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mimiiiiiiiiisstuff · 5 days ago

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"This is me trying"

Prologue.

ok yall!! so i'm in a bit of writers block for IBDL and the older AU after tumblr deleted the chpaters I spent days writing. Butttt I did come up with this, reader is still neglected bc she can never be happy, but it's a darker Mafia Au. This also sucks bc it also got deleted but i really wanted to post something and get feeback on this concept. This is the prologue! Hope yall enjoy! Likes, asks, reblogs, and comments make my day and encourage me to write more. Send in aks!!

TW: BRIEF SA, IF IT TRIGGERS YOU, DONT READ!

The Wayne Manor was a sprawling gothic monstrosity perched on the edge of the Gotham skyline, a dark and looming silhouette against the backdrop of a city that never truly slept. It was a place where secrets festered, where power and control were everything, and where the lives of the people within its walls revolved around wealth, influence, and fear. For the people who lived in it, this was home. For you? It was a prison.The Wayne family was Gotham's most powerful mafia family, maybe even in all of North America, an empire built on crime, manipulation, and ruthless control. At the top of it all was Bruce Wayne, the cold and calculating godfather. Your actual father. Beneath him, each of his children had their role to play. But you, his biological daughter, were no more than a ghost within the house. You were a byproduct of a two-night stand with a whore, as your family called her, that had long since faded into shadows, and your presence was barely tolerated by the very people who were supposed to be your family.

At least, that’s how it felt after nearly a decade of living here.

You had arrived at Wayne Manor when you were just seven years old, dragged from the wreckage of your mother’s overdose by a man who was nothing more than a stranger. Bruce Wayne—cold, distant, and unforgiving. A man who ruled over the city with an iron fist and a heart as cold as the marble floors beneath your feet. He wasn’t your father, he never had been. He had simply become the man who was tasked with your care, but that wasn’t much of a care at all. Bruce’s love had always been reserved for the empire he had built, not you. You were merely another complication in his already fractured world. He told you that your mother had left you, that you were his responsibility now, and that you needed to prove you were worthy of the Wayne name. A name that, for the longest time, had been nothing but an empty echo in your mind.

Your mother was your hero, a military hero who realized how fucked up America was and retired. She, like most veterans, got hooked on drugs but that didn't mean she loved you any less. When she died, she took your happiest parts with her.

“Prove you deserve the last name Wayne,” Bruce had said when you were first brought into the manor, his eyes hard, his tone colder than the mansion’s marble floors. He’d looked at you like you were nothing but another part of the vast empire he controlled, a problem to be solved, a name to be earned.

And that’s what you did. You worked. You tried to prove yourself, to be a part of this family—this business. But it didn’t matter. You were invisible to them, a shadow in the background of the Wayne Empire. A ghost that haunted the halls of a mansion that never felt like home.

The moment he had taken you in, he’d told you to keep your head down. "Wayne’s don’t cry. Wayne’s don’t show weakness," he had said, his tone dead and devoid of any warmth. You couldn’t even remember the last time he’d spoken to you unless it was to reprimand or scold you for something minor. You learned quickly that to Bruce, you didn’t exist.

He was the head of the Wayne Mafia and Wayne enterprise, the mastermind who controlled everything from the shadows. He was feared, respected, and never showed weakness. He wasn't your father. He was your boss, distant, cold, and authoritarian. To him, you were nothing. He barely acknowledged you unless you were needed for some mafia-related task, which was almost never. You were neglected in the deepest way possible, emotionally invisible, yet physically present only when it was required.

You learned early on that any attempt to gain his affection was futile. He was too busy running his empire, and any sign of weakness—like wanting to be close to him—was met with disdain. His affection was reserved for his empire and all his other children.

At 15, you had spent eight years in the mansion without a single ounce of affection from him. You were a tool to him, nothing more. And yet, despite his coldness, you still wanted to earn his approval. You knew it was futile, but there was still something inside you that clung to the hope that one day, maybe, he’d look at you like he did the others. You became top of your class, played volleyball, did cheer, ballet, theatre, became student council president, won every award under the sun hoping he’d notice, that one day he’d show up at your award ceremony and bring your siblings. They’d all be grinning at you proudly, they’d make sure everyone knew you were part of the family, they’d let you sit with them at dinner and let you tell them about your most recent tennis match. But that was always a fantasy.

And maybe that was what broke you the most: knowing that he would never see you as a true part of the family.

Earning the Wayne name felt like a distant dream, like something only the others could ever attain. Bruce made it clear when you arrived at Wayne Manor was that you didn’t belong here yet. His blood ran cold when he looked at you, as though you were a mistake he’d have to clean up. There was no room for kindness, no words of comfort. Just a cold gaze, and then the hollow command to stay out of his way.

As you grew older, the cruelty only deepened, and it wasn’t just Bruce.

When Dick Grayson entered the scene, you were still just a child, struggling to make sense of your place in the mansion. He was everything Bruce wasn’t, charming, always smiling, and the golden boy of the family. The way he spoke to you, with that practiced air of kindness, made your skin crawl.

But the smile he wore to the rest of the world was never the one he gave you. The moment the doors closed behind you two, that smile would disappear, replaced with a smirk that spoke volumes. His jokes about you, his casual jabs, it was like nothing you did would ever be good enough. He was always pushing you, always finding ways to make you feel small.

“You know, if you weren’t so weak, Bruce might actually notice you,” Dick would say as he walked by, his eyes flicking over you like you were nothing more than a nuisance. "But don’t worry. Maybe you’ll prove yourself one day. Maybe.”

His words, though they came with a laugh, always carried the sharp edge of cruelty.

The eldest of the children, the perfect golden boy, the one who could do no wrong in Bruce’s eyes. Dick was no different than the rest. As a leader of a section of the family’s operations, he was a busy man. He had his own goals and ambitions, and when it came to you, he cruel.

To Dick, you were a lost cause, someone who wasn't worth the effort, the butt of the joke. While he didn't mock you as often as Damian or Jason, he certainly didn’t love you, he didn't even like you. He was more likely to ignore you entirely, but if you caught him in a bad mood.........He never tried to be a big brother, and in moments when you needed comfort, he’d either brush you off or simply laugh at you and make you feel worse.

Damian—Bruce’s biological son. Your little brother who seemed to have it all. The heir to the throne, groomed for greatness, your father's love. It wasn’t hard to see the resentment and hatred in his eyes whenever you crossed paths. At 13, Damian was already a lethal force, training under the most dangerous men in the world. But what you hated most about him was that, despite the bitterness, he always seemed to find ways to put you down.

your younger half-brother, was the perfect assassin in training, and he hated you. He hated how you existed in his space, how you took up time and energy that could have been spent on his training. To him, you were a nuisance, a shadow in his way. He didn't care about family bonds or affection. You were just the member of the household that didn’t belong.

Damian's cold demeanor was the product of years of indoctrination into the Wayne family’s brutal world. He was protective of the family, of Bruce’s approval, so any sign of weakness or attachment from you only made him more disgusted. He’d learned to use violence as a way to control people, but when it came to you, he was especially harsh, never lifting a finger to defend you, but constantly mocking, hurting, and ridiculing you, making you feel small and insignificant.

Damian never missed a chance to make cruel remarks about you, as though any attempt at closeness with you would be seen as weakness.

"You're nothing more than a distraction," Damian would sneer as he walked past you, his green eyes glowing with disdain. "Father is wasting time on you. You’ll never be one of us."

His words sliced through you like a blade, and it only made the ache of rejection burn deeper.

Tim was the one who ignored you the most. He had a sharp intellect, a mind for strategy, and an indifference to almost everyone around him, including you. You had tried to talk to him once, hoping for some sort of connection, you were around the same age after all, but he just stared through you as though you weren’t there.

When he did speak, it was never pleasant.

"Could you be quieter for once?" he snapped one evening, his gaze never leaving his laptop screen. "Some of us are trying to work."

It was a pattern, one that left you feeling invisible, like you didn’t even exist in his world. On rare occasions, when he was in a particularly bad mood, he’d throw a cutting remark your way, something meant to remind you that you were just a nuisance in his eyes.

"You think you’re important just because you’re here?" Tim would sneer. "Get over yourself. You’ll never be more than a side character."

The family’s strategist, and tech genius, was the quietest of the bunch. Tim was obsessed with perfection, everything had to be meticulously planned. When it came to you, he was condescending. He believed you were too naïve, too soft for the harsh world they lived in. It was clear that he didn’t consider you part of the family in a meaningful way. To him, you were just another piece in the game, and you were never treated like an equal.

Tim would lecture you about what you should be doing, constantly putting you down in subtle ways that made you question your worth.

Jason was the worst of all, next to Damian of course. Where the others merely ignored you or made snide comments, Jason was outright cruel. He made it clear that he didn’t want you here from the moment you arrived. He’d watch you with a sneer on his face, like you were something he had to tolerate rather than a part of the family.

“Do you ever stop being pathetic?” Jason growled one night, cornering you in the hallway. He was older than you—by eight years—and his presence was always overwhelming, his anger like a shadow that clung to him wherever he went. “You’re nothing but a waste of space. Bruce should’ve left you on the streets where you belong.”

You could never forget that night. The venom in his words, the way he towered over you with that sick, twisted smile that barely concealed the disgust he felt for you—it stayed with you, festering in your mind.

Your older brother, was once a wild and rebellious soul, but after his brutal experience with the Joker, he became even more distant. He had built walls around himself, and those walls excluded you. To him, you were nothing more than a symbol of the dysfunction that ran through the Wayne family. He didn’t care about you, he resented you for simply existing.

Whenever he interacted with you, it was laced with sarcasm and cruelty. He would always mock you in front of the others, tearing down your self-esteem at every opportunity. Your attempts to reach out to him were met with disgust, and sometimes even attacks. If you tried to talk to him about anything personal, he’d brush you off with an eye roll or sarcastic comment.

He was a silent witness to your pain, and he didn't care to acknowledge it.

The girls—Steph, Cass, and Barbara—were no better.

Stephanie would occasionally feign interest in you, only to turn it into a mocking session. "You really think Bruce cares about you?" she’d ask with a smirk. "He just likes having more bodies around to do his bidding. And you? You’re nothing but a backup plan, a mistake."

Cass, though quieter, was no less cruel. She had a way of looking at you as if you were beneath her, like you didn’t even deserve to breathe the same air. Her silence was more suffocating than any words could be.

Barbara, though, was the most calculating. She used her intelligence to manipulate, twisting everything into a game of control. She’d often mock you in front of the others, making it feel like you were a joke.

“Do you really think you’ll ever be anything but Bruce’s charity case?” she asked one day, her voice laced with sarcasm. "You’ll never be one of us. Don’t kid yourself.”

They were mean in every sense of the word, they made fun of your looks, your weight, your height, they gave you insecurities you never would’ve thought of.

Alfred, the Wayne family’s butler, was perhaps the only one who ever showed any genuine care, but even that was limited. Alfred's soft-spoken nature meant he was there for you, but he was more like a caretaker than a father figure. He was more interested in making sure you were fed, safe, and well taken care of, but he never pushed against Bruce or the others to make sure you were emotionally okay. Alfred was loyal to the family and followed Bruce’s commands, no matter how cruel they were.

And then there was Duke.

Duke, the one who never even seemed to acknowledge your existence. He was polite—always saying "hello" when he passed by, but that was the extent of it. He didn’t hate you. He didn’t love you. He just… ignored you. It was almost worse than anything the others did. At least when they made fun of you, you existed to them.

But Duke? He acted as if you weren’t even in the room.

In the end, you were just a shadow in Wayne Manor. There was no love here, no family. Just a constant, searing reminder that you didn’t belong.

You were nothing. You were nobody.

But you’d change that. You had to. You had to prove yourself worthy of the Wayne name. Even if it meant enduring their cruelty.

Because deep down, you knew that in a family built on power and fear, only the strongest survived.

And maybe, just maybe, you could become something more.

At Gotham Academy, you were untouchable.

There was no other way to put it. You were awkward and lonely in middle school but that changed as soon as you hit puberty in high school. Suddenly you were the girl everyone wanted to be or be with. Effortless grace and charm, the kind of girl who seemed to have it all together. You were the captain of the cheer team, the student body president, the girl who could throw a party, lead a project, and still ace every test. The guys chased after you with varying levels of persistence, but none of them knew who you really were. They didn’t know you were a Wayne.

They didn’t know you were just a forgotten child in the massive, shadowed halls of Wayne Manor.

At school, you were alive. Teachers fawned over you, praising your work ethic, your achievements, and your positive attitude. "Your essays are brilliant," Mrs. Summers would say, always raising her eyebrow in surprise when she saw your name at the top of the page. "You never fail to impress, your parents must be proud." You smiled, the words coming easily, just as they always did. The praise felt good, almost like an escape from the emptiness that waited for you when you returned to Wayne Manor.

But the truth was, you were dying for something real, something that made you feel seen at home.

When school let out, you gathered your things, avoiding the usual parade of admirers by slipping through the back doors of the school to your waiting car. Today, there was no stopping the swarm of boys who followed you from class to class. Josh from the football team had been practically suffocating you all day with his relentless compliments, while Lucas, the track star, was constantly finding excuses to "study" with you. Both of them seemed to think your "no" was just another challenge. But despite their attention, you were still the one who didn’t belong.

Because once you left Gotham Academy, once you stepped into Wayne Manor, you were nobody.

Bruce never cared to acknowledge your presence, let alone make you feel like part of the family. He was always wrapped up in his business empire or his “other life,” never bothering to check in on you. The closest thing you had to a father was Alfred, the ever-loyal butler, who was the only one who seemed to care about you. But even his affection was distant, a courtesy reserved for a child who didn’t quite fit.

Damian, Tim, Stephanie, and Duke all attended Gotham Prep, the elite school for Gotham’s privileged. Bruce had never bothered enrolling you there, and you wondered, sometimes, if it was because you weren’t good enough, weren’t worth the effort.

And yet, despite their indifference, you longed to be seen by them. Maybe if you earned their respect, earned Bruce’s approval, they would start noticing you.

But it was always the same: emptiness.

The one place you could truly escape to was Grace's house. Grace was your best friend, your sister in every way that mattered. She was the one who saw the real you, the one who didn’t care about your last name or your family’s wealth. She was the only one who knew you were the unwanted daughter of Gothams most infamous mobster. She accepted you as you were: a girl who was as talented as she was misunderstood.

At Grace’s house, you felt alive. It was a normal, cozy home, filled with laughter and love, the kind of place that had never been offered to you at Wayne Manor. Her parents treated you like their own daughter, and her two older brothers—Isaac and Nathan—had taken to protecting you like you were their little sister. Her youngest brother, James annoyed you as much as he did Grace and somehow, you loved him for it. It was nice being a big sister to someone who was actually normal and didn't try to kill you all the time.

Grace’s oldest brother, Daniel, was another story, he treated you like a sister even though you've had a crush on him since you were 10.

You flirted with him constantly. It wasn’t anything serious, but Daniel had a way of making your heart race in a way that the boys at Gotham Academy never could. He was a older than you, maybe 21, with a confident charm that made him irresistible. Tall, blonde, jacked, he was the perfect All-American boy. You knew he wasn’t ever going to see you as anything more that a little sister but that didn’t stop you from trying. Every time he walked into the room, your heart did a little skip, and you couldn’t help but turn into a blushing mess. Grace teased you endlessly for it. Daniel was your first ever crush and that feeling would never really go away, no matter how much you saw him or how sisterly he treated you.

Most nights, you stayed over at Grace's. It became a regular tradition—weekends spent in her house, sprawled out on her couch for movie marathons, stealing her clothes, gossiping about school, and stealing snacks from her kitchen. You loved it there. You could forget about Wayne Manor, forget about the neglect and the loneliness, and just be a normal teenager. You came over for Thanksgiving, your birthday, and for Christmas they even had a stocking with your name on it.

One night, after a particularly grueling practice, Grace invited you to another sleepover at her house. As usual, you packed a bag with the essentials, pajamas, a change of clothes, and your phone, just in case. You already had most things at her house, you practically lived with her at this point. The moment you arrived, Grace’s dad, Thomas, greeted you with a warm hug, his hearty laugh filling the room. “Here comes trouble!” he said, ruffling your hair in that easy-going way he did every time you showed up.

You felt the pang of longing for a real family, but you pushed it away, embracing the warmth of the moment. You wanted to be part of this family, a normal family.

Grace’s siblings were equally welcoming. Nathan tossed you a snack and winked. “You ready to get your ass kicked at Mario Kart again?” he teased, knowing full well that you were unbeatable.

James groaned "I knew I smelled another loser walk in" You gasped dramatically and put him into a headlock, ruffling his hair till he apologized.

As the night went on, and you all sat around Grace’s kitchen table, laughing and joking, you couldn't shake the feeling that your life at Wayne Manor, and the family that barely looked at you, was a shadow that still loomed over your heart.

But then, as if to prove that life couldn’t just be simple for you, the front door of Grace’s house swung open, and your phone buzzed in your pocket. You glanced at it, your stomach dropping as you saw the name.

Alfred.

You knew what it meant. You couldn't sleep over tonight. Bruce was having people over and you had to be there in case the guests asked about you. Another night where you'd sit at the table in the maids kitchen, listening to your family get along without you. Pretending that Bruce’s absence didn’t eat away at you, didn't make you feel less than. You ignored his message. You didn't want to go home, really the guests never even knew Bruce had a biological daughter, they wouldn't ask about you. This was just Alfred's way of trying to make the family bond with you.

It was always the same. Bruce only ever reached out when he needed you for something, when his empire demanded your presence. But never for the reason you truly needed. Not for affection. Not for love.

You stood up abruptly, suddenly feeling suffocated by the laughter and warmth of Grace’s home. You didn’t want to leave. Didn’t want to go back to the place that always made you feel so… alone. But you had to. You had no choice. You already ignored Alfred's text long enough, you missed dinner so you had to get home or else Bruce might actually kill you, if he even noticed you weren't there.

No matter how far you ran, how many awards you won, or how many boys followed you around at school, the question remained: when would you finally be seen by the ones who mattered most?

That night, your prayers were answered, your bravery caught the entire family's attention just when you had gotten okay with their negligence, began to enjoy doing whatever you wanted from the shadows.

The rain was fucking relentless.

It hammered down from the heavens, soaking you to the bone as you walked through the backstreets of Gotham. The kind of rain that made you feel like you were being baptized in cold, dirty water. You pulled the hood of your jacket up, not that it did a damn thing to keep you dry. The city’s grimy streets were slick with water, reflecting the neon lights like a damn funhouse mirror. You kept your head down, trying to ignore the chill creeping through your clothes.

Grace’s house had been a brief escape from the cold, suffocating grip of Wayne Manor. For a few hours, you’d felt like a person again. Like someone who could actually live, instead of just existing as a piece of forgotten furniture in the mansion. But that was before Alfred had texted. Before you saw his name flash across your screen, making your stomach twist in a knot.

"Shit," you muttered under your breath, shoving the phone back into your pocket. Not today. Not now. You needed more time before you went back to that suffocating place. But you knew it wasn’t a choice. Bruce would be pissed, and when Bruce Wayne was pissed? Everyone knew about it.

Still, you had to push forward. It was Gotham, after all. A rainstorm in this city could mean anything from a mugging to a full-on shootout. Every step felt heavier as you neared the looming silhouette of Wayne Manor. The mansion stood there like some kind of ancient titan, always watching, always waiting, and never giving a damn about who you were.

The door creaked open, and you slipped inside, trying to make as little noise as possible. Maybe you’d get lucky and Bruce would be too busy with whatever the hell was going on to notice you sneaking in.

Fat chance.

The foyer was dark, and the mansion smelled like dust and expensive wood polish. You should have felt comforted by the familiarity, but instead, all you could feel was that gnawing sense of isolation. The Manor had always felt like a prison to you, and not the kind you could escape with a couple of well-timed sprints or clever words. This was a cage built with stone and glass, and you were stuck inside it.

You started down the hallway, the faint sound of voices growing louder as you passed the dining room.

And then you stopped. Something in the air changed. The hairs on your neck stood up. You were too close to the dining hall, and the moment you looked in through the door, your breath hitched in your chest.

There, at the long grand dining table, sat your family—or, well, what was left of them. Every one of them was slumped forward, tied to their chairs with ropes, blood trickling from their ears, noses, and mouths. The first thing you noticed was that no one was moving. No one was breathing. They all looked... dead.

Bruce. Damian. Jason. Dick. Tim. Cass. Duke. Steph. Barbra, even Alfred was slumped over in the corner where he usually kept watch. All of them.

Your stomach dropped to your feet as you backed away slowly. This was not happening.

“No fucking way,” you breathed out, stepping back, trying to backpedal before anyone heard you. But your mind was already working overtime. Who did this? Why?

The answer came quickly. It didn’t take much to put two and two together. The guests, it had to be them. The rich assholes who had “business” with Bruce. Except now, you were figuring out that the business they were conducting didn’t involve any stock markets or deals. It was murder.

And then the realization hit: whoever these people were, they weren’t here for some petty robbery. They’d been in the house long enough to take down the entire family without a sound.

Fuck.

Your mind went blank. For a second, you thought you were dreaming. But no, this was real. And this was not happening.

You were about to turn on your heel and haul ass out of there, but that’s when you heard it. Footsteps. Heavy footsteps. Two of them, moving fast, and definitely not the quiet kind. The air around you felt thicker. The kind of thick that made your skin crawl.

You darted to the side, taking cover behind a marble pillar. From the sound of it, someone was coming this way. Your heart pounded in your chest as you held your breath, praying to God they didn’t notice you.

You needed to leave. Now. Run. Go.

But just as you turned, desperate to bolt before anyone saw you, you froze.

Footsteps. Heavy, deliberate, and moving fast.

There was no time to think, you stayed hidden watching them walk around the room. They were wearing crisp black suits, and all three looked like they shopped in the"Big and tall" section. There was no way you could fight off all three, yeah you had some muscle but nothing like Jason or even Tim. Even Bruce would break a sweat facing these guys. They seemed to be checking Bruce's pockets right now, looking for something.

While they were distracted, you took deep breathes, trying to calm down. Who the fuck were these people? How did they manage to trick the infamous Wayne Family? What did they want? How could you get out of this and save your family?

Did you even want to save your family?

You shook the thought away quickly; of course you wanted to save them, they were cruel and horrible but who were you to decide their fate without trying to help them? Who made you judge, jury, and executioner?

Then you saw it, Bruce's emergency button, hidden on the wall. Only noticeable to someone who's wandered these halls for years. You almost fell to your knees in relief as you sneakily crawled over to it and pressed it.

Help was on the way and the intruders didn't know you were here! You smiled feeling pure relief at your quick thinking.

How's that for useless huh Damian? You wanted to taunt him as you looked at his unconsious form. He was so much better this way, they all were. They were silent.

Then, you heard it, the loud blaring of alarms and sirens. "Emergency." "Emergency." Alfred's voice rang through the whole manor and the sirens alerted the men that you were in the dining room.

You groaned, eyes burning with tears, "Who's the fucking dumbass that made the silent alarm LOUD?"

The men came rushing into the dining room yet it seemed to be your lucky-unlucky day. Only one of them had a gun.

Time seemed to slow as he aimed it at Bruce's soon to be lifeless head. You don't know what came over you as you tackled Bruce's unconscious body out of the bullets way.

You regretted it as soon as you did it, your vision went white with pain as the bullet hit you shoulder.

You pushed through the pain and grabbed a butter knife as one of the unarmed men approached you. You punched and ducked but the pain slowed you down. He hit you hard right in the ribs, so you did him one better and gouged his right eye out with your butter knife. Those boxing classes really did do some good, no wonder your mom insisted on them.

More shots rang out and it was out of pure adreneline that you were able to pull almost each and every member of your family under the table. Damian was the only one left and as you stood to pull him down too, you saw the armed man pull the trigger of his gun. He was going to kill your baby brother, he was aiming at the 14 year old's head. No matter how cruel or vicious Damian was, he's still a child, still your little brother.

You couldn't let him die. Maybe that's why you threw your self on top of his body, protecting him from the two bullets aimed at him.

Fuck.

This hurt. No wonder people hated being shot. This hurt more than cheer warm ups, did you think you were bulletproof?

You decided that you would just allow the next person to be shot. The man's footsteps were coming closer and you were getting more light headed from the pain. You turned to Jason's unconscious body and punched him. "Wake up you fucking loser! I can't fight this guy."

Obviously, Jason didn't wake up, why did you even think anyone in this family would ever try and help you?

As you shook him and panicked even more, you noticed something shining in Bruce's pocket. So much for "No weapons at the dinner table."

A sleek black gun, any other day you would've marveled at the custom design on it and focused on the monograming, but right now all that mattered was getting it before you bled out and the man killed you. You crawled and those five steps felt like eternity and when you finally grabbed the gun out of Bruce's armani suit pocket, the scary man was standing above you with a cruel grin.

Your heart dropped as he knelt next to you and stroked your hair, "Hey, pretty." He breathed out as he knelt next to you, his hands wandering around your body and up your skirt. Bile rose to your mouth and your heart dropped. No. This isn't happening. "If I had know Bruce had such a pretty thing, I would've been come here. You're certainly the looker compared to your sisters." He said as he began smelling your hair.

You don't know how it happened, but suddenly he was laying on the floor with blood coming out his throat. You looked between your hand holding the gun and his now lifeless body in horror. The last thing you heard before passing out was a flurry of boots and gunshots and a man that sounded like your father yelling for a doctor. The last thing you saw was a tall boy lifting you up, his eyes as blue as the sky, and you genuinely believed you died and went to heaven.

The room was cold, sterile, a sharp contrast to the emotional storm raging inside you. The pain in your shoulder and stomach was nothing compared to the weight on your chest, the realization that no matter what, you couldn’t escape this life anymore. You had made your choice, whether you liked it or not.

You woke to the soft beeping of machines and the scent of antiseptic in the air, your vision still blurry. It didn’t take long for the footsteps to reach you—slow, deliberate. The door creaked open, and one by one, they walked in.

Dick entered first, his expression calm but unreadable. His gaze lingered on you for a moment, and instead of his usual mocking smile, there was something more restrained about him now. The newfound respect he had for you was obvious, but there was a subtle weight behind it. He didn’t say much, just gave you a nod.

“You’re still breathing, that's good,” he said softly, his voice low, a simple acknowledgment. “We all owe you for that. For what you did.” The words weren’t a compliment, they were recognition, quiet and heavy. The respect was there, but so was the unspoken truth: You were one of them now.

You expected to feel happier. You imagined this day so many times before, you prayed for it, so why were you sick to your stomach now that it's happened? Why didn't you want it anymore and why hadn't you realized it till now?

Damian was next, stepping in with his usual, stoic expression. His eyes flicked over you briefly, but there was no anger in his gaze, only a quiet understanding, maybe even admiration, hidden beneath the surface. He didn’t bother with pleasantries.

“Your actions saved all of us,” he said, voice flat. “You’ve earned your place here. Just don’t forget it.” His words weren’t harsh, but there was no room for doubt. You had proved yourself. And that meant something far more permanent than any spoken affirmation could express.

Ungrateful brat. You took a bullet for him and he couldn't even thank you. God, you hated him. You were starting to wish you weren't a good person and let them all die. The inheritance would've been insane.

Jason followed suit, and though his rough edges remained, there was a faint softness in his expression as he looked at you.

“Damn, princess,” he muttered, his eyes scanning you with quiet intensity. “You really pulled through. You did what most of us couldn’t.” His gaze softened for just a moment, and then he leaned against the doorframe. “Didn't realize I had such a badass as a little sister. The knife move, the way you ducked and punched? Sick."

Jason, of all people, was praising you. Treating you like his sister rather than dirt at the bottom of his shoe. The nickname, princess, he once used to ridicule you, was said with a quiet revrance; like he actually thought you were a princess now. You couldn't help but feel good, this was all you wanted all these years. And in that moment, you would get shot again without hesitation if it meant you would get that everyday.

Tim entered next, and though his face was stoic, his eyes betrayed the flicker of respect, maybe even admiration. “We all saw it,” he said, his voice steady, but tinged with something quieter. “What you did… It wasn’t just about surviving. It was about protecting us. You earned the right to stand beside us. We all thank you.”

Well, it's not great but at least someone is appreciative. None of them would've done the same for you.

Cass entered, silent as always, but the look she gave you spoke volumes. She didn’t need to say anything—her eyes, sharp and understanding, told you that she saw your sacrifice, saw what you had done for them. She gave you a slight nod, acknowledging your place among them.

Then Duke and Stephanie stepped in.

Duke’s eyes were calm, but you could see the flicker of something more behind his gaze. The weight of what had happened didn’t escape him. His voice was steady as he spoke.

“You did what we couldn’t,” he said, his tone quiet but unshakable. “You kept us alive. All of us. And that means something. You’ve earned your place in this family.” His eyes softened, just the slightest bit. “Just don’t forget... that this family doesn’t leave anyone behind. Not anymore.”

And then there was Stephanie. Her usual energy was gone, replaced with something more somber. She didn’t crack a joke or make a snide remark. Her eyes scanned you with something like respect, but more than that, a quiet understanding that you’d been forced to prove yourself in ways none of them had ever been asked you to.

“Guess you really are one of us now,” she said softly, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, but it wasn’t lighthearted. It was tired. “I don’t know about you, but I’m glad you’re still here.” Her voice wavered slightly, but she pulled herself together quickly. “You’ve got our backs. We’ve got yours.”

Barbra stood next to her in agreement, looking hesitant to say something. She was the only one who noticed how much you resented them even though you were desperate for their love and approval.

What. The. Fuck.

No way this is happening. This is not real. Who knew saving someone's life could have them do a complete 180. Stephanie said she had your back. Duke acknowledged your existence. Jason didn't make you cry. Damian didn't attempt to kill or maim you. It's like the sky turned pink.

Finally, Bruce.

He stepped into the room, his presence overwhelming. The familiar weight of his gaze was on you immediately, but today there was something different—something almost proud in the way he looked at you, as if he finally saw you as more than just a forgotten name in the Wayne family history.

He was quiet for a moment, his hands folded in front of him. And then he spoke, his voice steady, unyielding, but carrying an undertone of something that almost felt like respect. “You did more than survive. You saved our lives. Every single one of us.” His eyes didn’t leave you. “You’re part of this family now. You’ve earned it. You earned the name Wayne.”

The words hit you harder than anything else. Part of the family.

It was like a weight dropping onto your chest—something heavy, something that couldn’t be easily brushed away. There was no turning back. You were one of them now, and that scared you, you hadn’t anticipated that.

Bruce’s eyes softened, just slightly, but his voice remained firm. “From this moment forward, you have a curfew. Midnight. You may have earned your place here, but you’ll follow the rules, just like the rest of us.”

You didn’t say anything. How could you? His words settled into your chest like stone, the finality of them carving out any space for protest. There was no choice in the matter. You were in this life now, whether you wanted to be or not. Midnight was late for a curfew anyway, Grace had to be home by 9.

“We all owe you our lives,” Bruce continued, but there was no gratitude in his tone, only a recognition of the debt. “But that doesn’t mean you’re exempt from the responsibilities we carry. Understand?”

You nodded once, slowly, the words caught in your throat. You wanted to speak, wanted to scream, to tell him that you weren’t sure you could do this, that you didn’t know if you were ready to live this life—the life of a Wayne, the life of this family.

What did a mafia family even do? Did you run around being Bruce's useless henchman, or did you have to go around trying to kill people? Could they be more specific about the pros and cons?

But nothing came out. There was nothing you could say that would change anything now.

Jason gave you a crooked grin,“Guess you’ve got to start following the rules now, huh? Welcome to the real family business.”

Tim’s gaze lingered for a moment, his eyes unreadable. “We’re all in this together,” he said quietly. “Whether you like it or not.”

Damian’s face softened, but only slightly. “I expect you to keep up,” he added, before turning to leave. “No slacking. We all carry our weight in this family.”

Cass’s presence remained, her silent approval almost suffocating in its quiet intensity.

Duke gave you one last nod before he turned, the weight of his gaze a reminder that you couldn’t slip out of this, no matter how much you might want to. He wasn’t angry—just silently resolute in his understanding. “You’re one of us now. That means something.”

And Stephanie? Her eyes lingered on you for a moment longer, before she gave you a small, tired smile. “We’re with you. All the way.”

Bruce? He gave you one last look, his eyes still holding that rare spark of approval—but it wasn’t soft. It wasn’t warm. It was measured, like a general overseeing a soldier. You were part of the mission now.

“We’ll train,” he said, his voice unwavering. “We’ll teach you everything you need to know. But it’s clear you’ve already proven yourself.”

You lay back against the pillows, the silence that followed hanging heavy in the air.

This is so weird. Why are they all being nice? How do you react to it? How do you interact with them? Is it genuine gratitude for saving their lives or is it a cruel joke to make you feel like you're important.

As they left, one by one, you stayed there, immobilized by the weight of it all. You’d earned your place here. But what did that mean now? What did it mean to be part of this family? You weren’t sure you even wanted it. But it was too late to turn back now.

OK YALL HERES THE PROLOGUE!! LMK WHAT YALL THINK AND HOW I SHOULD/ IF I SHOULD CONTINUE THIS FIC!!! HOPE YALL ENJOYED!! SEND IN ASKS! SORRY IF IT SUCKS LEAVE ME ALONE!!

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andivmg · 24 days ago

Note

is it bad i wish people would give examples of how dream is “manipulative”?? because the examples I am seeing right now are just him over explaining himself

tw/ drama, sa mention

i can give you one example but you have to bear with me here, it’s kind of hard to explain through text and i can’t give full context because it would drag other people into it and i don’t want to be messy.

edit: i added a division here bc i don’t want to see all that when scrolling through my blog lol

the following screenshots are taken from a conversation we had in july 2023, where he messaged me after 7 months of no contact and basically tried to make me apologize to him after he ghosted me. i have since blocked him and deleted his number (i had to dig through my friends’ group chat to find these screenshots). the conversation was extremely long and if i wanted to dissect it fully i’d have to make an hour long video on it and and tbh, i don’t care that much so this is what we’re working with.

for at least some context: the “she” being referenced is a former mutual friend who informed me that he had a gf the whole time we were talking (i have since learned that might not have been true but with him who tf knows). The name blocked out is her boyfriend, who is his friend. and the block of text covered is just him yapping and name dropping too many people. also i guess to give him some grace, he had just gotten surgery and told me he was high off pain meds, which is why he was messaging me.

here we go

“your memory is wrong”

this is referencing the day i was told he had a girlfriend. that day, the girl and i went to get our nails done and during that time, she informed me of the situation. as you can see in the message, i had texted him saying that we had those plans that day. he never replied to it. like seriously, that was the last message i ever sent him before blocking him a few weeks later. so, in this context, him saying my “memory is wrong” is textbook gaslighting.

“i swiped to look at to give you the chance to bump it, which you never did.”

now… huh?????? tbh i’m still confused about this bc he’s basically admitting that he didn’t reply to my message after saying that he didn’t ignore me. so, contradicting himself there and making it seem like it was my fault that he didn’t respond.

“you can unblock me on snap”

as we know, he has a history of having conversations with girls and other people exclusively through snapchat in order for him to say whatever he wants because the messages disappear. i guess he had a point there bc here we are. you could see this in his favor, but i see it as a way for him to avoid any accountability whatsoever for the shit he says. he was trying to move the conversation over to snapchat, i guess to avoid exactly what is happening now: evidence of him being a slimy little shit.

“I was the only one actively trying to keep you in the friend group despite even backlash from others for it”

now this one just pissed me off at the time. after getting out of an abusive relationship (which all of our friends knew about btw) everyone continued to hang out with my ex instead of me because: a) clout and b) they had been friends with him longer. here, he tried to make it seem like he was doing me this huge favor by still talking to me and “keeping me in the group” (which he didn’t btw). now, at this point he already knew about my sa, he knew about all the shit that happened in the relationship, and he still wanted me to be in a friend group with the man who put me through all of that, his other friends, who made super weird sexual comments about me on multiple occasions, and other people who enabled all that shit. then, he tried to make it seem like he was doing me a favor. insane and manipulative.

i hope this helped, anon. i kinda had to relive some shit in order to provide this for you but i think it’s the only example i could give from my situation in which he was being manipulative. i think these are pretty good examples and i hope it wasn’t too confusing without all the context.

#andianswers #cw drama #cw sa mention

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aibazuos · 6 months ago

Text

My Brazilian ass is thinking way too much about a One Piece Brazilian military dictatorship AU and I need to put it out there or I will explode

Honestly, the only reason that's something I have such strong opinions about is bc Luffy is Brazilian and there's just so little Brazilian characters in media in general (There's more in Japanese media than in other places but I don't have the time to explain it, if you want to learn more about that you can watch this video).

I don't know how ethical it is to find parallels between a fictional work and very real events that caused the suffering and death of a lot of people. But I think that this is a way to share more of this very important moment in Brazilian history.

So, let's start with a bit of actual history before jumping into my strange attempt at mixing a media that I love and the history of my country.

(Tw: discussions of torture, death, abuse of power by the government, gun use, armed revolution, censorship and anything you can think about that has to do with a military dictatorship. I won't go into detail, but if that's something that triggers you be mindful of that)

Oh, not a TW but something you should know, there's a lot, and I mean a lot, of communism, socialism and anarchism, just so you know

The coup d'état

In 31th of March, 1964 the Brazilian President João Goulart was overthrown by the army. The coup would later be described as a "revolution" by Castelo Branco, one of the Presidents during de dictatorship. It was said to be revolution bc of the "threat of communism" that had been taking over Brazil.

I need to make this very clear, Brazil had at the time some communist and socialist party's, but there was no actual threat from them, since they weren't popular enough with the general population.

This anti-communism reasoning had been used before to instal dictatorships is Brazil, such as the Getulio Vargas government. And it's still being used to this day by far-right politicians to manipulate the public (no, I'll not be arguing about this, if you truly think Brazil has an actual communist threat you can go and find another blog for you, mine isn't the place. block me if you feel the need)

The coup, and the whole dictatorship, was funded by the US

The Institutional Acts

The Institutional Acts were extra-legal decrees that were issued. There were 17 of them and more than a 100 complementary acts.

The Institutional Act number 5 is considered the more violent one, it allowed: the revocation of mandate of any elected politician, the president to interfear in government of states and county's and it made possible for a citizen to lose their constitutional rights. This Act was the one that basically legalized the torture that was already happening.

The Torture and Assassinations

Again, not going into detail, but there was a lot of people who disappeared after being arrested. The most infamous case is of Vladimir Herzog who was found in his cell after "self deleting" with his tie. The photo of his body was sent to the news by the army, but it was questioned by the public, bc he used his tie, but his his legs could touch the floor, so not the most efficient way. I do not recommend looking for his name online unless you want to see the fake self deleting photo, there's no blood or gore, but it is a dead body.

You could be arrest for subversive behavior, basically anything that the government deemed to be against it. A lot of students and teachers were arrested, journalists, actual revolutionaries and people that they would call "communists" even if a lot of them weren't communists.

The Censorship

A lot of art was censored during the dictatorship. Some musicians, such as Chico Buarque , found ways to still criticize the government in their songs but in a more subtle way that wouldn't get them caught. But even then Chico Buarque had to flee the country at some point. (Construção, Cálice and A Banda are very good songs that he wrote during the dictatorship and that are seen a symbol of resistance, really recommend them)

Carlos Marighella

Carlos Marighella was at one point considered enemy number one by the government and was classified as a terrorist. He participated in the armed fight against the dictatorship and founded the Ação Libertadora Nacional (National Liberation Action)

Before the coup he was already part of the Communist Party and an atheist, getting arrested even before the coup bc of an offensive poem he wrote about the administration of Bahia.

The ALN was involved in the kidnapping of an American ambassador in 69, along side the MR-8, another revolutionary movement.

Later that year Marighella was killed in the back of a car after being shot multiple times by the police. The photo of his body would be sent to papers, and through that way his son, fifteen at the time, discovered about his father’s death.

His death would get the urban guerrilla slowed down, but the rural guerrillas still happen and it got more support.

In 1996 the Ministry of Justice would recognize Marighella’s death as the estate’s responsibility. In 2007 it was decided that his wife, Clara Charf was to have a lifetime pension from the government (she is still alive at 99 years old). And, in 2012, after investigations, the Ministry of Justice declared his amnesty post mortem.

(Again, be careful when searching about him, the pictures of his body are not hard to find, and it’s a very bloody image. He was shot multiple times)

The end

The dictatorship ended in 1985. At that point the military was having difficulties keeping itself in power, since the direct elections for governor in 1982 had already elected 10 governors that were in opposition to the dictatorship.

Along side that, during 1983 and 1984 there was a civil movement called “Diretas Já” that wanted the direct elections for the president back, since those stopped happening after the dictatorship took place. That movement was taken down, but even then in the indirect elections of 1985 the non-military candidate, Tancredo Neves, won the election, officially ending the dictatorship.

The end of the dictatorship had already been expected by the military. So in 1979 the president João Batista Figueiredo signed the amnesty for anyone who had committed political crimes, including the torturers. Dilma Rousseff, the first woman to be president of Brazil, elected in 2012, was one of the many people to be tortured by the military and one of the few that survived it. And the current president, Luís Inácio "Lula" da Silva, was part of the syndicalist movement during the dictatorship (not saying I like them, but they are very important figures today and I think it puts into perspective that this events weren't that long ago)

About 400 people were confirmed dead after the end of the dictatorship, but more than 20,000 were missing. It's very hard to find the information about the missing people, since even if files were made about them they are either hidden somewhere or they have been destroyed. To this day new information about this period is being discovered.

In 1988 the new constitution had been written and put into place. It still is the constitution that is being used to this day and is called the citizen constitution, since it was made for the new democratic government. It also made the presidential elections direct again.

WTF AM I DOING??? (AKA: the actual One Piece part)

(honestly there's still a lot of history during this part, I'm terrible at this)

The Marighella question

I just needed to work someone based on Marighella into this, he is such an important figure in all of this. I had two main ideas, either Gol D. Roger and Monkey D. Dragon could fulfill this role of a number one enemy but bc the main character is obviously Luffy i kinda want to make it Dragon.

I think I have some ideas abt their father-son relationship, or lack of it, that would make it interesting.

What I'm writing here is basically a pre-story and the very beginning of it, bc of it some characters are going to be left out (also I haven't watched all of one piece)

Monkey D. Garp

Born in 1904 in the city of Rio de Janeiro

Joined the military in 1922 at 18

Had Dragon in 1929 at 25

Fought in WWII as part of the cobras fumantes (smoking snakes)

Had a difficult time being there for Dragon when he was growing up since he at the time was to rising up the ranks

Tried to get Dragon to join the military

In 1951 when the Getúlio Vargas got into power again Dragon had been affiliated to the communist party for 5 years and Garp stated to hide their connection so that he wouldn't have to report his son.

Luffy is born in 1952 and Dragon takes care of him until 1955. Garp tries to take care of him for a few months, but bc he's a this point a Brigadier General he doesn't have the time to take care of a kid, so Luffy is sent to live with Dadan in Salvador.

When the coup happens Garp burns every file that has Dragon's full name

When Dragon is expelled from the communist party, in 1967, Garp thinks that he's going to calm down and stop, but a few months later more violent revolutionary actions start happening and Garp just knows that it is his son

Garp tries to disturb the investigations that are slowly getting closer to Dragon, but when the U.S starts putting more and more funds into finding and killing Dragon he is forced to stop or he'll be under suspicion of treason

When Dragon dies in 1969 Garp goes to Salvador to tell Luffy face to face abt his father's death

He again tries to get Luffy to join the military, trying to get his grandson to be safe, maybe that way he can resign

Luffy refuses and Garp knows that if he resigns he won't be able to protect Luffy, so he doesn't resign

When his colleagues start talking about this new traveling artists that are making subversive plays in the more rural areas Garp promises himself that no one will kill his grandson

Monkey D. Dragon

Born in 1929 in Salvador, Bahia

He remembers the fear that he felt every time a soldier came bearing news of his father's situation. Would this be the time they tell him he died while fighting the nazis?

The first time he learned about communism was by chance. Some activists had ran scared after the police arrived and left behind some copies of the communist manifesto. He was 14 and that was the first book he read through that wasn't for school

When WWII ended in 1945 Dragon was relieved to have his father back, but that didn't last long. Soon Garp was back to work

They moved to Rio de Janeiro after Garp came back

Since Rio was, at the time, the capital and Gétulio Vargas had just been deposed it wasn't particularly difficult for Dragon to start going to communist meetings

In 1946, when Dragon is 17, he officially joins de communist party

After he graduated high school in the end of that same year he officially moves out and start living in a college commune

He goes to the Universidade Federal do Rio de Janeiro (UFRJ - Federal University of Rio de Janeiro) to get a sociology degree

He graduates in 1950

When Vargas becomes a President again in 1951 Dragon is arrested for subversion for the first time

He's in prison for a few months

When he sees Garp after that they both know that no one can know about their connection. Vargas is in power again and an active member of the communist party that is also the son of an important figure from the military has the biggest target in his back

They wouldn't see each other for years. Both still living in Rio de Janeiro, but no attempts at contact would be made

In 1952 Luffy is born, Dragon is his sole caretake

For his son he tries to lay low, he knows what is like to have an absent father, he doesn't want his son to have the same. He does more office work, publishing unsigned papers in various communist papers and that works

For 3 years that works, but then he's arrested in a violent way. He is shot in the stomach and 2 cops press him to side of the car while putting handcuff on him

Luffy sees everything

When he gets his one call he calls one of his friends and asks them to take Luffy to Garp's house in as many codes as he can use, trying to make sure that the cops didn't know he had a son.

This time his arrest lasts 2 years, he thinks that it would've lasted more if Vargas hadn't ended his own government by killing himself

He goes to visit Garp, to visit Luffy

But Luffy isn't there and Garp won't tell him where Luffy is

He's angry, furious, but at the same time he knows that Luffy is going to be safer away from him

He never sees Luffy again

Juscelino Kubitschek (JK) is elected President in 1955 and the construction of Brasília, the new capital, starts

Things calm down for a few years between JK's government, Jânio Quadros resignation from office and than João Goulart

But the coup happens

Everyone in the party knows that if things had been hard when Vargas was president they are about to get worse now

The younger members of the party, the ones that hadn't been there when Vargas was president, either get even more radicalized or leave the party

Dragon feels like they aren't doing enough, people are getting tortured and killed and they are writing articles that are never going to be published

He's expelled from the party, his colleagues see him as being way to violent, but he takes some people with them and makes his own revolutionary group

They finally get some world out there, but the military makes sure that none of it gets to the papers, censoring everything

The military gets more vicious in their search for Dragon, so Dragon gets more violent

Civillians are never to be killed, even if they are sometimes caught in the crossfire

They throw a grenade in an U.S building and things get harder, now the U.S wants Dragon's head too

He knows that he's going to die, that the police has found his colleagues, his friends. He knows that he is one of the few left and, maybe, if he dies first, the ones that are still alive can get away, maybe live normal lives

He writes letter and records messages in tapes, most os them are for Luffy

When he gets shot the first time he knows that this it, that he's going to die there in the backseat of a car

Quickly the other shots follow

Monkey D. Luffy

Born in 1952 in the city of Rio de Janeiro

His gramps sent him to live in Salvador when he was very young

For some reason he doesn't have many memories from before he went to live with Dadan... but he remembers someone being shot

He's 5 when he meets his brothers. He loves them

School is boring

Gramps wants him to join the army when he grows up

One day, when Luffy is 7 a band of traveling artists appear in town, the cops hate them but Luffy is immediately interested

Shanks is just so cool and so strong

Luffy wants to be like him when he grows up

They get into a fight with some low grade soldiers and Luffy tries to defend them

He fails

Shanks has to protect him and gets shot in his shoulder, he loses movement of his arm

Luffy promises himself that he would get strong enough to not let anyone he cares about get hurt

Shanks continues to tell him that it wasn't his fault, the cop should't have pointed at gun at a child

Just as sudden as they came the leave, Shanks gives Luffy his straw hat

Things go back to how they were before, except now Luffy knows he will never be part of the military

Gramps is angry when he hears that

When he's twelve his teachers start talking about how the military is now in power, they say it's a good thing "We'll finally get ride of the commies, there will be order in the country"

Luffy feels something sick in him

A month later Sabo dies

Luffy and Ace didn't go to school for a week

Ace graduated and left. He said he wanted to do something good, make their childhood dreams of changing the world into reality

Luffy wants to go with him but Ace refused

Luffy is now alone

School is still boring and now his teachers continue to praise the military in everything they do. Some of them seem scared of the military though

He's 15 when he hears whispers of this “commie bastard” that is been causing havoc in Rio de Janeiro

He's 16 when the papers now have the face and name of the commie bastard, a guy with a face tattoo, " THE TERRORIST DRAGON"

He's 17 when his gramps shows up in town, with a paper in hands that declared that Dragon was dead

"Your dad Luffy, he died"

Gramps begs him to join the military, to keep himself safe

Luffy can't agree to that, not after having see the military hurt so many people and stop them from being free

All Luffy wants is to be free

That is the first time he sees his Gramps cry

His gramps said that his dad left him tapes and letters

Luffy hears and reads all of them that night

When Dadan and gramps go to wake him up next day they find an empty bed

Okay, this post is already way to long and characters like Ace and Sabo are more interesting if I talk abt them at a later point

Honestly I really recommend taking pieces of the history of your country and characters you love and smash them. It doesn't need to be something so traumatic as my choice was, you can just use something that you think is interesting.

My choice was the dictatorship bc I think One Piece deals a lot with themes like these with the marines that it was the most obvious choice. Also communist Dragon, honestly that was a big part of it too

Less important, but like, I really do need to change the names of the IRL presidents and stuff like that. bc even the idea of "Monkey D. Dragon" and "Getúlio Vargas" being two people alive at the same time is weird

I don't know if this post will get attention, but I do plan on writing more of whatever this is

Also, this shit wasn't beta'd I just needed to get this out there as soon as possible

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tastefulcandiedroses · 7 months ago

Text

TW: ED, @nor3xia

Block don't report!

I don't support or promote ED's!

!I support and encourage recovery!

Question!

This is @na specific FYI.

I find a lot of people with @na say that they save money because they eat less and don't need to spend so much in groceries n what not.

Has anyone else had the opposite happen? Because I have.

What I mean is,

I spend so much more on the things I use to keep me from eating vs what I probably would if I was ED free and just bought groceries.

Examples:

- Vaping: which I started to give me something to keep my mouth busy and that's 30-40$ a week.

- Energy drinks: appetite suppression and fullness reason. Say I only buy 4 one week, that's 10-14$ a week. And some weeks I buy 6! That's 15-21$!

- diet soda: I prefer individual bottles over cans because I think cans taste different and I also don't like buying the big bottles because they tend to go flat faster than I can finish them. Say I only buy 2 1 serving bottles, that's 5$. Other weeks I'll buy 4, that's 10$.

- SF sweetener: 6$ a box that lasts 1.5-2 weeks (not bad).

- SF juice: 5$ roughly a bottle.

- gum: originally I bought packs at the store which would last a week. That's roughly 5$ a week. (Now I buy it in bulk packs on Amazon for 9$ and that lasts me 2-3 weeks so not bad)

- Tea: I like variety bc I love tea and get sick of the same 3-4 flavors so I try to buy a new box or 2 every other week. 9$.

Low end: 59-64$ weekly

High end: 78-82$ weekly

That's WITHOUT the low cal food I buy for when I do put nutrition in my body.

Which includes:

- Protein shakes: 30$ every two week/ 30$ a month (depends on what my food schedule is like that month)

- almond milk: 4$ every week.

- SF ice pops: 8$ every other week or so (consumption varies)

- SF ketchup: 6$ every two weeks.

- eggs: I only eat the whites so it's a waste but I hate box egg whites bc they taste weird to me and I would rather just use one egg white from a cracked egg and know it's one egg white versus weighing it out or measuring it out using other dishes on top of what I'm already using to know how much I'm pouring. 4.5$ a week (I'm not the only one that eats them so they go through fast).

- lettuce bunch: 3$ weekly

- baby greens tub: 5$ every other week or 5$ every week (purchase and consumption varies).

- low cal bread: 6-14$ every other week on average (consumption and brand/ type varies)

- Tofu block: 5$ a week/ 2 weeks

- frozen veggies: 4.5$ a week/ 2 weeks. Sometimes, 9$ a week for variety.

- SO ON SO FORTH!!!! (Bc I have no reason to give my full grocery list for the sake of my post)

Adding all this up is:

low end: (59-64$) +35.75$~ = 94.75-99.75$ weekly

High end: (78-82$) +60$~ = 138-143$ weekly

And all of that is higher with the rest of my list, but you get the gist.

I've done regular grocery shops in the past and have a habit of keeping receipts so I looked back on those and on average my maximum grocery trip was 80$ a week. And that's still w/ my vegetarian diet. Because I could buy more stuff in bulk or it's just generally cheaper bc it's not facing the current "healthier/ specialty = pricier". If that makes sense?

Summed up:

For the people who spend less because of their ED, congrats.

But this mf is an expensive ass bitch for me 😂💀

Guess my @na is a gold-digging hoe😭 /J

#tw ana rant #ana male #ana rexx #tw ed diet #ed behaviour tw #tw ed descussion #tw 3d vent #tw disordered eating #tw ana bløg #@n@ diary #@na vent #@na shit #@nor3x14 #@nor3xia #@norexi@

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broccoliboix5peepeeman · 2 years ago

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Midoriya-sensei AU

Part 13: Kacchan

Part 12 | Ao3 | Part 14

Look... these past few manga chapters have really fucked with me and some parts of this fic and I'm super mad about it, but alas canon can go fuck itself. Also unreq tdbk lost the poll *sad trombone noise* Anymoo, happy Mido-sensei Monday [is actually tuesday now bc I fell asleep proof-reading] - I hope you enjoy ❤️ TWs for this chapter include: -PTSD -Breakdowns and dissociation -Self-loathing -Accidental injury

'Honey? What time are you going out?'

Upon hearing his mother's question, Izuku removed his headphones and turned to face her.

He was currently cluttering the dining table with his hero analysis notebooks, along with his laptop. Shoto had hired a new sidekick recently—who could adjust the temperature of anything they touched—so naturally, Izuku had spent the morning analysing the quirk in detail. He was heading to Himura Agency soon to visit Shoto, so he wanted to finish up so he could take his notebook with him.

'In about fifteen minutes.' He double-checked the time, confirming his response. 'Why?'

'Do you not want to start getting ready?' She tilted her head to the side with concern. 'I don't want you rushing.'

'I'm nearly done, it's okay.' He assured gently, albeit he could definitely understand where she was coming from. Once he got into his flow state, it was difficult emerging from the other side. 'I'm just gonna finish this page, and then I'll clean up. I've already got my bag ready, and I don't need to get changed.'

He patted his yellow backpack, situated under the table, and smiled. 'Satisfied?'

'Yeah, alright.' She huffed, good-naturedly. 'I just don't want you stressing. I know what you're like. Plus, last time, you rushed out so quickly that I had to clean the table for you.'

'That was one time!' He cried dramatically. 'And I said I was sorry! When will the suffering end?'

'Never.' His mother flashed him a serious expression, before her joking smile resurfaced. 'Anyway, I'm going to the library to return a book for one of my patients. Have fun!'

'You too! If you see Himura-san, tell her I said hi.' Izuku picked up his pen and resumed writing.

'Oh, Todoroki-san's mother?' She paused, stroking her chin, before seemingly realising something. 'Wait, the nice lady with the white hair is their mother? Why didn't you tell me sooner?'

'I assumed you'd figured it out by the fact that Shoto's agency is named after her?' Izuku answered slowly. 'And that she and Fuyumi look really similar.'

'You hush now!' She pouted, walking past him to go put her shoes on. 'I can't believe we could've been sharing embarrassing childhood stories together this whole time. I should go to the library more often. Better make up for lost time.'

'Wait, hang on-'

'Byeee!'

Izuku grumbled as the door shut behind his mother, but didn't dwell on it too much. In truth, he didn't mind what the two women spoke about—he was old enough now where he wasn't affected by people knowing about his All Might obsession, which was his mother's main go-to when it came to embarrassing him—he was just glad they had the opportunity to maybe become friends.

He continued his analysis for another five minutes, before using all of his self-restraint to call it a day and tidy everything away. Once packed up, he grabbed his bag, put on his red shoes, then left the apartment.

It was a decent walk to Himura Agency—around thirty-five minutes—but Izuku wouldn't begrudge a little exercise. The streets weren't particularly busy, a normal amount of bustle for a Sunday, so he weaved through the crowds with relative ease. Once the agency was in his sights, he felt a small smile grace his face, glad of the familiarity.

However, just as he was about to enter, his path was blocked by someone else leaving.

Izuku stepped to the side politely—using the time to quickly type out a message to Shoto, to let him know he was here—but the person continued to shadow over him. He pointedly didn't make eye contact, but frowned at the inconvenience. Why were they standing in the way?

'Deku.'

Instinctively, Izuku flinched so violently that he dropped his phone and jumped a couple of steps backwards.

That voice.

He finally looked up at the person he'd been patiently waiting to pass, only to find spiked blonde hair, familiar red eyes, and an orange and green hero suit that was featured on so many sports brands throughout Japan, he'd have to be living under a rock to miss it.

The hero Dynamight was a household name, after all, but it wasn't him who was addressing Izuku at that moment.

'K-Kach-chan?' The way his voice broke was humiliating, as was the way his body immediately began shaking. For years, he’d been conditioned to react a certain way under the scrutiny of his childhood bully; it made him sick to know their decade apart hadn't changed that in the slightest. ‘W-W-What are you doing here?’

A stupid question. There was a clear reason why the number five hero was just leaving the agency of the number two. ‘Ah, you don’t have to answer that. Of course, it’s obvious why you’re here. In fact, you’re probably wondering what I’m doing here, as that’s certainly more out of the ordinary. It’s just, I didn’t expect to see you as it’s been years and I’ll stop talking now. I’m sorry.’

Kacchan sighed. Izuku closed his eyes with a wince, anticipating a hit. However, it never came.

‘It has been a while.’

Hesitantly, he opened one eye to find Kacchan regarding him with a mixture of emotions; his eyes were squinted in his usual displeased manner, albeit the anger that had typically manifested when they were children was absent. Izuku wasn’t sure whether that made him more or less nervous.

The silence was agonising, yet he kept his lips sealed. He knew better than to start talking and risk suffering Kacchan’s wrath. Wistfully, he hoped Shoto would read his message and come out to meet him before anything could get out of hand.

Kacchan sighed again. ‘I was actually hoping to run into you at some point. I could’ve reached out sooner, but it would've been weird tracking you down.’

Izuku tilted his head to the side.

‘What?’

‘Don’t sound so shocked.’ As soon as he said it, it became evident that Kacchan knew that what he was ordering was unreasonable. He shook his head. ‘Look, we need to talk. Are you free now?’

Izuku’s head thudded and his stomach dropped with anxiety; he could feel adrenaline pulsing through his body. In the past, he'd learnt the hard way that going somewhere alone with Kacchan was never a good idea—not that he'd ever really had much of a choice in their teen years. Now, he was being given a choice, yet it still felt like an illusion: he knew Kacchan well enough to know that “no” wasn’t an option.

‘I’m just about to see Shoto-kun.’ He pointed towards the agency, hoping that an excuse would be met better than an outright rejection. ‘I don’t really want to keep him waiti-’

‘You know Half n Half?’ Kacchan frowned for the briefest of moments, before bending down to pick up Izuku's discarded phone. ‘Doesn’t matter. Look, it won’t take long. Come on.’

Before he could protest further, a large hand grabbed his tricep and guided him past the building and down the side alley. Izuku tried to level his breathing—in, two, three, four, and out, two, three, four—to prevent him hyperventilating and entering a panic attack. He couldn’t show any weakness right now; he had to be brave.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. He can’t hurt you, he’s a hero now. He tried to reason, desperately trying to ignore the other voice that reminded him of everything Endeavour had done to his family whilst working as a hero; of everything that had happened when they were children in the name of Kacchan wanting to be a hero.

He yearningly eyed his phone, still grasped in Kacchan’s hand. There was no calling for help. He was stuck.

After they passed some bins, he was finally released. 'That'll do.'

Izuku's back faced the wall, and he stared up at his old bully. He never did grow much taller; he still had the same colour trainers, and a backpack containing hero analysis notebooks. And of course, he was still quirkless, whereas Kacchan still defined himself through his explosions. Sure, he wasn't as over-excited and sadistic as he used to be, and his face had matured, but that didn't change facts.

Izuku was afraid.

It felt reminiscent of their middle school days: backed into a corner with nowhere to run, while Kacchan threatened to use his quirk on him. The only differences now were that they were older and one of them had a hero licence; and while he was hesitant to admit it, Izuku was also a lot stronger than he had been back then. Briefly, he entertained the thought that maybe—maybe—he could take Kacchan in a fight…

If the latter didn't have a quirk at his disposal.

'You wanted to talk?' He prompted, hoping the other would take the hint and explain, instead of just staring at him. 'What is it?'

'I can't just come out and say it!' Kacchan snapped, albeit there was little bite in it. He rubbed his brow. 'I just… Give me a sec.'

Izuku didn't have much of a choice, so he stayed where he was—body poised and ready to bolt at a moment’s notice—as Kacchan gathered his words.

'I did a lot of thinking over the years, about the way I treated you.' He started, slowly. 'I fucked up. I was a piece of shit.'

Izuku said nothing; he frowned, confused.

Where is this going?

Kacchan let out a frustrated groan.

'I realise now—why I did everything that I did. It's just, you were obviously meant to be behind me... but in a lot of ways, it also felt like you were ahead of me too.' Kacchan paused. 'I didn't like it. I didn't want to see you, so I bullied you to get away from you; to feel superior. I was scared… scared of you. Not in a prissy way obviously, but I hated how… stupidly heroic you were. You'd put yourself in stupid situations to try and help people and it made me mad, because it was supposed to be me whose body moved without thinking. I wanted to protect you from yourself, put you back in your place before you went and killed yourself, but I was wrong for what I did.

'I got my way back then, you failed at becoming a hero, yet I failed in my own goal. I wanted to be on top—I still do—but in order to do that, I have to get better. I have to recognise my mistakes and atone.

'So, that being said. Dek- Izuku… I wanted to apologise.' Kacchan hung his head. 'For everything I did to you.'

Izuku's body shook, whilst his heart pounded against his chest—so violent it hurt; his nails dug into his palms from how hard he was clenching his fists. He didn't know what to think—which probably reflected in his dumbfounded expression—it just didn't make sense. All these years, he'd had nothing, then suddenly… this? Kacchan was… sorry?

'Ha. Good one, Kacchan.' He laughed hollowly, then quickly slipped past the blonde with the intention of leaving. If this was some kind of elaborate prank, then he wanted to get a head start before he became the punchline. 'You almost had me. Anyway, nice seeing you, but I really have to go.'

'I mean it.' Kacchan didn't shout, but his voice carried; firm. 'I'm sorry.'

Izuku stilled, throat swelling as he forced his emotions to remain at bay. At first, he wouldn't—couldn't—believe it, but now he was faced with reality: Kacchan was actually apologising.

He wanted to ignore him. He wanted to keep walking. He wanted to forget this ever happened.

He didn't do any of that.

'You're not serious?' Izuku murmured, lips feeling foreign, as he turned around to face him. 'Is this a joke?'

Kacchan met his eyes and growled.

'Do I look like I'm fucking joking?!'

Izuku's arms shot up to protect himself, but the threat never came.

'Shit.' Kacchan at least had the decency to look guilty. 'Calm down, I'm not gonna hit you, and I'm not joking. I mean it.'

Izuku slowly lowered his arms.

He was conflicted. He knew he should be happy with the apology—it should be cathartic and he should admire how much Kacchan had grown. The right thing to do would be to forgive him, but as compassionate as people thought him to be and as much as he tried to be kind, resentment sprouted from the pit of his stomach.

'Why?'

'Why?' Kacchan echoed, sounding physically pained. 'I just told you why! It was a whole speech!'

Izuku's pulse drummed against his temples; his jaw clenched. Distantly, he heard a vibration.

'Cut the bullshit.' The words were out of his mouth before he could comprehend them.

'Hah?!' Kacchan started to exclaim, then caught himself, lowering the volume. 'It's not bullshit.'

'It is. It's all excuses.' Izuku gripped his hair and shook his head, surprised by his own nerve. He wanted to tell his brain to shut up. He wanted to forget this interaction all together—what was he doing? 'If you're s-sorry, then just say it. Don't try to justify it.'

'But I need you to understand why.' Kacchan argued, like it was obvious. 'I was trying to-'

'You've had a long time to think about this, to try and rationalise it.' Izuku interrupted, eye twitching from barely-repressed anxiety. He couldn't get his voice to stop trembling. 'But at the end of the day, Kacchan, y-you bullied me because I was- am quirkless.'

This time, it wasn't him who flinched.

'That's… that's not…'

'Isn't it?' He smiled wobbly. 'It wasn’t because I was useless D-Deku who couldn't fight back?'

His throat closed up, betraying him. 'I was an easy target. You say wanted to protect me from myself? You were my worst nightmare, and we both know that if I had a quirk, you wouldn't have done what you did.'

He had so many scars, so much mental baggage that he was still unravelling with his therapist after several years. He might not look after himself as well as he should sometimes, but that was irrelevant right now; it was always the same insults being thrown at him.

Useless, quirkless Deku.

'You d-don't need to pretend you did it with honourable intentions.' He shook his head slowly. 'If you genuinely regret what you did, just tell me. I might not have much self-preservation… but I don't think I deserve excuses.'

He bit his lip, waiting for a reaction. Initially, Kacchan remained silent, staring at him. Izuku wasn't sure if he was thinking of a response or waiting for something. Again, he could hear an indiscernible vibration.

'Okay.' Kacchan finally responded. 'No excuses… I- I'm sorry.'

A beat passed, then another. Izuku wanted to feel something, yet his mind—despite the adrenaline going through his body—felt numb.

'I accept your apology.' He forced his mouth to move, keeping his resolve. 'Th-'

'Midoriya?'

His head whipped around so fast his neck clicked. Shoto was walking towards them, slightly rushed and phone in hand. The first aid supplies on his belt clicked together from the momentum, as did his boots against the concrete.

When he came to a stop in front of Izuku, those dichromatic eyes scanned him carefully. 'Are you okay?'

He nodded, not trusting this voice.

Shoto's shoulders slumped with relief, then looked past Izuku to see who he was with. His eyes immediately narrowed. 'Bakugou? What are you doing here?'

Kacchan scoffed.

'Dek- u- Izuku and I were just having a private conversation.' He answered brashly. 'None of your fucking business, Half n Half.'

Shoto stepped past Izuku, putting himself between him and the blonde. It was almost a defensive shield, which he had to admit, he was grateful for.

'Then why have you got Midoriya's phone?'

Izuku's eyes widened—the vibration sound he had been hearing on and off—Shoto had been ringing him this entire time?

'Because he dropped it.' Kacchan stepped forward, holding out the device, which Izuku hesitantly took. 'Fuck off with the interrogation, Todoroki. I thought you hated cops, so stop sounding like one.'

'I don't need to be a pig to worry about my friend.' Shoto quipped, before switching his gaze to Izuku. 'Midoriya, are you ready to go or should I give you another few minutes?'

The idea of spending another few minutes alone with Kacchan was enough to make him feel nauseous, but he also didn’t want to convey that in his answer.

Don’t cry. Be brave. Don’t show them how weak you are.

‘Yeah, I’m ready now.’ He spoke quietly. ‘We’re done now, right, Kacchan?’

Crimson eyes regarded him carefully, before he waved his hand dismissively.

‘Whatever. I’ve said everything I needed to say anyway. I’m going home.’ Kacchan strode past them, towards the main street. However, before he could disappear completely, he called back. 'I've changed, Izuku. I won't ask you to believe me, but just… watch me, and I'll prove it to you.'

Izuku didn't reply, other than a slight nod of acknowledgement, and Kacchan made his exit with a grunt. Now that they were left alone, he felt a new sense of numbness wash over him; his eyes glazed over; his muscles refused to move.

Panic consumed him briefly. He didn't know what was happening. He didn't feel in control of his own body, yet instead of fighting it, all he could do was succumb to the way his senses slowly shut down. His mind soon followed after, rescinding the last of his perceived independent thoughts.

Powerless. Useless Deku. Weak-

‘Are you sure you’re alright?’ Shoto was in front of him again, but Izuku couldn’t focus. It took several seconds of silence before his friend cursed. ‘Shit, okay. Let’s get you up to my office… Can you still hear me?'

He couldn’t speak, but he did manage a slight nod.

'That's good. Okay, one more question: are you comfortable with me carrying you?’

Izuku nodded again, eyes falling shut of their own accord. He wasn't sure why he was acting this way—his episodes usually manifested into hyperactivity—but he couldn't even begin to analyse his behaviour right now. All he could do was focus on Shoto's body as the hero guided him into a piggyback and lifted him up with a slight grunt.

His arms rested on Shoto’s shoulders, while the strong hands under his legs held him up. Izuku's chest pressed against his friend's back—he tried to concentrate on the temperature contrast, which manifested into him resting his forehead against the left crook of Shoto's neck.

The warmth felt safe.

Had he not been stuck in his head, Izuku would have definitely panicked over their proximity. Instead, his body welcomed the touch with open arms; it was grounding. It also helped that Shoto didn't stiffen or reject him. He encouraged Izuku.

'I won't drop you, but try to hold on.' He murmured gently. 'Ready?'

When Izuku nodded, Shoto bent his knees, then jumped into the air, using fire from his left foot to send them higher. It didn't take long before they landed on the agency balcony, and Shoto slid open the door to his office.

Izuku kept his face firmly pressed against his friend's neck, until he was gently coaxed to sit down on the tatami floor and shed his backpack from his shoulders. He felt significantly lighter without it—his body had gotten used to the weight—but he didn't let the uncanny feeling linger for long, before he returned to nothing.

'I'm still here.' Shoto assured him gently. 'Just give me one second.'

The world was bright when Izuku tried opening his eyes in response, and he winced. Before he could squeeze them shut and resign himself to darkness again, Shoto pulled the hanging curtain framing the balcony door half-shut, bathing them in a dimmer, manageable light.

Izuku exhaled—the closest he could come to conveying his thanks—then watched as Shoto moved around the room, looking in drawers, on shelves and even Izuku's own backpack. Eventually, when his friend approached him once more and knelt in front of him, his arms were full.

'I've got some things that I know help me when I have a catatonic breakdown.' He shuffled slightly. 'I know this probably isn't the same, but yeah. And I know it's rude, but I also got some stuff from your bag because you've mentioned before that you have comfort items in there. Try to let me know if you're uncomfortable with anything.'

Shoto waited a moment, before taking two large pillows, placing them behind Izuku and switching on a remote, which made them start vibrating softly—like a purring cat. He then picked up a fluffy cream blanket and wrapped it around Izuku's body like a cape, making sure to cover most of his front too.

Izuku found himself leaning back against the materials, which cushioned the wall behind him, as Shoto started playing rain sounds from a portable speaker. He then handed Izuku his favourite All Might-themed stress ball that he always carried with him.

It was practically a reflex, the way his hand closed around it and started squeezing.

‘Th-Thanks.’ He spoke, matching each syllable with his wrist movements. It wasn’t much, but it was progress. ‘Helps.’

‘I’m glad.’ His friend replied. ‘Do you want to stay like this for a while, or do you want to try some grounding exercises?’

Izuku was aware enough to recognise that he wanted to escape this feeling as quickly as he could, but realistically, he knew that he needed a little longer.

‘F-few minutes.’

‘Okay.’ Shoto slowly got to his feet. ‘I’ll just be at my desk doing some paperwork. I'm not on-call, so take as much time as you need… unless there's suddenly a national emergency.’

On a normal day, Izuku would've laughed.

For the next half an hour, the office was quiet, if not for Shoto's fingers on the keyboard and the tropical storm playing from the speakers. Izuku, for the most part, clung onto the mindlessness—not wanting to acknowledge what had happened nor what was currently happening—but soon, his internal monologue started to resurface; it never liked being quiet for long.

He supposed he'd have to face everything sooner or later.

‘Shoto?’

His friend looked up from his computer, then locked the screen and approached him once more. He sat down in front of Izuku, crossing his legs and tucking his hair behind his ears.

‘You ready to do some grounding exercises?’ He waited for Izuku’s nod, before continuing. ‘Okay, you probably know this one, but can you tell me five things you can see?’

He did know this exercise—he’d applied it to both himself and his students in the past—so the familiarity was comforting.

‘Y-you.’ He started with the obvious. ‘Bookcase… bonsai tree… computer… charred table.’

‘Good job, but don’t worry about the chabudai.’ Shoto’s cheeks darkened slightly. ‘Four things you can feel?’

Izuku had always been sensitive to touch, despite what his high pain tolerance might've implied, so he felt more confident with this one.

‘Stress ball, blanket, pillows… tatami.’

‘That was a lot quicker.’ Shoto furrowed his brow. ‘It’s good touch, right?’

‘Yeah.’ The corner of Izuku's lips quirked up for a moment in an attempt to be reassuring. 'Thank you.'

His friend nodded his head in acknowledgement.

'Three things you can hear?'

'Your voice.' He began, without giving it much thought. 'The rain noises… and my own voice.'

He was slowly starting to feel more like himself—his movements became fluid as he squeezed the stress ball, and his eyes were more focused than they had been. It wasn’t like being trapped in a bubble, it was more like a viscous liquid had been clouding his surroundings and was finally starting to evaporate.

'Two things you can smell?'

'Peppermint.' Courtesy of the teapot next to him. 'And you. The room smells like you.'

He desperately wished his filter would return before he could embarrass himself further. Luckily, Shoto didn’t seem to mind the comment.

‘That makes sense. After all, I’m the only one who works in this room.’ He paused for a few beats. 'Okay, last one: one thing you can taste? Don't worry if you can't think of anything. You've done really well.'

Usually, when Izuku was the one asking, he skipped that final sense. After all, most people would just reply with a confused “the inside of my mouth?”, but he supposed it was worth acknowledging.

'I…’ He paused as his taste buds identified iron. ‘I can… I can taste blood?'

Ignoring Shoto’s concerned look, Izuku poked his tongue around his mouth, until he found a freshly bitten wound. 'I must've started chewing the inside of my cheek at some point without realising… It happens a lot, I just don't usually register what I'm doing till after the damage is done, but it's nothing to worry about.'

His friend’s worry didn’t seem to dissipate upon hearing that, but after a few moments, he ultimately decided to let the issue slide.

‘That’s a conversation for another day.’ Izuku wasn’t sure which of them Shoto was promising that to. 'At least you're more vocal now. How do you feel?'

That was a loaded question. How was Izuku supposed to begin answering that?

Shoto seemed to read his thoughts. ‘That was a bad question. I’ll be more specific, what’s the first thing that comes to mind when I ask, “how do you feel”?’

‘Shit.’ Izuku snorted without mirth. However, that seemed to be the gateway for an elaboration. ‘I’ve never reacted this way before. It’s always been more erratic, not… yeah. I hated it. I couldn’t control my body.’

‘I can understand that.’ Shoto was earnest. ‘The first time it happened to me was during a training session with Endeavour when I was a child. The stress was too much, so my body shut down… only okaasan could get me out of it, but it took hours. I barely remember it, only that I was scared.’

‘That sounds awful.’ Izuku lowered his eyes.

‘Yeah, but my point isn’t to gain your sympathy, it’s to show that you’re not alone.’ Shoto paused. ‘You can talk to me… about anything.’

Izuku gnawed the inside of his cheek, before forcing himself to stop damaging the already wounded area.

He trusted Shoto—he really did—but he didn’t deserve to listen to Izuku’s turmoil; his friend had gone through so much worse that his own struggles paled in comparison. However, he remembered some of their earlier conversations, and how Shoto never flinched when he’d explained his failed dream of becoming a hero. He thought about all the times his friend had been open with him and accommodating when he spoke.

Izuku trusted Shoto… so maybe he should trust that he knew what he was signing up for.

‘I just… seeing him again after so long and with no warning.’ He began, trying to piece his words together. ‘I told myself to just get through the interaction, but I didn’t expect to spiral like this.’

‘I should’ve told you he was at the agency.’ Shoto pursed his lips, guilty. ‘It wasn’t scheduled in or anything, but when he showed up, I should’ve messaged you.’

‘It’s not your responsibility—you didn’t know I’d react that way. Plus, if I’m your friend then I guess I should’ve been prepared to run into him at some point.’ Izuku was quick to argue, but when he took a breath, he couldn’t help but sigh. ‘As you’re probably aware, we weren’t exactly best friends… Well, we used to be, before his quirk came in and I was diagnosed as quirkless.’

Shoto nodded deliberately, prompting Izuku to continue.

‘I used to follow him around a lot—he was familiar, and I didn’t really understand that I wasn’t wanted anymore—and soon, Kacchan started to make it more obvious that he didn’t want me around. He had a lot more friends—ones with cool quirks that would obey him—and I was… pushed around a lot.'

He intentionally omitted the specific details: verbal taunts and physical attacks. He didn't want to incriminate Kacchan more than he already had. After all, it was in the past now.

Izuku pressed his palms to his eyes. 'I just… I admired him so much—he had a great quirk and the bravery of a hero, and we both loved All Might—but… but I hated him.'

His voice turned into a whisper. 'I really did, and that somehow made everything worse because I really tried not to. Heroes aren’t meant to hate people… But I kept trying to placate him, hoping that he’d leave me be, but when it came to applying for high schools, I just couldn't simply make him happy.’

'He told you not to apply for UA, right?' Shoto asked, albeit it was obvious he knew the answer.

'Yeah.' Izuku replied anyway. 'Things got unbearable when I refused. The things he'd say, the things he'd do.' He swallowed thickly. 'It doesn't matter. When he got into UA and I didn't, that was it. Everyone laughed at me, because I never stood a chance in the first place. After we graduated, I never saw him again… until today.'

Ten years…

It had been so long, and as much as he tried to forget, he couldn't. He still had nightmares; he still flinched at loud, sharp noises; he still struggled with his self-worth.

He still had the scars.

His throat prickled, but he persevered, pulling back and staring at his hands instead of Shoto; he couldn’t bear to see his reaction just yet. 'He took me down that alley—I didn't want to, but I felt like I didn't have a choice—and I thought he was going to hurt me; follow through with one of his old threats- I shouldn't say that.'

He sighed, frustrated at himself. 'Anyway, instead… he apologised to me. Actually apologised. Like, it wasn’t a joke! I should've been happy. I should've forgiven him.'

Izuku dared not continue that sentence. Admitting it out loud would just solidify that he was a bad person.

'But you couldn't forgive him.'

Izuku broke.

For the first time today, tears built up, breaking the surface tension and running down his face without restraint. An accompanying sob escaped his lips and Izuku finally allowed himself to cry. It wasn’t loud or dramatic, like his reputation implied: he brought his knees up to his chest and buried his head in his arms to muffle his already quiet sounds—just like when he was little and tried not to draw attention to himself.

Part of his mind was screaming that even this was too much; he couldn't cry like this in front of anyone, not alone Todoroki Shoto. What would he think of him? How could Izuku show just how weak and pathetic he really was?

Yet those thoughts only led to more tears; more baggage to throw onto the already crushing pile.

He held his breath then, trying desperately to quell the crying, but it was futile. He only succeeded in making himself lightheaded and congested. His nose started to run and saliva built up in his mouth.

'I don't know how best to help you.' His friend admitted, just loud enough to be heard over Izuku's own thoughts. 'But I do know that it's okay to cry. I'm not judging you.'

How was he supposed to respond to that? Shoto was so kind; so understanding. He wasn't disgusted or disdainful.

But he should be….

'Would you-' Shoto hesitated. '-erm, like a hug… or something?'

Izuku's eyes immediately shot up to stare at him, exposing his gross face in all its glory.

'W-w-what?'

Shoto didn't seem put off by the snot and tears, albeit he did rub the back of his neck awkwardly.

'A hug, would you like one?' He clarified, confirming that Izuku had indeed heard him correctly. 'It's just… I'm not good with words, but I know physical contact can help alleviate pain. So I thought I'd offer.'

If this were a typical day, Izuku would turn bright red, stutter so much that he couldn't get his words out, and probably overthink to the point of exhaustion. However, this wasn't a typical day; while his face was blotchy and his mind was both overthinking and exhausted, he couldn't fathom his awkward crush right now.

In front of him was his friend—whom he adored in a way so unique—offering comfort, and Izuku was starving.

'Please.' He whispered, blinking as more tears stained his cheeks. He then wrapped his arms around his thighs and rested his forehead against his knees.

He could hear Shoto shuffle closer until they were side-by-side. After a moment, he shifted the blanket to accommodate them both, and slowly wrapped his arms around Izuku; one hand splayed out across his back, while the other reached around the front to cup the side of Izuku's head. Shoto then gently guided him to lean against his chest.

Izuku's entire body moved with him, putting all his weight against his friend, who willingly shouldered the burden with ease. In fact, he even rested his cheek atop his curls.

The relief was instantaneous: his body relaxed—basking in the positive touch—and a fresh sob escaped his lips. Shoto rubbed his shoulder with encouragement; repetitive, but soothing.

Izuku wasn't sure how much time they spent that way—quiet if not for his muffled sniffling—before his friend spoke again.

'I won't pretend to know what you've been through.' He murmured, each word careful. 'So feel free to tell me to fuck off, but I think, if you can't forgive him now, that's okay.'

Reactively, Izuku opened his mouth to counter, albeit Shoto beat him to it.

'And if you can't forgive him in a few months, a few years or never, that's okay too.'

Izuku's words died on his tongue and he swallowed heavily. It was like the entire concept was new: he never even considered a scenario where it was acceptable not to forgive Kacchan. After all, it was what the world preached—forgiveness was part of being a hero.

A sudden thought emerged.

'Have you forgiven Endeavour for everything?' He asked quietly. 'Not that you need to tell me.'

Shoto didn't answer straight away, contemplating the question first.

'No.' While the answer was firm, his tone sounded thoughtful. ‘And that’s okay too. It doesn't make me less of a hero.’

‘You don’t think you’re a bad person because of it?’ Izuku’s eyes widened, and he shook his head, almost jumping out of Shoto’s hold. ‘Not that I’m implying that you’re a bad person! You’re a very kind person and I think you’re amazing! Just… that was a pointless question.’

Shoto blinked once, lowering his arms.

‘He’s changed, which I accept and welcome, and we've moved on, but that doesn’t erase the past and the damage he's caused. I’ve forgiven myself, and that's enough for me.’ He scratched his cheek. ‘So, no. I don’t think I’m bad.’

Izuku nodded slowly. It made perfect sense—it was similar to his situation Kacchan—but convincing himself and rationalising his thoughts was still arduous.

‘I think I understand.’ He wiped away his tears, feeling more at ease. ‘Sorry for being like this.’

‘You have nothing to apologise for.’ Shoto was adamant; unyielding. ‘I’m just glad I could help.’

His small smile ignited a fresh wave of emotion through Izuku—his usual flustered affection for Shoto returning in full force. Mentally, he kicked himself for pulling out of their hug sooner than necessary.

‘Y-you did. Thank you.’ He flashed his own wobbly smile. ‘You’re…’

Perfect, amazing, I think I’m fall-

‘A great friend.’ He finished, admiring Shoto’s reddening ears.

‘You too, Midoriya.’

Falling...

🔥🔥🔥

Me [1740]: Just fyi next time I see you I am going to personally ram my foot so far up your arse you’re shitting icicles for weeks

Bastard Gremlin [1742]: Fuck off Icyhot

Me [1743]: Like I knew you were an asshole but really?

Bastard Gremlin [1749]: Deku told you everything then

Me [1751]: Left out some finer details but yh

Me [1751]: Enough for me to piece together the rest

Bastard Gremlin [1752]: Why do you even care?

Bastard Gremlin [1752]: How do you even know him?

Me [1753]: He's my friend. That's all you need to know, so dont bother replying.

Shoto stared at the screen a moment longer. In truth, he wanted to say more, maybe even follow through with his initial message, but Midoriya would get upset, so Shoto reluctantly put his phone away. However, as soon as it was secured in his pocket, it buzzed again. Rolling his eyes, he took out the device, expecting a snarky retort.

Instead, he was met with a pleasant surprise.

Midoriya 🙏🔥 [1754]: Thank you for today, really

Me [1755]: You don't have to keep thanking me

Midoriya 🙏🔥 [1756]: I know but I want to

Shoto's lips twitched with fond amusement.

'Texting Midoriya again?' Fuyumi commented dryly, not even looking up from the homework she was marking next to him. 'You're both insufferable.'

'You started it.'

Me [1758]: You can thank me by relaxing and going to bed at a normal time tonight

Midoriya 🙏🔥 [1759]: I take it all back I hate u

Me [1759]: You love me 😇

Shoto paused then, cheeks heating up as he stared at his message. Why was he suddenly so warm? Why did anxiety pool in his stomach after he sent that message? Why was he getting more nervous the longer it took for a reply to come through?

He was just making friendly banter, like his old classmates taught him, yet it felt more significant when he was saying it to Midoriya.

Midoriya 🙏🔥 [1802]: I guesssssss 🙄

Shoto immediately felt himself relax; his stomach fluttering in a way that had started to become a common occurrence around his friend. He wasn’t sure if it was a bi-product of his quirk, now that he was using his fire more often, but it was strange that it was only when Midoriya was around.

Midoriya 🙏🔥 [1804]: Hey, I thought Id ask,you don’t have to or anything, but the HQA information session at the school is on tues and I was wondering, if you’re free, it’d be good to see you there? Even if you wore a disguise or something. Totally okay if not though!

Shoto tilted his head to the side, processing the message. He and Fuyumi had spoken about the session a lot over the past few weeks, but they'd given no indication that they wanted him there—why the change of heart?

'Fuyu-nee, Midoriya's inviting me to the HQA session.' He told his sister, not really sure what he was expecting her to say. 'Should I go?'

'I mean, you can if you want.' Fuyumi shrugged, albeit not dismissively. 'Whether it's supporting him or advocating your own knowledge, it might help. I certainly have no problem with it.'

Shoto nodded slowly in thanks, then turned back to his phone. He supposed in asking his sister, he was really just looking for validation, because of course, if Midoriya was inviting him to something, then he'd happily accept; he was just glad Fuyumi thought he was making the right choice.

Me [1807]: I'll be there :)

#tododeku #todoroki shoto #midoriya izuku #todoizu #izushou #todomido #dekutodo #midoriya sensei au #AgarJelly writes #teacher au #teacher midoriya izuku #quirkless midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #tw: self deprecation #tw: past bullying #tw: breakdown

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too-many-rooks · 10 months ago

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Writing procrastination game!

Thanks @lastlymatt for tagging me, I got rambly so I’ll put this under a ‘read more’

Tagging @pigandpepper @known-concepts @countessrivers

1.) what’s the name of one of your wips?

My doc names are usually very boring 95% of the time I finish a fic and think it’s ready to post and realise I need a title. How about ‘Yassen Bedroom Visit’?

2.) Describe a Wip in the format of __+__=__

SCORPIA heir Alex + totally normal kidnapping and drugging in the middle of the night get to safety orienteering exercises = childhood trauma

3.) What tags/warnings will one of your Wips need if you share it?

Forced child seperation?

4.) alternative title to a wip?

I don’t really have alternate titles! Titles tend to come pretty late in the process!

5.) which wip are you most likely to update/finish next?

Probably one of my s3 aus I’ve got brewing, there’s a longer thing I posted the first chapter of today but I also have some one shots, one where Yassen gets wounded fighting off Alex’s enemies and Alex basically has to hold him down to say he cares about him, and another where Yassen comes to chat to him in the middle of the night (while Alex is sleeping) and they catch up.

6.) what is one of your wip’s document title, not what it’s name is but what you have it saved as?

Again, extremely boring. Some examples - ‘Tom/House introduction’, ‘stables’, ‘the ball’, ‘heir apparent 1-9’, ‘hunting’ ‘hostage’ ‘orienteering.’

On reflection, these are very badly organised. But, hey Ho.

7.) post any sentence from your WIP?

Okay this took me forever to decide bc I want to share like, all of my sentences, but here’s a sentence from my SCORPIA heir Alex thing where Yassen just tries to take a day off, but is interrupted by Alex sneaking out of school/the country and mountain his school is on

‘Rubbing his eyes with his forefinger and thumb, he blocked out the little blonde headache sat before him, and sighed, already imagining the state of his email inbox when he got back to his laptop, which he’d sworn would stay folded in its case for the rest of the day.

“And how long ago was this? When should I start expecting panicked calls from your father?”‘

8.) a scrapped idea from your WIP?

Not necessarily a scrapped idea but evidently one I forgot about and rediscovered as I was flicking through google docs - originally a pre-season 3 idea (but could work post s3) where Yassen retires, and decides it’s time for Alex to retire too, even if he doesn’t want to. Very “congratulations you are being adopted! Do not resist.” Meme with Yassen that I’ve seen on here, the bit I’d written was him contemplating the least traumatising way to kidnap him, to make sure they’re a happy family unit post-kidnapping

9.) what’s a story you would love to write but have yet to start?

Alex sees dead people AU - Ian knows, when he dies his ghost becomes bound to Alex, and helps take care of him/watch over him in the field, Alex bumps into Yassen at Point Blanc and immediately recognises the ghost bound to him as his father, especially as he begs the assassin to stop pretending like he can’t hear him for once and let him see his son, to protect him.

10.) how many WIPs are you actively working on?

Four - regency fic, darker Alex s3 au, two other s3 aus I mentioned earlier. Suprised myself by how much of this longer ‘SCORPIA heir’ Alex thing that I’d put off for a while I’ve actually written. That’s one that I really want to finish before I start posting bc I’m bad at doing work without an immediate emotional reward/it’s a longer than anything I’ve written before and I don’t want to give up on it when it’s half published. I had been delaying it till after s3 but maybe time to get to work (will try and finish regency fic first)

11.) is there a scene your struggling to write now?

Oh I mean so many but the most immediate stumbling block is with the regency fic, chapter after this one they go to a ball and that’s almost basically written and so is a lot of the next two chapters but there’s things I need to thread into this chapter that just don’t want to be threaded - I need Alex to start being a bit more suspicious of Yassen, and remember that whole thing about his uncle being murdered now he’s a bit passed the initial princess diaries revelation moment.

I was thinking like Alex waiting up for him on Christmas Eve or something and falls asleep then is woken by Yassen sneaking back in and Alex noticed he’s got blood on his clothes or something and Yassen just shrugs him off and reacts more strictly/authoritatively than he has before. But the scene is a bit sludgy I my mind atm.

12.) Not a question but a second kudos!

#Alex rider #tag game

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symptoms-syndrome · 1 year ago

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(tw brief mention of suicide attempt) I had a friend for a few years (since Jan 2020). They started telling me I was being a neglectful friend this past September. I had just flown across the country to see them a few weeks prior... they said for the last few months I had been short and canned responses and stuff and I was like idk I felt like we grew closer than ever this summer? I remember basically confessing my (platonic-ish-it's-weird-I'm-very-queer) love for them in July. we talked every day pretty much. I guess I was also incredibly sick and also moving house at the time, so maybe I was reaching out to them less? Anyway they disabled their account after leaving very long messages about a bunch of confusing stuff and saying they had to leave or they'd abuse me, but they also had issues abandoning people, so they would be back. That was like 5 months ago. Now they've popped up in my inbox again asking to reopen the conversation. A few weeks before they left, I told them the door would always be open and I'd still be their friend, which is true, I still feel that way. but I've been really struggling with my own mental health the last couple months. A ton of self-hatred/repressed stuff that's been festering since childhood. A few weeks ago my sibling tried to kill themself. so I am like... sure, I want to talk to my friend and hear them out. but if they just start laying blame on me again, I don't think I'll be able to handle it on top of everything else that I'm dealing with right now. I responded briefly to their message and basically said things are really rough for me right now and I'd reach out to them in a few days. IDK. I'm already tired from thinking about what they could say. That's it from me, you wanted tea, this is the newest development for me. say whatever or delete this ask. just???? ugh when it rains it pours

Nah NGL I would give them like. Very little grace at that point. But that's just me. Like. Put ur foot down, say that you have very little tolerance for Bull Shittery RN (in a nicer way, probs. Smth like "I'm very fragile RN") and if they're gonna pull stupid shit that you're gonna block them or w/e. It sounds to me like they don't appreciate the lengths ur going for them and that's smth they might have to learn the hard way.

Plus like. U can totes be their friend if u want and still say "hey if u pull bullshit w me I'm not gonna wanna talk to u. I wanna be ur friend but ur gonna have to act a friend bc this isn't a one way street."

Like I can understand where they're coming from, sometimes ur brain is a shithead and tells u ur friends hate u or whatever, but that's their problem not urs. Don't bend over backwards for someone who won't appreciate it. Plus IDK, sometimes showing that u rly mean it when u say u don't wanna hang w someone who's a dick to you actually makes smth click in their brain like "oh shit they're for real about this, I gotta change the way I act if I wanna keep this person around." And if they don't change. IDK man maybe they think of u as a particularly nice dartboard more than a good friend.

#suicide tw

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bwabys-scenarios · 10 months ago

Note

i had a request and totally forgot it (sorry fo rbeing on anon i am so socially anxious its crazy) but then i got sidetracked and well, it seems *that* person turned off all msgs and comments bc i was gonna go over and offer encouragement :( but i guess that anon sent something really bad (tw!!!!) told them "they hoped they were r-worded" which is...unbelievable. i really wish people would get a life goddamn, i just want my favourtie authors to be okay >:( i hope you haven't received any anon nonsense since and that you are oding well mentally and physically! <3

Talking about this drama below the cut

That is really awful :( but I do ask that you no longer inform me of that person. I’ve already said my piece, and I don’t think they’re comfortable with others coming to tell me things about them.

If there’s anything I could do I’d do it, but I can’t. So updating me does nothing. We both blocked each other, and I really hope for the best for them! But I’m not sure what telling me does. I’ve already asked that no one sends them hate twice, and we’ve both agreed not to talk about each other publicly.

If they’re able to find out who has been sending them those messages I encourage them to try and contact me, but otherwise idk what to do. Again, I feel like continuing to talk about this only brings the situation more attention and encourages people to keep sending them hate simply by speaking about it and reminding them this drama happened.

Each time it’s brought up, people could see my post and then want to go and send that person more hate, despite my wishes. It only makes things worse.

So please do not inform me of anything else. If they need to contact me they will, otherwise I want this to end. The less I talk about it, the less people will see and the more likely the situation will die down.

The only thing I can recommend is keeping anons off for a while and reporting any anons that are suspicious. My only hope is that one of the anons will slip up and show their tail. That happened to an anon sending me hate. They accidentally sent me a hate ask without clicking for it to be anonymous.

Hopefully with enough reporting the anonymous persons account will be taken down! I still haven’t received any hate except for someone calling me dramatic after the situation happened, but that might have been because I’ve been turning my anons off and on for the past week. Idk, it could just be someone trying to make more drama. That’s my biggest theory currently, tbh. It just seems like someone is sending them hate to be nasty and create drama. We both blocked each other, it’s over. Jesus Christ get over it, I never asked for anyone to white knight for me.

Regardless I really can’t do anything, and this will be my last reply. You can send me asks about it, but I won’t respond most likely. I’m worried that me responding to asks like this in the first place is only fueling the fire.

No one deserves to receive hate, and you’re vile if you’re sending someone hate on my behalf. I do NOT want that, you’re directly going agaisnt my wishes if you do that! It makes everything harder, it creates distrust and hurts both them AND me. Neither of us want that, so if you’re sending them hate on my behalf, just know that I hate you. You are the reason I keep getting reminded of this stupid drama and can’t move on. They moved on, I moved on.

Be safe, remember that you can both report and block anonymous accounts! Just keep doing that!

#bunni rambles #ask answered #anon answered

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reinemichele · 1 year ago

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Okay, I was going to make this post the day it happened, but I was already really distraught & felt like typing it all out would just like push me over the edge, and I still had to survive NYE fireworks. I decided to at least wait until after the 1st, but then Life Things kept happening, so I didn't get around to it until now.

My righteous anger has mostly simmered down, so but I think it'll probably still get long, so this'll be another read more post. TW for mentions of animal death, emotional abuse, and declawing

To be 100% super duper crystal clear: I am entirely against declawing; it's unethical and cruel and inhumane. This will become abundantly clear as the post goes on, but I just have seen too many pointless disc hoarse posts filled with people who gleefully, willfully misinterpret posts for any reason to harass people. I'm not going to leave myself open to people who'd send me death threats without even reading the full post. As it is, I'm turning reblogs off bc I don't want my post about my cat dying to be reblogged, but if I need to I can turn anon/asks in general off.

So. At 11PM on the 29th of Dec my cat gets hurt, we get to the vet by 12:30, and by 3AM he died. We got home by 4:30AM and none of us could sleep. We were all still awake at 10AM, and dreading the fact that it was a 3-day weekend and we'd have to face all of it trapped with our thoughts without having our normal day-to-day routines to buffer the first 3 days.

We know a lot of energy vampire type people. Liars, manipulators, people who'd come over to our house just to steal something for funsies, abusers. One of my mom's sisters was an accessory to murder. The same one stole my mom's SSN to open credit cards with. I have more examples, but my family tree bullshit could be its own post. A lot of them are in our family and there's some my mom basically has to keep in contact with due to her job.

So, it's 10AM, and my mom is dreading the 2-5 energy-draining people who consistently text her all day long, no matter what's going on or how busy she is. She can be with a patient who's actively in the process of dying, and they'll just text her "?" repeatedly when she doesn't respond.

She decides to tell these people about our cat dying the night before, in hopes that they'll give her space. Unfortunately, abusers like these people love to violate unsaid boundaries like this, so nothing less than blocking numbers/turning off her phone would work. But it's a step towards being able to say "no" that I've been trying to help her with, so we're going to be proud of her for it.

I don't want to use this person's name because as shitty as they are, they deserve privacy, so I'm going to use her initial.

V . responds . "Oh. My sister is trying to rehome her cat, maybe you can take it?"

So let's go over the timeline again. 11PM on the 29th -> 10AM on the 30th. In less than 12 hours since our cat died, V is trying to shove her sister's cat at us. Please don't try to give her the benefit of the doubt or say she was trying to help us feel better. There's not a single thing this person does that comes without ulterior motives; I've known her since 2015. She goes to strangers' funerals so she can brag about it later. She doesn't feed her own cat wet food, not because she can't afford it, but because she'd rather buy cheap dry food at the dollar store and spend the entire rest of her money on herself, like going on cruises/vacations while I petsit her cat. (And use our own wet food for her cat because it's cruel and fucked up and genuinely a detriment to a cat's health to only feed them dry food). This suggestion was nothing short of an impulsive launch at an opportunity to make her life more convenient, by finding a new home for her sister's cat, so her sister would stop complaining or asking her to take the cat.

My family has always had pets, and I'm the youngest in our house, so by the time I was born, a lot of our pets were already getting old and sick (12-15 for dogs, 20-25 for cats). The first pet that died in my lifetime was our dog Killer, when I was 4. My dad had already died, so I didn't need any lies about going to live on a farm or something. And of course it's always sad, but we've always felt like the best thing you can do to ease that pain is take in a new pet and provide them with a home. You get mutual love and happiness from each other, and day by day it gets easier. But, like, you take in that new pet after maybe a month or so. Not a fucking day.

Before continuing, for some extra context, 2 of our cats already had been from V.

The first one, Joey, she only had for a few months before becoming convinced he was peeing all over the house (hint: it was her 20 yr old cat who had chronic kidney/urinary tract problems from being fed nothing but DRY FOOD FOR 20 YRS @%^#&*^*&@#) and offering him to my mom's sister, who ended up dying a few months after that. (We don't know why or how; coroner declined performing an autopsy.)

We call V and tell her what happened, because we don't know what to do with Joey. Her reaction is like, "Oh... hmm. Huh. That's really a shame. Let me know if you find someone who can take him."

As in, "NOT IT!"

They hang up and my mom stares blankly at her phone screen. I say we should just take him home instead of leaving him in the empty apartment and stressing about finding him a new owner.

Flash forward to December of 2020. V calls my mom crying, saying that her (now ex-)husband thinks their other cat, Smokey, peed on his expensive speakers and is threatening to divorce V unless they find a new home for Smokey. V says all the local shelters are full and when she looked into people who'll temporarily house cats for owners, they charge $200 per day. She says she needs to find Smokey a new home like, now. My mom says we'll help her find someone but V is like, her husband has Smokey locked in a cat carrier and says she won't be let out until they find her a new home, that kind of now. We're like, jesus fucking christ, silently. I mute my mom's phone and say "tell her we'll take her". I'm sure she would've said that anyway, but like, instinctual response to hearing the thing about the cat carrier.

(Btw, he divorced V the next year anyway. I wanted her to be away from him, because he's so abusive and mean. But it's so fucked up that he forced her to get rid of her cat with the threat/ultimatum of divorce, only to follow through with the threat anyway. He could've just divorced her and let her keep her cat!!! She had to deal with the heartbreak of a divorce without the comfort of a cat she spent 9 years with!!! He moved out of state, but every time I think about this, I wish I could go and break his kneecaps.)

The problem to that is that Smokey . is declawed . So she has to be separate from our other cats 24/7 for her own safety. None of our cats are very aggressive or get into "real" fights with each other, but they're still cats, with sharp teeth and claws, with predator instincts, who act on those instincts when they can tell another cat is weaker, whose instinct during a fight with another cat is to swipe at their stomach to disembowel them. That's not something you want to take a chance on. So Smokey is exclusively in my mom's bedroom. Over time, we've started to let her out for 20-30 minutes at a time with supervision, but that's the extent of what we can give her without putting her in danger, and it can't be done while doing chores like taking the trash out or doing the dishes. All because V declawed her fucking cats. (Not Joey, but only because he wasn't with her for very long.)

Okay, with that context established, let's go back to V texting us on Dec 30th.

Of course, we could rehome her to someone who didn't have other pets, but she spent 9 years with V, and has now spent 4 years with us. She's a 13 year old all-grey short-hair cat with a bald patch on her belly and on her front legs and below her ears, so it'd probably take a very long time to find someone who'd pick her over a cute kitten, and even longer stuck in a shelter if they had room. And if we had chosen not to be her permanent home, we would've been keeping her at arms' length the entire time, trying not to get attached.

How would that be fair to Smokey? She deserves a life where she spends as many days possible feeling wanted and loved and safe. That's what I set out to do, and I think I've achieved it as much as I possibly could, around her being declawed. I do love her and want her. And I do keep her safe, obviously. I spend as much time as I can with her; we cuddle, we play, we watch birds, I share food with her (when it's safe for cats, obv). With V she was always hiding under the bed and never meowed, just came out to eat. With us, she never hides, purrs non-stop, and is very very vocal. She gets wet food and treats, she sits in the middle of the bed like she owns the place. She gets to be a cat.

I leave my room to go check on my mom. She relays me the text. I say . "What the fuck is wrong with her? It hasn't even been a day."

I ask, "Is V's sister's cat declawed?"

We, like, talk about what a transparently selfish and inconsiderate person V is. I tell my mom I'm gonna try to sleep, but then I stop in the middle of the room.

It's a balancing act to watch out for 1 declawed cat with our other cats, so it would take more mental energy to strategize life around 2 declawed cats, especially with how often I'm asked to petsit. You have to factor in how much time you can spend out petsitting (I usually spend 5 hours there at a time), time you can spend with the Have Claws group of pets (including a dog), and time you can spend with the No Claws pet.

Despite the... misconceptions about cats being detached and aloof, they want (and need) to spend time with you. They want to cuddle, they want to hang out in the same room, they want to hear your voice, they want to play, they want to snooze in the presence of someone they feel safe around; they love you. Same as with dogs.

My mom says she'll find out.

I get some sleep, then I wake up. My mom tells me that no, V's sister's cat is not declawed; she can't find anyone in the state to do it. That's why she wants to rehome the cat.

",,,, How could anyone say that without being ashamed?"

My mom shrugs. "I don't know. I told her, 'wow, we're sitting here miserable because we wish we had our cat back, and your sister wants to get rid of hers because she can't mutilate it' I don't think she liked that because she stopped texting me back."

We laughed.

Silence is telling, you know? V's 20 year old cat died last year, and my mom and I spent months hoping to god that she wouldn't get a new cat, because we didn't want her to declaw it. She swore up and down she regretted doing it to her other cats and would never do it again, but she's also a liar. So after she did get a new cat, my mom and I have checked to see if she still has claws every time we go over. So far she does... but probably because V can't find anyone to do it either.

But then it stopped being so funny when I realized it was probably only a matter of time before one or both of them crossed state lines to look for a vet who'd do it. We can't exactly steal V's cat, but if we take in her sister's cat, we can save it from happening.

I don't really have a good way to finish this. We'd rather take in a cat off the street or from a shelter than have Three cats that came from the same asshole, but if V's sister does declaw her cat, we'll feel responsible for it happening, even if we know it's not our fault.

I just wanted to post about how fucking insane it is to try to pawn off your (sibling's) cat less than 24 hours after someone's cat died. She's almost 70 and has no mental illnesses; she knows better. She's just an asshole.

#erin talks #text #this is vvvvery long so don't feel obligated to read/don't feel bad if you don't #I just felt like I needed to include all the details/context so no one tries to give V the benefit of the doubt #I have . a complex about ppl reacting to my vent posts by naively suggesting that what others did was an accident or not their fault #that's part of why I spent a Long time not making personal posts

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jjdoggies · 2 years ago

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this is mostly gonna be me ranting about someone i wish i didn't get reminded about every so often but i do and i need some way to deal with that so, under the cut is a bit of a rant about them. please please please look at the tags before clicking!!!!

(pls let me know if i need to tag more tws!!)

(this got much much much longer than i had intended it to so...be prepared if you decide to actually read it all.)

every so often, while talking to my best friend fucking everrrr (love you 💕) i get reminded of the very real fact that one of the very first people that i thought was one of my friends in the online/fandom world was actually a legal groomer.

like they only started harassing and making other people uncomfortable as long as they were 18+ and constantly ignored and overstepped boundaries set by anyone else. and then every time they got confronted about it they'd blame their behavior on mental health/illness or just claim that their phone died and that's why they couldn't respond and then ignore the issue entirely.

in my case specifically, since i don't want to speak on behalf of other people and their experience with this person, i had told them numerous times that i am fairly sex adverse and don't like talking about topics/subject matter that relates to it all the time. (to be clear i have no issue with other people talking about it as much or as little as they want to, i just don't like talking about it.) but i had told this person, as well as our collective friend group, numerous times but they consistently chose to ignore it in favor of doing what they wanted at any given time. and bc of this person that aversion to such topics has only gotten stronger for me bc of the subject itself and this person.

over the past year or so, my other friends and i have come to the realization that it wasn't just one or two of us that she did things like that to (as in discussing topics that we had clearly outlined several times that we didn't want to talk about ever.) and even went to the extent of gifting fics to our accounts over on ao3 with those exact subjects in it, knowing that we didn't like them.

i was only 'friends' with them for about 14-16 months, but in that time, she constantly gave flimsy excuses for their shitty behavior. she would tell us stories about things she had done in middle school/high school thinking that it was something we'd find funny but it was just discomforting. there were several instances in which she'd lie to me about a situation but then tell someone else an entirely different lie about it. when our relationship was already in the midst of falling out, rather quickly, she would play the victim constantly and claim she didn't 'make me choose' between her and my bestie (as if there was ever a choice 💕) when she had been the one making just being online nearly insufferable. and even when i separated myself from her, and made it clear by blocking her and adding some tags to ao3 (before they had launched the blocking/muting features) to indicate to her directly that i didn't want her interacting with/viewing my online presence, she tried to control my actions by manipulating more people and isolate me (just as she had done to at least 2 other people that disagreed with her before) from my other friends.

tl:dr - i had to learn a very hard way that as much as i think i can trust and be friends with someone i met online, some of them are unstable and manipulative people that aren't as nice and sweet as they want everyone to think they are.

#tw grooming #tw harassment #personal #rant #vent #im purposefully not saying their name or any of their online usernames #but i will absolutely explain/talk about things further if anyone by some chance wanted to know more about her #(this person uses she/they last i knew so that's what I'm going with btw!!!)#that girl rant

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jaeyunniesimp · 2 years ago

Text

I'M A FOOL TO WANT YOU (s.jy) part one part two

pairing: badboy!jake x fab!reader

tw: angst, mentions of alcohol, mentions of drugs, family issues, kissing (?), mentions of food (lmk if there’s more!)

wc: 2.5k

a/n: hi loves! i was at a total creative block, but then i was listening to frank sinatra’s song that inspired this title, and a lamp lit up in my brain nshdjsjd hope you enjoy it 🥺 luv y’all / this is not proofread so ignore any typos or grammar mistakes :p

synopsis: you weren’t exactly the most famous person in school, but you weren’t a total loser either. You’d say your presence was unremarkable, which somehow feels worse than being hated. He, on the other side, was the most adored person amongst other students. The popular, don’t-give-a-fuck type of bad boy anyone would fall for, and as much as you’d like to say you’re different, you couldn’t feel otherwise.

“i’m a fool to want you, to want a love that can’t be true, a love that’s there for others too”

You’d fallen for Jake Sim a long time ago, probably in middle school, when he was still a no one, a nerdy kid. That was until high school, where his looks matured and his attitude changed. Now, that both of you are in the same college, he never failed to grab other people’s attention, including yours.

Making new friends was certainly difficult, specially when everyone around you is so different from you. Sunoo was at this point your only true friend, the only person you could count on and rant about your problems without the fear of being judged, not just a fun-to-go-out-with friend.

Today wasn’t exactly the best of days. Your parents were fighting again, so you’d be better off staying at the dorms once more this weekend, your brother was drowning himself in drugs and partying a lot, just to numb the sadness he felt from witnessing your family crumbling apart, which made you worried. Although it pales in comparison, the day was also gloomy, which defeated all your hopes to be optimistic about what was yet to come.

Friday mornings used to be your favorite, now you can’t wait for them to end, knowing everyone probably has nice plans besides you. You’re already dressed in your grey sweatpants and your Metallica shirt (ride the lightning bc it’s the best and you got ✨ taste ✨), turning on the kettle to boil some water for your morning tea, when you feel your phone buzzing.

— Hello? — You answer lazily.

— Y/N! Please tell me you haven’t had breakfast yet! — Your best friend pleaded from the other line.

— I was just boiling some water, but I can turn it off. Why? — You replied, pressing the “off” button.

— I found this really cute café and they have bear shaped donuts, we have to go! It’s right beside campus. I’ll send you the address and we meet there, okay? — He asked, excitedly.

You agreed and hung up the phone, feeling kind of sad that you didn’t comply with his excitement.

Hugging yourself, you try to hide from the wind, mentally swearing at yourself for not bringing a coat. You see a little excited figure hopping with their arms up, signaling for you to come closer faster. You can’t deny, that even with all the gloominess you were feeling, seeing Sunoo made you just a little warmer.

Smile spread wide along your face, you hug your friend and quickly get in the store, protecting yourselves from the cold. You ordered a cup of milk tea and some cookies, while he got the infamous bear shaped donuts he was fawning over.

— Are you going home this weekend? — He asked, sipping his coffee.

— Nope. Tryna’ avoid conflict, don’t really wanna see my parents right now. Nor my brother. — You answered looking down to the cup you were holding.

— Hm, I see… You never talk about your brother, though, I don’t even know his name! — He argued.

— Yeah… We’re very different people, and he pretends he’s an only child to his friends, so I might as well just don’t give him that type of attention to mine. — You replied, annoyed.

— Why does he do that?! — His mouth was almost theatrically open, in utter shock.

— I don’t know — You shrugged — He puts on this facade, pretending to be someone he’s not, I guess that includes pretending our family isn’t completely fucked up.

After eating, you both gathered your things and went to your designated classes. Today was Friday, though, which meant Jake had the same classes you did in the morning. God, how do you pay attention to anything math related when Jake fucking Sim is sitting across from you?

You were entering the classroom when you felt a strong bump on your shoulder, almost knocking you down on the floor. You turn around and see no one other than Lee Heeseung, your brother. Not alone, though, he was with Jake. Since when did they become friends? You had no idea, but he was even crashing his classes.

He bumped into you on purpose and you knew it, which meant he was mad at you for whatever reason. You looked at him from across the room with burning eyes, which made him roll his and switch his gaze back to his friend.

You sat on the desk next to Jake’s, watching your brother’s eyes fall upon your figure as you did so, burning into your soul with anger. He wondered what were you trying to do, what moves would you pull, sacred you’d expose him. You couldn’t care less, though, you just knew that if you sat close to them he’d be worried and paranoid the entire time and that was enough revenge for you.

The day went by very slowly, turning every now and then to glance at Jake, pretending you were trying to look at Heeseung instead. He looked extra good today, with his black leather jacket draping over his shoulders, his blonde highlighted locks falling ever so gently on his forehead, your brother had to be really angry to not realize how your eyes were filled with adoration when you looked to your side.

But it kind of made you sad, though. That wasn’t any boy you were admiring, it was Jake. He never hooked up with a girl more than once, and he still managed to get many, and they were all WAY out of your league. They didn’t wear sweatpants to class, nor showed up everyday bare faced. They were just as admirably good looking as him. You really were longing for someone who couldn’t dare to even look at you, less be yours only.

The bell rang after what felt like an eternity, and to your luck, your best friend was already waiting for you outside. You went his direction and started chatting, but your eyes were wandering somewhere else. He was quick to pick up on it, though.

— No fucking way. — He said, mouth open.

— What? — Your gaze suddenly moved back to him.

— You? Fawning over Jake Sim? — He was just speechless.

— WHAT?! — You jumped off your spot, closer to him, almost palming his mouth for him to shut up. — I’m not!

— You we’re staring at him like he was a piece of food! Y/N, don’t get me wrong, he’s handsome as hell, but he’s a fuckboy and you know it. — He explained.

— I’m not simping for him, Sunoo, get over it.

— Okay, sorry — He held his arms up in sign of defeat. — But if you’re in for a one night stand, we could give you, like, a glow up montage so he would look at you…

— Oh thank you, I feel flattered. — You said ironically.

— That’s not what I meant and you know it! You’re gorgeous, but right now you’re kind of following the depressed core style, and it’s not doing anything for you.

He was right. You barely dressed up properly to go out anymore, and you can’t even remember the last time you wore makeup. It was tempting, but should you do this just because of a guy? It felt wrong.

— Sunoo, I’m not gonna do that just because of some guy. — You said, despite your inner urge to actually do it.

— Okay, sorry, just pitching ideas.

“i’m a fool to seek a kiss not mine alone, to share a kiss the devil has known”

The weekend finally came, and you were unexpectedly excited. Sunoo had a birthday party to attend, and he asked you to go with him. You would usually deny or feel uncomfortable going, but it had been so long since you’d had some fun or even dressed up nicely, you were excited to do so.

There was no point going back home anyway, your parents decided last minute they were going on a business trip, leaving the house empty. Partying it is!

Your makeup looked gorgeous, and your short black silky dress hugged your body perfectly. Sunoo was shocked at the sight of you, feeling happy for his best friend who was finally going to have some fun.

The party was packed, a lot of students from your school were there, getting wasted and making out with each other. You and your best friend had a couple of drinks and were just having a good time. You played board games, despite your brains not being at full capacity at the moment, which only made it funnier, did karaoke, and just gossiped all night long. You certainly hadn’t been this happy in a while.

You didn’t even pay attention to the people who were at the party, only sticking around Sunoo and his other friends. About 4am, you decided it was time to leave.

— But campus is so far away from here, we’d have to walk! — Sunoo argued.

— We can go to my parents house, it’s only a mile away and they’re not home anyway. Please, I need to sleep! — You suggested.

He gave in and you two were quickly on your way. It took you a little longer than usual to get there, with your dragging feet and drunk steps, but once you’d made it, it made you feel victorious. You opened the door quietly, out of muscle memory, forgetting that there was nobody home.

You both quickly got in, still taking feather light steps, Sunoo going straight to the bathroom to wash his face, while you went to the kitchen to grab some water. You grabbed a cup, and as soon as you turned on your heel to go around the counter, two bodies appeared out of nowhere, one of them holding a broom, and the other a lamp (?), ready to throw hands.

You screamed, surprised, dropping your glass on the floor, and they screamed at the same time, only to realize it was your brother, who was also at that party and had the same idea as you. But he wasn’t alone. Of course he had to bring Jake Sim to your parents house. Perfect.

A terrified Sunoo ran over your direction and turned on the lights, to meet the weirdest scene he could’ve pictured. Two of the school’s jocks in front of you, holding “weapons”, and glass shattered on the floor.

— What the fuck is wrong with you?! — You screamed, pushing your brother’s chest.

— Me?! You should’ve said you were coming home! — He argued.

— Oh, so now you care about me or what I do? Do you still tell other people you’re an only child? That’s why you needed the heads up? — You mocked.

He let out an annoyed scoff, rolling his eyes.

— That’s your brother? — Sunoo finally spoke up from across the room.

— You have a sister? — Jake asked, with a smug grin on his face.

His eyes landed on your thighs immediately, causing you to adjust your dress, trying to cover yourself up a little more. You were angry. Fuming. You couldn’t care less about Jake Sim right now.

— Oh great, you’re ready to clean this up! — You went up to Jake and stated sarcastically, pointing at the glass on the floor and the broom he was holding.

You left the kitchen without saying a word, despite your brother’s protests, and quickly grabbed Sunoo’s arm and led him to your bedroom.

— So you never bothered to tell me your brother was Heeseung? Lee Heeseung? THE Lee Heeseung? — He asked, plopping down on your bed.

— Okay, I get it! Whatever, he’s popular, but he’s an idiot. — You answered, removing your heels. — You can sleep here, I’ll take the couch.

— No it’s okay, you should sleep on your own bed. — He got up reluctantly.

— No, really, I hate it here, you can have it. — You argued.

— If you say so… — He mumbled, before drifting off almost instantly.

You let out a small chuckle at your friends action, then poorly removed your make up, put on an old oversized t-shirt, and made your way downstairs, desperate to get some shut eye. You were almost throwing yourself down on the couch, only to squeal lightly when you realized someone else was already lying on it.

— Fuck! You scared the shit out of me! — You whisper-yelled. — Great, I’ll sleep on the bathtub.

— What? You don’t like to cuddle? — The guy answered you, drowsy.

That’s when you realized it wasn’t your brother, it was his really handsome friend lying there.

— Oh shit, sorry, I thought you were Heeseung. — You suddenly became shy, and quickly turned on your heel to go wherever, as long as it wasn’t the living room.

But before you could make a move, a hand grabbed your wrist, making you go back and accidentally sit down on the couch.

— You can sleep here, I don’t bite. Don’t tell me you’re actually sleeping in the bathtub because you’re nervous around me? — He asked, his eyes still closed.

— I-I’m not! I don’t even know you — You answered, trying to let go of his grip.

— I see you looking at me in class, I know you know me. Just lay down and sleep, for god’s sake. — He argued.

You sighed in defeat, after a few seconds of silence, not knowing what to say. His arms draped around your waist, hugging you, as you laid with your back against him. You could feel his warm breath hitting the back of your neck and it made your heart race.

— Relax — He chuckled, resting his face further down your neck, which only made you feel more nervous.

You decided that you should fake it until you made it. You started telling yourself that it was alright, relaxing into his embrace, letting your hands fall on top of his. Your heart was still beating out of your chest, but you were acting like you were used to him.

That was until he started softly kissing your neck, trailing down near your shoulder, holding you tighter. A part of you wanted to let him continue, but another part of you felt so used. You knew you’d be only another girl he slept with, and you couldn’t allow yourself to go through that.

— What are you doing? — You asked firmly.

— Hm… Kissing you — He said in between kisses.

— Really, I just wanna sleep. — You said, taking your hand off his.

— Alright. — He answered, a cold tone in his voice.

He took his arms off you and laid on his back, facing the ceiling. You felt cold and somewhat empty, you wanted more of him, but you know you shouldn’t. You fell asleep right after, hoping that when you woke up, things wouldn’t fall apart like you felt they would.

taglist: @loves0ft

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transmasc-wizard · 2 years ago

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Would you like to talk about mack?? :D

i WOULD

unfortunately, this will not be :D . this will be D:

tw : familial abandonment, drug use & dealing (doesnt go into huge detail but its mentioned), manipulation/shitty friends, depression, self-worth issues, self-destructive behaviour

so mack (it/any btw) is a character who is very convinced he has already gone through his Character Arc(TM) and doesn't need any more help with his issues. and like, he absolutely got over a lot of issues he used to have, but a lot of other ones were just... pushed down to a place where it can pretend those problems don't exist anymore.

mack was shunned by its whole family when they were turned into a vampire at 15 by their manipulative and shitty vampire "friends", and ran away shortly after. they almost immediately fell into a group of shady people, since that was what it was used to. mostly, these people broke a lot of laws to have a lot of quite-dangerous-in-retrospect parties. illegal fireworks, irresponsible drug use, dares like "play chicken but with cars instead of swings", that sorta thing. mack knew at least 2 people who died at these things and it was not uncommon for them to wake up six blocks away with a memory gap of several hours

this went on for 2-3 years, im not quite sure, until one day mack watched One More person die at a party and was like . hey . maybe this isn't a good use of my life. and he just... ran away again? not in the same way, but he just ghosted everyone she knew and had to start over. it had a lot of shady/sneaky skills from times it used to help w drug dealing, so it put those skills into working on not-super-legal issues but in a significantly safer context (essentially scamming billionaires).

at this time, around age 18 or so, Mack was also loitering a lot at a cafe frequented by university students. at this spot was where Mack met the then-20 and extremely optimistic (lmao) James, a first-year theoretical physics major. when James (Sufferinf w/ rent) realized mack was homeless, he offered to let it stay with him, and mack then officially had a living space ! hurrah. this was the point where mack went "okay so clearly i am now okay. i have a house, food, a less-illegal-than-before job, and am not actively and dangerously using drugs or doing horrifically reckless things. im normal!" and shoved all their issues under the rug

those issues included the fact that by this point mack was just. incapable of showing negative emotions, bc they thought no one would love them if they did bc they'd be too much of a burden. (this is heightened by the fact their chronic pain started at 17.) then there's also the insistence that their constant exhaustion, apathetic feelings, and deep fear of getting close to people is Normal And Fine, their fear of any person who presents themself as a parental or otherwise familial figure, their feelings that it's not worth anything if it can't make others constantly happy, and her inability to cope with anything that she doesn't know how to bullshit through.

by the time the story starts, Mack and James have collected 2 more roommates (Leah and Spacey) (and they will get Val next ofc). James is... significantly more tired and significantly less optimistic, which also makes Mack feel more like she's in control (like, see, even JAMES is doing bad! so surely it's just the average stress of life. i'm ok. never once does he consider James is just also crumbling till like halfway through the book, and that is actually a tense side of their friendship). mack is very very convinced that since it's not actively putting itself in danger twice a week, it's FINE, and no one has to WORRY, and--

then val comes along and kinda. forcibly makes him realize he is not ok. and funky story things ensue :3

#asks #will/lee #mack #wip val saintly

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cinnamonest · 4 years ago

Text

//fucked up, gore, npc torture, eye/finger stuff, kinda necro mention but it's not really necro there's just a dead body involved to the side, asphyxiation, fem reader, fearplay I guess?

I really liked the violent Razor post so now you get violent Childe post. I'm gonna start making more violence/gore posts bc I have a lot saved in my notes so block the tw: violence if you need to!

Childe does genuinely get off to killing.

Like, that's usually said as a joke but in all seriousness, murder sprees and acts of violence are a sex thing to him in some capacity. The psychology is not complicated: it makes him feel powerful, and feeling powerful makes him hard. Simple as that.

He's definitely jerked off over dead bodies before, the just-slain and still warm ones whenever the mission was one he completed alone. It feels like a fitting end to all that exertion. Not that he likes the bodies or anything, no, he's not *that* fucked up, it's more like he just likes the rush.

But anything he had before from regular mission work pales in comparison to once he has someone he loves. It feels a hundred, no, a thousand times better if he thinks of it as for your sake. Even if it *is* normal mission work, in his head he pretends he's killing for you, killing people that are in the way, he projects the faces of the ones in his life that he hates - the people he sees you talk to, your significant other if you have one - onto the insignificant faces of victims.

And, consequently, he starts getting far more brutal. Work is work, and usually the goal is to get in and out as fast as possible - direct shots to the vitals, slit throats and guts split open down the middle. You find the fastest way to get it done and hurry to the next task.

But now he's got a lot more anger than usual stored up. A lot more frustration. He thinks about you, he thinks about all the people who interact with you that he doesn't like. His brain is clouded with hatred and lust and it can only be alleviated with excess violence. Imagines it's all for love. Gives him that same rush, soothes the burning inside.

It becomes slower, messier, he ends up with a lot more blood on him than usual. There's no need for limbs to come off, chests to be split open, bones to be snapped and crushed, heads to be caved in, organs to spill on the floor, but he likes it that way.

It's a lot like sex, when you think about it. Repeated motions over and over, stabbing the other party -- well, with different... Instruments, but a sort of "stabbing" in both cases nonetheless. Sliding in and out of their body, like he'd like to do yours, but just replace the knife in his hand with his dick and tongue and fingers and their torso with your cunt. Over and over. They squeal and scream, noises he'd like to hear from you. It's all leading up to that moment of climax - they convulse, jolt, spasm, and finally collapse... and he likes to imagine it's you instead, making those motions for a very different reason.

Sometimes he gets blood on his skin. He likes to take his gloves off, scoop some of it onto his fingers, rub the fluid between his thumb and fingers - it's warm, wet, viscous, and if he closes his eyes and ignores the coppery smell he can pretend it's clear grool slicking out of your tight little pussy when you cum on his fingers.

The littlest things make him think of you. Organs and entrails spilled out on the ground sparks the word "insides" in his brain and he can't help but think of your insides - in a much different sense of course, but something so unrelated can keep his mind distracted for an entire day.

Sometimes he has to interrogate people, and by "interrogate", perhaps "torture" is a better word - do what's necessary for information. The parts make him think of you.

Dismembered fingers or hands cleaved off - they're from some dude's gross sweaty calloused hands. Not like yours, so fragile and soft. Makes him think of you holding his hand, how warm it would feel. A gouged eye in his hand. When he closes his fist, it mashes with ease, the gelatinous tissue dribbling down onto the floor from between his fingers. The eye is - well, was - a different color from yours, not nearly as pretty. It makes him think of how much he likes your eyes, and when you look at him. This one was dull and empty, but yours sparkle, full of light.

They scream so loudly, it's unpleasant, the shrill shrieks and deep bellowing hurts his ears. Your voice would sound so much prettier shrieking like that. Not that he'd ever do this to you, but, maybe scaring you would make you squeal. Maybe you're a screamer in bed. Who knows. He hopes so.

Sometimes people don't give in too easily, and he ends up with a corpse on his hands. Most of the time he just throws it onto the ground, rolls it off a cliffside with a kick. But sometimes, when the body is smaller and still warm, he likes to princess-carry it to the edge, picture in his head it's you, wrapping your arms around his neck while he carries you. Unfortunately, rigor mortis has already set in, so he can't exactly move the body's arms to mimic that, and half the time the arms are severed from the interrogation anyway.

And admittedly, you're cute when you're afraid, when you're horrified, so maybe he was subconsciously aiming for this, even if he didn't realize it. Going about it when you were close by. Hoping you'd hear. Hoping you'd walk in on it. You freeze up, you can't move even if you tried, your body won't listen. Your eyes go wide and fill with tears. You tremble, you retch and cover your mouth and grab your stomach as your body finally allows you to take a step backwards, and you stumble and fall flat on your back, scrambling back up on shaking hands.

And you definitely hear him say wait, but, well, you'd definitely rather not, so you bolt out the door anyway, screaming at the top of your lungs. Dumbass. You were dragged all the way out to this abandoned place for a reason. No one's gonna hear you, and you won't be able to reach civilization before he can catch up. He finds it funny, really cute to be honest, you're crying and squealing even though he promises you he's not gonna hurt you or anything. Feeling the warm fluid on his hands when he grabs your arms, watching it create dark stains on your clothes even visible in the nighttime darkness, it only makes you panic more, thrashing and crying, but it doesn't do you any good.

And as tempting as just fucking you out here is, he realizes that deep down, he's wanted this for a long time, so dragging you all the way back is worth it. He can restrain you with one hand, use the other to undo the bindings on the now-cold limbs of the unfortunate bastard on the table and slide his body - well, what's left of it - off, letting it crash down onto the floor. Slamming you down on the table in it's place. The room is cold, the outside is cold, but your body and your insides are so warm, and the panic and terror makes you so tight. You're not screaming so much, letting out little sobs mixed with some lewd little mewls you can't keep back. Your wide, terrified eyes keep flicking to the side, staring down at the body. Even when he grabs your jaw to keep your head from turning, your eyes still move, and it's actually really annoying. He already told you he's not gonna hurt you. So instead he just grabs your throat. The more you look away, the more tight his grip gets, and likewise the more you look at him, the more oxygen you can take in.

The cum and squirt mixes with the blood that's already on the table, and once you're sitting back up, some of your tears get added to the mix. You tremble, you go numb and still and you lean forward into the warmth. It's all you can do to just bury your face in his chest so you don't have to look at it anymore. It's nice, really, he likes it when you cling to him for comfort. You two will have to do this again sometime.

#tw: violence #.ch #scheduled post

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lunaastoir · 4 years ago

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Hi! I really enjoy your writing so is it alright if i request xiao, diluc, childe with an idol s/o where one of their old stalkers come back or they just recently had a stalker in general but with how busy they were since they’re an idol they don’t even notice? And something bad happens (i cant think of anything</3) Thank you very much !!

hi anon!! a million apologies since this is so late but i hope you like the fic <3

there also aren’t any explicit details for anything bad happening - i briefly touched on subjects that you may not have control over, i hope that’s ok!

warning (?): struggled a bit on this prompt so i apologize in advance if this isn’t my best work LMAOO

gn! reader

tw: hints of assault, slight angst, very light abuse if you squint

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

xiao

now xiao is a very observant man but he's also extremely busy keeping liyue safe

he makes it a point to always come to your shows even if you don't actively see him bc he cares a lot abt you and he enjoys listening to your music ‼️

it's normal for him to sometimes get lost between his own world of demonslaying and the world he shares w you

so one night, he's hanging on the rafters of a house with the perfect view of your singing

everything goes smoothly, he sets his spear down while lightly swaying his head to the music

the concert ends and fans disperse after you say your farewells

a night like this is rare since for once, xiao can walk home w you back to the inn sweet boy really cleared out his schedule for you huh

you're unsurprised when you see him materialize next to you, opting to flash him a smile and a hello

his cheeks are lightly flushed as he crosses his arms before talking quietly about how well you did

he relishes in the wide smile you give him as a result of his praise and he lets the corners of his lips curve upwards slightly

the quiet bustle of the harbor seemed to slow down as the night grew longer

since this was a fairly large concert, you had boxes among boxes of equipment so xiao decided to make your life easier by quickly flying them to their appropriate locations

when he got back however, he was surprised to see you talking animatedly with someone

he didn't think anything was wrong until he saw the person trap you between the stage and words filtered into his ears

your back was painfully pressed against the stage wall as you defiantly met their gaze. after xiao had left, they had immediately come over to you: first introducing themselves as a fan and making amiable conversation, before divulging in personal details of your life that made your skin crawl. you weren’t helpless, you always had your weapon on hand regardless of whether you were performing or not. the way they pushed you against the wall however, made it near impossible to summon your sword should you need it.

they leered down at you while balancing an arm against the wall next to your head. you had dealt with things like this before so you weren’t overly worried; you could defend yourself. you almost felt pity for the person in front of you as they asked for your number with a sadistic grin, disgusting words tumbling off of their lips. however, that was before you felt their cold fingers idly make their way to your stomach and you felt your breath hitch. oh no

the telltale sound of whooshing alerted you of xiao’s presence, and the press of the tip of his spear against their jugular brought you relief.

“back away” he tightly growled while his golden eyes narrowed into slits. they stared at him in shock before holding their hands up and moving to step a foot away from you.

“farther” he motioned with his spear before stepping in front of you as you attempted to collect yourself.

“ok ok, i’m far away can you put your spear down now?”

“no.”

you mentally cursed as you watched the two of them glare at each other. this was supposed to be a carefree night but this unfortunate twist made the air thick with tension. you could feel the anger radiate off of xiao in waves and in an effort to deescalate the situation, you spoke.

“i’m glad to meet such an...avid fan but i’m sorry the two of us must get going now” you hastily said before attempting to grab xiao’s hand and walk off past them.

the next words had you halt your steps as they divulged their secret.

words painted in careless arrogance with hints of violet overconfidence flew out of the person’s mouth - “judging from the weeks i’ve been following you, it didn’t seem like you had a boyfriend”

at the mere mention of prolonged stalking, xiao immediately lunged to pull you behind him. god, he didn’t kill mortals but he swore if he plunged his spear into this human being right here, no one would even blink twice considering how low of a person they were.

“if i ever see you near them again, i will not hesitate to kill you. i won’t blink twice, i already have blood on my hands.” he ground out.

at the threat, the person grudgingly turned their back to you before leaving the two of you alone in the quiet harbor.

you carefully reached a hand out to touch your boyfriend’s shoulder, but stopped after you saw the expression on his face. the mix of rage, sadness, and anguish imprinted his features as you watched his chest rapidly rise and fall - a result of his emotional battle.

“i’m sorry i didn’t notice them before. i should’ve been paying more attention to you” he whispered before silently striding away from your grasp

you knew that no matter how many reassurances you gave him about how, “it’s not your fault xiao, i didn’t notice them either” he would still blame himself.

he was supposed to protect you right? so why couldn’t he sense the danger beforehand? what would’ve happened if he wasn’t there?

it’s still a learning process for him to realize that things happen, and he inevitably couldn’t be there to save you from everything. he needs time to understand and adjust. you’re willing to wait, patiently helping him through it. why? because love is worth it.

god im sorry this ended up kinda sad whoops

diluc

i swear everytime i say i’m a childe simp diluc kinda wrecks me

ahem anyways onto the hc!

he’s kinda never around but similar to xiao he will overwork himself to clear out an hour or two just to watch your concerts

he’ll always stand off to the side too so if you tilt your head while you’re singing you can spy his red hair

you always flash him the sweetest smile and this man blushes like CRAZY before quickly lifting his hand up to give you a thumbs up

everyone watching the both of you like 😍😦

people think it’s the cutest thing i swear like c’mon the elusive “bachelor of mondstadt” being seen in public supporting you??? wow pls can we share him

he walks with you back to the winery, the entire time linking his hands with yours while gushing about your performance

1939248/10 it’s literally the sweetest thing

the next day however, adelinde brings you a pink letter addressed to you

he doesn’t pry because it’s addressed to you and it’s your business but as the letters start coming by everyday, he starts to grow curious

one day he straight up just asks you about it

“hey, you know those pink letters you keep getting? who are they from?”

you laugh slightly at his bashfulness and respond with a “just some overexcited fan” and he smiles before kissing your forehead

he loves that people are noticing your talent

loves it! until you get stalked by the same person who wrote you those letters while you were shopping!

diluc knows something’s wrong when you rush into angel’s share panicked after not returning his usual smile.

“darling? are you ok?” he asks worriedly before quickly setting down the glass he was cleaning to move towards you.

the widening of your eyes as you looked behind you at the sounds of someone else entering was all he needed to swiftly step in front of you, blocking their gaze of your face.

the slightly panicked look in your eyes before you hurriedly whispered, “they’re following me” made diluc glance at them subtly out of the corner of his eye. he watched as they walked over to find a seat next to the bar, seemingly ready to order a drink. he quietly asked if you would like to sit in the room reserved for the employees, away from their prying eyes. your hasty nod was all the confirmation he needed for him to let you access the door behind him.

the night went by fairly smoothly with kaeya’s usual teasing and venti’s usual begging for alcohol. diluc’s eyes narrowed however, when the person seemed to ask him questions regarding you. things like, “i heard you’re dating y/n... they’re amazing, how long have you been together?” and “do they live with you at dawn winery?” diluc answered these questions as short as he could, trying to convey with his body language that he truly did not want to talk to them.

everything was going well until he made the mistake of leaving the bar unattended. he had briefly forgotten about your residence in the room behind him as his mind immediately gravitated to breaking up a brawl. when he returned, the half drunk glass of liquor combined with the person’s absence from their seat, caused sparks of worry to light up inside his chest.

turning to the door, he knocked once.

“is everything alright in there love?”

the sounds of things rustling about and the occasional muffled voice had him opening the door quickly. he saw you with your arm being held tightly in their grasp, your mouth muffled with their hand, while you strained against them by pulling at your arm.

diluc immediately made his way over to you, quickly pulling your arm away before letting you enter into his embrace.

“get out.” the venomous words clawed their way out of his throat as he looked at them with eyes that screamed hatred. his blood was boiling as his mind replayed the scene; your scared expression and their greedy eyes.

diluc didn’t need to repeat himself twice as they ran out, trying not to trip over crates of wine. he made a mental note to find out who they were in order to make sure they never came near you ever again.

he quickly looked down at your form, relaxing slightly at the sight of your tentative smile. “my knight in shining armor” you joked before softly nuzzling your head into his shoulder. the anger had yet to dissipate from his veins, and although he knew you were still shaken up, he was sure you would be fine.

a pink letter placed on the table next to you caught his eye, and he made sure to quickly pocket it as he led you out, gently jesting with you about the “unnecessary amount of wine barrels in here, diluc this is a safety hazard!”

he would deal with this person later.

childe

ayo AYO ITS THE TOY SALESMAN

ok tbh he’s very rarely around so he unfortunately cannot make it to all of your shows

dw tho, he will try his hardest to be there for the ones he’s in town for bc what is he if not your number one hype king???

ok kinda creepy! alert

he’s tasked two of his subordinates to keep watch over you whenever he’s out of the harbor

it’s not anything creepy,,, he just gets extremely worried abt you and wants to make sure you’re safe

sO when he gets a ransom note??? he’s understandably confused but also very much freaked out

bc did they not know who he was??? the fact that they thought they could get away with holding you captive was quite honestly kind of funny to him

very stressed and angry tho - hides it behind a facade of smiles but he’s raging

takes him only a few hours to track you down bc he had everyone and i mean EVERYONE looking for you

the note crunched in his hand as the harbinger made his way towards windrise. his pace was erratic, long legs rushing towards the small cave his agents had found. they were bordering the perimeter of the enclosure, careful to not alert you or your captor of their presence. childe’s subordinate head had calmly stated that childe need not come out to rescue you, the situation was under control and they could do it for him. however, childe’s sharp gaze along with his sickly sweet words of “thanks but no. i’m coming out to see this sorry asshole for myself” had the agent backing away apologizing. he wanted to see the look on this person’s face before he shoved their sorry ass into the abyss himself.

as he reached the opening of the cave, he glanced over his shoulder at his head agent; a silent warning to keep the area sealed. his blue eyes glinted with a thirst for blood before making his way into the cave, sealing off the exit with his body.

“well well, playing games with the love of my life are we?”

his teasing words reached your ears as your eyes immediately found the face of your boyfriend. you weren’t horribly scared, just a little shaken up and sore from the bindings on your wrists. relief coursed through your body at the sight of him. you needn’t put in your plan of getting out of these bindings to fight your captor yourself anymore.

childe’s eyes quickly scanned over your frame, making sure you weren’t hurt. at the state of you completely unharmed, the harbinger let his heart calm down slightly. you were completely ok.

“wait a little longer, love? i promise this will be over soon”

the wink he sent you had you lightly rolling your eyes at his antics before he directed his attention back to your kidnapper. if your captor wasn’t scared before, they were certainly shaking in their boots now at the sight of childe’s twin hydro blades rotating playfully in his hands.

“listen, all i want is the money-”

“and all i want is your head”

your boyfriend smiled after cutting them off. the severity of the situation truly seemed to sink in at that moment before pleas of mercy fell from your captor’s lips, desperate to escape the bloodthirsty gaze of the harbinger. childe’s eyes flickered over to yours where you sat there, with your head ferociously shaking. a silent “no.” he sighed before swiftly bringing his arm up to hit your captor on the head, effectively knocking them out cold.

his hands worked at the ropes holding you and he gingerly rubbed at your bruised wrists. you silently thanked the archons he could never say no to you. archons forbid what would've happened if you hadn’t said anything. while you were explaining what happened, the young man quickly scooped you up in his arms before walking out of the cave.

you playfully hit his shoulder while muttering “drama queen” but you stopped when you saw his face morph into an expression of seriousness. you had informed him on the situation about your captor revealing themselves to be a recent stalker of yours, completely oblivious to the look of frustration on his face as he freed you from your bondages.

“i was scared you know.” he quietly divulged. “i knew that it wasn’t anything extremely serious but i... i was still scared”

you swore as you looked at him in that moment, he had turned ten again. the youth of his face betraying his vulnerability.

you quietly hummed before tangling your fingers in his hair. “i hope you know it wasn’t your fault. it wasn’t anyone’s fault. not even the two fatui agents who you sent to stalk me while you were away.”

he quietly laughed at that before mentally filing away a reminder for a lecture to those two agents in the near future.

“i’m just glad you’re safe. i know you can save yourself but i’ll always be here. i still wish you would let me take care of your asshole kidnapper myself though.” he pouted jokingly.

“i’m sure the millelith will lock them up for a long time.” you laughed sweetly.

his usual smile reappeared at your antics. maybe he didn’t get to beat your captor up and do...much worse. however at the end of the day, your smile was still intact regardless of what happened. that’s all he wanted.

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