#my stomach hurts soooo bad from the anxiety

[thomstrainers]

sometimes i think i’ve got this whole human thing down and then i go grocery shopping and i have no idea what i’m doing

[xo2dee]

NOW LOADING. .

JJK MASTERLIST

IT'S THE THOUGHT THAT COUNTS

PAIRING: Nanami Kento x Reader WARNINGS: None WORD COUNT: 1,858 SUMMARY: In which your lover comes home late again, and you decide to cook for him for once, even if your skills are severely lacking compared to his.

A/N: this is so self-indulgent bc my ass really cant cook that well soooo

8:23 P.M.

You sighed. He was late again.

You knew it wasn’t his fault though, more than often your boyfriend got winded into working overtime and stayed past the hours that he wanted to. Still, as much as he complained of it, you would’ve figured he would dismiss any and all thoughts of overtime if presented with the opportunity and make his way home to you at the time of his clock out. You couldn’t help but sigh wistfully at and for your lovable workaholic man; he only worked overtime because it was essentially wired into his blood and he would never leave unless he knew his job was done.

However, you were more slightly upset that he had called you at lunch time – you felt bad, you didn’t wake up early enough to give him a sweet kiss off for work – and told you he’d be home on time to make you both dinner. You didn’t want to eat without him at all, notably when you were partly worried he might have been hurt or something else (something worse, really), and with that anxiety you knew you couldn’t eat. It wasn’t as if you couldn’t cook, but you also never wanted to eat dinner without him. He was by far a better cook than you were, sure yours was… passable, but Kento’s was beyond expectations, and you looked forward to it every time he offered to make you food. Any and every time Kento made you a meal you fell deeper in love, especially when you found out he put more time and skill into it for you.

Your ears perked up from your lounging position on your couch when you could hear the tall-tale sign of the front door opening and the distant sound of his footsteps walking inside. You nearly rejoiced knowing he was home safe and coming around to greet you, while your stomach gurgled in its own way to hearing of his arrival. Finally, you two could eat and then snuggle into bed together.

Kento called out your name, and you sat up from your position to greet him, “You’re home.”

He removed his glasses and his blazer, draping the latter across the back of your recliner and his glasses on the coffee table, and took a seat next to you, “Did I wake you?”

You watched as he leant back resting his head on the back of the couch, arms spread out on the back and legs wide open, as your eyes lingered on his tie slightly loosened, “No, I was waiting for you.”

“Hmm, have you eaten?”

You stretched your legs out, feeling your appetite begin to kick in, “No, you know I don’t eat dinner without you.”

His head lolled to look at you pointedly, dark eyes in disapproval, “I told you to go ahead and eat if I work overtime,” he grounded out and you nearly had half a mind to not jump into his lap from his tired, rough voice.

“Well,” you began, crossing your arms in rebuttal, “I didn’t know you were gonna work overtime, you usually call…” you sent him a long side look slightly annoyed he hadn’t called to let you know he was fine and would be home later than his usual time. You began to wonder if he had eaten at all that day.

Kento sighed and closed his eyes, making you take note of the minor shades of purple underneath them, “I’m sorry, it was a situation where I had to take care of it quickly. Give me a few moments and I can make us both something.”

Instantly you felt awful; he was really going to sacrifice some of his resting time he rarely ever got to still make the both of you the dinner he promised instead of just calling for takeout delivery. You knew of his occupation as a Jujutsu Sorcerer, it had to come out once the two of you began a relationship and he realized he wouldn’t be able to hide it from you when he tended to work long hours and often came home with bruises or bleeding from scratches that weren't well enough for excuses. Kento came home more tired than anything half the time and managed to make you dinner without so much of a complaint, as long as you were fed, healthy, and taken care of it seemed nothing else really mattered to him. He really prioritized you over himself all the time, much to your chagrin.

For once you wanted to dote on him and make him feel good.

Wait –

Your lover moved suddenly and you realized he was getting up to go to the kitchen, so you pounced. Literally, you pounced onto him and threw your arms around his neck to try and drag him down, but it left you in an awkward position with your lower half still on the couch and your upper half dangling onto his shoulders. Kento, ever-so observant, had wrapped his own arms around underneath your chest at the sudden movement, clearly startled by the abrupt assault, whilst giving you an arched brow. He parted his lips to speak, but you beat him to punch.

“How about I make us both something for once?”

The look he sent you nearly made you want to cry.

He cleared his throat, “Are you… sure?” he asked, a slight degree of unease in his voice. You knew what he was thinking: You’re going to cook? By the look in his eyes, he was traumatized by your last attempt…

You huffed, a new feeling of confidence in your rushing in your veins and your body overwhelmed with determination, “Of course I’m sure, you’re tired and need to relax for once.” You could do just fine if you really put your mind to it. Especially for someone like Kento.

“Seeing you is relaxing enough.” He was trying to reassure you; you knew his gimmick. Try to make you believe he wasn’t exhausted at all and you would give in to his sweet words and he’d make you both dinner, then afterwards he’d shower and completely collapse into bed with you tucked up under his chin. You were not having it that time around.

Smirking at him, you tightened your grip on his shoulders, “Sweet talking me isn’t gonna work this time.”

Kento sighed, clearly defeated as he sat you both back onto the couch, “Okay.” God, why did he sound so deflated?

Regardless, you smiled and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek, untangling yourself from his hold, “Stay in here then,” you stood, his hands brushing against your ribs as you did so, and pointing at him with an index finger close enough to nearly brush his nose, “just relax and maybe nap, I’ll come get you when it’s done.” He didn’t look convinced – probably nervous you’d catch something on fire – but relaxed back nevertheless, giving you his own small smile.

Determined, you made way for your shared kitchen, snatching Kento’s fresh white apron as you did so. Sure, it looked goofy on you and the haphazard way you tied it, but Kento wore it exclusively every time he cooked so it was only right you did the same. You had your mind set to make something you both enjoyed – or you thought you both would enjoy. You knew your way around a kitchen, how bad could it turn out to be?

...Yikes

You decided not to answer that when you saw his face as he tasted your 'meal'. His eyebrows slightly rose towards his hairline and his mouth twitched nearly into a grimace, but it almost looked like he was swallowing cough medicine when he finally did get around to it. Kento sat his utensil down after and cleared his throat before clasping his hands together on the table, looking up to you while you hovered over him.

“It’s great.” Bless him, he never wanted to hurt your feelings... even if it was the trivial of things.

You whined and threw your head back, “You hate it.”

“I could never hate anything you do.”

“Don’t be sweet, I know it’s nasty and you’re just trying to make me feel better,” you pouted and stared down at your own plate, untouched as you had waited for him to try the food first. Still, you were curious and picked up your own utensil to try it out as you sat down at your spot at the table. Kento was watching you looking almost concerned as you finally lifted the food into your mouth for your taste buds to feel.

You chewed and swallowed. Bland, burnt and…

"..."

“...”

“Kento, this tastes like ass.”

A sigh fell out of him as he placed his chin onto his fist, “Maybe so, though I don’t think that really matters,” he gazed at you as you fiddled with his apron strings, a rather strong sense of adoration radiating off of him, “It’s the thought of you making food for me after a long day of work.”

“Even if it’s bad?”

“Even if it’s bad.”

Your cheeks warmed from the words as you gave him an embarrassed glance, knowing the entire situation felt incredibly domestic and you felt like a spouse cooking for their husband. It hadn’t been a topic discussed between you two yet, though it was always lingering in the background given how deep your relationship went and how long you two been together. No doubt you knew he was thinking the same.

You stood after that, wiping your hands onto his apron to avoid looking at his face, “Yeah, well, I guess I should clean these since this tastes like shit,” you moved to grab his plate, yet the tug from the front of the apron sent you into his lap as he leaned back to situate you both into a more comfortable position as he cradled you against his chest. He’s being awfully bold tonight. You snuck a peek at him almost shied away from his intense stare.

You rested your hands on his shoulders as he spoke, “You should wear my apron more often.”

Sending him a raised brow, you let out a small laugh, “How can I wear your apron more when I can’t cook?”

“Who said wearing it only while you cook?”

You smacked his chest and voiced your earlier thoughts, “You’re being awfully bold tonight.”

A small smile graced him as he lifted you more to press his mouth against your temple, kissing it a few times, “I can’t help with it with how you look wearing it.”

You sighed and smiled, shaking your head while you snuggled into him by rubbing your cheek against his to enjoy the moment of domesticity between you two. Though the moment was broken by the loud growl of your stomach. You sheepishly peered up at him as he gazed back to you with the affectionate look he always had.

“I’ll call for takeout, and then we clean this together.”

Your response was just to kiss him for his sweetness, and you kept the apron on for the remainder of the time.

[gaybananabread]

(Don’t mind the fact I go all out in this, I’m just excited) Hihi! Just noticed TADC in your fandom list soooo can I get grapes, pears, and maybe some mangoes too whilst yer at it with Ler!Kinger and Lee!Pomni? I would like the stomach and the chin to be heavily focused on spots but every other spot is great too! I think Pomni and Kinger have potential to have an adorable dynamic as I hc that Kinger is the circus father figure! Speaking of hcs, I personally think that Pomni would be an adorably ticklish squeaky toy and probably a fighter. Kinger on the other hand, I hc that he is not very ticklish at all! Sure you could get a giggle or two outta him if you try hard enough but that’s it. Sooo yeah! Gotta love ordering stuff! Have a great day and remember, you don’t have to write any of this if you don’t wanna!! Byeee!!!

Fruit(s): Grapes, Pears, Mangoes

GAH! Thank you Anon! Definitely gave me some good bones to work with! Kinger would be the one dad that has the mental stability of a pancake lol. Loved writing for these goobers, your hcs were really fun to work with! Love that you went all out, gives me some awesome ideas! As always, I hope you Enjoy!

Lee: Pomni

Ler: Kinger

Summary: Pomni is having an anxiety attack due to circus craziness. Kinger invites her into his pillow fort to calm down, showing her she can still have a laugh in their insane circumstances.

Warnings: none! This is a tickle fic, so if you don’t like that, scroll away!!

She couldn’t take it anymore. The constant craziness, being in her new body, unable to really feel anything besides the constant stress of not knowing who the *squawk* she is. Oh yeah. The filter too.

The clown was curled up on the floor of the tent, on the verge of abstraction. The other members of the circus had gone to their rooms to cool down from that day’s “adventure.” 

Caine’s weird NPCs had wreaked havoc on the psyches of the characters, especially Pomni. She had failed the game, gotten hurt and accidentally broke Gangle’s comedy mask. Her mind was a swirling storm of regrets and uncertainty. 

She was so close to being done…

-

Kinger looked around, trying to find the newest member. She’d seemed…not okay, after the activity. He wasn’t one to talk, but that had been a bad day for everyone, and he felt stable enough to help out. What he saw made his heart sink; Pomni, curled up behind some giant building blocks, small black and glitchy particles hovering around her.

He quickly shuffled over to her, wrapping two floating hands around her shoulders and squeezing her close to him. “P-Pomni! It’s okay, you’re okay! Try to take some deep breaths…”

The girl tried to breathe, the warm embrace bringing her back to…wherever they were. She was far from better, but the particles had faded. Her pupils were still detached scribbles, though.

“Here, let me just..” Kinger carefully lifted her up, carrying her towards his fort, “get you somewhere calmer.” He pushed the pillow aside, ducking and setting her down on one of the cushions.

Pomni took a few shaky breaths, her eyes flicking back and forth between the twisting scribbles and her pinwheels. She had almost…oh *honk*. 

The royal piece rubbed her shoulders, trying to calm the girl down. “It’s okay, Pomni. Just breathe. You’re doing great.” His voice was softer than normal, more paternal. It helped.

“S-sorry…I k-kinda freaked…” She sounded so guilty…that wasn’t gonna slide. “Pomni, you’re fine. Everyone has bad days. I know I do.”

Pomni forced a smile, but it was clear she was still upset. Kinger tried to cheer her up, poking her side to get her attention. He didn’t expect the shocked, strangled squeak he got in response. The knee-jerk reaction was to check for injuries, but things clicked when he saw the blush on her cheeks. “Oh. You’re ticklish.”

She had enough awareness to try and run. Kinger quickly scooped her up, trapping her in a reverse hug with her small back against his chest. “Of all the bugs in my collection, I have to say there’s a favorite. Can you guess?” One hand held her shoulders, while the other traced her belly. “It’s the Tickle Bug!”

Pomni smacked at his hands, thrashing and flailing in his hold. She was a squeaky, giggly mess in seconds. It was light tickling, but she was stupidly ticklish. “K-Kihihinger! GYEEhehehe! Nohoho!”

He chuckled at the adorable sounds, looking at her eyes. The scribbles are gone, her multi-colored eyes back and wide with surprise. “Hmm, no, these work pretty well. You need a little help calming down, and laughter is the best medicine.”

Trying something, he moved his free hand to gently scribble under her chin. Pomni’s thrashing calmed way down, her giggles getting even squeakier. It was clear her chin was a melt spot, her eyes closing. Kinger cooed and kept up the tracing. “Aww, Pomni, do you like this spot?”

She whined through the giggles, but didn’t deny it. Even with her pride on the line, she wouldn’t tell that obvious of a lie. “Kihihihinger! Ihihihit tihickles!” 

“It’s supposed to, silly. Tickle Bug, remember?” He added more stomach tickles to the mix, gently scribbling where her belly button would be. She squealed, belly laughter slipping into the giggle fit. “KihihHIHIngeher! NYAHAHAhoho!” The thrashing was back, though it was more frantic than anything. She was caught between wanting to melt into the chin tickles and writhe from the belly scratches.

While it was adorable to see her like that, he was only tickling her to cheer her up. The silly chaos she was in, while cute, wasn’t the goal. He stopped, one finger still tracing under her chin as he hugged her. “Feeling any better?”

Pomni continued to giggle softly, but nodded. Without him, who knows what would have happened. “Uh-uhuhum, yeah. Thahanks, Kihinger…”

“No problem, friend. If you ever feel like that again, just come in the fort. I’ve got your back.” He released her from the hug, his eyes squinted in a smile. While he wasn’t any more sane than the rest of them, he tried his best to help out. It was nice.

Pomni hugged him one last time before ducking out of the pillow fort, a smile still on her face. The creeping dread wasn’t completely gone, but it had subsided. She felt like she could genuinely smile for a bit. That…that was enough, for her anyway. She could get through it with her new friends by her side. Just another day in the circus…

[dollivication]

Hi beautiful 💋

First of all...

I want to make a man cry, make him cry ugly

Like imagine this, girl, imagine this with me...

Reader has been deeply interested in Nero, okay? And is constantly trying to get close to him in every way possible, trying everything! Gifts? Done. Praise? Fucking done.

He? Throwing her gifts in the trash in front of her-

But reader always get rejected, in the worst ways possible like trying to say good morning to him and asking if she can watch him train? GURL HE WOULD LOOK AT HER LIKE A PEST and tell her to fuck off-

Do you know that tsundere attitude? Well he Is worst- but he actually really likes her but he's so dumb that doesn't know how to respond because he's to afraid of looking stupid

But one day reader decide it's time to get her dignity out of the trash can, clean it and wearing it again and all the attention he was receiving from her is now ALL FUCKING GONE!

He is internally panicking, watching her avoiding his gaze, his touch and suddenly she start being mean to him-

And this bitch is a masochist he is willing to take any kind of attention even if it is negative, Doing everything possible to show off in front of her and steal her attention trying to get some compliments back or even being him the one who brings gifts now

And she throws them in the trash just like him, in front of his eyes and that's when he cries- and he cries hard because he doesn't know what to do! He was so afraid of looking lake an idiot but now it is happening- like

I WANT TO MAKE A MEN CRY not even in a sexual way, I want to make him cry and only want my fucking comfort

This was very long, sorry beautiful but I did really get into dmc 😞

Alsooo, can I be 🌮 anon?

HAILLOOOO !!! :3 and omfg…. OHMGYOGF… i’m giggling i’m blushing i’m tickled unbelievably pink by this it is INSANE..?? I WANT TO MAKE A MAN WEEP TOO YOU GET ME SO WELL… especially nero… ❤️❤️

nero will be PETRIFIED when yew stop showering him in attention… he immediately starts jumping to conclusions—did you find someone better than him? maybe you just had a bad day?? did you stop liking him????? whyre u acting so strange…

heart DROPS when he realizes that you’re actually respecting yourself and not throwing yourself at his feet anymore. didn’t girls like chasing the guys?? sure he was mean to the smallest things you did, but still, he thought you were into that!! :( poor critter doesn’t understand why you suddenly changed!

HES SOOOO DESPERATE JUST 4 YEW TO LOOK AT HIM AGAIN! laik.. even if yew look at him in disgust, it’ll make his stomach churn, maybe it’ll even make bile rise to his throat out of sheer fucking anxiety, but at least you’re looking at him, right? the butterflies in his tummy feel more like spiders than anything, it’s hardly a pleasant feeling yet for some fucked up reason it gets him going…

he’s never been good with keeping himself in control—he can’t remember the last time he’s cried. he couldn’t even believe he was crying over a girl! but it’s for you you you, and as long as it stays that way, he doesn’t mind sobbing out like a little baby <3 he just loves you so mauch…

even if you hurt him, stomp on his gifts, it’ll be worth it in the end because you’re actually paying him mind — they say you catch more flies with honey than vinegar, but for him? he’ll take either from yuuu ૮꒰ ˶> ༝ <˶꒱ა !!

auwaaa.. nero nero nero the man you are….. AND YES YES OFCOURSE!!! THE EMOJI IS ALLLLL YURS!! WELCOME TO RHE FRIENDS LIST TEEHEE!! IMS OSOSO EXCITED TO HAVE YEWW AWAAAA❤️❤️❤️

[lessdecency]

december 08 , 2024

» this is my first post, i’m only using tumblr because i can hide behind a screen, nobody knows who i am, and i can talk to real people. i feel like i have nobody to talk to and don’t get me wrong, i know i do. i have plenty of friends that all say “im here when you need me” but i feel like that isn’t the case. i just don’t like reaching out and talking about my feelings. i have anxiety which makes it hard to talk about my feelings in fear of oversharing, overwhelming them, their issues being worse, being invalidated, or seeming like im attention seeking in a way. i really don’t try to do any of those things, i get carried away sometimes. i’m dealing with alot right now both mentally and physically. i feel like im going crazy. the guy i like is giving me so many mixed signals and it’s making me feel like im not worth it. i just lost my best friend and it feels like it’s entirely my fault because even my mom was defending her. “(friends moms name) says (friend) has been super depressed and barely comes out of her room now” im sorry it’s not my fault i dont know what im supposed to do about that, if i dont think she’s good for me mentally im allowed to think that. my mom hasn’t noticed ive been the same way simply because she does not give a fuck. i’m so drained. my sport, my family, my friends, school, everything. it’s all so draining. i’m constantly tired and i don’t want to do anything. i never want to go to practice and im always begging to stay home. school makes me sick to my stomach every monday because of my anxiety and i have to constantly work and work and work and work for 8 hours a day on subjects i know nothing about no matter how hard i try to understand and come home and get harped on about my grades that i try to fix constantly. its so stressful trying to balance everything. ive been clean from self harm for a little over 9 months but the urges have been getting so bad, im always crying, i dont think ive cried this much in one month since i was in 4th grade, its been almost impossible for me to cry until this year. i want to talk to someone about it SOOOO bad but i have a fear of reaching out and i just seem like an attention seeker every time. my closest friend is going through things way worse and i feel like if i try to vent to her it’s gonna seem like i want something to be wrong (if that makes sense?) ive been bottling everything up for over a year, and thinking about it makes my chest hurt physically. i dont know what’s going on with me but i dont like it and i just want to be happy again.

-lessdecency

» please please please give any advice you think might be helpful or useful and feel free to share your stories or dm me if you’re having a hard time and i will try my best to help you out!

[emetogirl]

Saw your post about wanting to hear other people's emeto experiences and I'm going through one right now so thought I'd share. I've posted a few bits and pieces as they happened over on my blog, but I'll combine them all into one post for ya.

On Friday at work, I noticed that the co-worker I share an office with kept excusing herself to go to the bathroom. And then I knew something was really up when she didn't eat anything at lunch (we had a potluck). I confronted her about it and she admitted that she had been feeling nauseated all morning, but she hadn't thrown up. She looked exhausted and I encouraged her to go home; there had been a bug going around work and it was likely she caught it.

She left and I went on about my day. Later that night, right before I went to bed, she texted me saying she'd finally thrown up. And me, being a bit of a emetophobe in real life, immediately started feeling sick too. I tried to tell myself it was all in my head and went to sleep.

When I woke up yesterday morning I felt "off." Just kind of achy and I had no appetite. My stomach didn't really hurt, but it felt like a pit of looming dread. I usually wake up really hungry, so not having an appetite concerned me. I forced myself to drink some water and continued nursing my water bottle to stay hydrated throughout the day. I really wanted to believe it was all in my head, but deep down I knew that it wasn't.

I also had an appointment to get my taxes done yesterday afternoon and that one little errand exhausted me. I took my temp when I got home because I was shivery and still really achy. My temp was a pretty low-grade fever (100.8) but it was definitely enough to make me feel blah. My stomach had also become really uncomfortable at this point, but I hadn't eaten anything all day so I wondered it was just hunger. I heated up some chicken noodle soup, ate a small bowl, and then went to sleep around 8 pm, hoping I'd be able to sleep it off.

A little after 2 am I woke up sweating like crazy and just knew I was going to throw up. I bolted out of bed and made it to the toilet just in time. I didn't even have time to freak out about it because it happened so fast. My anxiety skyrocketed after the fact, though, because I didn't want it to happen again but I still felt so bad and knew that it was probably inevitable. I was dizzy and seeing spots and felt so weak.

I stayed on my bathroom floor for about an hour just fighting the nausea until my stomach calmed down a little. Eventually I decided it was safe to drag myself back to bed with a trashcan nearby. I curled up in a ball to take some pressure off my stomach and ended up falling back asleep.

Woke up three hours later to a mouthful of saliva and grabbed my trashcan to throw up again. Emptied my stomach in three more liquidy waves.

I feel soooo much better after the second bout. I still have some lingering nausea but I don't feel as weak and foggy anymore. I had some water an hour ago that has stayed down and later I'll try some Liquid IV. Probably won't attempt food until tomorrow. My coworker said she only threw up a couple of times so I'm hoping I'm over the worst of it and it's smooth sailing from here.

Trying not to read too much into the fact that I caught a stomach bug the same week I started posting emeto content again haha.

Okay, first of all, Maddie, I HOPE YOU FEEL BETTER SOON THIS SUCKS SO MUCH!!! So many of us that are into emeto also experience emetophobia, and I’m probably one of the odd one’s out being someone that doesn’t. When you feel ready for food I always tell people it’s best to start out with the BRAT diet- banana’s, rice, applesauce, and toast! Usually sick tummies will tolerate those foods better than, like, a whole ass steak dinner😂

But worries aside, this was an epic story nonetheless and I can’t wait to read your post about it!

[zip-toonz]

if u have ANYTHING to say abt trevor (either your interpretation, anyone else's, or just plain old canon trevs) id LOVE to hear abt it...i care abt him soooo much trevor fans make some noise ‼️

I HAVE MANY THINGS TO SAY ABOUT TREVOR WHERE DO I EVEN BEGIN!! First and Foremost I have to say I love your interpretations of the characters! I love reading your head canons and Ideas and I'm honored my stuff inspired you like your work inspires me! (Obsessed with Schrödinger's Trevor). I should draw our Trevors hanging out sometime I think that would be a fun art piece! Also the fanart you made for the PLA au still makes me go crazy /pos

ALRIGHT *cracks my knuckles so hard my bones turn to dust* Trevor time! Read more cause I never shut up about Trevor

Trevor is by far my favorite Pokémon character of all time. I use to spend hours scrounging up any fanart I could find back in like 2013-15. I'm pretty sure he did things to my gender identity. Trevor of Trans your Gender.

He reminds me a lot of one of my other big time blorbos Mary Ann

Something about kids with this hairstyle I guess haha. I think they'd get along though they have similar personalities.

My Interpretation of Trevor!!

My interpretation of Trevor is a weird amalgamation of the game, manga, and anime. And sometimes I have multiple interpretations of him depending. But the one that I have a design for is a solid mix of all. He likes photography and wants to complete the pokedex. Gets really excited seeing Pokémon even if its a Pokémon he's already seen before and yet is very shy when meeting new people. He's only really comfortable with his friends, his sister, and Sycamore (who is effectively his father figure). Very smart but kind of clumsy, he tends to get a little beat up because he focuses in on things and forgets his surroundings. He's not big on battling but he loves studying Pokémon and want's to be a professor when he's older just like Sycamore. He takes photos of pokemon and keeps them in a little scrapbook with help from Shauna. Also he thrifts all his clothes and can never find anything that fits him just right.

Canon Trevor HCs

I tend to have sadder head canons for him due to the lack of parents. I don't think he likes Celebrating his birthday because his parents are never there to celebrate it with him. He has a hard time making friends and is always silently worried his friends will leave him one day. He's scared of getting hurt and so he tends to shut himself off from others involuntarily because he's scared of being abandoned again, and most of the time he only meets new people through the others in his friend group. Sycamore is one of the few adults he trusts.

Because of the manga I like to think he has this sixth sense of snuffing out harmful or dangerous people based on their aura. Lysander makes this kid faint his vibes are so bad. But that's really just for fun rather than anything serious or concrete.

I think he's got a wet paper bag for a stomach and gets queasy very easily. Its possible his anxiety has something to contribute to his health. and he should probably be on some kind of medication to manage it.

I love love love how hes handled in the manga. He's not the coward he thinks he is. He's scared but he's willing to fight for what he believes in. He's willing to stand up for his friends even when he struggles to stand up for himself and its so nice watching him grow.

AUS!!

I have a few aus major with Trevor PLA and REVIVAL are my two major ones but there's also Paldea (a spin off following PLA) and Wondar (My fan region that features him minorly)

Despite both major ones having godly deer screwing him over in one way or another I characterized him differently

In PLA is emotionally dead. He's got no fucks left to give and handles Pokémon with his bare hands. He's exhausted and numb. I don't think I've talk a lot about him and his relationships in PLA but he practically adopted by Laventon, and ends up making good friends with Akari and Rei. When he does return home he finds himself missing them a lot. Also he never wants to see another shinx in his life hes got scars for days from shinx alone. Also theres a Yanmask with a mask of him implying he died before returning home. (Paradoxical nonsense but its meant to represent the part of him that lived in paldea and not the part of him that died if that makes any sense? its like the physical manifestation of the impact he had on the past).

In the Revival au (sometimes lovingly called Revival Rival cause its fun to say) he's physically dead. He's practically a walking corpse with a conscious. His heart barely beats, his skin is cold. A medical anomaly. Xerneas splinters a piece of its power off (so to speak) to bring him back because humans are far more complicated than foliage. Because of this he can understand Pokémon, Flowers grow in his wake, and can revive fainted Pokémon. It seems neat but to him it just further alienates him from his peers and is a responsibility he doesn't want to have to handle. Its overwhelming. He can't stray too far from Xerneas who's is practically his life support. I've jokingly compared it to a soul gem from Madoka where if he strays to far he slows down and then eventually loses consciousness/dies again. Theres a grace radius but he can't really explore places like Lumiose anymore because Xerneas can't/won't follow. Meaning he can't go home. He lingers around smaller towns and forest. When emotinally distressed he loses his ability to control these new powers.

anyway!! enough of me rambling!! if you wanna talk about him more or have follow up questions just ask!! My dms are also open!! I can keep talking about this silly lil guy for ever!

[ruminate88]

Free Cell 🃏 (Healing From Emotional Abuse)

In short, Free Cell is a game where all the cards are misplaced and you have to sort them out into their correct piles. So far, healing from emotional abuse has felt that way 😬 Trying to untangle my way out of the lies, the confusion and the mental fog. I have learned so much from watching TikTok but it honestly gets on my nerves too because some of the videos are either hateful, just as cold or they says things like “how to beat the narcissist at their own game” 🙄😲 No…. I don’t care how angry people are. I know all about being angry. I know it sucks to find out someone you believed you loved more than anyone or anything in the whole world turns out to be fake. A person with no personality. A person who just lies non stop. They lie about lying. 🤠 So, it hurts and it sucks but ok, we’re not going to “sink to their level”. They need help and obviously we need help too. I was soooo cold after I was ghosted. I didn’t care about myself or anyone anymore. I only cared about my family but even then I shut them out to a degree and my mom said I pushed her away and wasn’t really talking to her. She still doesn’t know I was ghosted. I haven’t wanted to tell my family anything but I fear I’m going to have to because this “healing process” sometimes feels over my head. 😵‍💫

Also, I wanna talk about the impacts that seem to linger and need your attention. My stomach for one, has been my biggest problem. Everyone around me is upset at how much weight I’ve lost. Some alluded to the notion that I’m purposely losing weight/starving myself and ugh if they only knew. People see me from the outside. They don’t know the internal battles and the hurt. I make myself eat. Even when my stomach feels sick. When I met Jake, he was so intimidating and scary. I had really bad feelings when we talked over the phone. He would yell at me if I was watching tv and not saying much. I didn’t know what to say…. It was awkward!!! He made it awkward and uncomfortable. My whole body was nervous.

THEN to meet cody and he’s saying he’s soooo obsessed with me and I couldn’t eat cuz it was so intense. I wanted to sit in a corner and cry. Cody randomly dumped and that summer I sent him a long text saying I missed him and still loved him… he read it but didn’t respond…. 🤮 I threw up that whole night!!!! Violently shaking and crying! This is not dramatic, I was on vacation with my family and of course I lied to them and said it was what I ate…. They believed me. I never told them I was upset because Cody saw my message but ignored it.

Finally, I meet Andrew it was way different with him. He seemed “normal” for a long time but there were some small things here and there that obviously confused me but nothing so jarring as what Jake or Cody put me through… Wasn’t till Andrew started doing the reward and punishment cycle that I even worried and yet I still ate mostly just not a ton. I mostly lived on Mountain Dew. It was AFTER we broke up that I saw Andrew’s true colors and there was sooooo much drama, I just wouldn’t even think of food. I was on edge wondering what’s Andrew gonna do or say next. His audacity with me was unreal. I remember asking one of my nieces, “Hey… Have I ate today at all???” And she was like, “uh… you don’t know?????” 😳😳 So crazy and scary!!!!! I couldn’t focus on anything but how in the world to make Andrew happy and change the outcome of our relationship. It went further than south. It went to a dark place and I was sooo suicidal and Andrew was more than happy. 😓😓😓

Your body recognizes the stress and danger and totally locks up. Everything shuts down and stops working. Stress can cause you so many problems you’ve never had before. I wasn’t a big person to start with. I only weighed 127 lbs. Also stress can cause you to lose hair, can cause anxiety, depression, severe tiredness. There’s so much to work through!!! I knew NOTHING about emotional abuse for so long and could NOT make sense of Andrew. I didn’t understand why he was suck a jerk to me when he originally was so loving and nice. We were together for over a year. My brain and heart just couldn’t understand or stop hurting. I hurt soooooo much words can’t express. It hurts way less to fall and skin up your elbows. (Not being dramatic)

Covid is what it took to open my eyes. Everyone was getting sick and all these weird symptoms. That’s when I randomly lost over 25 lbs but I didn’t know if covid was to blame or not. Especially when covid “ended” and my stomach continued to act up. I realized before covid I often struggled with different foods. Plus the hair loss… I was on vacation with family when I happened to see for the first time how much hair I was losing in the front. I quickly showed my husband scared and said to my family, “Am I sick??????” Your mind automatically goes to worse case scenario 😫 I wondered if covid is to blame yet again HOWEVER, there is a picture of me and my husband from thanksgiving long before covid and when I actually looked, I already had a bald spot starting…. Wow.

Even in 2021, I can’t stop thinking of Andrew and Cody. I feel obsessed with them in an unhealthy way but I don’t understand it all. I’m ashamed to talk about it with anyone but I can’t explain what’s going on. I start to say out loud “I think they were toxic with me.” But idk what toxic really means…. Seems so extreme and harsh. I hate saying it but it feels right. Finally I started praying for answers and 2022 rolls around. Nothing changed for me accept now I’m obsessively wanting to make TikTok’s and talk about my confusing break up with Andrew but can’t post it cuz I’m afraid what people wil say. Am I crazy???? Did I not understand Andrew??? Why can’t I stop hyper focusing on it and trying to make sense. It was so hurtful that Andrew was a robot and what does that even mean??

BOOM in the fall of 2022, my first video shows up on my feed about, “If their words does not match their actions, they’re manipulating you.” 😳 Okay… wow. Now I think Andrew is a manipulator but why?? Why is he a manipulator? Another few weeks or so and the narcissist videos came flooding in!!!!! It was sooooo much information and extremely overwhelming. I felt trapped watching these videos and I had so much to process and make sense. So in 2023, I made this account to write down everything I could remember that happened to me and then I have read back over it all making sense and understanding. Not enough information takes away the pain, makes me trust myself or anyone else ALSO, doesn’t take away the fear.

If I could be so close to people who mirror me and “trick” me, I don’t feel safe. I don’t wanna go outside by myself. I don’t wanna talk to strangers by myself. It sucks but it’s my reality. My mind continues to look out for danger everywhere I go and my stomach continues to tighten, it’s like my body stays ready to take the next hit. Yet I’ve been so tired not wanting to do anything or truly go anywhere accept to my parent’s house. Even then, I’m forcing it.

Moral of this post, healing takes time. You will sort all this out just like in the game of Free Cell. Don’t give up ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

[teddybeartoji]

⺡THE LITTLE LAMB AND THE BIG BAD WOLF

on a hunt for supplies, you stumble across someone's belongings. a little bit of theft is fine, right? the cold barrel of a gun at your temple says otherwise.

☆. contains: toji fushiguro x gn!reader; apocalypse au; horror, detailed descriptions of blood and death, slow burn, crack, reader is simultaneously a scaredy-cat and a baddie, toji looks scary oh nooo

☆. word count: 6k

☆. note: the world is based on tlou!!! i am soooo into this fucking concept like i'm officially sucking my own dick here. tagging my beloveds @staryukis & @awearywritersworld bc omfg apocalypse ideas!!!!!! and also @dollsuguru @venusiansilk @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat @mossmurdock i love you guys so so much thank you for all your support<3333333

+ here's the masterlist

in a world so fucked up – it's easy to get lost in the darkness.

when the infection took over, everything changed. everything. people aren't people anymore – they've become hosts for a type of fungus known as the cordyceps. it grows all over the brain and takes control of the body, turning the person into something they're not.

if anyone were to ask you how many have you killed, infected or not, you'd be devoid of an answer.

it's hard to find your way when just about everything is out to get you. infected or not – there's always something ready to tear you into pieces, to sink their teeth into your soft flesh – that's just the way things are now.

but you're used to it. used to the feeling of adrenaline pumping in your veins as you run from a horde, used to the feeling of a blade at your throat, used to the feeling of a punch, of a slap. used to the constant grumble in your stomach, used to the sore legs and shoulders, used to cleaning off blood from yourself and your clothes, from your weapons. you're used to the gurgling and clicking, the crying and sobbing, the begging and pleading.

but no matter how much you tell yourself that you've grown used to the horrors of the new world, you cannot escape the anxiety that hides under every inch of your skin. it's always with you – holding your clammy hand as it drags you into the depths, into the shadows. you try to fight it but it's hard.

it's hard forcing away the only thing that holds you so tight, the only thing that truly cares for you. it's is a suffocating blanket that hides you from the cruelty of the world, trying its best to shelter you from it all. it's better to stay inside. it's better to stay away. they're going to hurt you. something is here. just stay here with me, under the warm blanket. they're coming. it's going to hurt. let's stay here forever.

don't you want it to stop?

being torn apart by the cold crippling fear and the warm rotting hands – it's getting harder and harder to breathe. but you've learned how to keep them at bay over the years; always in the line of sight, always on your mind. there's no rest for the wicked.

moonlight leads the way as you make your way to a shopping mall. the wind howls in your ears and sends a shiver down your spine. moss and ivy cover the walls of the massive building, swallowing it bit by bit, making it a part of the nature as the time passes.

the axe in your hand feels heavy, but right nonetheless. the handle is stained with blood; it has seeped deep into the wood and now acts as an extra weight to the blade. a small 9mm handgun sits pretty in the holster around your thigh, a knife hides in its leather sheath on your belt, a bow rests on your shoulder and a few arrows peek from your bag.

despite the armory, your bag hasn't been this empty in a while. the blame falls on a group of men you ran into a week or so back. precious ammo and resources were spent on the bastards, and while the blood reward was good - the lack of food and meds is now becoming concerning. your shoulder still hurts from the fall, a big dark bruise transforming your skin into a painting of the midnight sky.

you shake the flashlight on the strap of your backpack and listen to the batteries bounce around inside it. you give it a stronger shake and it turns on. the broken glass shines as you carefully step inside the big atrium and take a look around. your little light forces back the creeping shadows, now showcasing you the infected bodies that lay dead on the ground before you.

pools of blood conflux together and paint the tiles a dark shade of maroon; the ichor flows in between the cracks and disappears under the soles of your boots when you step further inside. they're fresh. light reflects off the liquid as you squat down to take a closer look. none of the three bodies seem to have bullet wounds – one of the runner has a slit throat while the other leaks from a hole in the side of the head and the clicker... it's head has been completely bashed in, making it hard to even recognize it as one.

beating up a clicker is not easy by any means; though the fungus growing on their face and head blinds them, it also acts almost like armor. they can take a bullet to the head and still keep coming – the call of death rippling through their body as they run at you, hands reaching out to grab, to pull, to hold.

the fact that they did this, either with their bare hands or some other blunt object, just means that they're good. it also begs the question whether they didn't have the bullets to spare or they simply decided not to use them. you just hope you won't bump into them.

standing up, you take another look around. a trail of bloody footsteps leads right up the escalators and you decide that you won't be going there yet. there are a few more bodies, two runners, sitting limp against the crumbling walls as you step down one of the hallways. the broken tiles and the glass cracks below your feet and you cringe at the noise.

never letting go of the axe in your hand, you stroll past the first stores seeing as they're completely ran through. with a sigh, you make your way over to one of the clothing stores. it's almost pitch black in there and you almost jump out of your skin when a mannequin suddenly falls at your feet. muttering out a row of whispered curses, you lower your axe with a shaky breath and adjust your flashlight. the shelves are pretty empty but that was expected; still, when you open up a cupboard door under one of the mannequin stands, you find a stack of perfectly fine sweatshirts. you check the other side of the piece of furniture and find... nothing. scoffing to yourself, you just bag the a sweatshirt and a pair of pants from another shelf before moving to the next store.

glass breaks and you hear shuffling – head whipping towards the sounds, fingers tightly gripping the axe, you take a step back and bump right into the shelf behind you. pieces of clothing fall onto the floor and a cloud of dust rises from the impact; you pay it no mind as your eyes are still glued to the counter, to where the noise came from, but when after a few second absolutely nothing jumps at you, you let your shoulders relax a little.

a stalker, maybe? but they don't tend to live in open spaces like malls, or so you think at least. the majority of them you've ran into in places like office floors and a fucked up basements – meaning they like to lurk everywhere where it's extra dark and where there are places to hide behind. yeah, they do that. little shits, taking cover behind desks and walls, playing a game of hide and seek that you never agreed to. you're never forgiving yourself for taking that wretched route.

you peek over the counter and look all around it but find jack shit. it's the darkness – it's what it does to you, to everybody. the shadows start to speak and move, the floors creak and crumble, and the growths on the wall whisper your name, no matter, how much you tell yourself that they aren't actually doing any of that that.

it's just the old building crying out from loneliness, the haunted ghosts simply looking for company as people pass by, as the infected pass by. you have to keep your head straight. faint blood marks stain the floor but it's too hard to tell whether those've been there for years or less.

you hastily knock on your flashlight when it begins to flicker, leaving you in the dark for just a blink but it's enough to have your heart thumping loudly in your ribcage.

making your way out of the store, you scour for your next location and ah-ha!

a pharmacy.

two bottles of antibiotics rattle in your bag but those aren't enough. you'll always need more of those, you'll always need more of gauze, painkillers, of everything – going in there is a must.

a metal roll-up door closed mid way is going to make this harder, but as if that isn't ominous enough – the quiet cries coming from behind it only makes the situation worse. a runner. but luckily, it isn't making too much noise and you make an educated guess of it not moving around. they do that when there's nothing to catch and tear apart, when nothing has caught their attention. they stay in random spots and whimper and cry to themselves. it makes them an easy prey.

the thought of the metal door sliding shut just as you're trying to pass under it, is making your stomach churn. and so is the thought of you making too much noise by accident and attracting the runner when you're still down on the ground. stop being a pussy. there could be emergency kits in there, pills, there could be a feast of medications in there and you're holding back. it's unacceptable.

you slowly kneel down to the cold floor and inhale sharply before lowering yourself further down. the only light in the room is yours and it immediately finds the twitching runner.

it is cowering in the corner.

you're just fucking glad they don't react to light as much as they do to noise, otherwise you'd be fucked already.

you crawl in the dust as quietly as you can, careful to not touch any of the furniture beside you that seems to be holding up the door. the last thing you'd want is to get locked in here. or get cut in half. you clench your teeth and push yourself up and to your knees the second you can do so and take a second, as you wait for him to turn around and lunge at you. but he doesn't. his back is still turned to you as he waits for you, sobs for you; his body trembling, hands folded in front of his chest – almost like he's hugging himself.

quietly holstering the axe, you pull out your knife instead. it's quieter. you grip the handle, fingers molding into the dents that have formed over time. another step and the light goes out. it's complete darkness. you hear your own heartbeat in your ears and the miserable cries of the infected just a few feet away. your eyes widen as you try to focus on your surroundings. your hands grow clammy in a matter of a few seconds and panic seeps into your body.

you shake the flashlight a few times and it turns back on. your breath is still stuck in your throat as you try to compose yourself. stupid old thing. the light paints the runner's shadow onto the wall in front of him, making it look like he's a part of some shadow play.

one more step and you're with him, a breath away. your hand goes around his chest, holding his hands and body in place as you sink your blade into his neck. it sinks into skin and flesh like butter, soaking you in the dark red ichor that hides underneath as he gurgles something at you (a thank you perhaps).

yanking the knife back out, the splattering ichor coats your skin and you immediately wipe it off against your shirt. his body falls with a thud! and another big dust cloud rises from the contact and your nose itches— it's— it itches— achoo!

your eyes are an inch away from escaping your head as you spin around, making sure that nothing is jumping at you for making a noise that loud. but surely enough, nothing seems to be interested. exhaling deeply, you rub your nose and force down the embarrassment that's crawling on your skin before starting your hunt for supplies.

it doesn't go as well as you'd hoped – only bagging a few stitching kits and a bottle of painkillers. better than nothing.

ecstatic to get the fuck out of a closed, pitch black room, you crawl back out from under the metal door and dust off your clothes.

strolling through some more stores, you're met with more dead infected. two clickers and two runners, no bullet holes. ignoring the corpses, you manage to find yourself a few nice t-shirts, a pack of boxers and a box of 9mm handgun ammo from under the cash register.

when you've gone through most of the wrecked stores on the first floor, you finally decide to take a look upstairs. the bloody footprints haven't left your mind but the fact that it's been so quiet, makes you think that maybe they did really just pass through here.

the moon light your way as you drag yourself up the escalator. the stars in the sky are barely visible because of the dirt on the ceiling window and you frown.

in front of you there are two hallways with stores on the sides and in the middle. the prints lead to the left side and towards the a lonely door at the end of the coridor; the signs on the walls don't indicate what room it might be – a security one, maybe? shaking your head, you focus on the stores ahead of you. the shop in the center is a big sports one; most of the mannequins have fallen over and their limbs are scattered all over the floor, pairless sneakers rest on top of each other and the shelves are a push away from collapsing into tiny little pieces.

stepping over the bloody clothes, you view the baseball caps on the rack when your light goes out again. you feed on the faint moonlight that's coming from the hallways as you scramble to shake the thing again. steps, you swear you heard steps. the last standing mannequins stare at you from the shadows, laughing at your misfortune. a hand touches your hip and you can't hold back the yelp that slips from your lips. you turn and bump into another statue. the light flickers three times before it actually turns on and you find yourself inches from an eerie smile. intinctively, you give it a firm push as you take a step back, hands shaking as the panic settles down once more.

no one else is here. you can't see whoever could've made the noise and by now you're sure that if something or someone is really hiding in the dark – it would've already made a move if it wanted to. stalkers don't play for that long and neither do humans.

a row of protein bars hide in a drawer in the staff room of the store and you happily throw them in your bag, along with some weird looking granola bars.

the right side of the second floor only offers you a new lighter, three pairs of socks, a can of soda, a simple necklace and a broken watch. what's the point of it if you can't tell time? it looks cool. no other reason.

heading over to the left side of the building, you keep a keen eye on the door. the remaining shops are forgotten the closer you get to where the prints lead and you officially commit to checking out the place.

the blade of your axe shines in the moonlight, your steps extra light as you creep up on the door. readying your weapon, you press down on the handle and quietly push it open. it swings all the way and thumps against the wall. the room is lit up, the windows letting in the natural light. you're greeted with rows of computer and tv screens on the tables, three black duffel bags and some lockers and cabinets next to the walls.

you check the corners of the room and let out a relieved sigh when you don't find anything hiding. closing the door, you carefully step around the broken glass on the floor. it seems to be originating from what used to be a glass case showcasing various medals. awards for the best security guards. how silly that sounds now.

the lockers have been cleared out, the only things left behind being two lovely couple's phots with hand-drawn hearts above their heads. you leave them there. the cabinets don't have anything good either. you glance back at the door for good measure before kneeling down in front of one of the bags on the ground. you pull the zipper and are met with treasure – multiple bars of chocolate, the same sweatshirt you found from the floor below, various cans of canned food, two water bottles and a small knife.

your eyes glint and the corners of your lips twitch upward, your body has a mind of its own as it immediately reaches for the chocolate. glass breaks and your eyes flick to the now ajar door as you reach for the gun on your thigh but when you feel the cold metal of a gun barrel resting against your temple... you freeze.

"don't."

...

your stomach drops, eyes glued to the bag in front of you. the voice is deep and it's rasp, confident and sure of himself; the metal against you doesn't move, it doesn't shake.

you hold your trembling hands out, fingers spread to show that you don't have any intention of grabbing your weapons. a deep breath in and a deep one out. you try to turn your head towards him but he just presses the gun deeper into your skin, forcing your gaze right back down.

his big stature looms over your smaller one and you feel like an ant that's about to be stepped on. he lets you soak in the threatening silence, the only sound being your own racing heartbeat.

"s'rude to steal, y'know."

the man doesn't sound angry, he doesn't sound mad or upset. he sounds... annoyed, if anything.

"i asked you a question."

shit.

"i– i wasn't stealing." you stammer out.

he scoffs. "wasn't stealing? just fondling my shit for fun then?"

the teasing tone makes your eyebrows furrow and you try to turn to look at him again, your body slightly raising from your knees but the gun on your head keeps you down. funny, how heavy a piece of metal can suddenly feel.

"it was empty in here! i didn't know these belonged to anyone! i–i'm sorry! i'll leave, i'll leave!" it's a pathetic slur of words accompanied by a pleading tone and you hope that it'll do the trick.

there are strategies for dealing with people and this is simply one of them.

and it does work because the next thing you know, he's lowering the weapon. you let out a shaky breath before turning to him and fuck.

he's... terrifying.

towering over your kneeling body, he's massive. big chest and broad shoulders, he looks like he could snap your neck with his bare hands. the moonlight is only making him more menacing – his dark hair falls in front of his eyes as he stares down at you; there's a scar on his lips and streaks of blood cover his skin, from his cheek to his jaw and down his neck.

dark clothes and a dark jacket – he looks like he belongs in the shadows. the fact that you didn't hear him until it was already too late is making your skin crawl. he probably only let you hear him. for the fun of it.

the terrified look on other's faces can be addicting. the big eyes and the wobbling lips; how they shake and beg – you're no stranger to it, you've had your moments, too.

other than the gun in his hand, there's a second one holstered around his big thigh just like you do. a serrated knife sits his belt and it keeps winking at you, the flashlight reflecting from it as you pull in big breaths of air.

"you're saying i oughta just let you go?" he scoffs, yanking you from your thoughts.

"please..." your stomach grumbles on cue, helping you look meeker than you really are.

you're sure you just saw him wince as he squats down beside you but the thought is brushed away immediately when the man cocks his head to the side and scratches his temple with the barrel of the gun. his scarred lips stretch into a big wolfish grin, showing off his sharp canines and his eyes glint from behind the black strands of hair, making him even scarier now. the big bad wolf.

he's taking you apart with his eyes, dissecting you and your thoughts with a smug expression while you're fending off the waves of fear and try to look as composed as you can. though you feel like it isn't working at all.

"d'ya find anything good from the pharmacy?"

"why were you stalking me?" your bark comes out sharper than you intended and his eyebrows raise an inch, eyes shining with something teasing.

"kind of hard to miss ya when you're making so much noise, sweetheart. and yer in my spot, anyway." he sigh with an eye-roll.

your lips part in a small gasp. "i was not making that much noise! and– and what do you mean 'your spot'? it's a fucking mall, i need things, too!"

"clearly." he motions to the duffel bag resting at your feet and you swallow your next snarky comment.

"sorry."

"what was that?"

just glaring at him, you hate how amused he seems. the fear in you dissipating fast and something akin to annoyance is starting to grow in it's stead.

"i didn't even fucking take anything!"

body leaning forward, fists balled up and eyes on fire – he's thoroughly entertained by your barking and you immediately purse your lips.

"relax, little lamb, will ya? tell me... what'd you find in there?"

you scrunch your nose at the stupid nickname. despite how non-threatening he's being right now - you're still planning on running. you'll give him whatever he wants and you're getting the fuck out of here.

"nothing much. stitching kits and painkillers."

he's hums disappointedly and you can't help but wonder why. is he looking for something in particular? is he hurt? "what do you need?"

"forget it."

"i have antibiotics, if that's what you need."

at that, his ears perk up. "is that so?"

you nod at him.

"well, c'mon then, show me what ya got."

you stare at him for a moment before peeling off one backpack strap. you pull the bag onto your lap and feel his heavy gaze on you as you dig around the thing. it doesn't take you long to find the right bottle, pulling it out and handing it to him.

the floor creaks and it has you both turning towards the sound in an instant. he has the door in his sights but nothing is there. your heart is hammering in your chest again and you can taste the bitter anxiety in the back of your throat again.

you've never seen anyone hold their gun so steady as he does. no shake, no tremble; he's not even really squeezing the thing, he's just holding it. there's no pressure, no anxiety – it's simply an extension to his body. he's comfortable with it, and he looks good with it. a bead of sweat rolls from his temple and mixes with the drying blood on his skin before disappearing under his clothes.

his breathing is normal, he's calm as he lowers the gun back down and starts observing the bottle in his other hand. your eyes are still on the door, still wary of the ghosts that lurk around.

the man squints his eyes at the miniature text on the bottle in the dark and you hold back a laugh.

"need me to read it for you, old man?"

"watch your mouth." it's playful at best, no real sternness behind it whatsoever and it makes you roll your eyes. you're about to ask what he actually needs the pills for but something in the corner of your eye draws your attention.

a pair of dull, grey eyes. staring right back at you. dark veins run all over her face and neck, her shoulders and her hands and she peeks from behind the doorframe.

one second. no more, no less. your sharp intake of air gets his attention just as the stalker lunges from the dark hallway, but she is met with a hole in her forehead before she can even take a proper step inside.

small pieces of brain splatter onto the wall behind her and she falls limp to the ground just a few feet from you. he's waiting for another one to pop up, his eyes still glued to the door and you know that this is your moment. he has the meds, so he shouldn't chase you down anyway. you have to go now.

scrambling up from your knees, you try to speed past him but immediately choke when the collar of your own sweatshirt sharply cuts into your airways. his grip on the material is strong and he pulls you right back into him, back into his arms. he's mere inches from your face but before he can do anything else – he feels a blade against his throat.

you really aren't the little lamb he thought you were.

he's comparing you to a feral cub in his head – big wild eyes, snarling and showing your teeth, trying to act tougher than you are, but when the sharp edge of your blade sinks deeper into his skin, he realizes that maybe you're not actually in over your head.

he already expected you to run, he was waiting for that but he thought it'd end up with you you crying and begging or something. he didn't see this coming – you're definitely craftier than he thought, faster too.

"now... why would you do that-"

you don't let him finish. "are you gonna hurt me?"

"you're the one with the knife at my throat. i should be asking you that." he rolls his eyes as your knife grazes the soft skin below his adam's apple and you're thinking about actually cutting him just out of annoyance.

"you have the pills, why not let me go?" you bark back.

"you're hungry, aren't ya?" he questions calmly. his gun hand is lowered, he's not pointing it at you but his other hand stays on your back, fingers still digging into your sweatshirt. it's warm, his body is warm.

"so what? you gonna feed me like some stray cat?"

"y'don't want to eat?" he deadpans.

...

you bite into the soft flesh of your inner cheek. of fucking course, you want to eat.

"y'can take two cans from the bag. i mean, y'were eyeing them anyway."

"why?"

"for being my entertainment tonight."

the blade on his throat finally draws blood and a drop of it runs down his skin, disappearing under his shirt.

"i oughta kill you for putting a gun at my head."

"yeah?" he cocks his head closer to you, the blade moving with him, making a few more droplets dribble from the tiny wound. "go for it, sweetheart."

his eyes are green. they're green like the leaves that sprout from between the cracks in the asphalt on a sunny day, green like the moss that flourishes on the trees in the forest, green like the ivy that is trying to swallow the world. you feel his heart beat a; calm and steady while yours is amped from the sudden proximity. he sounds so arrogant, like he knows you're not going to hurt him.

(you aren't.)

when you lower the knife to push at his broad chest with a scoff instead, he lets you. his hand falls from you as you take a step back, your face now illuminated by the moonlight. scars litter your skin, bumps and cuts – just like him.

"are you done?"

you hum with a pouty lip and put away your knife, eyes following his figure as he holsters his gun before picking up the fallen pill bottle. when he steps by you, he plucks your flashlight from its place on the backpack strap with way too much ease and proceeds to head over to one of the duffel bags that sits on the table behind you, carefully stepping over the broken glass on the floor.

"hey!"

he shushes you and your fists tighten beside your body. you look at the dead body that lays next to the door with a perfectly centered hole in her forehead. the blood pools around it, soaking her clothes and the ground below her.

you used to think about the infected more, used to ponder about how long they've been like that and whether the person they used to be is still... in there.

it doesn't matter.

you've come across people, who talk about not wanting to kill them – what if they really are still in there? but isn't that exactly why one should kill them? you can't even begin to think about how it'd feel to be stuck inside your own body as the infection takes over, making you into something you're not. how it'd force you to tear your loved ones apart just for the sake of it, how you'd turn into a bigger monster with every passing day, every passing second. you just hope that if you were to get infected, you'd still have the mind to end it. or have somebody do it for you.

you don't want to end up like her.

"i didn't realize there were stalkers here." you mumble to yourself as you tear your eyes from her. "other than you, of course. fucking creep."

he starts digging around in one of the bags and you take the moment to really observe him. his back is almost twice your size and you're sure his one bicep is bigger than your whole head.

the man scoffs. "thought i got them all but... oh, well. should've let ya handle it – was your fault anyway."

"how the fuck was that my fault?" your voice raises at his claim and you regret it, knowing exactly what his response will be.

"you are fucking loud, sweetheart."

"fuck you."

he just hums out a mhmmm. he pulls a piece of paper out of his bag and uses your flashlight to examine the text on it. his eyes. he waves at you over his shoulder. "you know where the cans are."

simply scoffing as a reply, you kneel back down to the bag but his voice cuts in again.

"and don't you dare take that chocolate." he doesn't even turn around, completely focused on comparing the information on the paper to the info on the bottle of pills. you roll your eyes again and curse him under your breath. "i wasn't gonna take your stupid fucking chocolate..."

when you've bagged your goodies, you push yourself up again. the trees dancing in the wind outside catch your eye, they look so carefree. just living from the sun and the moon and the rain, they have nothing to fear. nobody will harm them, no infected, no people. you can't wait for nature to take back everything it deserves. the cities and the buildings; it'll swallow the corpses and the living alike and you're happy for her.

he rustles with the paper, twisting it around a few times and you're about to ask what he's looking for but he cuts you off.

"why not make a run for it earlier?"

you stare at his back with a confused look. "what do you mean?"

"you gave me the pills and then tried to run. antibiotics are hard to find, y'know." he sounds curious. or patronizing.

"i know that... i had to wait for the right moment." you admit, fiddling with your fingers. "i was going to give them to you anyway, old man."

"not a lot going on in that little head of yours, huh?"

...

you let his audacity waft over you before biting back. "oh, i'm sorry... for... being a... good person?"

he turns around and leans his ass against the table, folding his arms over his big chest as he mocks you with his annoying smug grin. "i pointed a gun at you and you still wanna share your little precious belongs with me? that's cute, i guess."

"yeah. you just look like you fucking need them, alright...."

"so, you agree that you're a fucking idiot?"

your lips part in shock. "hey! look– do you want anything else or can i go now?"

"can i have my flashlight back?"

"no."

"wha— " you take a step toward the man and he raises his brows. "but it's mine! how do you expect me to go outside without it?"

"no manners whatsoever."

huh?

your jaw drops again. "excuse me? wha– what's that supposed to mean?"

"first, i catch you stealing— "

"i already apologized for that— "

"—then you try to kill poor old little me, and now you're asking for things without the magic word... tsk-tsk-tsk." he closes his eyes and shakes his head in disappointment.

"i'm not gonna fucking beg for my own flashlight back, bitch."

...

he barks out a laugh.

a loud one, from deep within his stomach. his head falls back and a pout forms on your lips, heat crawls up your neck involuntarily and you avert your gaze. "you're terrible, just terrible, sweetheart."

he takes your prized light and tosses it to you before pulling out his own from behind his back. you flip him off. "funny though, i'll give ya that..."

you grumble a yeah, thanks under your breath as he blinks the light at you twice. "may i go now?"

he stares at you before answering. "yes, you're dismissed."

at that, you knock your heels together and sharply bring your right hand to your temple – imitating a military salutation. "yes, sir!"

something sweet.

he tastes something sweet on his tongue. he wipes the drying blood from his neck and his cheeks hurt.

you're some random feral cub and yet, you've peaked his interest like nothing else. no cries and no wails, no begging and no tears – scared but alive. ready to part with valuable meds just because he apparently looks like he needs them. tch! growling at him even though he's caught you red handed, cutting him even though you weren't in danger anymore.

he hasn't felt this alive in a long time, either.

"don't let me see you again, old man."

playful, at best. you're matching his tone and the corners of his lips are reaching back behind his ears. you bite your inner cheek; despite everything – he's the most normal person you've met since the end of the world. he's not mean nor is he aggressive; everybody points a gun at a stranger these days. he made jokes and he gave you supplies – it's more than anyone has done for you in a while.

you look at the wolf in the shadow and he looks at the lamb in the moonlight. the wolf that offers food and protection and the lamb that cuts and steals.

the wolf that bleeds and the lamb that holds the blade.

[moonchildstyles]

aster comforting his sensitive girl is the cutest thing ever. i love when she gets more open in the relationship and straight up goes to him when she’s upset still she but more open where before she wanted till he came up to her. them at a friends house far away visiting maybe and her stomachs upset and poor baby just has soooo much anxiety and she goes up to him maybe he could tell she’s been off for a bit now and she goes up to him quietly cause she’s a little embarrassed contining on anothe💜

continued💜 but she’s to embarrassed for other people to know but she is desperate for his comfort maybe she had been taking a nap and she comes out of the room they are staying in and goes over to him and he looks up noticing her face and the way she pouts when she’s upset and he instantly concerned and she squeaks can you come to the wrong with me and he’s like ofc baby and when they get back to the room she’s instantly crying explaining how she doesn’t feel good and wants to go home 💜-

💜- and he’s just automatically sitting on the bed putting her on his lap while she stuffs her head in his neck for natural comfort and he tries to calm her down before they make a plan because he knows plans help her anxiety and he rubs her back you’re okay baby until she’s calmed down enough and he just validated her feelings while making a plan, so your tummy’s upset and you wanna go home but you feel bad leaving but are uncomfortable here and her fingers are between her teeth 💜💜-

💜💜- and she just nods and keeps getting teary and she explains how she feels bad but she wants to be in the comfort of their own home so obviously he wants to stay but a angry thought doesn’t even cross his mind and he gets her medicine and has her lay on the bed to try and nap while he packs up the room and goes downstairs to tell the friends and he’s road tripping them home soon enough and they get in their bed and she’s so much for comfortable 💜💜💜-

💜💜💜-and he’s so happy his baby is okay-ish now and he just lets her sleep on him and babies his sensitive girl because he knows her stomach may have not hurt that bad to leave but he know it was mostly overstimulation and being away from home that sent her overboard and he’s happy that he’s her ultimate comfort. sorry this was so long!

omg bestie:(((( first of all shes def still so shy telling him things like that but she also doesn't always wait for him to notice before saying anything esp if its bad enough:( but first of all him holding her on his lap and hes just petting her hair and like talking her through her feelings about it all like "youre uncomfortable and don't feel well but you don't want to be rude and ask to leave hm?" and she nods her head like a little whimpery and holding his hands :( and ofc he doesn't really want to leave his friends but he cares about her more than anything so ofc hes not upset getting ready to leave and him grabbing her some medicine for the drive home:( setting her up to relax and try to nap some while he packs up:( and his friends are always so understanding bc they can see that little dynamic between them that this is so much for him you know like shes So Much for him so its not a problem knowing that shes not feeling well and he wants to take her home to feel better:( but you saying hes her ultimate comfort:(((((( like im going to lose my mind bc youre so right:(((((((((((((( shes his sensitive girl and hes her favorite thing in the world to calm down with :(

[pazumane-archive]

Closing Time - Asahi x Reader

Characters: Asahi Azumane, female reader, original female character, small Taichi cameo

Relationships: Asahi Azumane x Reader

Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort if you squint, SFW but 16+ please

Warnings: Alcohol, general drunken shenanigans, emetophobia (mentions of vomit), bad language

WC: 6.4k

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! This is a totally self-indulgent bedtime-scenario-type story because there is simply not enough Asahi/Reader content out there and I adore him. It’s also my first time writing in 2nd person, so PLEASE feel free to send me any feedback, please just be kind :) I really don’t like to use y/n, so I only used it a couple times towards the end when I wasn’t sure what else to do lol

The preview begins with the bolded text below and fic continues after the cut :)

Reblogs appreciated! <3

You weren’t planning on getting this drunk. But by the time it got to be about 11:30, you didn’t know what else to do. You had put so much effort and energy into making yourself look nice just for your date not to show up. Your roommate was out of town, so instead of going home and pouting, you figured you might as well have some fun while you were out. But you’ve never been good at exercising restraint, and the fact that you were alone wasn’t doing you any favors. But by closing time had rolled around, you could hardly see straight. You needed help, so you call upon an old friend.

“Do you have anybody you can call for a ride?” Kawanishi asks.

Kawanishi’s the bartender at this izakaya, and over the course of the night, you spent most of the time talking his ear off. He’s nice enough, and held pleasant conversation for the last few hours. He says he used to be a volleyball player, and had even played on the same team as a one of the guys on the Japan National Team. You forget to ask him which school he attended, but he probably was tired of talking to your drunk ass anyway, so you don’t bother asking. “Yeah,” you say, digging in your purse for your phone. “Are you sure? I can call a cab for you if you need it,” he offers. “Nah,” you say, hiccupping between words. “I’ll call somebody. Thank you though.” “No problem,” he says. “Just try to make it quick.” You scroll through your phone, trying to figure out who to call. Your roommate’s out of town visiting her parents, so she’s a no-go. You could call Kokomi. Honestly, she would deserve the 2AM phone call for setting you up on this failed blind date in the first place. Ever since you moved to Tokyo last month, she was constantly trying to set you up with somebody, whether it was a friend, a coworker, or some rando that she had met on the train. Unfortunately, all of them were jerks. And this one was the biggest jerk of all. You silently curse yourself for going along with her antics again.

“He’s great, you’ll love him!” “You said that about the last three guys you tried to set me up with, Kokomi.” “Please!! You’ll never know if you don’t even give him a chance.”

Well, you gave him a chance. And it ended up with you all alone, drunk as hell in an unfamiliar part of the city. You dial Kokomi’s number, but it goes straight to voicemail. “Bitch,” you mutter. You unlock your phone again and look through to find somebody that might be able to take you home. You scroll back to the top of your contact list, and your eyes settle on another name. He lives just a few blocks away, and knowing him, he’s probably awake working on something anyway. You click on his contact and wait for him to answer.

*

The exhaustion’s starting to get to him. It’s the weekend and he can afford to stay up an extra couple of hours to finish this design, but the combination of fatigue and frustration are taking over. He sets down his pencil and moves towards his bed, until his cell starts to buzz. He glances over at the clock on the wall. 1:49 AM.

Who could possibly be calling at this hour?

Asahi picks up his phone, surprised to see your name on the screen. His heart skips a beat in his chest, both from excitement and nervousness. Aside from his teammates, you’re one of the only people he bothered to keep in contact with after high school. The two of you had even met up a few times since you moved to the city, but he never would have expected you to call at this hour unless… unless something is wrong. “Hey you, what’s up?” He says, choking back a yawn. “Hiiiii Asahiiii!  I tried to call Kokomi but she didn’t answer her phone… could you come pick me up?” Your voice is thick and your words are almost unintelligible as you speak. It’s obvious that you’re far from sober. “Where are you?” Asahi asks, failing to mask the anxiety in his voice. “Are you okay? Are you safe?” “M’fine,” you slur. “But I…” Suddenly the call drops. Asahi calls you back in a panic, his heart racing as he waited for you to answer. You could be in danger and he’d be powerless to help you. He doesn’t even know where you are. “Hello?” A man’s voice comes through the speaker. “Who are you? Where is she?” Asahi asks frantically. “Relax, man. I’m just the bartender,” he says. “Look, your friend’s next to me, but she’s on the verge of passing out. Can you come get her before she pukes all over my bar? She’s at Zoetrope. You know where that is?” “Of course, I’m on my way now! I’ll be there in ten minutes,” Asahi says, grabbing his apartment keys and putting on a pair of shoes. He’s out the door almost immediately.

*

Kawanishi presses your phone back into your hands. Your head is spinning so fast that you struggle to keep your eyes open. “Is he coming?” you ask. “Yeah, he’s on the way,” Kawanishi says. “He’ll be here soon. Now do me a favor, don’t get this drunk the next time you come into my izakaya or I’ll have to kick you out.” “You’re kicking me out???” “Only if you start throwing up,” he says under his breath. “I’m not going to throw up!” you exclaim, suddenly becoming very aware of the churning in your stomach. You grumble, slumping over the bar. You squeeze your eyes shut, the spinning in your head only getting worse with every breath you take. You feel like you’re going to die, and honestly, between the embarrassment of being stood up and the wave of nausea coming over you, you’re ready to welcome that death with open arms. “Hey!” Kawanishi says, smacking the bar next to your head. “Your friend’s going to be here soon, don’t fall asleep or I’ll throw you out on the street myself.” “I’m sorry, Kawanishi-san.” You sit up slowly and cradle your head in your hands once more, trying to make the world stop spinning.

Please get here soon, Asahi.

*

Asahi sprints down the street as fast as he can towards the izakaya. He’s sure that he looks suspicious running down the street alone at night, but he doesn’t care. You’re in trouble, and he’s the only person that can help you. He finally makes it to the bar and hastily pulls the door open. You’re dressed beautifully, and your makeup and hair are exquisitely done. Unfortunately, the way you’re slumped over the bar makes it obvious that something’s wrong. He’s not sure what happened, but whatever it was, it must have been rough. The bartender gently helps you out of your seat, and Asahi can’t help but think that he looks very familiar. You straighten up and as soon as you make eye contact with Asahi, you perk up. “Asahi-san!” you exclaim, rushing towards him and almost falling over. You crush him in an unexpectedly tight hug. “Long time no see, big guy!” “I saw you three days ago,” he says under his breath. You continue babbling unintelligibly, and Asahi looks up at the bartender. “Did she close out her tab?” Asahi asks. “I took care of it already,” the bartender replies. “Please just make sure she gets home okay. She’s had a rough night.” “Yeah, of course,” Asahi says. “Thanks for helping her out.” “No problem.” Asahi peels your arms off him and starts to nudge you towards the door. Just before the two of you leave, Asahi stops and turns back to the bartender. “Have we met before?” he asks. “I played for Shiratorizawa. Didn’t think I’d see you again, Karasuno Samurai.” Asahi frowns slightly. He hasn’t heard that nickname high school, and it’s weird hearing it again now. “Right,” he says. “Well, thanks again. Have a good night.” Asahi leads you out of the bar and down the sidewalk. You hold tightly to his arm, stumbling over yourself. He braces you against his side, and you take this opportunity to tease him a little bit. “Do you like my outfit, Asahi-san?” you ask, pressing into his side. “Yeah, it’s really nice!” he answers nervously, turning his head to hide the blush creeping up his cheeks. He’s not lying – you look beautiful, both your top and your skirt accentuating your curves in all the right places. But it would be wrong to say anything more than that while you’re in this state. That wouldn’t be fair to either of you. He brusquely clears his throat and keeps walking as soon as the light signals that you can cross. “I dressed up extra nice tonight, but it didn’t even fucking matter,” you grumble, your voice breaking slightly. Asahi either doesn’t hear you, or does hear you and decides not to say anything. “I’m soooo glad you’re here,” you say, drawing out your words even longer than you were a minute ago. “I’m sorry, this is super embarrassing! I should’ve figured this out on my own.” “It’s okay,” Asahi says. “How long have you been in Tokyo again?” “A month? I think?” “Exactly,” he says. “You probably don’t know your way around that much. I’d feel terrible if I wasn’t able to help you find your way home.” “Meh,” you say. “I’ve had the worst night of my fucking life, so maybe it would be better if I passed out in a ditch somewhere.” “Do you want to talk about it?” Asahi asks. “No,” you answer quickly. “Okay.” You start blathering again and Asahi has to practically drag you down the street behind him. The station just past his apartment has a train that can drop you right by your building. He can just take a cab back after he gets you home. He considers inviting you stay the night at his place since it’s right there, but he’s afraid of being weird, so he doesn’t say anything. The two of you come to a stop at the train station… which is closed. “I’m sorry,” Asahi says remorsefully. “I guess the train stopped running at midnight. I’ll call you a cab.” He goes to pull his phone out of his pocket, but you grab his hand before he can. “Can I stay at your place tonight?” you ask sheepishly. “I… my roommate is out of town. And I’m really not doing good right now. I just really don’t want to be alone.” Despite how out of it you’ve been since he picked you up, Asahi sees nothing but complete sincerity in your eyes. Tonight must have been really rough. “Are you sure?” he asks. “I’ll just sleep on the couch- or a futon if you have one!” you say, nodding. “Okay.” Asahi turns back towards his apartment and you follow closely behind him, not letting go of his hand the entire time.

*

Asahi helps you across the threshold of his apartment and sits you down on a chair by the door. “Asahi-san, you’re so handsome with your hair down like that,” you say, reaching up to twirl a finger in his long chestnut tresses. “And you’re loopy,” Asahi mutters, disentangling your fingers from his hair. Once again, he finds himself hiding a blush. He’s not used to being showered with compliments, and he knows you wouldn’t be saying this stuff if you were sober. He kicks off his shoes and kneels down in front of you, helping you take yours off. “How are you feeling?” he asks you. “Can I get you some water or a some–” “Why didn’t you ask me out when we were in high school?” you ask suddenly. “I think I made it pretty obvious that I had a crush on you. It’s all I could think about when you were holding my hand back there.” “I – I, uh,” Asahi stammers. You burst out laughing, startling Asahi. It’s that same boisterous laugh you’ve had for as long as he could remember knowing you. You were always self-conscious about it in high school, but your laugh has always been one of Asahi’s favorite things about you. Despite the fact that it’s at his expense, he’s glad to see your mood improve. Asahi considers your question for a moment. He really liked you too back then, and everyone knew it. Suga and Daichi constantly teased him for it.

So why hadn’t he asked you out back then?

Well, for a number of reasons. He spent so much of his third year focused on volleyball that he didn’t have the mental or emotional capacity for much else. He hadn’t even planned on going back to school after graduation until Nishinoya helped convince him to pursue his passions. He felt directionless, and he didn’t want to burden anybody else with his indecision. But most importantly, he was scared you’d reject him. Suga was right. He really was a coward. He’d dated a few people since high school graduation, but none of them made him feel the way you did, and they didn’t treat him as well as you would have. Which begs the question – why hasn’t he asked you out since you moved to Tokyo? He pushes the thought to the back of his mind. This isn’t the kind of conversation to be having when you aren’t even able to form a coherent sentence. Asahi’s thoughts are interrupted by your hand on his shoulder and a loud hiccup. “I should wash my face. Can I wash my face?” “Sure,” Asahi says, helping you stand up. You stumble forward, but he catches you easily and pulls you back to your feet. He quietly leads you to the bathroom and sits you down on the edge of the bathtub. “I’m sorry,” you say. “I’m a mess.��� “No, you’re not. Hold on a second,” he says, opening the drawer under the sink. He pulls out a small package of makeup wipes and takes one out. He kneels in front of you and begins wiping the makeup off your face. “I know they’re not great for your skin,” he says. “But it’s better than nothing, right?” “Why do you even have those?” you ask between hiccups. “Do you wear makeup? I mean, it’s obviously fine if you do, but it doesn’t really seem like your thing.” “I don’t, but you never know when they’ll come in handy! I do work with a lot of makeup artists,” he says, somewhat defensively. You get the sense that he’s lying about something, but Asahi changes the subject before you can probe him any further. “So what were you doing there by yourself?” he asks. “It’s not safe to be alone so late at night.” Clearly this was the wrong thing to ask. All the negative emotions and thoughts you were having all even spring to the forefront of your mind, and you start to cry. Asahi starts apologizing profusely, but you wave him off. “It’s fine,” you sniffle, wiping a tear away from your cheek. “Kokomi was trying to set me up with one of her friends, but he never showed up.” Asahi sits back on his heels. Kokomi is another girl from Karasuno that ended up in Tokyo. She wasn’t in the same class as him, but he remembers how loud she always was in the hallways. Honestly, both of you were always loud, but you’ve always been much more considerate of others than Kokomi ever was. “Shit,” he mumbles. “That really sucks. I’m sorry.” “Yeah. It does suck.” Asahi grabs another wipe and asks you to close your eyes. You do as he says, and he lightly wipes off your eye makeup. He’s worked with enough models to recognize that you’re wearing false eyelashes, so he gently pulls those off too. You feel yourself start to wobble on the edge of the tub, so you grip his arm to steady yourself. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. “It’s okay,” he says. “You don’t need to keep apologizing to me.” “Do you think there’s something wrong with me?” you ask suddenly. “Wait, what?” “I just… this keeps happening to me. Everyone always says that it’s because they’re not the right person for me, but it’s starting to feel like there’s just something wrong with me instead,” you say, choking back a sob. “I know I just moved here, but I’m just so lonely. I hate feeling like I’m not good enough.” Asahi tenderly wipes a tear from your cheek and cups your face in both hands. “Hey, look at me. There is nothing wrong with you,” he says sincerely. “That guy is an idiot and a jerk. If he had any idea how extraordinary you are, he never would’ve done that to you.” You can’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes. You don’t feel like you deserve to be spoken to like this – with such genuine kindness and sincerity. Asahi makes you feel so good. So special. He always has. And he’s just so… tender, especially for somebody who looks as intimidating as he does. You wonder if those feelings from high school ever truly went away. You sit up straighter and try to smile at him, but your stomach flips unexpectedly and violently. “Asahi-san?” you ask, gripping his shoulder tightly. “Yeah?” he replies. “Toilet.” Asahi moves out of the way as fast as possible. You hunch over the rim and retch into the toilet bowl. Asahi quickly scoops up your hair and holds it behind your head as you throw up. “Please, just leave me,” you mutter. “I’m gonna fucking die here.” “I’m not going to leave you here and you’re not going to die,” Asahi says, gingerly picking up the last loose strands laying on your neck and holding them back with the rest of your hair. Your back tenses up again before you begin heaving once more. Asahi tucks his nose into the collar of his shirt, careful to make sure that he’s out of your field of vision. He wants to be there for you but he had a weak stomach himself and the sight and smell of somebody else’s vomit is something he knows he won’t be able to handle. You mumble weak apologies between hacks, but Asahi just ignores them and rubs your back gently. After what feels like an eternity, the churning in your stomach finally stops and you reach up towards the flush handle. The exhaustion in your body and heart finally begin to catch up with you, and your hand falls back to your side. “I got it. Do you think you’re done?” Asahi asks, coaxing you back up into a seated position. You nod, too tired to try to speak. Asahi quickly tugs his shirt back down from his face before you can see and closes the toilet lid. “I’m sorry,” you mumble. “Don’t be,” Asahi says, flushing the toilet. “I’m your friend. I want to help you. And I’ve already told you that you don’t need to apologize to me.” Asahi helps you sit on the top of the toilet and rises to his feet. “Don’t go anywhere,” he says, scurrying out of the room. Although your eyes are closed, you still feel your body swaying. More than anything, you just want to go to sleep. Asahi pads back into the room and presses a wooden cup into your hands. “Drink this,” he says, turning on the faucet. Even though drinking something is the last thing you want to be doing right now, you go ahead and lift the cup to your open mouth. Cold water passes your lips and washes away some of the disgusting taste in your mouth. It feels gross, but you force yourself to drink all of it. Asahi takes the cup from your hand and turns the faucet back off. You flinch at the feeling of a damp washcloth on your face. “It’s okay,” Asahi says gently, cradling your chin with his free hand and angling your face up. “Just cleaning you up a little.” You murmur in acknowledgement and Asahi continues to wipe your face down. You almost fall asleep sitting on his toilet, but he gently shakes you to keep you awake. “Stay with me for another minute,” he says softly. “You can go to sleep soon. You’re gonna be just fine. I promise.” His words and his voice are so sweet that you want to cry. A couple rogue tears drip from your eyes and onto his hands. “I’m sorry,” you say once more. Asahi sets the washcloth on the counter and starts to pull you to your feet. You struggle to stay on your feet, so instead, he carefully scoops you into his arms and carries you out the bathroom. You don’t care where you go, you just need to sleep. Asahi’s pretty certain you’re asleep by the time he deposits you on his mattress. Your chest rises and falls slowly as he pulls his duvet over you. He begins to make his way to the couch, but stops when he feels you grab his hand. “Please don’t go, Asahi-san,” you whisper. “Please.” You tug harder at his fingers and he knows he can’t refuse you. He ends up sitting on the edge of the bed holding your hand until you fall asleep.

*

As soon as your quiet snores permeate the silence, Asahi untangles his fingers from yours. He brushes a loose strand of hair out of your face and he can’t help but let his eyes linger on your sleeping face for just a moment. The moonlight trickling through the window illuminates your hair and casts a silvery glow on your skin. Despite the awful night you’ve had, you look absolutely radiant. He feels himself blushing again, but he takes some comfort in the fact that he doesn’t have to try and hide it this time. Not while you’re fast asleep in his bed. He’s far too scared to admit it, even to himself, but he’s fantasized about falling asleep next to you many times before. But in those fantasies you weren’t drunk and crying over another man. Asahi sighs, stands up, and moves over to the dresser as quietly as he can. After setting a few things out for you, he goes into the bathroom, gets ready for bed and heads to the couch for the night.

*

By the time you wake up in the morning, you feel like you’re going to die. You can’t remember what exactly happened the previous night. The last thing you remember clearly was talking to the bartender about high school volleyball, of all things. Your head’s pounding, and your stomach aches painfully, screaming at you to please eat something. You don’t open your eyes, fearing that it would somehow trigger another round of vomiting. Eventually, you force yourself into a seated position and open your eyes. The bedroom you’re in is small, but pretty well-decorated. It’s decently tidy. The only mess is a few crumpled up clothing designs discarded on the floor next to the trash bin.

Designs? Did that mean?

You’re at Asahi’s apartment. In his bed. Your eyes widen in panic.

  What happened last night?

You’re still wearing the clothes that you wore to the bar last night. And there’s no evidence of him ever being in bed with you. You reach over towards your phone, which has been graciously plugged in for you and set on the bedside table. That’s when you notice the note along with a sleeve of crackers and a glass of ginger ale.

Good morning!

There’s a set of clothes you can wear at the foot of the bed and a spare toothbrush in the bathroom. Feel free to take a shower if you want. Extra towels are underneath the sink. Please have something to eat and drink too. You’ll feel better if you do.

-Asahi

P.S. Please don’t feel bad. It’s okay.

You grab a few of the crackers from the bedside table and eat them, washing them down with the ginger ale.

Why does Asahi have to be so damn considerate? The whole situation is so embarrassing.

You contemplate just grabbing your phone and getting the hell out of his apartment, but you’re not going to pass up the opportunity to shower. You finish the last of the crackers, chug down the ginger ale, and grab the spare clothes at the end of the bed. You turn the doorknob as silently as you can and awkwardly creep down the hall towards the bathroom, stopping briefly to peek in the living room. Asahi’s fast asleep on the couch, clad only in pajama pants and a pair of fuzzy socks. His hair is down and messily splayed across the throw pillow he’s resting his head on. Quiet snores pass his lips. He looks cute. Your eyes trail from his face and down to his stomach. Despite quitting volleyball after high school, he seems to have mostly maintained his athletic form, except for a tiny little layer of pudge on his lower stomach. The corners of your lips twitch up into a smile, until that little voice in the back of your mind reminds you of your place.

Quit staring, you perv! You need to get out of here!

You hurriedly continue down the hallway and jump into the shower as soon as you get into the bathroom. You think that maybe if you clean up fast enough, you can get out of Asahi’s apartment before he wakes up. However, as soon as you step into the shower, all worries about rushing out disappear into the back of your mind. You bask in the hot water, the steam clearing your sinuses and relieving some of the pain in your head. You silently thank the gods that Asahi actually uses conditioner, and not just 3-in-1 like most of the other men you were previously…. acquainted with. Although, it makes sense to you that somebody with hair like Asahi’s would have a strict haircare routine. As you shower, fragmented memories of last night start to come back to you.

Being stood up at the bar. Calling Asahi for help. Puking your guts out in his bathroom. Him carrying you into his room and laying you down on his bed. Him staying by your side until you fell asleep. You wishing he would’ve crawled into bed with you and held you through the night… Wait, what was that last part?

As soon as you’re done rinsing the conditioner from your hair, you step out of the shower and swiftly towel off. You find the spare toothbrush Asahi mentioned, take it out of the packaging, and brush your teeth with his toothpaste. The dry, gross feeling in your mouth is quickly replaced with a minty fresh taste. You slip on the sweatpants and t-shirt that Asahi left for you and dry your hair. Thankfully, Asahi isn’t as huge as most people make him out to be, so while the clothes he left out are a bit big on you, you’re not drowning in them. You’ll just bring them back some other day. You start combing through your hair, and that’s when you hear it – the sound of somebody padding around in the apartment. Shit. Once the footsteps quiet down, you rush out of the bathroom and towards the front door. Asahi eyes you as you scoop up your shoes, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Good morning!” he says kindly. “How are you feeling?” “I’m so sorry Azumane-san, it won’t happen again!” you say as you throw open the door and rush into the hallway. “Hold on, wait up!” he says as you pull the door closed behind you. You run all the way to the stairs at the end of the hallway and go to call Kokomi for a ride home. That’s when you realize that your phone is still plugged into the wall in Asahi’s room. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You turn around and trudge back towards his apartment. Before you can even knock, the door opens slowly. Asahi stands there in just his pajama pants, holding your phone out to you. “You shouldn’t leave without your phone,” he says. You thank him and take your phone, a blush creeping up your cheeks. You try not to stare at his bare chest, already feeling like a creep for ogling him while he was sleeping. “Your clothes are still in the bathroom, too,” he says. “I can go get them for you. Or I can just wash them and give them back to you another time if you want to leave.” “No, that’s okay,” you say, covering your flushing cheeks with the collar of his shirt. “I’ll get them. Can I come in?” “Of course.” Asahi steps out of your way and you head straight for the bathroom, avoiding looking in his eyes. Asahi never gets angry, and you know he wouldn’t be mad at you over something like this, but a lingering sense of shame still washes over you. You scoop up your clothes and leave the bathroom. As soon as you cross the threshold into the living room, the smell of coffee and frying fish washes over you. Asahi stands in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. In the time that you were in the bathroom, he put on a Black Jackals sweatshirt and threw his hair into a loose bun. “Do you want a cup of coffee?” he asks, smiling at you and pouring his own cup. “It’ll help with the hangover.” You stand there and ponder his offer for a moment. Sensing your hesitancy, Asahi suddenly turns back to the stove and mumbles something that you can’t quite make out. “What did you say?” you ask. Asahi rubs the back of his neck, a nervous habit he’s had since you were kids. “I don’t mean to pressure you to stay or anything! I just thought it might help for you to have something more than crackers and ginger ale.” “You’ve done plenty to help me since last night,” you say. “But I’ll take that coffee if the offer is still on the table.” “It is!” Asahi says a little too enthusiastically for his own good. You can’t help but smirk as you take your seat at the kitchen table. Asahi pours you a cup of coffee and slides you a bowl of the rice and fish he made. You thank him quietly and start to eat. He slides into the chair across from you and eats his own breakfast, eyeing you carefully. “What?” you ask after catching him staring. “Since when have you ever called me Azumane-san?” he asks. “I don’t know,” you mumble into your coffee mug. “I didn’t think we reverted back from first name basis,” he says. “I thought we knew each other better than that.” “I don’t know,” you say, a devilish smile crossing your face. “Care to explain why you actually had those makeup wipes in your bathroom drawer? I doubt your makeup artists are coming over to your apartment.” Now it’s Asahi’s turn to blush again. “My ex-girlfriend left them here,” he says. “Felt like a waste to just throw them out.” “Ex-girlfriend?!” you exclaim suddenly, startling Asahi and causing him to drop the wipe on the floor. “I didn’t know you were seeing somebody!” “Yeah,” he says, throwing the wipe in the trash and grabbing a fresh one. “We broke up a while before you moved to the city. She left a bunch of her stuff here and refused to come pick it up. I think she was just too embarrassed to see me again. I got rid of most of it a while ago, but I kept some of the more… uh, utilitarian things.” “I’m sorry,” you say sincerely. “Why did you break up?” Asahi feels a slight pang in his chest. He met his last girlfriend through his job. She was nice enough, and things seemed like they were going okay until he showed up at her apartment to surprise her for their 6 month anniversary, only to find another man in her bed. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” you say. “It’s fine. She cheated on me with some other guy,” he says, his expression darkening. “I think they’re engaged now.” “Shit,” you say. “What a bitch.” “Woah, settle down, it’s okay –” “No, it’s not,” you say firmly. “You deserve someone way better than that. Somebody that treats you with the love and respect that you deserve.” Asahi knows you’re right, but he doesn’t really want to press it. That whole mess had done a number on his mental health, and he really doesn’t want to burden you with his emotional baggage. He adjusts his glasses again and forces a smile. “You know, you should really take your own advice,” he says. You try to think back on what you had said to him last night. The details are fuzzy, but you remember crying. A lot. Instead of answering him, you shovel down the last of the rice and fish. “Thank you for the meal,” you say. Asahi smiles and nods at you before beginning to clear the dishes away. You stand up and stop him, insisting that you clean up yourself. As you finish drying the bowls, your phone buzzes. You check it, only to see a handful of missed texts from Kokomi.

Ono Kokomi [8:32} Hey!! Sorry I missed your call. How was he?  (°◡°♡) [9:14] That good?  (^.~)☆ [9:18] Or that bad?! (;;;*_*) [9:57] HELLO?? (ﾉಥ益ಥ)ﾉ [10:32] ARE YOU ALIVE?!?!?!  〣( ºΔº )〣

You roll your eyes and quickly type out your response.

Y/N [10:33] Yeah, no thanks to you. (￢_￢;)

Ono Kokomi [10:34] Was it really that bad?

Y/N [10:34] He didn’t even show up. (╥_╥) [10:34] Azumane picked me up at 2 AM because I was too drunk to go home alone. I stayed the night at his place. [10:34] Speaking of which, can you come pick me up? Not really in a state to take the train and I think you owe me one.

Ono Kokomi [10:35] (⊙_⊙) [10:35] Spill. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Y/N [10:36] There’s nothing to spill. I threw up in his bathroom and he slept on the couch. Can you just answer my question please? (҂` ﾛ ´)凸

Ono Kokomi [10:36] Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m on my way, lovebird. (￣ε￣＠)

“Everything okay?” Asahi asks. “Yeah,” you say, slipping your phone back into your pocket. “Kokomi’s going to come pick me up.” “Are you sure? I can take you if you want,” he offers. “Yeah, she’s already on her way,” you say, setting the bowl down and turning to face him. “Besides, you’ve done more than enough for me already over the last twelve hours.” You silently pick up your things and walk towards the door. Asahi rises from his chair and awkwardly clears his throat. “Do you have all your stuff?” You nod and smile. Before you open the door, you approach him and wrap your arms around his waist. He shyly hugs you back, hoping you can’t hear the rapid pounding in his chest. “Thank you, Asahi,” you whisper. “You’re amazing.” You let go first and leave his apartment quietly. As soon as the door closes, Asahi walks back into the living room and flops down on the couch. He covers his face with his hands and groans. This morning was almost too much for him – seeing you in his clothes, eating breakfast together, you hugging him before you left. It was all so painfully domestic, and he wishes it didn’t have to end. If only he wasn’t such a coward, he would’ve asked you to stay longer. He doesn’t know how long he lays there until he finally decides to get moving for the day and finish that piece he was working on when you called last night. He checks his phone and sees your name pop up on the screen.

Y/N [11:00] I’m home. Thanks again for babysitting me last night. Whatever did I do to deserve you as my guardian angel? ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧₊˚ [11:00] Or was that Noya-san? I forget. (^ω~)

Azumane Asahi [11:01] Lol. You’re welcome. And that was what we called Noya in our club days, but I don’t mind you calling me that too (* ^ ω ^)

Y/N [11:03] Let me make it up to you. [11:04] Come over for dinner tomorrow night?

Asahi almost drops his phone on his face. His fingers fumble as he types his response. He waits a moment before sending it, rereading it ten times to make sure he doesn’t come across as desperate.

Azumane Asahi [11:07] I’d love to. Do you want me to bring anything?

Y/N [11:08] That’s not necessary. I owe you a nice dinner. [11:09] You still like tonkotsu ramen?

Azumane Asahi [11:10] I do!

Y/N [11:11] It’s a date! See you tomorrow! (☞°ヮ°)☞ ☜(°ヮ°☜)

*

“You said nothing happened last night,” Kokomi says, staring over your shoulder at your phone. “Nothing happened, Kokomi. Now leave me alone,” you snap, tossing one of your throw pillows at her. She deftly catches it and plops down on the couch next to you. “Please,” she says, swatting you with the pillow. “The only reason you two haven’t gotten together is because you’re the densest people on the planet. I bet he’s flopped down on his couch right now thinking about how he doesn’t even want to wait that long to see you.” “Shut up,” you grumble. Kokomi’s phone rings and she quickly checks it. “Anyway, I have to go meet Kaito,” she says. “Got to go. Let me know how your date goes!” She waves and practically skips out the front door. You lay down and start making a shopping list for ingredients for tonkatsu ramen. As soon as you’re done, you set your phone down and cross your arms over your face.

“I bet he’s flopped down on his couch right now thinking about how he doesn’t even want to wait that long to see you.” No, Kokomi. That’s me.

[peppermintbee]

OMORI’s poor writing (Part 2)

Once again, if you are a big fan of OMORI, this review is not for you. Treasure this game, love it, recommend it, make fan art, buy the merch, do what you will with it. I am not here to take OMORI away from anyone. Based on the overwhelmingly positive reviews on Steam, I know that my opinion is in the minority.

However, just as the fans have the right to praise the game, I have the right to examine it, criticize it, and explain why it failed to provide a compelling experience. This is second part of my review where I will tackle OMORI’s problematic themes and disrespectful appropriation of mental health.

[ See Part 1: Plot Writing Lies ]

(Note: I use “OMORI” in all-caps for the game title, and “Omori” in title case for the character name.)

Spoilers and criticism below.

Part 2: OMORI’s message is mishandled and distasteful

OMORI provides a warning that it depicts scenes of depression, anxiety, and suicide. Because the game includes these scenes, I assumed these mental health issues are presented in a way that is meaningful and respectful.

However, that is not the case. 

Despite having depictions of such, this game is not really about depression, anxiety, or even suicide. It’s about committing a horrible crime, lying about it, and getting over the guilt.

1. Suicide as a game mechanic

Suicidal thoughts are intrusive, terrifying, and painful. As well as ending the victim's life, suicide wreaks havoc on the lives of those who once knew them. It is often a taboo topic, but discussing such matters is an important step to understanding and preventing it. Video games are a medium well suited to approaching such dark topics.

Unfortunately, OMORI does not handle the topic of suicide well at all.

First, suicide is written as a unavoidable game mechanic that seems to have been included for shallow reasons such as aesthetic and shock value. To leave Sunny’s headspace and wake up, you--as a player--must direct him to stab himself in the stomach. 

But why? It’s not like waking up involves some sort of major sacrifice. In fact, waking up is something that is more or less unavoidable. Reality should be something that snatches Sunny away from his headspace against his will, perhaps as an encroaching darkness that Sunny can run from, but never truly escape. But instead, facing reality is something you are forced to opt into in the most needlessly violent way possible.

Forcing you--as a player--to literally commit suicide just to wake up from a dream is a pointless, distasteful, and disrespectful action that sets a precedent for suicide not being taken seriously in this game. (And it isn’t.)

In the black space, Omori is pressured to kill a cat. In that scene, regardless of your choice, you are forced to kill yourself. However, the act of stabbing yourself has been seen so many times at that point that it has completely lost any impact. Who cares about suicide when it’s been reduced to just a means of travel?

Lastly, if you fail to defeat the final boss, Sunny commits suicide in the real world. However, this is not a cutscene, it is once again something that you--as a player--are forced to do to progress. Putting these actions in the hands of a player is not as meaningful as the writer seems to believe, because there are no other options to progress. Any weight in making that decision is lost to resignation; a frustrated sigh of “Well, okay, fine. I guess I have to click Z here.” You are then rewarded with a SLAPPING pop song and a psychedelic cutscene of Sunny falling to his death. It’s tasteless to its core and appropriates the deaths of every suicidal person as a quirky, shallow “bad end.”

(Seriously, this is how the writer decided to depict a child taking his own life.)

2. Sunny/Omori is a poor presentation of depression

Sunny/Omori does not smile. Even in past photographs before The Incident, he still is not smiling. The contrast between Sunny and his friends stands out like a sore thumb, so I assumed this was the writer’s attempt to show that Sunny is dealing with depression, where he can’t be happy even in happy situations.

Of course, if that were the case it would be inaccurate since depressed people do smile and do hide their true feelings. They are often dismissed with, “You can’t be depressed, I saw you smiling once.” However, I was willing to let Sunny’s chronic frown slide because sometimes you have to oversimplify an idea to get your point across.

Much to my surprise, there is NO evidence of Sunny having depression before The Incident and there is very little indication of him having depression throughout the game either. The evidence of this is that while looking at a family portrait, Sunny comments that he's never liked to smile. Since he's a a baby in this portrait, this goes to show that his not smiling is simply a preference -- a quirky character trait that makes him stand out so that you feel an emotion during the true ending when he finally smiles. 

Everything in the game seems to point to him being pretty happy and well adjusted up until he killed Mari. Then, even after he killed Mari, he pretty much looks and behaves the same way. Wouldn’t it be more jarring and tragic if you saw Sunny was happy in the past, but depressed now?

Which leads me to my next point...

3. Sunny and Basil are not depressed, they’re guilty (and for good reason)

In the book I Thought It Was Just Me (But It Isn’t), Brené Brown explains the difference between feeling guilt and shame.

Guilt means: “I did something bad.” Shame means: “I am something bad.”

Guilt, when attributed to bad behavior, is actually a healthy emotion. It means that you have a sense of right and wrong, that you empathize with those you’ve hurt, and it motivates you to make things right.

Shame is an unhealthy emotion. It arrests growth, destroys self-esteem, causes poor decision making, isolates you from your loved ones, and is directly correlated with anxiety and depression.

OMORI should be a game about overcoming shame. All the right set pieces are there. Sunny’s walled himself off, his sister (allegedly) committed suicide, and he seems to be struggling with lifelong depression. However, this all falls apart, when it’s revealed that he killed his sister and staged her death as a suicide to escape blame (with Basil’s help). He DID do something bad. It’s not shame, it’s literally guilt.

All at once, OMORI stops being a game about recovering from grief and depression and becomes a game that demands the player to sympathize with a killer and liar who is hiding from his crimes. Because he and Basil feel bad about what they did, Sunny and Basil are presented as greater victims than their actual victim.

4. OMORI asks you empathize with villains (with ZERO self awareness)

Games where you are playing a character with a guilty conscience has been told before, but where OMORI really fails is that Sunny is not truly held accountable for what he did to others. Instead, the game focuses on HIS pain: since killing his sister he’s been isolated, he’s having nightmares, and he’s suicidal. 

The plot of the game is focused on helping Sunny forgive himself for ruining other people’s lives. The writing barely acknowledges how his friends/family feel about what he did. When his victims’ pain IS addressed, it’s either used to further victimize Sunny (ie: isn’t it sad for him that he made his friends so sad?) or it’s used to reassure the player that Sunny’s victims have forgiven him (or will forgive him). 

In fact, the game holds Mari responsible for her own death, citing that her "perfectionism" must have been what pushed Sunny to attack her. OMORI presents Mari, through headspace, as someone who accepted death gracefully and wants Sunny to live a happy life. She is never given her own voice and nothing in the game suggests she is capable of feeling bitter over her death and postmortem desecration. She plays the role of the Madonna archetype--and the perfect victim--allowing the player to empathize entirely with Sunny while accepting that Mari brought everything on herself.

[Mari suggesting that Sunny acting out his aggression on her was her fault.]

The climax of this game is NOT Sunny telling the truth to his friends. The climax is Sunny defeating his guilt and forgiving himself. We know this because the story does not even show how his friends respond to his confession, because-- once again-- what’s most important thing is resolving Sunny’s pain, not the pain he has caused others. (Though the game does heavily imply that his friends will forgive him.)

[Pictured: the boys shedding their guilt is the true happy ending ]

Imagine, for a moment, if this game was about an abuser, who caused immense pain to someone and got away with it. Then, the whole game was about how they felt bad for the abuse they caused, and-- as a player-- you help them forgive THEMSELF for their past abuse. Then, in the last few seconds of the game, they either apologize to their victim or kill themself. The victim’s response is not shown because it is not important.

This is the plot of OMORI, except with a bunch of excuses thrown on top to make it more palatable. Sunny and Basil are just soooo cute and sad. Killing Mari was an accident. Stringing her body up like a piñata was a juvenile mistake. The boys feel SO BAD that they want to kill themselves. And because suicide is so tragic, you-- as an audience-- are manipulated into empathizing them.

5. In OMORI, suicide is used as a cheap ploy for sympathy

As I mentioned before, suicide is horrible and tragic. People struggling with suicidal ideation need help, support, and respect. That said, let’s make one thing clear: being suicidal does not automatically make someone a good person. There are plenty of examples of criminals who kill themselves to escape the penalty or guilt for something they did. It is so common in the news that I don’t think I have to list out examples.

In bad endings, Sunny and Basil’s suicides are 100% motivated by guilt for their very real crimes. Now, it should be stated, Sunny and Basil do not deserve to die. And because suicide is such an extreme, permanent end for those two boys, we-- as players-- are invested in preventing that tragic end at all costs.

However, the looming threat of suicide is used as leverage to force the audience to dismiss the severity of what Sunny and Basil did. As I’ve said before, the plot of the game is about soothing and alleviating Sunny’s guilt and stopping him from killing himself as opposed to making things right. 

The worst thing is, this tactic actually works. The threat of suicide is so strong, it has distracted many players from the truth that this story is about sympathizing with a boy who has killed his sister, with little regard for those his actions have affected (see point #4).

It’s terrible because suicide is such a serious topic worthy of discussion, but when used as little more than pity-bait, it twists your perception of what the characters did and silences those who try to criticize how this game handles such topics.

6. Mari's suicide being fake is a terrible twist

Lastly, by revealing Mari’s “suicide” as an accidental death, OMORI misses an opportunity to tell a much more powerful story. In the first half of this game, when Mari is thought to have committed suicide at the young age of 15, is a sobering moment. That tragedy is something very real.

If Mari had killed herself as opposed to being killed, Sunny isolating himself after his sister takes her own life is realistic. Mari’s death coming as a surprise is also realistic; how often have we heard people saying that they never knew someone was suffering? That they seemed like such a happy person?

Losing a loved one to suicide does not just cause horrible grief, but crippling shame as well. Those left behind will blame themselves, tormented by thoughts of how they could have saved them, how they would do anything to get them back. That shame can follow you forever, haunting you like a ghost, threatening you with the same fate. Overcoming that grief and shame is no simple task, and I truly thought OMORI was going to be about grappling with grief and letting go of survivor guilt.

Instead, Mari didn’t commit suicide, her life was cut short by her brother. Then, her body was staged as a suicide, forever changing how her family and friends perceived her. Her hanging body did not represent a devastating loss of life and horror of teen depression, but instead is a cheap twist that represents Sunny’s guilt for killing her and tampering with her corpse.

Conclusion:

As I’ve mentioned before OMORI has a lot of potential. The set pieces of a depressed kid who escapes to a dream world to cope with his unresolved trauma is one that had the makings to be very meaningful. However, it fumbles these issues, creating a sloppy plot that results in a problematic message. It’s baffling that this even happened, especially considering the length of time this was in development.

[auroracalisto]

uncanny resemblance

requested by anon: helloooo✋🏻are you accepting request? If yes can you write a one shot with Marcus Pierce 😆?

soooo you didn’t exactly specify, so i hope this fills your request!!  i love marcus.  like.  omg.  hope you enjoy!

pairing: marcus pierce x reader

word count: 1,501 words

warnings: mentions of death, break-ins, uhhhhh blood?  general warnings, i mean, it is lucifer, after all

If someone had told you five years ago that you would be working at the LAPD for a man you couldn’t help but fall in love with, you probably would have laughed at them. 

Authority was not your strong suit—so, of course, you found yourself working in Forensics alongside Ella Lopez.  As sweet as she could be, she got on your nerves; mostly because she knew about your crush on the Lieutenant and she teased you about it anytime she saw you looking at him.  

Like now.  

You sat on a stool, carefully peering into your microscope as the Lieutenant came in.  

“Got anything new?” he asked.  

He looked a bit worried.  This case had been bad.  Nearly ten people have come up missing or dead; each had a description similar to yours.  Men, women, even a young teenager had been killed.  This serial killer didn’t care for gender, or age.  But they had a particular taste in features.  

“Not anything so far,” Ella began, but stopped when you had cleared your throat.  

“Each victim so far has had similar eye colors,” you said, pushing your telescope away.  “I can’t find anything in the blood samples, but I’ll keep looking.”

“Excellent.  You do that, [Last name],” he said, giving you a faint smile.  You blushed and nodded in response, looking back at your telescope so you could continue with your work.  

You took no notice as Pierce cast a second glance your way.  But Ella noticed.  

Ella came over to your side, smiling widely.  “Oooh,” she teased, poking your arm.  “Did you see the way he looked at you?” she smiled.  

You rolled your eyes.  “It’s just because I look like the victims.  Nothing special,” you said, looking up from your blood sample.  “Do you wanna take a look at this?”

You stood up and let Ella look at the sample as you grabbed ahold of your drink.  

The two of you wouldn’t find much the rest of the day—in fact, forensics wasn’t a big help at the moment.  Lucifer had gone to see what he could do with the Detective and the Lieutenant was doing his own thing to help out with the case. 

–

As soon as the clock read seven o’clock, you left.  You quickly went to your apartment, not spending a second longer in the parking lot than you needed to. 

Tossing your keys on the countertop, you groaned and slid off your coat from the day.  That’s when you heard it.  Something had shattered.  

Dread filled the pit of your stomach; you couldn’t do anything to protect yourself.  You didn’t own a gun; you weren’t trained for one, to begin with.  

You quickly grabbed your phone, clicking one of your recent calls.  You didn’t see who it was.   But it didn’t matter.  Anyone would hopefully know to come and help you—you hardly talked to anyone who wasn’t working in the police station.  

Putting your phone up to your ear, you carefully made your way to the bathroom, keeping an eye out for whatever it was that caused the crash.  But you didn’t own any pets and you never kept anything close to the edge of the tables you had throughout your home.  There had to be someone there.  

“Hello?  [Last name]?” 

Your heard dropped to your stomach, but you paid no mind to it.  Your anxieties couldn’t stop you from talking to him right now.  

“Lieutenant, I think there’s someone in my house.”

There was silence on the other line before he spoke up once more.  “[Your name],” he frowned.  “Someone in your house.  Are you sure?”

“Yes.  I’m sure,” you breathed out, holding onto your phone.  “Lieutenant, what do I do?”

“Stay.  You don’t have a gun, yeah?  Just… hide somewhere.  You’ll be okay,” he said, frowning deeply.  He hung up his side of the phone call and hopped on his motorcycle.  

Your heart dropped once more as fear spread through your body.  You shut the bathroom door behind you and locked the door, looking around to see if there was anything that you could block the door with.  No shelf, there wasn’t any sort of table.  The only thing you had to move was a small trashcan.  

You pressed your back against the wall to keep it from opening up and you sunk to the floor.  You called Chloe as well, telling her that the Lieutenant was already on his way.  Chloe called for backup, as Pierce had yet to do so.  

You held your phone close and waited for someone or something to happen.  

–

“[Your name]?”

What felt like an hour had only been a couple of minutes.  

Pierce was knocking at the bathroom door.  “[Your name]?”

You scrambled to your feet and quickly unlocked and opened the door.  “Lieutenant?” you looked up, eyes wide.  

“He’s in police custody—” 

Pierce cleared his throat and looked over his shoulder.  “I, uh, roughed him up a bit,” he moved out of the way to show you the broken mess in your living room. He was frowning.  

“Thank you,” you quickly said.  “I am so sorry for calling you, I just…”

“Don’t apologize,” he looked at you.  “I am glad you called.  If anything had happened to you—well, I don’t… really know what I would have done.”

You couldn’t help your blush from forming.  

“I… thank you, anyways.”

The Lieutenant just smiled before he left to talk with the Detective.  

You left your bathroom, coming out to look at the mess.  There wasn’t much you could do except for replacing the things that could have been replaced. You looked towards the door, seeing Lucifer standing there.  He looked at you and faintly smiled.  

“I am glad you’re alright, [Last name],” he said.  “I’m sure the Lieutenant could say the name,” he chuckled softly.  

You rolled your eyes, running a hand through your hair.  

“I’m serious,” Lucifer chuckled softly.  “Pierce called Chloe when he got here.” “Pierce said if you were hurt, he’d be killing—”

Your eyes widened and you practically choked on your own words.  You looked up at the man, only to see Lucifer smugly grinning at you.  

“What?”

“I do believe you heard what I said, [Your name],” he grinned, leaning against the doorframe.  He crossed his arms over his chest, unable to stop his smiles.  

You rolled your eyes and cleared your throat, turning your attention to the police cars outside your apartment.  

Pierce looked over at you and sent you a soft smile.   

While it was an unconventional scenario, you couldn’t help but wonder why Pierce didn’t just send someone else to help you.  It would have been so easy for him just to call Chloe, as you had done once you calmed down.  

–

You spent the next day spending most of your last paycheck on new things for your apartment living room, and a replacement lock for your front door.  The second day after everything had happened, you went back to work.  

Many didn’t say anything, but as soon as you made it to the forensics lab, Ella had hugged you tightly.  

“I am so, so, so sorry for not coming to see you, I just got a new case, and I had so much to do, and I just couldn’t find the time to come and see—”

“Calm down,” you laughed and gave your friend a hug.  “Calm down.  It’s fine.”

“Right, sure, yeah, uh, Lieutenant brought something yesterday, said to give it to you when you get back…”

You just smiled at Ella, watching as she picked up a sticky note with your name on it.  She handed it to you before she got back to work.  

On the note, it just read, ‘Come by my office.’

You sighed, sitting it back down.  “Give me a job to do when I get back, okay?”

Ella smiled and nodded, watching as you left for Pierce’s office.  

–

Knocking on the door, you only went in as soon as you heard Pierce’s voice.  

“[Last name],” he said, standing up from his desk.  “I needed to talk to you.  I’m so glad you came by.”

You gave him a soft smile.  “I got your sticky note.”

“Oh.  Right, well, there’s that,” he gave you a soft smile.  

“What did you want to talk about?  I, uh, I have a lot to catch up on, since I missed yesterday…”

“Right,” he watched you for a moment before he crossed his arms over his chest.  “I’d like to take you out to dinner.  If that’s okay.  I… yesterday made me realize that I shouldn’t try to wait.  So, if you’d let me—”

“—yes,” you said, smiling.  “I’d love to go out to dinner with you.”

Marcus smiled.  “Great.  Are you… are you okay, yourself?”

“I’m fine, Lieutenant.  Thanks to you.”

“Call me Marcus.”

You smiled at him and he returned it.  Shortly after, you left his office and began to work while Ella badgered you with questions.

[my-wayward-son]

Soooo… Um. It’s bad.

BPII is a common comorbidity with autism, and the whole diagnosis of BPII was coined (separated from BPI) because the depression end is stronger and the manic end is more like super anxiety. I know this. I’ve known this for a long time.

I have chronic migraine disease and severe gastroparesis/adult FTT. I know this too.

My labs still haven’t recovered completely from the colectomy and subsequent stint on TPN; my H&H is chronically low and my ferritin is shit. Fatigue is is a problem. Like, majorly.

It never fails to catch me off guard, though, when things really take a turn for the worse, especially all at the same time. Lack of interest in things I usually enjoy keeps washing over me. Like, all the time.

Let me explain.

I haven’t seen the new Spider-Man trailer. I haven’t seen What If. I haven’t seen Shang Chi (though that’s also due to fear of the delta variant and crowded theaters). I need 4 (count that, 4) doses of sleep med to put me down for the night, and I still roll all over the bed and listen to Buzzfeed Unsolved I’ve already seen and get barely any REM. All I want to do is ballet, then I get frustrated that I can’t remember combinations easily, but that’s because of the (faulty) migraine and psych meds I’m currently on. I’ve been having sick stomach a la pre-colectomy if I take in anything but clear liquids by mouth. I haven’t combed my hair or put in my hearing aids in about a week.

The list goes on, but I don’t want to bore you. Or sound too complainey. I feel pathetic and like I’m being an attention whore by putting it all out there, but, as DD has told me, at least I have words. A couple of weeks ago I felt so low that I could barely express what was wrong. Now I’ve been to a couple doctors appointments, switched a few meds, and have enough presence of mind to know that everything is seriously fucked up.

The SSRI I’m on is absolutely not agreeing with me, and my sleep med is obviously not doing its job. My psychiatrist is working on coming up with a new med cocktail, though we’ve only been able to talk via email so far.

I’ve pretty much eschewed my migraine steroid pack because it’s keeping me from being able to think, but the headache is… impressive. If my mental health/drive were in order, maybe I’d call the pain functional, but right now it’s edging back up toward status. I take pain meds ranging from ibuprofen to RX injectables at random intervals when I feel especially bad. Intensity ranges from dull throb to skull-splitting, going to vomit.

I know most meds have headaches as a side effect, which sucks fucking rocks because that makes it impossible to tell how much I actually hurt and what’s amplified by my new meds. Not all of them are bad (we think), so it’s kind of a waiting game to see if my body “gets used” to the formulation.

I have neurology in two days, so I guess we’ll be able to discuss the headaches then, however it’ll be hard to ensure any med changes are appropriate when my psychiatrist is still working on a new batch for mood stabilization. I’m nervous and frustrated in advance.

There are so many things I want/need to do, like catching up on short fics in my inbox and doing this month’s Artsnacks challenge. I’m basically living day-to-day right now, and I’m lucky if I get all my daily household and self-care tasks done. I keep wanting to do fun activities with the kids, too, but time gets away from me. It winds up taking 10 years to fold the laundry, and all the sudden it’s time to get ready for bed, and I did nothing all day.

I hope to all gods above and below that everything will be worked out before Inktober/Whumptober, because I really want to commit to completion for both. We’re going on vacation for the first week of October, and I plan to focus my non-beach time on art and writing work. I’m all planned out (was able to do that before the depression hit so badly), but I’m currently doubting my abilities. I also plan to slide back into working on Keeping Safe, so I can take it back on for NaNo. That’s something that will take some commitment and discipline. I want so badly for it to work out. I’ll be disappointed if it doesn’t, and I know it’ll be a hit to my self-confidence. A few years ago I wrote a whole 70k book in just 28 days, and now I’m struggling to pop out shorts…

Anyway. I’ll stop talking now. I hope this doesn’t read as overly dramatic or like I’m begging for sympathy. I’m not. I’m trying to be real and maybe explain why my presence has been spotty lately. All I want is for things to get better.

[7-seasof-fandom]

Forgotten childhood friendships

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13727611/2/A-messy-family

I couldn't sleep last night, so here's a fic. I hope you enjoy it!

Big thank you to my lovely husband @deadliest-little-thing for proofreading this!! :) you're the best, love

"You know what, Vanya, I used to really like you," Five said, trying to not let his frustration show. It was hard though. They used to be so close, Vanya was the one person Five could go to when all the Umbrella Academy stuff was too much, she was the one person who understood how to get through to him when he was driving himself too far and she was one of the easiest to talk to. She had always understood him and he had understood her. They had trusted each other in a way that had felt so intimate and safe. Now he could barely recognize her and it stung. On top of that, the pain and confusion seemed to be one sided.

"Right, when I was quiet and compliant and did whatever you wanted me to," Vanya snapped back, giving him a challenging look. Five had to bite his tongue to not take her up on the unspoken dare. "Well, I'm done being controlled, Five," Vanya growled, stepping closer. He realized in horror that her eyes were starting to glow. He swallowed thickly, instinctively taking a step back. All safety Vanya had ever made him feel, vaporized like dew in the sun.

He was suddenly unsure of everything. The predator was suddenly prey. Five felt like he was in a free fall. He tried to breathe but instead his mouth just opened and closed, like a stranded fish gasping for oxygen.

Vanya gave him a triumphant smile, clearly enjoying his panic. Five tried to force his breathing under control. Just that one thing. He needed to be in control of that one thing in a situation where he suddenly had absolutely none. He felt like his whole world had done a 180 and it was still spinning.

"That's not what I meant," he tried, his voice pathetically hoarse and weak. He shook his head, trying to shake off the images that started to creep into his mind. Vanya let out a laugh. It sounded a terrible lot like her violin. Five felt nausea arise and once again had to swallow thickly. He rubbed at his sore chest, trying to force out another sentence. "I just meant that I miss the Vanya who cared about other people," he mumbled. He bit his cheek in an attempt to make sure nothing other than words came out, but it was in vain, as he had to rush past her to empty the content of his stomach into their father's favorite vase.

A weak groan escaped his lips as he leaned against the table, holding on to the vase, his arms were shaking under his weight. He could feel Vanya's glare from behind him and for a moment he was overwhelmed by the urge to run away and hide, but he was too weak, too exhausted. They were all gonna die- they were- he shook his head, snapping himself out of it. This wasn't the apocalypse, just an absolutely awful situation. He sucked in a shaky breath, turning around to face Vanya as he still leaned on the table for support.

Vanya gave him a look which was painfully familiar. Gosh he missed her... "You okay, Five?" she asked, worry seeping into every letter of the question. Five wanted to laugh, but he was afraid that if he opened his mouth he'd have to pay the vase another visit, so instead he just stared at her, wondering at what point her becoming her own person had meant that they couldn't be friends. Sure, he was an asshole, he knew he was an asshole, but... he tried, right? It was hard, but he tried and somehow, with Vanya, it hadn't been as hard. But even so, he had clearly failed, because out of all of his siblings, Vanya actually seemed to be the one to despise him most.

"Five, I didn't get free of Dad and Leonard just for my own brother to tell me that he liked me better before I got to be myself and make my own choices," she hissed in frustration. Apparently she couldn't even call him out for his behavior without him playing the victim.

"That's not what I meant," he mumbled, choking on air mid sentence. He gasped, staring at a discoloured tile on the floor, wondering if it had always been like that. It seemed to sway from side to side, unable to stand still. Five realized, as his head hit the table, that he was the one struggling to stay still.

Then everything turned black until the sound of a violin playing overtook the darkness wirh a brightness so bright that it hurt and made his head puls and throb with pain. His whole body felt like it was burning up. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't move. He couldn't- he bolted up from the bed, gasping for air. The violin music slowly faded away, instead turning into a familiar, comforting humming. Grace was by his side, a wet cloth in her hand. She grabbed his shoulder to support him and help him lay down, as he was overcome by dizziness.

Laying back down he noticed Vanya by the side of his bed, a worried look on her face. Made sense, she just almost killed them- then he realized the apocalypse was months ago. It had just been a nightmare. Then, what was she so worried about? He was brought out of his thoughts by the wet cloth being placed on his forehead. He shivered. Why was it so cold? Grace gently touched her hand against his cheek. It stung like ice. "You're burning up, sweetie," she told him, softly. Then she continued humming and doing the same stuff she would always do when any of them were sick. Then, to Five's dread, she left him and Vanya alone.

Five threw a quick glance at his sister, before reverting his eyes to the ceiling, trying to ignore the jolt of anxiety he felt when looking at her. Five was sick from pushing himself too far, as he had so many times before and for the first time in 45 years Vanya was by his side as she had been so many times before, only this time nothing was like it ever had been. He pressed his lips together, trying to hold back a whimper at how unfamiliar this familiar situation was, but to his great regret he failed.

He could hear Vanya shift in the chair beside him. "You shouldn't push yourself so much... I would've thought you knew better by now," there was worry in her voice, but also something else, something strange. It didn't sound right with Vanya's voice, but he had grown to become more acquainted with it than he'd like. "Especially with how you always tell everyone else what to do," she added, dismay shining through clearly in her voice. Five found himself wondering if she had really stayed with him while he was passed out just to continue their argument.

"Well, I've gotta make myself useful somehow," he mumbled. Ignoring the sting in his chest. Vanya looked at him with an alarm, but she didn't say anything. Five didn't want her to anyways. If he allowed his mind to get numb enough, he was back to being thirteen years old and him and Vanya were just enjoying each other's company in silence. They were good at that. Just sitting in silence, but still saying more than most. However, after he came back, it seemed like a thousand words didn't even hold up to one.

He let out a sigh. Things really were just so much simpler when you were a kid, weren't they? He tried to ignore Vanya's stare, instead fidgeting with the edge of his blanket. He remembered how he and Vanya had once built a fort out of the blankets and pillows from their room. Ben had helped. He really missed them a lot. Ben was dead, gone. Far away and out his of reach and even though Vanya was right there, right beside him, she somehow seemed to be even further away.

As he thought back to faded childhood memories, he couldn't help the stain that now was on them, caused by the thought that apparently Vanya didn't think fondly of them, like he did. Had she even wanted to be his friend or had he just forced her? He swallowed thickly, sending the bucket beside his bed a glance. Was he just as bad as their dad? He tightened his grip around the blanket, his hands visibly shaking from the tension, but what did that matter anyways?

He stared at the ceiling for what felt like forever, memory after memory replaying in his mind. Each of them stained. "I'm sorry," he blurted out. His mouth felt dry like sandpaper. His words broken and worn. Way too late. Vanya tilted her head, trying to catch his eyes, but he couldn't make himself meet hers. "I just wanted to be your friend. I thought I was," he continued, hoping she didn't notice the tear running down his cheek. It stung like a needle, as it fell down his skin.

Vanya felt like all air had been sucked out of her, as realization hit her and all satisfaction she had felt at Five's discomfort turned into guilt. She looked at her brother, who was very obviously trying to hide his tears, but at this point they were running freely. She leaned close, trying to help him wipe the tears away. As her hands made contact with his burning hot cheeks, he froze at her touch. For a moment she feared that he'd flinch away, but instead he leaned into it, allowing her to cup his cheek.

"I'm sorry too, Five... I didn't realize."

He looked at her for a moment, before closing his eyes and leaning his face even more against her hand. "It's a'ight," he mumbled, clearly struggling to hold back a yawn. "I'm an assssshole all the time, it's only... hmmm... it's only fair, y'know?" She didn't even get to respond before she was yanked forward as Five suddenly decided to lay back down. He apparently fell asleep right then and there and took her hand down with him. She couldn't hold back a laugh, which startled him awake.

"Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, Vanyyyya. You're soooo loud... I still love youu thoughhhh," He slurred, looking at her with sleepy puppy eyes. Vanya couldn't help the soft smile that spread across her face, even as she had to try to find a comfortable position with her hand stuck as Five's pillow. Five clumsily moved to the side, making room for her on the bed, but still not letting go of her hand. "It might as well be your hand now," she joked. Five just snorted, snuggling close to her as soon as she laid down beside him.

She ran her free hand through his hair, which she then realized was wet with sweat. "Ew," she mumbled, pulling him closer as she tried not to worry about how much he was clearly trembling. She took it as a good sign that he was holding on to her too. That meant he still had some strength left. She felt another sting of guilt. She hadn't realized how sick he was. Back when they were kids she was always the one he told, always the one who knew even if he didn't tell. Things were so much simpler back the, she thought, as she kissed the top of his head. They'd be okay though. They had each other, and it would obviously take a lot of work, but they could work this out. They always had.

[biussworld]

Iwudhwjskwkjs I loved your last post and I just exploded with uwus. If you don't mind me asking, Aizawa's daughter reacting to her dad getting beat up by the noumu? Sorry, you're writing is just GODLY

hello aaaa thank you uwu i'm glad you liked iiiitttt!!! i hope you like this next one qwq

as a ua student you were excited the most about the trainings with all the pro heroes teaching in the academy

especially you get to train with your dad the entire time wHICH you think is ur advantage as someone who's been under his wing for their entire life

sO when you get to USJ for your first rescue training you were like :0000 because how is the facility soooo huge you could get lost playing hide and seek there :000 but also you were like ooo this amazing for my capture weapon training

you were prACTICALLY bouncing in your place clutching on your weapon while waiting for your dad and thirteen to finish talking

then sUDDENLY a black shadowy thing materialized at the center of the facility

as soon as those villains emerged from the shadow your dad went and flew to the center immediately!!!

when you saw him jump you almost ran after him if not for midoriya and iida stopping you

there'd been a debate on whether what you guys should do

you didnt even notice that the shadow man was already behind all of you!!! after bakugou and kirishima attacced the hecc out of the man you all were enveloped in a dark shadowy dome

next thing you know you're on the yacht with midoriya, tsu, and mineta

you felt panic rush through you as you assess the situation

you and your classmates are scattered around the facility

the only pro heroes around as of the moment are thirteen and eraserhead

thirteen is at the entrance with the rest of your classmates

eraserhead, your dad, is facing the villains alone in the center

ALONE!!! that had you sweating bullets and just plain !!! !!!

but that shouldnt be your problem now, right? you have villains right in front of you too, you have to fend for yourself too!!!!

you couldn't help worry, still

even after the four of you defeated the villains in the water, your mind was still occupied with thoughts of your dad fighting the villains and how you want to help him

which is why when midoriya said he wanted to help him, you were like "YES HELP HIM LET'S DO IT"

as you emerge from the water after sneaking around, he was already almost done with the villains, slamming one to the floor

and tHEN

this one guy with hands for a face charged at him and had the aUDACITY to dodge your dad's attacks >:((((

and it got you so worried you swore you were peeing in the water

but your dad didnt back down so he ELBOWED the man which made you feel really !!! :DDD THATS MY DADDDDD

the moment his hair fell back on his face, his elbow started,,, disintegrating,,,

you didnt even notice the man's hand on his elbow as it all went too fast. his elbow started cracking and crumpling and it made you sICK in the stomach. SICK.

still, even with his elbow practically decaying he still fought

you wanted to jump in so bad!!! because!!! that's your dad!!! the man who raised you!!! you hated!!! see him like this :(((( your chest felt like it could burst and you couldnt hear anything else around you

until

a huge humanoid specimen came out from behind aizawa

the creature smashed your dad's head into the concrete multiple times like one would do to a ragdoll

he was treating your dad like some squish toy and it's!!! making your blood boil and your stomach turn

and every sound it makes is making you feel nothing but worry, fear, anger, and anxiety fold upon fold upon fold

you didnt even feel your legs sprint towards the scene, your fist balled up and ready to throw a punch at the creature

you also didnt hear your classmates' and your dad's call for your name just when the creature had backhanded you across the plaza, right before you blacked out

the next thing you know you were in recovery girl's clinic as you only suffered a concussion and a few broken bones. nothing she couldn't fix, is what she called them

your dad, however, was sent to the hospital after sustaining rather,,, well,,, extreme injuries

you were told to go to school the next day

and so you did. your classmates weren't exactly avoiding you, just weren't tryna initiate a conversation which you thank them for because you wouldn't want to talk anyway

when the bell for homeroom, aka iida, sounded you were still zoning out

suddenly the whole class went !!! aizawa sensei?!?!?!?!!!!

and you were like ohhh aizawa- wAIT WHAT

you shot up from your seat and was ready to bolt towards him but he looked at you (even if he couldn't because he has bandages over his eyes) with a stare that said "sit down, we'll talk later"

right after his homeroom announcements he called you out to the hallway

as soon as you two were outside you immediately (but carefully) wrapped your arms around him and cRIED

you went "you had me so worried!!! i was right there when he was beating you up and i swear all i could hear at that moment was the sound of your head colliding with the ground and i felt so scared and anxious i thought i could lose you that moment ;(((((("

when you finished he did nothing but place his chin on top of your head and mumble "i know, little demon. it's part of my job as a hero"

"wELL you could be a hero and not get hurt by some big fat nasty looking creature ;(((("

all he could do was chuckle at your statement, reaching for you with what looks like an attempt to pat your head. "i had to be beaten up to protect you, little demon. it's not like you wouldn't do the same for me"

after ur dad recovered you were still on edge everytime he goes on patrol, when he comes home every night he sees you in your dining area waiting for him anxiously.

as soon as you see him, you come to him and check him for any injuries be it minor or not

and everytime he thinks to himself "man this little one's gonna age pretty fast if she keeps worrying"

but he's super thankful, he knows you're looking out for him

and you best believe he thinks you're going to be the greatest hero

definitely not biased

don't tell bakugou about that