrow again, at how close your fluid comes to spilling over his bared wrist; but you are too relieved to think about anything other than finally getting what you need).

Your hips flex, gasps falling from your mouth with every thrust of them – and you expect Overhaul to pull his fingers out of you. To stop touching you. Perhaps to strip off his gloves and put on a new pair – you know he always carries spares – and sneer at you as he walks out of the room.

But Overhaul’s fingers do not move from inside of you. The fierce rhythm of his fucking and petting and rubbing does not stop, even as the final aftershocks of your orgasm clench loosely about him and his constant stimulation becomes more of an annoyance than anything else on heated, sensitive skin.

You squirm, trying to push your thighs together to get him to stop touching you – but the hand not fucking you forces your thighs to stay parted with the curl of fingers into supple flesh, leaving you helpless to do anything but let him carry on touching you. Carry on fucking you.

A short, sharp shock of an orgasm rips through you as he swirls his thumb over your clit just so, and you realise that you’re drooling down yourself as well as panting; helpless and sloppy, utterly unable to do anything except lie there and take it until Overhaul decides he’s had enough of touching you.

You come, what? Twice more? Thrice? Until the pulsing of your channel is painful, your skin feeling red raw, your whimpers into the ceiling dry and broken. Only then does he pull his fingers out of you with a lewd pop.

A gush of your fluid that his fingers were stoppering soaks your bedsheets, and you watch, dazed, as Overhaul stands up. He looks down at you for just one moment, that stretches unbearably long in the heat-and-sex soaked atmosphere of the room.

He strips his gloves off of his hands, eyebrows twitching in disgust as he leaves the crumpled latex on your bedside table. He’s sliding on another pair as he speaks;

“Feel better?”

No. No, you don’t. You feel worse. You feel disgusted and violated and aching, your body over-stimulated and exhausted, sweat and drool and bodily fluids clinging to your skin. But if you tell Overhaul that--

“Yes,” you say, voice very soft and small and weak. You cannot see his mouth, but you see the way his eyes flash happily, the overall sensation of him smiling.

Why does Overhaul’s smile make you so scared, when Kai’s smile used to just make you feel warm?

“We’ll need to do it a few more times,” he tells you, as your blood runs to ice in your veins. “Such maladies aren’t cured in a day, after all. But . . .” He turns, rearranging himself carefully, his mask readjusted. You can’t see him as he speaks the next words. “I’d like to try some of the other suggested remedies, too.”

You think of his earlier words.

‘They theorised that the best cure was regular intercourse, male semen, pregnancy and childbirth.’

You’re never going to escape, are you? You’re going to be trapped in this compound until the day you die, and Overhaul is going to think that he’s keeping you safe--

“Take a shower,” he says to you, as he opens the door. It is not a suggestion. “And stop not letting the maids come in here to clean. I’m not having you get sick.”

You think he might be the sick one.

#overhaul x reader #yandere overhaul #overhaul smut #overhaul x you #chisaki kai x reader #bnha smut #bnha x reader #dark content for ts #5555 event fic #not sfw text #writing #afab reader #fem pronouns #misogyny for ts #bnha posting #medical kink for ts #non consent for ts #dub con for ts #non con for ts

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