#once again i am in a situation of SHUT OFF FROM SOCIETY ISOLATE COMPLETELY but also I WANT TO TALK TO PEOPLE AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[lordmushroomkat]

I think all of the joy drained out of my body. I'm not sure what happened.

I just... I feel so very alone.

I guess I just ran out of steam? I had so many ideas but now I have nobody to talk to about it and... it's just me rambling into a Google doc again and with no one to tell my thoughts to it just feels so isolating.

And it's like, does this thing I've been working on even need to exist? Will anyone appreciate it? Will anyone benefit from it? Does anyone care about this? Is my effort worth it?

Shouldn't I just leave this fandom behind and find something else? I've finally run out of joy and now it's like I'm in the limbo between fandoms again but this time I'm refusing to let go of the previous one.

I just... I can stave off the boredom of No More Content if I have people to talk to but... now I'm alone again.

And I can't talk to my sister because she has no interest in it and I've already bothered her too much with this. And I can't talk to my dad because he's passionate about the franchise but sees it completely differently. And I really can't talk to my mom because she doesn't do fandom. And I can't talk to my partner because I'm not sure where he stands with it and I kinda don't want to embarrass myself by telling him about my dumb little AU when he does, like, actual frequent writing.

And I just. It's so isolating to be in a fandom that I can't talk to my family about when I have nobody else to talk to about it. I dunno, fandom is incredibly personal to me because it's been my lifeblood through every difficult thing I've ever faced. It's the thing that keeps me going and keeps my brain entertained. And for me a fandom only really comes to life when I can talk to people directly about it. Having fandom friends is how I keep from driving my sister insane with my 24/7 fandom brain.

But it can be hard to make new friends, fandom or otherwise, because I'm kinda afraid of people? Because I know what happens when I exist amongst other people long enough to get comfortable; inevitable rejection. I always push slightly too far and that's it. Just a slip-up when I'm having a rotten day and I lose everything. I always lose everything.

Maybe the problem is that I'm never quite domesticated enough, once I get comfy the feral unhinged energy comes out, and unless that's already the base energy of the group, things fall apart fast. It's why the only groups I'm still on good terms with are incredibly feral people with deeply weird senses of humor. Everyone else seems to misinterpret me. I'm not mean by nature, but I am sarcastic and very intense. But even in scenarios where the vibe is feral, sometimes I'll just have opinions that are a little too off-brand. There are things we don't talk about as a society and sometimes I want to talk about them and other people decide that's not okay.

And I've learned to do that less. I've learned to keep my challenging thoughts to myself and accept a "shut up" with grace and try not to take criticism to heart but man is it hard. And at this point I'm not even sure it's worth it. Because even at this point in my evolution, where I have more grace than I've ever had and take criticism at face value and stick it out in awkward situations, somehow still it's not enough. Somehow I'm still not enough. How much more will I have to twist myself in knots to be good enough? How much more of myself will I erode just for the pleasure of having a friend group? How many more rejections is it worth just to stave off the creeping loneliness? Is any of this even worth it?

My life has been one long, complicated domestication from the deeply confused little autistic kid I was, and I wonder sometimes how much of me is even real anymore. How much of me is a construction my desperate mind forged in a mad scramble to appeal to anyone at all? Am I real? Are my thoughts my own? Are my tastes my own? Is anything of me truly mine? I mean I know we are all a collection of experiences and influences but... there's nurture and then there's... becoming what you think people want to see just so they might tolerate you. Autistic masking is so complicated because after a while you're not even sure who you are anymore.

Maybe that's why I go feral when I get comfortable, because I get tired of playing a part, because it's the only way I know how to find out what I am behind all of the facades. Or maybe even the feral is just a comedy defense mechanism and even that is something I adopted to fit in. Maybe if you strip off all of the masks there's just nothing behind them. Maybe if you remove the parts of me I made myself to fit in there's just nothing left. Maybe none of me is real. Well, perhaps a few things.

I know a few things that are real, things that I did not create, things that I just am.

Like, here are some real things; I love my family, I am non-binary, my complicated orientation is my own, I feel lonely, I am autistic, I have depression, I like to draw, I like to write, animation is my favorite type of media, found family is one of my favorite tropes, character is my favorite aspect of narrative, I hate summer, my favorite season(s) is Autumn and Spring, I like many many kinds of music, art is an essential aspect of my identity as a person.

None of these things exist for anyone but me. And there are more. Most of my likes and dislikes are entirely my own, even if someone else introduced me to it.

Perhaps these are the things to focus on. The things that I like, the things that are mine. Maybe it shouldn't matter if anyone else sees what I make and likes it, maybe it's enough to make something because I think it's fun. It would be cathartic to finish something for once.

I can make something for me and then let the world have it. The world can have as many pieces of me as it wants, but those pieces still belong to me. Everything I am is still my own.

[petri808]

Bakudeku canon divergent, vampire quirk AU

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24

When Bakugou finally woke up in the Ena City Hospital, his head was splitting worse than a punch from Kirishima in full quirk, and ears rang with the force of all 108 New Year’s bell tolls. If he’d had no memory of the night before, Bakugou swore he’d just survived the worst hangover in history. Even his eyes hurt from the bright, piercing fluorescent lights and they weren’t even open! He turned his head to the side, noticing how much effort it took just to shift in such a small manner. It was as if his body was drained of... “Ugh, that bastard,” he groaned. ‘Fucker bit me.’ And as if to add insult to injury, a pin-prick pain in his neck revealed itself in that revelation.

His arm flopped up, hand straining with jerky strokes, reaching to touch the fresh bite wound located at the junction of his neck and shoulder. He flinched at the tender, bruising pain that sent a shock down his spine. Son-of— This just in! Pro Hero Dynamite cast in one of those cliché vampire movies that went straight to video. Definitely not the career start he’d envisioned.

“Oh, good you’re finally awake Mr. Bakugou.”

“Who the fuck are you?” he spat at the male voice. “And can someone turn the fucking lights off?!”

“I am Doctor Ishihira, and my apologies,” the doctor flicked off the overhead light. “Is that better?”

“Yeah,” he grumped.

“Mr. Bakugou, you were found yesterday morning and brought in suffering from hypovolemic shock due to severe blood loss and dehydration. We’ve treated you with 3 liters of IV fluids and blood plasma to bring your numbers back up, however you’ll still be groggy until your body replenishes the nutrients you were stripped of.”

Over a day had passed! At hearing he’d been out cold for so long, Bakugou immediately clenched his fists, swearing up and down about being released until they threatened to sedate him for longer. Longer?! He begrudgingly relented and settled down, but damn it! That meant Midoriya had another head start on him again! And now that the man knew he was on his trail, finding him would be a lot more difficult!

“What the hell is hypo-whatever shock?” Bakugou questioned.

“When you were found, you were in and out of consciousness and rambling incoherently, all signs of severe blood loss. The fatigue you’re still feeling is also due to the effects of it. Luckily the amount of loss wasn’t enough to start shutting down your organs.”

The doctor continued explaining a few more details regardless of the tantrum like a robot. Minor injuries he’d been treated for. The obvious puncture wounds in his neck, questioning Bakugou about any description he could provide of his attacker. He wasn’t about to tell this doctor or any authority figure who the true culprit was, so he feigned a temporary retrograde amnesia. Based on a raised brow, peering over his glass’s expression, the doctor didn’t look very convinced. Oh well, Bakugou really didn’t care about the man’s opinion.

“Mr. Bakugou, we also called you parents…”

“You what?!” Bakugou tried to jump off the bed, but his body absolutely refused to respond and ended up flopping like a dying fish. Ugh! He really was worse off than he’d thought.

“I’m sorry, but you are a minor, so we were obligated to do so. However, they did give us permission to treat and release you on your own recognizance once we felt you were better.”

Well, that was good news. ‘Sounds like mom actually listened to my letter.’ Or the authorities surely would have shown up by now. “Ugh! So, how much longer am I stuck here?”

“If you continue to recover well, tomorrow morning.”

Fuck! Now a three-day head start! Just great, he groaned. Midoriya could get far away with that kind of a jump start. “Fine, whatever! Now go the fuck away.”

The doctor left the room after explaining how nurses will be monitoring his progress, but to also let them know if anything started to feel worse. They needed to know if he developed any lasting effects from organ damage. Once he was alone again, Bakugou rolled gingerly onto his side as his mind processed the new information. Whatever Midoriya had been hit with must be the cause of this weird blood thirst that resembled a goddamn vampire plot line. Perhaps the significance of the blood coloring in his eyes was a sign of that thirst taking hold? That’ll be a handy tell, too bad it seemed to appear within seconds of the next step.

But if Midoriya had just fed on a victim, and history showed at times, a span of days before the next incident, what had caused his friend to attack him so fast? Was this thirst like a hunger? And what happens when you exercise or exert yourself? You use up energy. ‘Duh, Katsuki.’ Fighting and expending all that energy must have triggered the attack. ‘Wow, it burns fast.’ That meant Midoriya probably struggled to control this thirst, and that’s why he was pleading for him to leave him alone. But sorry, he couldn’t do that. ‘Fucker shouldn’t have run!’ One way or another he is getting his friend back home where he belonged. In fact, this only made his drive to find Midoriya stronger because he felt like he was partially to blame for the predicament his friend was in. The guy had to be scared, freaked out, and lonely. Bakugou’s heart clenched at the thought. He knew his friend was a social person by nature who loved being around friends and family. To be stuck out here all by himself and too frightened because of whatever this new quirk was had to be horrible… and utterly not fair. Of course, he did have a tendency to isolate himself when he feared…

Bakugou groaned. “Kami, not again with this shit!” When was Midoriya gonna learn to stop running away!

As his eyes relented to the fatigue and his mind slipped back into unconsciousness, Bakugou could only pray he’ll get a lead as soon as he got out of this hospital. This strange new quirk, if that’s really what it was, posed a serious danger not only to Midoriya, but the public. The reputation of pro hero’s had taken a major hit already because of AFO and the league, so if the public found out about a blood drinking hero attacking people… ‘I gotta get you out of here…’

After his encounter with Bakugou, Midoriya had rushed out of town as quickly as possible. Tears poured down his cheeks as he took off into the sky from having given in to the lust of this uncontrollable quirk. But he couldn’t stop it even if he’d wanted to. He’d learned the hard way right at the beginning that once it took hold of his mind, the only thing he could do was give-in or succumb to an even worse ravenous state that literally hurt. The pain of holding out on the hunger made him feel like a starved predatory animal that tore at his insides until he relented. In this state, the blood of any creature that came too close became a meal. But it was never enough. Animal blood didn’t satiate him in the same way that human blood did. Plus, he worried that if he let it get completely out of control, he might just end up killing someone. So far, he’d been lucky to leave them all unconscious but alive.

It was obvious that the light AFO had hit him with contained this strange quirk. How ironic, to take down a villain, only to be turned into one. That’s how Midoriya felt. How else could he feel? A hero wouldn’t hurt other people, so by taking the blood of others for sustenance, that made him a villain. Therefore, he couldn’t be a hero anymore. It must have been AFO’s plan all along once he’d realized he was losing. The villains end goal was to ruin hero society and this was definitely one way to do it. Take out his primary rival. The man poised to carry on a torch of safety and security, and snuff out any who chose to do harm… The whole situation with Bakugou really turned this into a nightmare out of body experience. To see his friend’s eyes suddenly show fear, then fade away the more he drank… his mouth clamped to the man’s neck… it was a horrible imagine that was sure to haunt him. He could still smell the burnt cinnamon from such a close encounter. If only he had clothes to change into or even a pond to bathe in, because that lingering scent was gonna drive him mad!

Midoriya curled up and clenched his eyes shut tight in an abandoned and overgrown castle he’d found outside of Ena. It didn’t look like it’s been maintained for a very long time, so the likelihood of a human showing up seemed low. He knew he should have travelled farther away, but he was too tired, too upset and just wanted to quit. All the years of growing up quirkless, to gain OFA and become the very thing he’d dreamt of, only for those dreams to be dashed again. It was as if life just didn’t want him to be a real hero. Maybe he should just put himself out of his misery, and yet— he couldn’t do it. To die out here alone where no one knew where he was or what had become of him, that wasn’t fair to his family and friends…

They must be so worried about him right now. His poor mother didn’t deserve any of this. Would his friends look down on him now? And All Might, his idol, who’d taken him under his wing, was he disappointed? And that just left Bakugou. He’d said the truth in answering the man’s question. No, Midoriya never would have expected him to come looking. Katsuki Bakugou giving a damn about him? Yeah, right. Bakugou wasn’t doing this because he cared. There was always a selfish reason behind his madness. Fear. Anger. Jealousy. Shouldn’t big bad Dynamight be thrilled that his biggest rival was gone?

Okay that was a big, fat white lie he’d been telling himself for the last two years. He knew Bakugou had moved past those pettier behaviors, but it was simply easier to believe and keep their relationship as rivals than to hope his childhood friend would ever see him as something else. And yet… ‘Kacchan was genuinely surprised by my answer. Did he really come looking for me because he cared that much?’ Yet in what way? Why was the man trying so hard? Did he… ‘miss me?’

Midoriya shook his head violently of those thoughts. No, no, he didn’t want to believe that because it would make this situation even more unbearable than it already was! He’d already given up everything he’d ever loved. His hopes and dreams, a future and losing an affection he’d craved for years would just simply be too much.

[khadijatries]

The End And Beginning- Ateez Fanfic

(Seonghwa x Y/N (Bibi)) 

(SONG REC: I’M SORRY- THE ROSE)

Bibi was hoping it would feel different when she saw his face. She’d hoped she flushed him out of her system by now.

 The Earth continued to spin. The stars they had watched together still glowed impossibly through the universe, just as they did then. She wanted to tell them to shut up. To beg them to disappear already because they were dead anyway. Why couldn’t they go quietly.

 Or maybe it was her feelings she was talking to. Because as she stood in the middle of the carpark, with her hands trembling from cold or emotion, tucked into her pockets, she felt like he was the answer. As though if she didn’t run to him right then, she would die.

 She tilted her head, hoping that maybe the different angle would provide new perspective on how she felt. That perhaps she was overreacting, and this situation was not all she felt like it was.

 Nope. Still handsome. Still painful.

 She wondered whether seeing him sitting alone on the speaker box, without the guitar he fine tuned before every performance, looking like more of a wreck than her, should have made her felt better.

Huffing out an ironic laugh, she concluded that she would have felt the same if he’d been sitting with all of his fangirls and laughing raucously, completely happy and satisfied.

 Sniffing away her tears, she reached out to him with glassy eyes and pretended to grab his tiny figure and put him in her pocket. She’ll keep this feeling, to remember the ache.

 A deep breath, a slow eyelid shutter, a pivot on her heels.

 She wouldn’t stay. Neither of them deserved that.

 But when the car door closed in a sort of finality she didn’t expect, her flood gates didn’t hold, and Bibi found herself sobbing into the image of her love, isolated from the world because of what they had done.

 And yet, all they had done, was fall in love and hope.

Seonghwa knew she was there.

He stayed impossibly still, his heart violently hammering inside his chest, sweat dripping down his brow from the effort it took not to get up and just go to her. Even if she didn’t accept it, he wanted to get on his knees and say, ‘I’m sorry’, and ‘Don’t go’.

 None of it would’ve made a difference since she’d made up her mind. They both did. He’d been part of that decision. It was never okay though.

 Not when the idea occurred to him. Not when he voiced his opinion to his best friend. Not when he told Bibi. Not when she’d agreed. Not when he walked away. Not when she didn’t answer his calls after his regret.

 At every turn his mind, body and soul screamed NO. WRONG. STOP.

 He looked down at his phone, at the picture of her eating ramyeon in the middle of the night outside her apartment. He called her that day to tell her that he would never let her go, even if she wanted to leave she couldn’t. She laughed and said she’d never want to. That was months ago.

 His grip tightened as the 2 minutes he expected her to stand in the crowd to attain her closure extended into 10 minutes. 15…

Once the clock his 8 30, he would go to her.

 But at 8 27, she turned on her heel and Seonghwa couldn’t help but leap after her, frantically searching for her car as the crowd grew thicker, and the concert began.

It didn’t take long to spot it, and her, with dark hair all that was in view as she shook and banged her head against the hooter.

 Seonghwa’s heart crumbled, and he did fall to his knees, clutching his chest, muttering apologies, telling her not to go, and desperately swallowing back all his despair.

 This distance and separation, besides being unusual for them, was too cruel. But Seonghwa promised that his desire to never let her go would never fade, and that ultimately he would be by her side again.

(SONG RED: ABYSS- JIN BTS)

The birds were talking again. Their incessant chirping was infuriating today, especially since they were talking about her.

  “Ah, the poor thing. She hasn’t moved an inch since yesterday.” Bird 1 said, watching her pitifully from its daily perch in front of her window. “I hope she finished the research she was busy with.”

 “As if.” Bird 2 scoffed, studying her dishevelled clothes, and unwashed hair. “Is she even still breathing? She hasn’t blinked since we got here.”

 Bibi blinked to reassure the birds and slumped deeper onto her desk.

 “Poor thing. This must be her first time.”

 “What do you mean ‘must be’? It shows that it is.”

 “Be nice! She’s going through a lot right now.”

 “YEAH BE NICE!” Bibi suddenly got up from her chair, the exhaustion finally getting to her, influencing her degree of delusion.

 Just then, the bedroom door shut, and she swivelled around in shock to see her mother standing quietly at the door like she was the one being caught in an insane rage.

 “Good morning.” She said sheepishly, approaching Bibi slowly, so as not to startle her already shaken child.

 Bibi slumped back into her chair. “What’s good about it?”

 Her mother sat at the edge of her bed and studied her quietly. She was worried, of course. Bibi had deep bags beneath her usually clear eyes, and her decisiveness was missing.

 “Its Monday.” Her mother said. “And I wanted to remind you that you have work today.”

 “I’ll call in sick.”

Her mother nodded, trusting that Bibi had a handle on whatever it is that was happening. “I also wanted to tell you that, although I love having you at home, and your dad is over the moon that you’re staying, we’re both a lot better now, so if you wanted to go back to your apartment, we’d be okay with it.”

 “I won’t go till dad is in the clear.” It wasn’t a lie, per say. It was the half truth that Bibi was using to convince herself that it was okay to hide here for a bit longer.

 “Okay. But if you need to talk about anything I’m here.” She got up to leave hesitantly, hoping Bibi would open up today, after 3 days of staying couped up in her room, not even eating.

 “Go to work, Mom, I’ll be fine.” She weakly convinced her mother. It was hard to believe it herself. Usually, she would at least put in an effort to make sure they wouldn’t worry about her, but that seemed like too much for her right then.

 After a firm hug and kiss on the cheek her mom left. She waited to hear her car start and then flopped back into bed.

 How did things that felt natural and easy just about a month ago feel like they could kill her to do them now. Smiling for her parents’ sake, even if she was completely exhausted or angry was never any effort. It killed her to think she couldn’t muster the will to care. Or even to bath, eat or sleep, let alone working.

Working….

She had a job. One she’d really wanted.

After a few minutes of staring blankly at her ceiling, Bibi gathered all the strength she had to get up, take a shower and get dressed into something remotely appropriate for work.

 With a heavy sigh, and wondering just what the hell she thought she was doing, she packed her unfinished research and case files into her bag that felt unnecessarily weighted. She descended the steps in a daze, grabbing a muffin and sitting at the kitchen counter, still deciding whether or not she should be a menace to society by living.

 It was easier said than done to focus her thoughts, when everything she saw, heard and smelled reminded her of him. He was everywhere, even without ever having been there. Even though he never sat at the kitchen counter at her parents’ house, he was somehow sitting across from her now with a very suggestive smile. The smile that got him anything he wanted.

 “Go away.” she said aloud, wishing he were actually there.

 She wasn’t sure if she would swipe everything off the counter and demand he kiss her, or have him in a headlock to choke the living breath out of him so that he would be really gone. Maybe he would haunt her then, and they could-

 “Rude.” He said, tilting his head.

 Bibi jumped back, off the stool, tripping on her way, but when she looked back up, he was gone. She frantically looked around the empty kitchen, and… on the other end of the counter was Kj.

 She was busy picking at her own muffin, unphased that Bibi was having a heart attack.

 “… When did you get here?”

 “Do you want me to pretend you weren’t talking to yourself about ways to murder someone?” She lifted her brows in question.

 Bibi was about to protest when she realised that was probably what she was doing. “Did… you hear anything else I was talking to myself about?”

 “What? Making out?” Kj teased. “Not if you didn’t want me to.”

 Bibi huffed out a half laugh, completely surprised herself. Kj paused, eyes wide and pointed at her in shock.

 “Did you just… laugh?” Kj grabbed her shoulders and studied her face. “Ohmygod, thank goodness. I thought I would have to make friends in the real world and I wouldn’t because I’m completely incapable of human interaction!”

 “And what am I?” Bibi protested, kind of feeling a sudden spike in her energy levels.

 “Oh you think you’re considered human? After starving yourself for 3 days? After ignoring my calls? After making me wait outside your door all night? You’re a stone cold bitch, my friend.” Kj spoke frankly, not allowing any of the intense concern she felt for her friend to show.

 “You were here? In the house?” Bibi didn’t think she was that far gone so as not to notice her presence.

 Kj only nodded and stared. Bibi could tell there were many things beneath this façade she was attempting to put up, that Kj wanted to ask. That her mother avoided asking her.

 “OKAY I CAN’T TAKE IT!” Kj burst after 2 whole seconds. “I might cry if you continue to give me this blank look.” She waved a hand in Bibi’s face. Let’s fix you.”

 Bibi swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded, because she too, couldn’t stand her own blank stare, the endless tears and the painful fatigue. “I don’t want to stay this way either.” She admitted.

 “GOOD! But first you have to drive me to campus and get to work.” She declared, grabbing Bibi’s keys and heading to the car.

 Instead of plugging in their usual playlist, Kj waited for Bibi to start the car and pull out onto the road, then asked, hoping she would let her in after all this time. “Want to tell me what happened now?”

 “No.” Bibi replied instantly.

 “And why not, Bibi?” Kj was sure to lose her patience today. She didn’t like to push, but she was already angry at the world for putting her best friend in this position to begin with.

 “Because you would get unnecessarily angry and hurt for me, and one of us feeling shitty is quite enough.” Bibi justified, attempting to switch on the radio.

 Kj switched it off immediately. “Are you dumb?” She  looked at her blankly. “Do you just not want me to get mad and Seonghwa and beat his ass?”

 Bibi would’ve thought it was joke, and it would have been in any other circumstance, but Kj’s tone wasn’t a joking one. Frankly, she was growing redder by the second, and if she didn’t calm down she would combust. And most probably Seonghwa would get the brunt of it since they were on the same campus, and Bibi couldn’t be there to prevent it.

 “The only reason you wouldn’t tell me what was going on is if you thought I would try to do something about it.” Kj was right about that, to be fair. Why else would she not confide in the embodiment of confidante for her. “And that would mean that if you told me, and I did get angry, he did do something to get angry about.”

The longer she spoke about him, the more unstable and displaced Bibi felt.

“I didn’t even tell you anything and you’re on a warpath, trying to defend my honour.” She didn’t realise that she was going to shout, but she did, and soon, tears welled in her eyes. “He didn’t do anything wrong, Kj.”

 “Then why won’t you tell me what happened?!” Kj shouted back, her throat also growing thick with held back grief.

 “Because that’s my opinion! And yours might be different! Just leave him alone!”

 “If you think my opinion would be different, maybe your opinion is wrong!”

 Bibi pulled over at the entrance of the campus. “It’s over! That’s all you need to know.”

For the first time since they’d begun to shout at each other, the girls looked at each other. They were both dangerously on the brink of crying, brows crunched together and breathing heavily.

Bibi thought that if she continued to think about him, and remember him, she wouldn’t get through this day.

“I’m not angry that you don’t want to tell me what happened.” Kj confessed, still entirely too high strung to talk at a normal volume. “That’s fine. But I am angry that you’re not okay. I miss my friend and roommate. I miss you! I don’t give a shit about Seonghwa. I want you back!”

“Well I’m so sorry to disappoint you, Kj. I’m fucked up and broken, so teach yourself how to make new friends.”

 Kj was taken aback and sprang back like she’d been burned. That hurt, but it brought her anger back to a simmering state as she clenched her teeth and nodded. “You’re hurting.” She said quietly. “But you need to let me help you get through it.”

 “Go to campus and focus on your own life.” Bibi said, all too tired to continue listening. She didn’t even really know what words were being exchanged. Her head flopped against the steering wheel and when she looked up again, Kj was gone.

 She hoped against hope that Kj didn’t make anyone bleed today.

(SONG REC: BANG CHAN- I DONT WANT TO ADMIT)

 Seonghwa was standing by the tree for almost an hour now. At first he felt like he was incognito, ducking everytime he saw a silver car pull up, but now he just seemed like a creep, especially with more and more people arriving closer to class time.

 He had to be early since he had a few details of a performance to iron out with his band mates, or at least that's what he told himself.

 "Seonghwa, the level of stalker is increasing by the second." Wooyoung reminded him, for the 6th time that morning.

 Seonghwa's face heated up in embarrassment taking in his position once again. He was only comforted by Hongjoong giving their younger friend a smack on the head with a textbook.

 "Focus Wooyoung!" Hongjoong scolded Wooyoung, and continued to tutor him on the bench nearby. He, Seonghwa and Yeosang were the only members of their band who actually cared about their academics, but they always tried to 'encourage' and 'inspire' all of them.

 By that it means it most probably involved a textbook beating, or cutting them off from practicing.

 "How much longer are we waiting?" San asked from beside him, in plain view, casually leaning against the trunk.

 "San! Get back! She'll obviously see you!" Seonghwa chided, and shoved San back to the bench.

 "THERE SHE IS THERE SHE IS!" San pointed. Seonghwa whipped around, only to be disappointed at the youngers joke, accompanied by Wooyoungs laughter. 

 He cried out in frustration and was ready to beat them both up when he caught sight of her car himself.

 At that point, he forgot everything. There was only her.

 He didn't want to do anything but take 1 single look. That's all he could afford to take. He deserved nothing else. 

  He was taken out of his reverie when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

 He didn't want to take his attention away form her but they were very persistent.

 He turned around to find San worriedly pointing at a figure on the pathway, glaring right at him.

 Ah. He should have expected this. He was busy thinking about what a big asshole he was. 

 Kj only stared, however, and continued her run toward campus.

 "She does not look happy." Wooyoung quipped. "I would be careful of that one and her resources." 

  Yeosang wasn't the type to meddle in other people's relationships. But this band became more than 'other people' to him. He would help fix any of their shit in a heart beat. And that kind of scared him. But as he stood, and watched his hyung agonize over, frankly, a very precious gem of a human, a plan began to form in his mind. 

[linkspooky]

Hey, I’ve been reading a lot of your BNHA metas, (they’re all absolutely awesome btw) and I was wondering about two things, what kind of mental illness do you think Shigaraki has? And I read a post somewhere that speculated that he might have suffered a tbi when his father hit him with the tree sheers, do you think that might be true?

Hello anon, thank you for your ask! 

I will try to answer your questions the best I can, however beforehand I think it’s important to note that I don’t really like diagnosing characters outside of like specific examples where the authors tell us this is the disease they were attempting to portray, or headcanons. Shigaraki clearly shows signs of mental illness, but I don’t think Horikoshi writes characters by looking up a list of symptoms in the DSM and then writing them based on that. 

Also yes, the two clearest examples of mental Illness (Shigaraki, Twice) are both villains but I have faith that the mental illness of Shigaraki is an instance where it’s used to humanize him and show how much of a victim of a system both characters are, rather than just to give the villain traits that are abnormal and therefore creepy and dangerous. 

I can’t give you a specific dianogisis but I can give you a more in depth look at several symptoms that Shigaraki displays. 

Excoriation 

Excoriation disorder is an obsessive-compulsive spectrum mental disorder that is characterized by the repeated urge or impulse to pick at one’s own skin to the extent that either psychological or physical damage is caused. In Shigaraki’s case it’s clearly a stress response that is aggravated the more violent, unstable or dangerous a situation he is put into. 

Which is why I find claims that Shigaraki is content with violence, or likes being a killer and is comfortable living this way to be false. Because Shigaraki’s own body constantly rejects him. He feels a compuslive need to scratch and harm himself because his body cannot handle the stress of being violent. It’s a stress response because Shigaraki does not actually on some level want to be doing these things, and living in a constant state of stress and harm makes him more compelled to vent his stress by following his compulsions. 

The compulsion he feels can sometimes get so bad that in childhood he was rolling around the floor, crying and frantically scratching his whole body. This is not what All for One said and him holding back his urge to kill, but rather Shigaraki responding to the stress. Shigaraki is seven and was put in front of two homeless people who were threatening to harm him and he already came from a physically abusive household. He’s in unbelievable stress with no healthy way of venting it, and thereofre he compulsively self harms. 

GAME TALK

In general Shigaraki uses a lot of game talk. This is not so much a symptom of mental illness necessarily as it is a coping mechanism, but the goal is for Shigaraki to distance himself from reality. Basically it’s a mechanism for rgaining control because if you imagine life as just one big game where you are the player, you feel much more in control then some random kid who lost his family in a freak accident then got picked up by a super villain. Gamespeak is also a way of being deeply impersonal with the situation, in case it goes bad Shigaraki can say it’s just game over. It’s a layer of distance between him and reality, like I said, escapism to cope. His insistence of using game terminology for everything could also be seen as a “special interest” but once again that depends on your intepretation Shigaraki shows a whole cluster of symptoms that overlap with a lot of things. 

HIGH ATTENTION TO DETAIL

Shigaraki in a fight where he and AIzawa are jumping around trying to kill each other, Shigaraki is able to notice a detail as minute as when the hair falls over Aizawa’s eyes it stops, and also that his quirk was weakening because the tiny seconds long windows were getting shorter and shorter. 

This is an extremely small detail to notice. Hyper-sensitizing, or hyper-attention to detail is another sign of mental illness, because usually the brain filters out superfluous details like this because otherwise noticing everything in that fine detail would overwhelm the senses. 

Immaturity 

Shigaraki is completely unable to handle his negative emotions like a well-rounded adult. Though, I dislike how All Might and the others phrase it in this discussion because it is a pretty ablist description (downright sick in the head, a toddler’s sense of feeling like he can do whatever he wants). (the ablist part is that they’re using symptoms of his clear mental illness to dehumanize him.)

Regardless, Shigaraki of course does act like a man child, constantly talking about games, giving up easily, not having the patience to converse with others especially in situations he does not want to be in, throwing tantrums. 

Children who are abused and neglected especially to the extreme extent that Shigaraki has, show long term developmental (that is term for the process of growing into a full adult) and behavioral problems. To the point where some studies have shown even the brain’s chemistry is permanently effected and the brain grows differently. 

Children need a stable environment, and also positive role models for what adults act like to grow into full fledged adults, Shigaraki had neither of those. In fact he was also raised almost entirely outside of society except for the first five years of his life, so there is also no outside influence on his upbringing as well, which is why he is like a child, egocentric, unable to handle his emotions, because mentally he was never given the chance to develop past one. 

ISOLATION

This is something that Shigaraki showed at the start of the series, but also has shown to develop past. At first he never left his room and from the several trash bags it’s quite obvious he spent long periods of time in there without taking care of himself or the environment around him in any significant way. 

Shigaraki is no longer isolating as a result of having gotten closer to the league, he is basically available to them at all times and does not shut them off in any significant way. Which in this quick tangent we can also talk about symptoms Shigaraki does not have. Shigaraki is able to read a room pretty clearly, and knows how to hide himself in a crowd enough to keep Deku hostage with no trouble at all, and even leave the scene with Uraraka there without provoking her into attacking him or tipping her off what he was doing right away. Shigaraki is fairly competent at reading other people and he does have social skills so he’s not like someone who never sees the light of day or cannot interact with others and is clueless on how people think. 

He’s also shown to be capable of making emotional connections with other people, and also of being considerate to those people’s needs. Which also shows that Shigaraki is capable of communication and also has an awareness of the feelings of other people and the ability to empathize, he is just choosy about who he makes connections with. He is definitely not someone unable to form an emotional connection with another person. 

Shigaraki also shows a pretty flagrant disregard for all social norms, but that can be a result of being raised outside of society all of his life.

Shigaraki also likes to piss people off on purpose, almost like he is testing their boundaries and what he can get away with the same way a child playing around might.

Dissociation

We have seen Shigaraki experience Dissociation in both senses of the word. First we have seen him physically detach himself from his feelings, and his own body in the middle of a fight and still continue on in a fugue-like state. 

He experiences dissociation in the sense of the word meaning periods of detachment to your body, drifting away from your consciousness, severe feelings of alienation from himself, extreme difficulty concentrating or holding focus to the moment, his perception of both time and the area around him slipping to levels that are borderline hallucinogenic. 

Dissociation is a mental process where a person disconnects from their thoughts, feelings, memories or sense of identity.

Shigaraki also displays traits of what is more classicly known as Dissasociative identity disord. He has two names, and clearly considers the life of Shimura Tenko to be separate from Shigaraki Tomura for a long time at the start of the manga. It might not be full on DID, but he at least dissociated his memories away from himself long enough that he forgot all of them like those memories belonged to another person, not Shigaraki but rather Tenko. 

Shigaraki also foils Twice pretty heavily who developed actual dissociatve identity disord. He even shares similiar symptoms of speaking to himself when he speaks to the hand of “father”. I am not saying he has full on DID like I said I’m not diagnoising just that he displays several symptoms of it. He also came from an abusive household at an incredibly young age, which is where DID most commonly manifests. 

Shigaraki also shows signs of flashbacks when his memories return at inconvenient times during fights when direclty exposed to violence, or he experiences a trigger reminding him of his past. Flashbacks are a symptom that have the most in common with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

To answer your question on whether Shigaraki has a brain injury from when his father hit him with shears, there is evnidence suggesting he could have suffered brain damage, especially in the symptoms that he shares with Twice. However, at the same time Shigaraki also would have developed brain damage either way. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is something that permanently rewires the brain after exposure to trauma. His brain has suffered a traumatic injury regardless of whether or not it was the garden sheers that did him in. 

Suicidal Ideation / Self Harm

Shigaraki in general wishes to not exist, or to destroy everything so it will not exist anymore. Even if it’s not a direct wish for suicide that symptom is called suicidal ideation. It’s intrusive and persistent thoughts of suicide. The likely cause is once again, Shigaraki is absolutely not comfortable living like this, and is constantly overwhelmed with stress and pain and is seeking an escape. 

Shigaraki also actively seeks out harm. The same way he obsessively compulsively scratches, he puts himself into harmful situations like the extremely painful hellish surgery the doctor said he did not even have to endure if he did not want to. He feels compelled to harm himself, even when he is not fighting against someone else. He inflicts harm on himself becauseit is once again an unhealthy way to process his emotions. Oncce again all of these symptoms are there not to make Shigaraki out to be terrifying and incomprehensible because he is mentally ill, but rather to show he is a human being caught within the cycle of abuse with extremely unhealthy methods of coping with that fact. 

[cle1024]

pipe dream | hjs

member: han jisung 

genre: angst 

summary: were we looking at each other in a dream? it doesn’t feel the same. 

a/n: this was a requested scenario (i can’t remember your username, i’m really sorry) i hope this is something like what you were hoping for! i wrote this instead of completing my society and culture essay, which was due yesterday. i’m thriving 

In those distant memories, it seemed as if everything you saw was a dream. Makeshift fragments of reality that fit together in an almost perfect puzzle―almost, because you knew it wasn’t all reality. Almost, because you knew things hadn’t been like that in a long time, nor would they ever be like that again. 

There were heart-warming words and gentle loving arms holding each other in a warm embrace in those memories, you could only yearn for that feeling again. You’d forgotten how it felt to have his arms wrapped around you when you were awake―you didn’t even know if he hugged you in your sleep anymore, he never stayed long enough for you to find out and you could never stay awake long enough to feel it either. In your mind, in your heart, you knew you couldn’t blame it all on him, you knew that he wouldn’t choose this as the fate of your relationship if he had a choice. Neither of you would. At this point, you were convinced that the pair of you would much rather not know each other - live in a world where you never met - rather than live like this. When you looked at him, it was never face to face, not anymore. The television, laptop, phone screen always sat between the pair of you, and you were never the only one he was addressing. There were times when you vividly recalled looking at his face in front of you, yet you struggled to decipher whether they were moments that ever actually occurred. Were you looking at each other in a dream? 

It was colder tonight, the cool air seeped through the covers of your bed to bite at your skin. You were awake later than usual―not by choice, purely because you had far too many thoughts swarming your mind. When you tried to pick out one to focus on, you couldn’t. There was a song playing in your head, incessant even if you tried to stop it, overlaying the sound of the city outside and the thoughts you had. They ranged from existential to completely and utterly useless, a reflection of how you felt in that moment which went unnoticed by you. Why am I alone? What do bees taste like? Where is my life headed? What have we done to each other? 

The front door opened, a sound you hadn’t heard in months unless you were the one opening it. You supposed you should feel excited, for the first time in months you’d been awake for Jisung to be home, yet all that filled your body was exhaustion―not the kind that had your eyelids fluttering shut without a second thought, more the kind that had you wishing this moment would end. You weren’t entirely sure why you felt that way, probably the gut feeling that you wouldn’t be able to control yourself and start arguing with Jisung over the fact he was never home. You knew it wasn’t his fault, you didn’t want to be that selfish. For just one night, you wanted to feel his arms around you again. You wanted to know he still cared about you, still considered you to be his other half. 

Your wish wasn’t granted tonight, nor was it any other night you assumed. Jisung slid into bed after a quick shower, his breath sounding distant as he kept his back to you and flicked the lamp off. The two of you lay there, backs turned against each other and almost too far apart as the darkness swallowed you whole. It gulped you down in a way that Jisung found tranquility in. He was faintly snoring, you were silently sobbing. 

You didn’t move from your bed for days, not that Jisung could tell. Everytime he left or came home you were already in bed, presumed asleep, nothing had changed. For you it had. You no longer left the confines of the dirty sheets to shower, brush your teeth, eat a proper meal or do any housework. You probably smelled like shit, but such a pointless thought was just one swimming among many in the sea of your head. The thoughts, confronting or stupid, were suffocating you as the days went by. It was worse than the first night you’d been awake to hear Jisung come home. He still didn’t wrap his arm around you, or whisper a gentle goodnight just in case you were awake. There was no love in this relationship, at least none expressed outwardly. Especially by him. You had gone months trying to alleviate the blame from him, convince yourself it wasn’t his fault, but you’d stopped believing such a narrative―you stopped believing it as soon as he fell asleep with his back turned towards you. You were of the belief that you’d always secretly resented Jisung, purely because you were convinced he resented you too. Were the smiles ever real? Did three words ever mean what they were supposed to? Do you love me? 

The door didn’t open that night, Jisung didn’t fill his side of the bed as he had for so long prior. Even with his presence beside you, nowadays the bed felt icy. Foreign, almost. Like you hadn’t been lying beside him on the soft mattress for so long, it felt like you were merely taking up the guest room in someone’s half-empty home. Empty―that’s how it all felt. Part of you wondered where Jisung was, who he’d replaced you with, part of you didn’t care enough to find out. There was always an empty bed waiting for him at the dorm, he probably fucked off back there, right? God, how did you come to resent him so? You could be angry at him all you wanted but it didn’t change the fact you had done the exact same thing as him. Neither of you made an effort, neither of you aired your grievances, you just waited for your relationship to sour like the half-empty carton of milk in the fridge. You couldn’t blame your unhappiness on him when you knew you had some contribution to it, yet you still did. Blaming Jisung was much easier than blaming yourself―he blamed you just as much as you blamed him, certainly. That was your assumption, but your pride was much stronger than admitting your own failure. You didn’t want to be proven wrong by the truth; you had no inclination to search for it. 

Seven days gone by and you’d finally moved from the bed―showered, eaten a banana, changed into something other than scruffy pyjamas. Then you walked out the door, your phone residing on the kitchen countertop, dead, whilst you clutched the wallet inside your coat pocket. The wave of fresh air hit you like a tsunami as you step foot outside the apartment block, it was a feeling, a scent, you hadn’t experienced in God knows how long. The air was still crisp, a feeling you had foolishly believed was centralised to your isolated bed. The city bustled continuously, even if it felt as if the world had stopped during your isolation, your emptiness. Of course the world didn’t revolve around you, you were selfish to even entertain the idea. A soft sigh passed your lips as your legs moved without your permission, dragging you down the sidewalk to peer in the windows of shops you wouldn’t bother entering. It was meant to be an escape from your life, a blanket to cover your restless mind and put it to sleep. Yet he still weaseled his way in there. You still pondered back to those memories―whether they were even fragments of reality didn’t matter to you anymore, they haunted you regardless. This one felt too real to be an illusion, formed from your desperation for him to situate himself by your side once again. There was a day, chilly just as this one was, where he strolled down the street with his hand clasping yours warmly. He was smiling warmly, something you could only detect by the way his eyes changed shape. The black mask covered the smile he must’ve had, you could only just make out his eyes under the black cap shoved on his head. 

“Let’s go in there!” he had suggested excitedly when his eyes fell on the lolly shop nearby. 

You halted your footsteps outside the shop, looking up at the confectionery-filled store. There were children and parents, a few teenage friend groups, one cheesy couple, and the old man behind the register. Another sigh escaped you as you walked in and peered along the shelves. You hadn’t the appetite for anything sweet - or anything, really - and yet you still found yourself lining up to pay for a small packet of strawberry jelly lollies. 

The plastic packaging crinkled from inside your pocket as you walked around aimlessly. As you turned down the street, in the direction of a broad park, the sound of voices speaking into microphones became clear, as well as a sea of laughter. You peered upwards, regretfully. God fucking damn it. You forgot he had an event today, let alone a public one in your area. There were fans crowded around the stage, covered in thick coats and holding up banners or large cameras. Jisung glanced around as he talked animatedly with the fans, pausing briefly in thought―he caught your eye in that moment. You stared at one another, motionless, before you turned your gaze away and walked onward. He continued talking to the crowd of fans. Both of you could pretend everything was fine, you could pretend the refusal to interact with one another was normal. You weren’t sure how much longer you could live like this; pretending to be his other half when you still felt empty and incomplete when he was near you. You didn’t think you could deceive reality any longer. No figment of imagination or memory could replace the hole left inside of you. 

The front door slammed shut, an uncommon action for Jisung. Even when your relationship was empty, he was still mindful of the fact you were sleeping, and the fact there were other people in the apartments beside you. You could only assume he was stressed or angry, probably with you. His footsteps swiftly approached before the bedroom door was swung open and the light flicked on. You could make out the sound of clothes shuffling as he removed his jacket and tossed it elsewhere, “do you know how embarrassing that was?” 

You didn’t know what he was talking about, nor did you care. You just let him ramble on. 

“To have you completely blank me in front of all those people? The boys questioned me for hours about you, wondering if we had an argument or something, as if it’s any of their fucking business,” you knew he didn’t mean that, “do you know how much trouble that caused me?” 

Months of you and Jisung being together, but not acting like it, had passed. You were tired of this mutual facade, you were tired of trying to shift the blame on anything else, you were tired of everything. 

“Get over yourself, Jisung.” 

The sound of his movements stopped abruptly; you could imagine the bewildered expression on his face as it sunk in that you had finally called him out on his bull shit. 

“What?” 

You sat up to face him, “you’re just as guilty as I am. Why should I bother paying attention to you when you can’t do the same to me? We both ignored each other, Jisung, we have been for months,” you paused slightly as you pondered over whether you should say what you wanted. It seemed that you’d thought about this moment, this eventual breakdown of the relationship, for months in advance. You had plotted out your complaints, how to say them without sounding spiteful and rude, yet any thought of such had left your mind as soon as he slammed the front door. At the end of the day, he wouldn’t stay. It didn’t matter what you said to him, he’ll go storming out the front door for being wrong or guilty. 

“You’d be naive to think otherwise.” 

You stared at each other, just as you had at the park, yet there was more hurt in your gazes this time. You were hurt because you knew this marked the end, Jisung was hurt because he didn’t want to accept his obliviousness. Regardless of what you both wanted to say, the apologies and promises of doing better, it ended just as you had expected. Jisung turned around, bag still slung over his shoulder, as he stormed from the apartment. The sound of the door slamming resonated within the apartment for the second time that night. Neither of you could stand being wrong. 

You decided it was best to stay away from the apartment, even in his absence the air remained tainted with his scent. You would come back at night, most nights, to collapse into the bed and either instantly pass out or sob pitifully at what your life had become. Your phone had remained dead on the kitchen counter for weeks, there wasn’t a single reason for you to charge it. Anyone who genuinely wanted to contact you could come to your doorstep instead, not that you’d be there to greet them, now that you thought about it. Jisung didn’t have the same initiative. For at least ten minutes everyday, part of him would scream and cry for him to call you and figure this all out. But the other half of him, which always dominated his thoughts and actions, told him that it was useless, that it wasn’t all his fault, that distance would make things better. It was bittersweet to him; he knew all these thoughts were so, so undeniably wrong, and yet he still allowed them to control what he did. He called you once and instantly heard the sound of your pre-recorded voicemail. After that point, any thought of bothering had escaped him entirely. He was certain you wouldn’t answer, regardless of how many times he called. Jisung struggled, almost embarrassingly so, to accept his failures in the relationship. For a long time he shifted the blame back and forth, tipping one end of the seesaw before transferring the weight to the other. As he lay in the empty bed in the dorm room, he thought back on your words from that day. 

“We both ignored each other, Jisung, we have been for months.” 

Sometimes he hated you. Hated you for always knowing the right words for the right discussion at the right time. Hated you for always being reasonable and factual. Hated you for always being right. He always told himself that he secretly resented you, but that was just his problem. Even though he tried, more than he would shamelessly admit, he couldn’t hate you―nor could you hate him. 

You curled yourself into a ball under the cold duvet. The other side of the bed was unoccupied; it wasn’t claimed as his anymore. Numbness swarmed in both of your hearts as the two of you allowed your eyes to shed a tear under darkness. You both hated what you became, and that you never tried to stop it. You both hated that you had chosen to live in memories. 

It could never feel the same. 

[missredtie]

So, you all know by now how much I love talking about Adachi and since I don’t have much on my hands right now, I think I’m going to do it again.

Yesterday night I stumbled upon this video while looking for ... Adachi things (yes, I do watch periodically his final battle against the IT, don’t judge me ok) and I wholeheartedly recommend it to those who still have doubts about Adachi as a villain or as a character in general. 

Summing up, this video answers two questions which have gone around the fandom for a while (how old is this fandom anyway? it feels like I’ve been here forever, someone give me a veteran discount), namely:

Is Adachi realistic? 

Does Adachi fit P4′s story as its villain?

I’m not going to make a summary of what the guy says in the video (I mean, watch it), but I’m going to simply add or stress some of the things he mentions. 

Question 1.

"It doesn’t take an horrific childhood trauma to make a person into a monster”: I particularly loved this sentence because, well, this is kind of what Adachi’s character is all about. I think I will have to add just a little bit more of a context (because remember kids, when analyzing a character, never forget about the time and the place), by directing you to this post on the so called “Lost Decade”. Either way, what is important to understand is: Adachi is not your common villain who had childhood traumas or underwent abuses of some sort. For all we know, he lived in a well-off family who wanted him to study and become someone important and gain lots of money. Lots of pressure, of course, no time to have fun, high expectations and all that jazz, but no one would compare such things to what, for example, Goro went through. No. Poor kid had it much worse. However.  As the video correctly mentions, other factors like isolation, arrogance, lack of human contact twisted his view of the world to the point of him hating his current life to death. It doesn’t take much to turn a person into a monster. Which means, that your neighbour, your childhood friend, even you, under the right conditions, can become Adachi. And this is exactly what is fascinating (and terrifying) about him. I think that many people don’t like the way he’s written because he’s too real, and deny him for what he represents: how easy it is to step on the wrong path. 

However. There is something I didn’t like about that part of the video; or, let’s say, it was not clear enough. Adachi is compared to a mass-shooter who, I am very sorry, I don’t know much about. The comparison works, when the roots of their hatred towards the world are analyzed. Still, let us take a step back and try to be as objective as possible.

Adachi many and many times mentions that: “It was the TV that killed them”, “Throwing them him was never the plan”, “Everyone is the killer, including you”, “All I did was to give a little push” (quoting from memory here). Let’s leave these sentences here. Now, let’s recall the scene in the TV World where Yu confronts Adachi on his own: as we know, he shoots the boy to scare him away, but remember what Yu (or Souji, whatever floats your boat) thinks? “This didn’t seem like a threat” (again, quoting from memory). Then again, we have the infamous scene of him puking at the sight of a corpse (I have no objective proof here, but I honestly think it was a sincere....uh, puking-moment, if it makes sense). What I am trying to say is: he is not capable of killing anyone with his own hands. He did that - I mean, if Yamano was an accident, Saki surely was not- however he keeps on trying to distance himself from such things, “It was the TV that killed them”. He’s a disgusting manipulative bastard, but getting his hands dirty? I can’t see him having it. Even when stating that “We don’t need our world anymore”, Adachi can do that because he’s not actively doing it. Let the TV World engulf reality, see what I care. But firing a bullet through every people’s head and killing them? Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeh, nah. So, honestly? I don’t think he’d have the guts to go, I don’t know, at Junes, gun in his hand, and kill everyone. 

After all. What he wants is slightly different from what a mass-shooting is. “Better for mankind to turn into shadows.” He hates this world, Adachi hates this world’s guts. But what he can’t stand is, and now I’m accurately quoting: “Once everyone turns into Shadows, they’ll still keep on living, oblivious to all the things around them...[...] No need to hold back to anything...No more pretending we don’t see things.” People see things going wrong in this society, they see injustices, they struggle to obtain nothing: and this causes pain and suffering. At the end of the day, he doesn’t want to kill people, he wants to free them from society’s chains and turn everyone into creatures of pure instinct. In his very own weird and twisted way, he thinks he’s making a change for good. And I’m going to get a bit deeper about this in just a second.

Question 2.  

I don’t think I need to add much more to this part of the video. Adachi is clearly the other side of the coin of Yu. I actually want to continue talking about Adachi’s speech during his last fight. 

The whole point of P4 is understanding the power behind bonds and friendships, how they make you grow and change, and help dealing with the world around you. Listening to what the others have to say, understanding and trying to put yourself in people’s shoes. And this is where the IT utterly failed.

I am not saying there was any other way to behave in such a situation: in no way I am implying they should have gone like “Owww poor little ‘dachi, it’s ok, we forgive you”. No, that asshole needed a good spanking (no innuendos intended, please, no). However. 

What Adachi missed all his life was someone, anyone, to stand by his side, to vent to, I imagine, someone to share his troubles with. During his speech, he many times mentions things like “You are young and you still don’t know anything about life”, “I’m telling you this ‘cause I already went through this shit and I’m warning you kids”. He’s warning them. He’s explaining that life is not all merry and happy and friends and adventures and fun. He’s saying, you might have hopes and dreams, but life will crush them, so be prepared. And the best response the IT can give to him is “Wow this is bullshit u suck shut up”. And again, yes, they had ALL the reasons to be mad at Adachi, BUT there was no point in straightforwardly denying anything he was saying. I think that in this regard, the P5 gang did a much better job while dealing with Akechi, and I’m infinitely grateful to them for this. So, basically, what the IT did was nothing but to corroborate Adachi’s twisted view: “No one listens, no one understands”. 

This pretty much covers all the topics dealt with in the video. But there is something more I want to say. Of course, the video tries to explain Adachi as a villain. And when we think about a “villain”, as the guy mentions, we think about someone who can be described by negative adjectives or emotions or words only. So, yes, the video does a good job telling you why Adachi is a well written bad guy, but despite it being the first question addressed, it does not fully explain why he is a well written human being.

When I say human being, I mean that he is capable of experiencing not only negative feelings, but also positive ones. Him caring about Dojima, or about Nanako, him showing interest in Yu’s life is not in contrast with him being the P4 (mid) villain. 

Given the very poor contribution the IT gave to Adachi’s final speech (”guyz this world sucks and ill tell u why. in this essay i will” “sHUT UP ADACHI WHO CARES” >magydyne), he understands he has to abide by the rule of the world on his own. As shown in P4U, he wants nothing but serve his time in prison peacefully, he steps up only to help the guys preserve the world he still hates (’cause he still hates it ok), he understands that Minazuki is full of hatred like he once was, and hopes that he will change and open his eyes. Adachi understands the importance of the bond he shared with Dojima and realizes how blind he was. All on his own. Yeah, let’s say that Yu did like 50% of the job, but that’s because you are the main character and whatnot. 

He is capable of growing, of understanding and being stubborn (’cause lets admit it this world suckz am i rite fellow kids), because he is a well written human being. He can care for Dojima, while wanting to obliterate the world. He can tuck Nanako in, and still throw Saki in the TV. People are not completely black or white; they are made of many colors and shades.  

And this is it. I could talk about this piece of shit for hours, but maybe it’s better if I cut it here. Thanks for reading the whole thing, I know it’s long, so you deserve a round of applause, Adachi-style.  

Wow, I’m surprised you made it this far --quote. 

PS. I didn’t throw in the Ameno-Sagiri possession thing, because I wanted to be as objective and mumbojumbo-free as possible; I do believe it played a role as well, but probably only for a 20%. In any way or capacity I endorse what this piece of trash did; you can appreciate a character for what it is without calling it a poor and misunderstood babu uwu. Adachi needed prison, like, all of it. I hope he’s there staring at a wall.

[thebuffalohuman-blog]

Unpacking Childhood Trauma. *trigger warning. rape*

Well, it’s been 5 blog posts now since I ditched the “chronological” version of talking about my trip to Portland. I don’t know if it matters if I finish it exactly as planned. Who needs to know EXACTLY how things are going to work out, anyway? It’s all a huge journey.

Two days ago, I finally got deep enough into my experience to unlock a certain childhood trauma that has been one of my most long-standing challenges. Now that I’m absolutely 100% okay with it and admitting it to myself, I can admit it to other people.

For those of you who don’t know, I was essentially emotionally and psychically raped for a good portion of my formative years. Now, before I go into detail about the circumstances, I just want to make it clear that I don’t blame anyone for their roles in how this all happened... it’s all due to lack of understanding in their part. There is no space for anger or blame in me for how this all worked out. It is 100% my responsibility to deal with the fallout and how I have become as a result of it.

Let’s start where it all began, the Doctor’s office. When I was having difficulty staying still in class, causing disruptions (such as build a paper fort out of my desk and throwing paper balls at people when the teacher was teaching), my 4th grade teacher suggested to my mother that I get medicated for ADHD... since that was the common thing to do in year 2000... Therapists obviously didn’t exist and word of mouth from a fourth grade teacher and my mother, an Emergency Room nurse was enough to bypass the psychological exam or even a suggestion of asking another party for help and head straight to the medications. I was 7.

We went to this one N.P. who was a known “ADHD specialist” and she told me about how the Dopamine and Serotonin in my brain was all off and that I needed medications so I could make friends and be happy and do good in school. She prescribed me Ritalin... which became the first of about 6 or 7 drugs that I was on from age 7 until I finally kicked pharma when I was 22. So, now there was both a medical doctor, my mother and my teacher telling me that I was somehow “broken” and needed help. Over the next 15 years, not once did I ever receive a psychological examination from a qualified therapist or psychologist. I ended up on a high dose of Concerta (long acting methylphenidate... street legal speed), Ritalin (quicker acting, harder hitting, street legal speed), Strattera (a relatively benign Selective Norephinephrene Re-Uptake Inhibitor that balanced out my depression slightly that my doctor had coined, “The light at the end of the tunnel”... but the kicker was when I was prescribed Apiprazole, aka Abilify, a potent anti-psychotic used for a diagnosis of Obsessive FUCKING Compulsive Disorder because of my DISORGANIZED COLLECTION OF WILD HARVESTED HERBS.

Back story time... At this age, I had a decent collection of locally harvested herbs, flowers, leaves, bark, etc... mostly labelled (all identifiable by my eye) on two shelves in my basement. This “disorganization” was apparently grounds to label me as an obsessive compulsive hoarder at age 11, hence the powerful antipsychotic medication prescription for the next ten years... needless to say, I didn’t collect herbs too much after that. One day my mother threw them all away without asking me.

If you ask me what I’d have done in the situation, I would have helped my child pursue his or her own interests by hooking them up with a herbalist or someone who does that kind of thing the child is interested in... but I don’t get to make that kind of choice. I didn’t get to make any choices because I wasn’t 18 and my mother thought she knew better what I needed and AS A CHILD, I BELIEVED HER.

It took me until a few years ago to realize that the anger that I’ve held inside for so long wasn’t at her for all of that... It was at myself for all those years of letting someone else tell me what was good for me and what I wanted.

I was a child. Even if I had other opinions, why would I believe myself when all these capable, functioning adults told me I was wrong?

I was reading in Maya Angelou’s book, “I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings” about how she blamed herself for the death of the man who raped her. When she traveled to St Louis to her biological mother’s place from her mother’s husband, Mr Freeman raped her and then held her like she would be safe from anything that could threaten her. Next, he said he would kill her brother if she ever told anyone about it. She then talks about how, after he raped her again, eventually her family found out and Mr. Freeman was put on trial. During the interrogation, she was asked if he had touched her before the one reported rape incident and she lied and said “no”. Her “lie” resulted in his sentence being substantially less, his lawyer got him out that very day. That night, he was killed and his body left in the slaughterhouse lot.

Maya blamed herself, her one lie for the death of the man who she somehow loved. She closed her mouth for years after that, never uttering a word, for she blamed herself for the his death. Only after she realized that, by sharing her story, was she able to connect to the greater human experience... all the deep emotions we all feel and to find the liberation that self-love brings.

So, I guess that’s why I’m sharing. Thanks, Marguerite Angelou. Thanks for telling your story. Here’s mine. I don’t blame anyone for how it happened. It is not my fault, not another’s fault... merely how it happened...

Now, the part that I only figured out recently about this... I realized why I was being disruptive and hyper in the first place.

Because my first crush, “Nicole” had completely ignored me when I wrote her a letter, asking her if she wanted to be my friend. I was a precocious little brat... and honestly, I had very little rapport with my mother, a notoriously bad advice giver who would often suggesting relationship sabotage or manipulative behaviors. I had no real “friends” to talk about this problem with... so when one thing led to another, I acted out and that’s how I ended up medicated and thus OBEYING WHAT MY FAMILY WAS TELLING ME ABOUT MYSELF. THAT I WAS BROKEN. THAT I NEEDED HELP. THAT I WASN’T WORTH INVESTING ANY REAL EFFORT INTO. THAT I WAS A BURDEN and THAT I SHOULD SHUT UP AND TAKE WHAT THEY WERE GIVING ME. They couldn’t control me without medications, so they hit me where it hurts and got me started on a violence cycle towards myself of self-deprecation, isolation and drug-addiction that it would take me years to resolve.

Now, it’s the times, really that caused this. This idea that it’s acceptable to medicate a child PERMANENTLY is terribly detrimental to our society as a whole. Not only to most of these medications cause severe side effects, both long and short term but it’s literally drugging and raping an entire generation to do as they are told and to not question the way of things. Fucking traumatic generational bullshit that is COMPLETELY normalized. In the Early days, Shamans didn’t look at people as having “mental illness” as a disorder that is characterized and labeled... People were an infinite spectrum of personalities, all with their own individual wants, needs and path that must be respected and honored so that the person can grow as a whole. Medicine focused on the WHOLE PERSON, not just a specific character trait that the doctor deems as “non-beneficial”. We have moved so far from our center as a human species.

Now, I’m learning to love myself more... to be less violent in thought and action towards myself... to accept when I don’t know what to do to fix something... to channel my anger appropriately (into art, craftsmanship, poetry, music) and to love people, despite their flaws or lack of “knowledge”. I have a deep well of compassion for humans in all walks of life. I have better boundaries now and know where my emotions and desires end and another person’s begin. I am strong and I will be respect from here on out as a survivor of childhood trauma.

To you, Mom... I love you anyways.

[nebula-starlight]

Virus (Part 3 - Choices Made)

Hi there...

I know it’s been a while since we last talked but I’m-

“No, that won’t work!”

Tossing the unusable letter into the air with a swat of his paw, Geer spat out a tiny spark of electricity, frying the paper into a pile of ashes before he rested his forehead against the counter in his kitchen. A frustrated sigh left him as he closed his yellow eyes wearily. Why did he think writing an apology to Narssia for his lack of communication would help any when the last thing he received from her had been a refusal to advance their friendship past where it was months ago. It never would have worked out anyway with her being busy so often.

It had been nearly a week since his episode in the library and he’d requested some time off from his work to figure out what was going on. His supervisor had been more than happy to grant it, especially since he never usually asked off to begin with, but now the loneliness had kicked in. The one bedroom house he rented only had so much within its walls and Melvise was busy at the clinic so he couldn’t bother her. Still there had to be something he could do! 

Lifting his head from the shaped, speckled marble of the countertop he glared down in disgust at the small diamond-like patch of scales that stood out along the top of his breastbone. It didn’t act like any fungus would or even itch but just sat there, beckoning to the world as though it was a sign...

He gasped, stumbling back as he suddenly remembered what he’d read in the old tome about how a fallen or Shadowling would mark its chosen. What else had the book said? Something about a mental connection forming? But he hadn’t experienced anything of the-

No, he had. The event in the library. It had been his only warning that he was marked. Why then hadn’t he seen Nether since? If the spirit was supposed to seek out its host then what was the delay? Sure he was starting to have nightmares every so often but he was used to them anyway from years of blaming his lack of wings on why he was abandoned before hatching. Some might say he even drowned in secret guilt but he tried to never let it show, always wearing his specially made cloak when he was outside. Now in his own home, however, he felt fine to move around unhindered by fabric, only pulling the shades on his windows shut to deter any passerby’s snide comments. He didn’t even live in a busy part of the city but a fair share of dragons took the road he was on to get to the market square located in the dead center of town.

Deciding he wasn’t going to get the letter written just standing there in his kitchen, he sighed and headed out into the connecting den with his head barely higher than his chest in shame. Why wasn’t he a good friend? Sure he thought he wanted more from Narssia but even still, reading her last letter hurt just as much as it had on the day he’d gotten it. That rejection was just another blow to his already fragile heart. How much more could he take at this point!

Throwing himself on the ugly tan couch he obtained shortly after he moved in, Geer curled up on the worn fabric and yawned. He hadn’t really noticed how tired he was but laying there with the late afternoon sun on his back through the drawn shades seemed to be the push he needed to nod off for a quick nap.

The ground was covered in mist when he opened his eyes, looking around in confusion as the sight no longer resembled where he fell asleep. Where was he? Curious, Geer got to his feet and started to walk, hissing slightly as the raised pattern of scales suddenly begun to burn.

“I-Is anyone out there?”

‘So you finally heard mine call?’

He froze mid-step, eyes going wide as the voice echoed across the vast empty expanse. The deep rumble was all too familiar, baring a trace of an accent that registered in his mind as German. It couldn’t be! Sure he hadn’t seen the spirit since accidentally setting it free but how in the nine realms had it been the one to find him?!

“Net- Nether, how?” He stumbled forward, falling onto his belly as he scratched uselessly at the rough, uneven ground. “How did you find me? Why am I even your chosen?” Tears sprung to his eyes, all of the emotions he had been suppressing for the past week surging to the surface all of a sudden. “I’m not special. Not even whole by the standards of my peers... Why waste your time on an outcast like myself?”

‘You are mistaken. Why wouldn’t I choose someone like myself? Look at me, Geer...’

Gentle, nearly invisible pressure against his jaw only made the flightless drake start to sob, his heartbreaking cries echoing through the desolate space. He thought he heard the spirit sigh but wasn’t sure, shaking his head in denial. They were nothing alike! Nether was strong and fearless while he... While he was a complete coward who hid behind useless trivia and tried to overlook the stigma society placed upon him for his disability.

‘Nein, mine friend... If you won’t look up then listen at least. You wonder why I waited, why I did not go to you after realizing what had occurred? The implant, it...’ Nether paused to sigh once more, Geer’s sobbing finally starting to subside as the mist flickering around him slid over his scarred back. ‘I won’t lie. The adjustment period - if you wish to call it such - wasn’t pleasant. Having mine language snatched from me as the poison continued to... Well let’s say there were several mood shifts over the last few days. Only now did I feel composed enough to visit you.’

“Why though? What can I offer that you don’t already have?”

Two softly glowing crimson orbs met his gaze as Geer looked up from where he lay on the ground. He blinked, sniffling as the mere presence of the fallen spirit brought him a sense of comfort he realized he had lacked for far too long. For years he had built up this emotional wall of stress, shoving every disappointment and criticism behind to the point where he’d isolated himself away from those that had only been trying to help. Anger was all he had carried in his heart. Bitterness over his abandonment driving the biggest wedge in his friendship with Narssia. No wonder she rejected him and went silent...

‘Do not blame yourself for the female’s actions. She is as much to blame for what happened, if not more.’ Nether’s low voice washed over him, the truth difficult for Geer to believe but necessary if he was to accept his part of the blame. ‘Now then, you asked a question earlier and wanted to know what I gain out of this. Why I chose someone who only sees what the world expects? And yet, in doing so, never embraces the unique position their differences brings.’

The spirit advanced, his familiar bat-like shape now visible against the mist as his eyes shone like welcoming beckons in the midst of a terrible storm. ‘I suppose an explanation is needed for mine words. Call it a defect if you wish but I am, to an extent, a highly susceptible empath. Each emotion of those around I feel and were it not for my dangerous abilities I would have lost myself long ago. The fact I still have sanity is a testament to years of study... and then being Sol’s most successful interrogator. Fear is something many wield as a weapon but forget it can also be used for good.’

“But how?” Geer asked, crawling closer to the only being he could properly consider as an emotional lifeline in his current situation. “All those taunts and quips over the years about my back... Not to mention the cloak that they try to rip from around my neck. Explain why that can be anything more than the cruelty of dragon nature!”

‘You give credit too quickly, Geer. Mine words are not an end all however much you may wish. I speak only from my own experience, plus what little I have gleaned from your mind already. Wars start in the heart after all...’

“Sure they do,” he hissed back, digging one paw into the ground under him for stability as he started to rise, voice slowly rising into a frustrated scream. “And parents cast aside an imperfect child because they don’t want to be seen as anything less than ideal members of the storm!”

‘Are you surprised really?’ Nether questioned, his form flickering slightly. ‘Society shapes what the perfect representation looks like and all those who obey react in kind. The old, sickly and deformed are forgotten in favor of having the grand image be of an unbreakable nation. Time and time again this is the case and never will change unless action is taken by all.’ He ventured closer, wisps of faint magenta visible along the edges of his wings.

“Just come out and say it! Why am I so special to you?” Geer screeched, screaming the question as the emotionless slitted irises watching him finally narrowed in what he knew was anger.

The fallen spirit growled, trails of crimson light flickering from his eyes as the surrounding mist turned black. ‘Because you offer a light to mine darkness. A counterbalance if you will. I ask not for an answer immediate but consider what I suggest. I’ll give you a few days to decide what you want but keep in mind that I can erase all the shame. You could be airborne within a month should you choose...’

Geer hesitated, uncertainties running rampant through his mind. Would he still be himself then if he accepted the role before him? It seemed so tempting but was it the right thing to do? Had he missed something while reading that tome?

And more importantly was there a way he didn’t have to become Nether’s host?

He flinched suddenly, shaking his head as he tried to ignore the low buzzing that had crept into his thoughts roughly about the same time he’d seen the mist turn black. Looking closer he could almost see sparks of green flickering through it, curiosity prompting him to reach out with a paw.

‘Oh, are you going to ignore me now? Well then... LEAVE!’

Geer woke with a start, falling off the couch as he tried to calm his racing heart. So he was Nether’s chosen then. What was he supposed to do now? He couldn’t just go out and search for the...

Wait, where was that staticky noise coming from? He lifted his head, glancing up at the kitchen to see the faint, glitchy shape of a pixelated cloud flickering overtop of the paper he’d left. That’s right, he had been trying to write a letter before he fell asleep.

Intrigued, he got to his feet and followed the noise to its source. As he had seen earlier, it was indeed a glitchy black and green cloud... one that seemed to recognize his presence despite the fact that he’d never seen it before in his life.

“Uhh... hi there.” He was used to seeing somewhat odd things in the past but the fact that the staticky hum only grew louder should have been his signal to leave right away.

Key word being should because he didn’t, watching as it slithered around his forepaws before moving up to his shoulders. There was this entrancement to the way it moved, glitchy but still extremely fluid as it briefly vanished from his sight. Turning his head to keep up with the progress, he suddenly heard a multitude of low, overlapping whispers all crying out for attention.

Help... Pain... Make it stop!

“Hold on! What are you? I know I heard talk of a glitch showing up but...”

The corrupt figment curled around his neck, specifically avoiding the mark announcing he was chosen, while its influence set his scales aflame. He coughed, stepping back to try and breathe as the whispers grew louder, more demanding. Something was very much wrong but he was in far too deep now to turn back!

He tried to lift a paw, only to find he couldn’t actually move the limb as the glitch coiled tighter around Geer’s neck. Black spots danced across his vision, limbs shaking as the lack of oxygen was starting to pull him down. This couldn’t be how he was going to die!

‘Either get moving or I will drag you out of this house by your tail. That warning wasn’t just meant to be ignored, Geer. She’s not known for her patience I’m afraid. Better start walking before you drown in the static.’

He... He couldn’t see. All he could hear was the noise, the constant, oppressive hum that snuffed out any trace of Nether’s warning. Become her vessel it seemed to suggest as the constriction around his throat eased gradually. Just accept her inside long enough to write one simple letter...

Geer’s eyes opened, the normally yellow irises glazed over with a layer of green as the glitch lifted one of his paws and dipped a clawtip in a small bottle of ink he had set out beside the paper. With long, curving strokes the possessed drake wrote, eyes staring blankly at the paper as images of blood-splattered snow and blinding fiery beckons flashed through his mind too quickly to decipher.

Draw attention... Get vessel... Seek-

‘What the hell are you doing?’

The kitchen exploded into shadows, a single shape rising up from the ground with a distinct bone-chilling hiss that seemed to finally break through to Geer. He jerked back, blinking fiercely as Nether glared down at him in disappointment, breathing heavily.

‘Idiot. Did you conveniently ignore every single warning I gave you?’ His gaze turned towards the glitch who remained curled loosely around Geer’s neck and hissed, anger causing his voice to fluctuate between two different registers. ‘Why do I even bother? You won’t listen anyway to a word I say. And you, parasite, I’d get lost if you wish to remain in any visible state. Let me catch you anywhere near him again and...’

“Nether, I...”

The fallen spirit barely acknowledged him as Geer’s attempt at speaking dissolved into a coughing fit, focus instead intently resting on the still unmoving intruder. ‘One moment... Perhaps I was not clear, pest. Your presence is not wanted. Get lost!’

The glitch finally took the hint and vanished in a burst of green sparks, leaving the kitchen noticeably quieter than before and also missing one piece of paper. Geer, however, was still desperate to speak and explain himself.

“Let me talk...” His breath hitched, stumbling forward until he was almost touching the ethereal. “I think I... Um, would it be possible to give me a few days? I’d need to say goodbye to Melvise and...”

‘I wouldn’t worry about her.’ The emotionless remark bothered Geer, head tilting to the side in confusion as he started to scratch at the mark but thought better of it. ‘Now that the glitch knows she’s important to you and the other dragoness as well... Although I suspect we led it straight to that discovery.’ Nether huffed, twisting around the silent drake. ‘Enemies will come after you now once they know we are familiar with each other. I will grant your request but do remember this delay only makes it more likely someone will find out...’

“Thank you,” Geer breathed, flinching slightly as the spirit faded away to leave the kitchen empty.

‘Nein, mine Chosen. The battle has only begun.’

The knock on her front door startled the slumbering dragoness who stumbled to her feet and forced herself to answer the frantic pounding. It must be urgent to wake her in the middle of the night.

“Alright! Shut up, I’m coming. Sheesh, don’t they know it’s the dead of night.”

Grabbing the door handle, she jerked it open towards her to see a small little patchwork wyvern who squeaked excitedly at the sight of her. Rolling her topaz eyes in annoyance, she noticed the envelope hanging in its tiny, glitching claws.

“Got a letter for me?” She asked, still holding the door handle with one paw while the other lay flat against the wall beside her, balancing on her back legs and tail.

The stunted messenger chirped in agreement, flapping closer to her to release the white package. Catching it with a quick swipe of the paw that had formerly been against the wall, she thanked the tiny beast with a curt nod before shutting the door in its face and returning to her bedroom.

It was the middle of the night and yet someone cared not for her sleep schedule apparently. Lighting a lamp beside her bed with a huff of smoky black energy, she read over the writing on the envelop first - not recognizing the slightly slanted clawscript which had written her name. How odd.

Opening it and pulling out the letter within, her eyes scanned over the near identical wording inside. Geer hadn’t written her back after she sent him what could only be described as a drunken rant as she spilled her emotions out over the page. How could she open herself up to him after what had happened in her last relationship? She barely got away from that drake with her life intact! Running away from all she’d known to save herself from certain death. It wouldn’t be right to drag such a sweet, naive soul into that mayhem. She fervently hoped he had understood and hadn’t taken her words at face value...

Narssia,

It has been some time since we spoke last and I apologize severely for the silence. I know this is sudden but would you like to meet up during the upcoming dry season? Surely work won’t be killing you then I hope.

I look forward to your reply,

Geer 

She frowned, opening the drawer on her nightstand and pulling out another letter he had sent not long after they first started talking about four months ago. The dry season was about three months away if her sleep-deprived brain calculated correctly. Still had plenty of time to respond on whether she would like to meet or not. 

Smoothing out the slightly crumpled paper, her eyes widened as the difference in the script became clear. Whoever had written the one she just received was using an old style similar to that of the first few dragons. It was deliberately crafted, suggesting to her there was more meaning than just what her eyes saw.

Where she had been tired, and slightly irritate before receiving the note, now she was wide awake and practically buzzing with energy. Or was it the lamp that was humming? That was strange. She thought she fixed it weeks ago.

Sighing deeply, she reached out to disperse the magic... only to get shocked as a result. Stepping back, Narssia snorted in surprise, wondering if she had fallen asleep again given how odd her simple lantern was behaving. It wasn’t too odd for her to just pass out at night after staying up for hours fearing vivid nightmares of the past. She was lucky she could even handle her wildly fluctuating emotions sometimes with all the damage that monster did to her.

Even stranger was the fact that she had been sleeping rather well before the letter came. Of course she had to get enough rest to perform her job as a healer at the local clinic in her small mountainous town. Helping dragons get better brought her the biggest joy... one that was able to mask the terror that haunted her dreams.

‘Sleep...’

The word pressed upon her mind, drowsiness suddenly overwhelmingly strong. Could she at least make it back into bed first? She turned, only to collapse as the low buzz of static grew louder before it was joined by a glitchy, pixelated cloud which seemed to be the origin of the sound.

‘Promising...’ The distorted mist swirled around Narssia’s body, crackling green sparks hitting the she-dragon’s black scales. ‘Tempting even...’

Without another word it seeped into her body, causing the limp dragoness to jerk wildly. Smears of green streaked over her black scales, marking several locations along her forelegs and back before trailing up her neck where a rippling diagonal slash was formed across her throat. She continued to trash around for several more seconds before falling still, the dead of the night once again consuming all within its wake.

The glitch had made its decision... and it only had the idiotic flightless one to thank. Things would be fun now since it had a chance to ruin two lives instead of just one.

A choice has been made, now she must pay...

The glitch is here, there’s nothing to fear... except the darkest corners of a mind burdened by repressed guilt and shame 

[justsomekpopstuff]

Balanced (Yixing)

Pairing: Yixing x Reader

Type: Soulmate AU

Requests: OPEN

WARNING: some violent and potentially triggering content depending on how you interpret it

MASTERLIST

A/N: Yes, I am making a bit of a callback to exo’s powers and stuff. It fit perfectly with this concept, I promise. Also I think this is by far the longest one of these that I’ve done, so yay me

You and your soulmate are connected by powers - You and your soulmate have opposing superpowers that are nullified when together...

it had all started when you were only five years old

you were running around at school playing tag with your friends

when you tagged your friend to be it, all of a sudden they passed out cold, falling extremely ill in seconds

you had no idea what happened, you were a kid

you ran and tapped the nearest teacher to get their attention, and they too fell to the ground cold

your parents had to come and get you from school because you were now terrified of touching anyone

you started to do some tests to figure out what was going on

you found rather quickly that everything you touched that had life would become ill, and in some cases, die

it was like your very touch was poisonous to the world around you

you had no control over how powerful your powers were, seeing as how you were a child

you begged your parents to stay in isolation until you could figure out how to control yourself

you would wear gloves and long clothing to cover any amount of skin just to be safe

as you grew older, you learned about the effects of your powers, eventually finding small ways to control your powers

while you still couldn’t touch anyone, you got it to the point that it would only make them incredibly sick rather than killing them

you could control how sick the person who touched you got, even to lethal levels

you regained some normalcy in your life, even finding the confidence to go out into the world every now and again

however, ever since the incident when you were five, the government had been watching you closely, waiting for you to make a mistake again

they believed that because of your powers, you were a danger to society, and so they waited for the day that they could remove you from the equation...

Yixing, on the other hand, was the complete opposite of you

he had been born with the power to heal 

his parents discovered this rather quickly when any bruises or scrapes that he got would heal almost instantly

whenever his parents got hurt, he would only have to touch them and the injury would disappear

there were people who would sometimes abuse this power, sometimes even purposefully hurting themselves just to experience it

the fact that he was also more than willing to help anyone in need did not make matters much better

this was a theme that was all too common throughout his life

eventually, he learned that sometimes he had to pretend to be normal, just so that he would not be used by others again

because of his powers, Yixing was also being watched

but, just like your powers, it was for the exact opposite reason

they wished to recruit him for their own selfish purposes

after all, if he had the power to heal, he must also be able to make sure that one person can live forever, right? thats not how it works but they dont know that

your “slip up” came in the form of some random creep who thought it would be a good idea to sneak up on you

you were out on a walk, earphones in and your hands in your pockets, since you couldn’t be bothered to wear your gloves that day

you were walking to go and get some food and some air when they grabbed you from behind and attempted to pull you into a nearby alley

you kicked and wriggled around, attempting to get free without your powers, but it was useless

in a moment of pure fear and push for survival, you brought your hands out and gripped on to your attacker

in seconds, they were on the ground, stone cold dead

this was the moment the government had been waiting for

you had killed someone

even though you knew that it was not your fault, the person had grabbed you, you knew that they would not care

and so, you went into hiding once more, not daring to exit your safe house if you could avoid it

you had been doing fine in hiding for a few years, finding peace in solitude 

but that was the calm before the storm

one day, as you were relaxing on your own, you heard shuffling noises from outside

you didn’t know of anyone that was planning to visit you

you smelled danger instantly

the government had found you

you grabbed your emergency pack and headed out the secret hatch that you had built for such a situation

you sprinted out into the sunlight and hopped into your car, knowing that you had to loose them as soon as possible

and so, you drove to the nearest city, hoping that you could blend in with the crowd, with the government right on your tail

this just happened to be the day that Yixing decided to go out for the day to do some exploring

he was up to his neck in requests from the government to come in and have an interview about his powers, which he was desperate not to do

he needed some time away from that, and so, he went for a walk in the sunlight

your car had ran out of gas on a random side street, and so you abandoned it in hopes that you would be able to loose them on foot

you ran out into the crowd and slowed down, walking in pace with everyone around you

you hid your face as best as you could, keeping your hands in your pockets once more

you were doing great, and you believed you were in the clear until you heard thundering footsteps behind you

they were catching up

you broke out into a dead sprint as they called for you to stop, but you had no intention of doing so

people scrambled to get out of your way, seeing that you were being chased

you bolted and weaved in and out of the crowd, doing your best to make sure that you didn’t touch anyone directly and cause even more trouble

you were doing great, gaining a good amount of distance between you and the agents chasing you when it happened

you turned to look behind you for a split second

that was the exact second that Yixing walked in front of you, not even paying attention

you slammed into him full force, knocking the both of you straight to the ground with a thud

the two of you groaned from the impact as you rolled off of the person you ran into

“are you okay?” the person asked you

you nodded, not trusting your voice in that moment

the person next to you slowly got to there feet before taking one of your hands, pulling you up without hesitation

your eyes widened and you were about to warn them about you

but instead, nothing happened

even after a few seconds, the guy was still standing in front of you, looking alive and healthy

“are you sure you’re okay? you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” the guy asked you 

you tore your hand out of his and looked past his shoulder to see that the agents were turning the corner, their sharp eyes darting around for any sign of you

you grabbed the man’s arm and pulled him into a small alley, away from the eyes of the agents following you

you gestured at him to be quiet, and he looked at you confused

you watched as the agents walked right past the two of you, continuing on their fruitless search

once you were sure that they were gone, you pulled the guy back out into the light

“okay, what’s going on? who are you, and who were those guys?” he asked you seriously

meanwhile, you were poking his arms and grabbing on to his shoulders, wondering why your powers were not working on him

“could you stop that, please, and answer my questions?” he snapped quickly at you

you looked up at him, surprised at his tone

“I’m sorry, you’re the first person that hasn’t been effected by me,” you tell him

“what do you mean? who are you?”

“My name is (Y/N). The agents that walked past are from the government. They want to take me in because of my powers,” you told him quietly, making sure that there were no prying ears around

“Wait, powers?” he asked you

you were the first person that Yixing had met that had powers just like he did, so he was a little shocked

“Yes. My touch is like poison. Whatever or whoever I touch can become extremely sick or die. You are the first person to remain completely healthy,” you told him.

now Yixing was very confused

you read the expression on his face and knew you had to elaborate

“My powers are almost incontrollable. I can’t shut it off. The best I could do was to make it so it would just make the person sick. The government has been on my tail because they believe I am a danger to society. I accidentally killed someone who tried to attack me and now they are dead set on taking me in...” you explained.

you had a moment of realization

you were explaining the reason that you were a wanted fugitive to a total stranger

“...I don’t even know your name...you aren’t one of them are you?” you asked him

“No, my name is Yixing. You are the first person I have ever met with powers like me. I’m a healer,” he explained. “The government wants me too, but for a different reason.”

he went on to explain his story, telling you how he was also desperate to escape the eyes of the agents that wished to recruit him

in your time, you didn’t notice that the agents had backtracked

the two of you were spotted, and before you knew it, the two of you were completely out cold

you woke up on the floor of a cold, dark cell

you groaned, feeling your head ache from passing out

your vision was slightly blurry, but you could see a door outside the walls that kept you contained

you were stuck

meanwhile, Yixing woke up in a boardroom, in a comfy chair, surrounded by old men in suits

as Yixing finally came too, he could hear them asking him questions, requesting his service

“What’s going on?” he asked them. “Where’s (Y/N)”

they told him that you were away from the world, where you would never be able to harm anyone again

Yixing shook his head at them

“They’re not a danger...they’re not,” he tried to argue

“They killed someone with their powers. Who knows if they will kill again?” the men tried to argue

“They aren’t a danger to me...” Yixing mentioned

now he had their attention

“Their powers, they don’t work on me,” Yixing smiled smugly, knowing that they had no way to prove otherwise

after all, you had spent most of your conversation poking him and touching him, with no effects

“They must be soulmates...” he heard one of the men whisper

“What?” Yixing asked.

the men sitting around the table murmured amongst themselves before the man at the head of the table stood

“We will release (Y/N). But only on these terms. You are her soulmate, and therefore you are her antidote. You must not leave their side,” the man explained

Yixing’s mind was exploding

SOULMATE?

WHAT?

THOSE EXIST?

all he could do was nod and comply

after all, if it was going to get you released, he should at least try

you lay still in your cell, slowly coming to terms that you were going to be left to rot

that is, until you heard the door open

your eyes travelled over to see that the person who came in was not a guard or an agent, but Yixing

“They’re releasing you -” he started

you shot up and ran to the entrance to the cell where he was standing

“Amazing! Get me out of here!” you spoke excitedly

“I didn’t finish,” he spoke. “They’re releasing you, but you have to come with me. I’ll explain when we leave.”

the door to the cell hissed open, and Yixing offered you his hand

you took it, and the two of you walked out of the building and into the night turns out you had been there a while dont judge me

the two of you eventually arrive at what you believe to be Yixing’s apartment

“What are we doing here?” you asked him.

“Come inside and I’ll explain. It has to do with our powers and why you were released,” he told you

eventually, you were sat on the couch as he stood in front of you

“What’s going on?” you asked him.

“So, the reason you were released is because of me,” he told you. “Turns out our powers cancel each other out for a reason. Apparently we’re soulmates. They released you because was long as I am around you, you won’t be able to harm anyone...”

“Wait...so you’re telling me that you’re my soulmate? That’s why everything is happening?” you questioned

“Pretty much,” he confessed.

the two of you just remained in silence, not being able to find the words to fit the situation

“Well...what do we do now,” you asked.

Yixing thought for a moment before making a suggestion

“Wanna get some takeout?” 

you couldn’t believe what you just heard

you started to giggle, before erupting into heavy laughter

Yixing couldn’t help but join you

“after all that we have been through in the past few hours, we’re finishing off by getting takeout,” you managed to breathe through your laughter

“I mean...sure?” he replied, still chuckling

“Let’s do it,” you accepted with a smile

the two of you sat on the couch with your takeout food, processing the day you had and getting to know each other

after all that you had been through, you knew you could trust him

together, you were balanced

[fandom-addicts-yeah]

Could we have an romantic Eridan X Mermaid! Reader Fic, Where Eridan is at a beach (swimming, sunbathing, whatever the heck) and he sees the reader, sunbathing on a rock formation? Maybe the reader not only has a fish tail, but has another fish like feature as well, like prettyful fins for ears or something like that~

That’s an interesting idea

Well first let’s go through the basics:

Y/N - your name

F/C- favorite color 

H/C- hair color

H/L- hair length

Also keep in mind that it contains a few curse words and I will also change the point of view, I hope you like it!

________________________________

Eridan’s POV

       I am dragged at a beach bymy friend Feferi, in all honesty I don’t want to be here. People are too loud,the sun is burning my skin and the water is fucking cold. Fef on the other handis really excited about it ‘Oh c’mon, Eridan, loosen up, it’s not thatbad! I’m always having fun at the beach! You can have fun too!’ she said with ahappy, sort of stupid, smile on her face. ‘I highly doubt it, Fef! There’snothing here that I might possibly like!’ I am very skeptical about the wholesituation, she invited me at the beach before, I don’t understand why I agreedthis time, I have a really bad feeling when I’m around the ocean, even thoughI’m a good swimmer. ‘Whatever, Eridan, just get in the damnwater!’. ‘Fiiiine!’

       I got in the water, but I’mstill not moving ‘Eridan, what are you doing? Start swimmingalready.’ ‘No wway Fef, I’m in the wwater but I wwon’t swwimm!’ ‘Ohreally?’. Before I could respond with anything, she dived under water anddragged me by the foot with her. I look around and I see her holding herbreath, looking like she wanted to giggle. I glare at her and start moving inthe direction of the surface, since she dragged me pretty far under water. Iwas close but at that moment I saw something moving in the corner of my eye. I lookedback but Feferi wasn’t there, she was already at the surface. The motion kepton happening around me, the figure swimming like they had superpowers. Idecided to follow it.

       After a few minutes Ifollowed the figure to the surface. I could still see the beach from where Iwas so I wasn’t exactly in danger. I looked around then I saw a pretty bigrock, and someone seemed to be sitting on it? I got closer to the rock and thenI saw them. They had a fish like long (F/C) tail and (H/L) (H/C)hair. But what I immediately noticed for some reason were their fins, that wereplaced instead of ears and were tinted a little (F/C), like their whole body.

Reader POV

      The warm breeze is touching mycold, wet skin nicely. After I had to run away from those humans I needed abreak, I mean, I was almost noticed, lucky for me I have the mermaid powers.Unfortunately, I detected someone swimming in my direction. As quick as Icould, I jumped off the rock and hid behind it.

       The figure keeps gettingcloser, until I can see him clearly, a human. I stare at him in awe. I’vewatched humans for years, they seem fascinating, but I’ve never seen one soclose to me. I wanted to communicate with him, but unfortunately I realized hewas struggling to hold his breath. Being truly aware of the danger that I’mputting my species in, I still grabbed his hand and dragged him to the surface.

       Once we reached thesurface, he caught his breath, then looked at me with a shocked and mesmerizedexpression that made me slightly giggle. Looking straight into his eyes, Iopened my mouth to say something but I was cut off by him saying ‘Y-YOU’REREAL AND… and you’re gorgeous’ the compliment flattered me, but I know forsure that I have to leave, we are not allowed to see each other nor speak witheach other in any way, we’ve hiding for thousands of years, and in a fewminutes, I managed to ruin that.

       Trying not to be rude, Ikindly smiled then tried to leave. He noticed my movements and realized thatI’m trying to leave, so he grabbed my upper arm and said ‘wwait, I wwantto talk wwith you more. I can’t believe you’re real! Wwait, can you talk?’. Hewanted to keep asking questions, but I raised my hand in front of him to shuthim up, then said ‘y-yes I can talk’ my voice was a little rusty, I’m usedto talking underwater, but not on the surface ‘I’m (Y/N). And who mightyou be, human?’. I looked in his purple-ish eyes waiting for an answer. Herealized he was sort of staring so he shook his head and spoke ‘I’m Eridan.’he said that so softly that it was hard to hear. Silence followed, and I usedit to take a closer look at him. He doesn’t have fins nor a tail. He has two…feet? I believe human call them. I wonder how can humans swim with them, theyare not made for that, but most humans still weren’t drowning.

       After a while of staring athim I looked straight at his face and said ‘I think we should go sit onthe rock, you’re a human after all, and I honestly don’t want you to diebecause of me.’ He didn’t respond but he nodded and followed me to the rock. Weboth sat there. I looked at the beach, it was visible from that point. I deeplysighed then said to him ‘So you live there huh?’ He looked at me andmurmured a ‘yes’ under his breath. ‘Is it nice? I mean to me it lookslike you have more freedom than I do.’ He looked at me then said with aconfused and at the same time amused face ‘More freedom? The ocean is wwaybigger than the land. You havve more to explore than wwe do.’ Thinking aboutit, he’s right, the ocean is way bigger than the land, but mermaids have a lotof rules that should be followed, and right now, I was breaking at least ten.My face must have showed concern for a second there without me realizing, ‘causehe looked at me with a soft, wandering expression.

       I don’t want theconversation to be awkward so I guess it’s time to fix it.’So, you can swimwith your “feet” I see. I’m surprised. They obviously not made forswimming.’ He looked at me with… actually glared at me, in a sort of way thatactually showed a little bit of pride ‘Maybe they are not made forswwimming, but they are still functional. But not all human can swwimm, I canbecause I’m awwesome’. That statement made me laugh a little, thing thatutterly irritated him. ‘Wwhat the fuck are you laughingat?!’ ‘Nothing, nothing. You just seem to be very very confident’. At thataffirmation his expression softened and he sighed ‘I don’t knoww ifconfidence is the right wword, but thank you for the… compliment?’. Thatintrigued me for some reason, I wanted to know more about this human, maybe hehad the same struggles like me, and maybe he is ignored and isolated from hissociety because of his dreams as well. I looked at him and said softly ‘I knowwe just met and all, but you can talk to me, I mean I don’t have anyone to tellanything to, so we might as well keep each other’s company while we are here.’He looked at me and sort of smiled but for a quick second.

~~~~~Time skip~~~~~

Reader POV

      We talked ‘till the sun wentdown completely. I found out about his friends that usually called him annoyingand ignore him, about the fact that he’s lonely even though he tried to getcloser to people, about how he can be temperamental at times. Over all, heseemed like a nice human, the nicest one by far. He was sort of kind with me,we shared the same problems and issues, and he also looked good.

       Unfortunately for both ofus, it was time for him to leave so I did what I thought was best, consideringthe fact that I might never see him again, thought that made me really sad. Helooked at me then said ‘I’m really sorry but I have to go. I honestlywwish I could stay. You truly understand me but…’ I motioned for him to stoprambling and look at me ‘ I understand, we technically aren’t even allowedto talk, so you don’t have to excuse yourself. Just promise me two things’ henodded so I went on ‘one, don’t tell anyone about our existence’ he noddedagain ‘and two… n-never forget me, cause I will never forget you…’ andwith that, without giving him time to respond I softly kissed his cheek andjumped in the water, leaving a blushing Eridan behind.

 __________________________

     1435 words

I hope you enjoyed it! :P

~ Mod Ale 

[odogaronfang]

[[ @clumsybooknerd hi Tala!!! i was assigned to be your secret santa this year, and after looking through your blog to get an idea of what to do i came across your vampire au! so i thought i could write for that for the @imaginefourswords secret santa gift! i didn’t see too many details on it, so i hope this is okay- merry christmas, happy hanukkah, or just happy holidays!]]

Vampires were, for the longest time, thought to be the stuff of legends. Myths made by the ancients to explain the phenomena they didn’t understand- stories told by disenchanted parents to frighten children into behaving themselves- tales to tell at campfires under a new moon, with the certainty of a jumpscare to punctuate. And every so often someone would go missing, off the streets of a bustling city or from the gold-wheat fields of the rurals, and it would be chalked up to humans; so sick, so terrible, the human trafficking, awful things going on in our world, but oh well, what can you do. Some of them were even found, with little paired pinpricks littering their bodies, pale and gray, wrinkled and lifeless, sunken-eyed with skin too large for their bodies. Snakes, it’d be dismissed as, so often, too often- went to close to a nest, got bitten, venom did them in. Or bats, a swarm, a moon-snuffing flock, overwhelmed them and fed off them.

The latter was far closer to the truth, as people later discovered. A few of the newer-turned got careless, too sloppy with their schedules and their choices, and got caught in the act. Not caught, never taken into custody, but seen and sometimes filmed, and as much as authorities wanted to keep it under wraps, the truth came out eventually. There was panic, fear, accusations, riots, a general chaos that for quite some time disbanded all sense of trust and order among the people, comparable to the witch hunts of old. But from that rose the new profession of hunters; vigilantes at first, but soon a trusted and revered group, only the most diligent and skilled accepted into their ranks.

“I just don’t understand,” Zelda says, rolls up the map and throws it to her companions, “They’re supposed to be following some sort of pattern. And they’re not.”

“They are, down by Kakariko, I think.” Red takes the map, looks over the dots marked down, color-coded and varied in size. “From the reports I’ve read, at least. This is like, an isolated thing. Whatever’s going on down here isn’t the norm.”

“It might be a shift in tribes,” She suggests, shuts her laptop and rests her head in her arms. “I’ve heard of that happening before.”

“Maybe we could send someone in to see.” Green’s taking shots at the wastebasket with paper balls and has yet to make one.

“Really? Do we have anyone that can shapeshift?”

“No, but Green can teleport! As soon as it’s lunchtime he’s gone.”

“Hey, tracking vamps is hungry work.”

“Half the time we’re just staring at maps and guessing at things. The other half of the time it’s paperwork.”

“You’re forgetting the half where we hunt.”

“Green, how many halves are in a whole?”

“None. It’s a hole.”

“You know what I meant.”

“Whatever,” Zelda interjects, before they can start up an argument, “We haven’t actually gone hunting in months. We have to stare at maps and guess at things and guess them accurately before we can risk that kind of thing, and everything we’ve predicted has been way off.”

“I hear Valensuela’s thinking of calling some out-of-district help.”

“Uh, no thanks, those dudes are complete as-”

“Annoying. Very annoying. They don’t know how we operate here.”

“Not at all, apparently.”

“We just need to figure out what’s going on with them!”

“And how are we supposed to do that? It’s unpredictable!”

“Then maybe we just need to station lookouts.”

“Green, no way are we doing stakeouts. We have lives.”

“And we also save lives, and this is what we need to be doing to do that!”

Zelda would very much like to argue with that, but it’s a valid point, and if they don’t get something done it’s going to be a serious threat to job security. “...I’ll bring it to Valensuela in the morning.”

-

Vampires were, for the longest time, thought to be the stuff of legends, and it was this that kept them secure and hidden in their hunts. Something that was not real could not be combatted, and something that was not real could not be killing anyway, therefore it clearly must be something else, one among themselves. Those times were the easy ones. Pick off the wanderers deep in the forest at night, sneak into a house or two in the abandoned months, slip in and slip out smooth as silk and quiet as a shadow. Societies were loose and informal, and skill preceded age in the hierarchies that colonies tended to fall into. The longest fangs, the sharpest claws, the most bloodthirsty, those were what won the seat as ruler.

Then greed overcame prudence, and form became sloppy, and the turned were more in numbers and less in skill, and it wasn’t long after that they were found out. And so prudence had to win out over greed, and the life of ease and lavish became the life of covert and secrecy, and a rigid order under which all turned were governed. The stealthiest shifters, the seductive, the efficient, the largely normal, those now filled the roles at the top, and dictated the code of the colonies. Those who disobeyed were staked and left to the sun’s whims. There was no other choice.

“D’you know who’s supposed to be out feeding tonight?”

“I have not heard. The elder said nothing of it to me.”

“He’s not saying anything.” Shadow huffs, settles irritably into his hammock. “He gripes about schedules and policy and then doesn’t issue anything. So now we’re getting twenty kills in a night and then radio silence for a month. ‘N I’m hungry.”

“You ate two days ago.”

He points a finger at Vio. “Technically I didn’t. Well, not much. I gave most of it to you ‘cause you’re new. You’ll see, once you’re older you’re gonna need more.”

“I am older than you were when you say you were turned.”

“Okay, well, I have years on you. Like, decades at least, so you need to respect your seniors or whatever that human phrase is and listen to me.”

“You are required to see to my well-being. I am under no such obligation to you.” He smiles caustically at Shadow. “Already some have noted that I am more skilled than you were.”

“It’s ‘cause you had a good teacher.”

“You turned me and did not show your face for two months.”

“I thought I’d just killed you! You weren’t supposed to turn, I didn’t know it was a new moon, the clouds were too heavy.”

“I am ever indebted to you,” Vio says, sardonic as ever, “How merciful.”

Shadow rolls his eyes, turns over to see whether the elder’s ledge is occupied. It’s not, of course; he’s been gone days now, with no signs of when he’ll return, and the colony has started to grow restless.

“Oh, screw this. C’mon, Vio, we’re gonna hunt. I’m gonna starve to death at this rate.”

“That may be an improvement.”

“Shut up and shift, idiot. You’re coming whether you like it or not.”

Vio, reluctantly, does. And Shadow insists on leading, as he always does, and chooses the target, as he always does. Shadow chooses an alley, perfect, of course, for its darkness and seclusion, perches on the ledge of a narrow rickety overhang and leaves him to find his own.

“They pass through here all the time,” Shadow says, by way of explanation. “Eager to get home, I think. Not so worried about getting killed as getting back in bed.”

“A sentiment I share.”

“You’d rather me starve?”

“Sometimes I think so.”

They share in the silence for a while, companionable if a little tense, watching pedestrians cut through their alley to the avenue on the other side, waiting for a likely candidate, waiting for a good time. It’s a while before they get it, and even then that’s questionable; Shadow’s hungry, and makes it abundantly clear that he is getting a meal and getting it tonight.

“Him,” Shadow hisses, points at a man shorter in stature, earplugs in, paying no attention to his surroundings.

Vio isn’t so sure- but he hasn’t got time to protest, because Shadow’s dropped before he can manage a word.

“Easy,” Shadow says, with a terrible fanged grin, “Won’t know we’re here ‘til we’re on him.”

He creeps up behind the man, reaches a hand out to grab his neck-

-And the guy nearly breaks his arm getting him away.

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing, pal?!”

Shadow makes a noise that’s half a growl; that’s all the time it takes for the man to realize what kind of situation he’s in. He turns, to make a break for it, if he can get to the church down the street he might be able to make it, churches are supposed to keep them out right- but Vio’s there, cool and largely apathetic, arms crossed and gaze icy.

“Make this easy for yourself,” He says, with a softness that contrasts sharply to literally everything else going on, “This is nothing personal.”

“You screw off right now,” The man yells, and looks around for something, anything to fight with, throws a hard fist into Shadow’s face as he advances. He turns to Vio again, sees he isn’t approaching, chances a moment to turn around to scan the area and when he looks back there’s Vio, a dagger gleaming in his palm.

“I am only trying to make this simple for everyone,” He says, and with a shrug, plunges the blade into the man’s stomach.

Had it been anyone less resolved it might really be over then. But it’s Blue, and Blue isn’t very well going to hand over his life to a couple of bloodsucking parasites. He can’t just rip the knife out- he knows that from his late-night binges of crime fiction.

“Get him,” Shadow hisses, nose bent unnaturally, blood oozing far too slow from the wound, “What are you waiting for you useless piece of garbage-”

“I am not the hungry one. Fetch your own meal.”

Shadow stalks over, shoves him out of the way to chase after Blue, who’s managing a (relatively) fast shamble away, taking advantage of the distraction. He makes it to the end of the alley, is barely out in broad moonlight before Shadow shoves him to the ground- the impact only buries the knife in deeper- hovers over him with the reddest eyes he’s ever seen, and he’s sure that it’s over then but he hears a shout, and then the blare of a siren, brief and sharp and loud.

Shadow swears, drags Vio off into the darkness cursing a blue streak as he goes, and all Blue can manage is a half-sigh of relief as the officer rushes over.

“Sir,” Says the officer, gun in hand, as he runs up, “Sir, what’s going on?”

He could say vampires (and likely be mocked for it) or he could lie. “I don’t know,” He says, a half truth, because really he doesn’t know, not for sure. “One- One minute I was walkin’ and the next I got stabbed.”

“I’m sending for an ambulance,” Says the officer, “Where is the wound?”

“Stomach,” Blue answers, and feels himself starting to slip, and it takes considerable effort just to turn so the ground isn’t pushing the knife in further.

“Sir, stay awake, the EMTs are on their way. What’s your name?”

“Blue.”

“Where were you headed tonight, Blue?”

“Jus’ home. Long day at work.”

“Any plans for the day?”

“Emergency room, apparently.”

“Well, Blue, at least you’ve got a story to tell now.”

A story indeed, he thinks, miserable and angry.

He’s out of it beyond that, too dizzy and light-headed from blood loss, can hardly manage to lift a finger as the EMTs assess his condition and haul out the stretcher. He’s out for a while- later he suspects they drugged his IV en route- wakes in the cold white sterility of a hospital room, stomach good and bandaged with a needle stuck in his arm. What he wouldn’t give for a Hollywood exit, to rip it out and collect his things and be off, but he’s weak and tired and above all hungry. A few nurses are in and out, give him a plate of terrible hospital food that tastes like soggy cardboard and sawdust. Before the morphine kicks in he resolves to call Erune about bringing him some real food, and maybe see if he can get in contact with the local hunters’ legion.

[sicklylittlesnowflake]

i'll throw a prompt in because i love ur writing (obviously u don't have to take it if u don't want to) uhhh..... jug w/ a messy/sneezy cold living in the school & retreating back to his spot halfway through the day because he doesn't have the energy or patience to deal with his symptoms in public or people staring, so he just sulks & tries to be quiet until school's over. either archie walking by the door & hearing him cough/sneeze while looking for him or archie calling his phone & hearing it?

(I hope u like snz bc this is a snzfic lmao..sorry if ur not into that and I seriously misjudged the prompt!! and also thank you for being nice!! mess warning!!)

Jughead had always felt a bit like a social outcast, never feeling like he was a part of society, more on the outside peering in. Over time he began to accept his place, accepting himself as an individual. He lived in a comfortable isolation, content with a small, but loving group of people to surround himself with.

He didn’t like the spotlight, preferring to be behind the scenes and observe, and made an effort to keep it that way. However, the way of life couldn’t always pander to what Jughead wanted (he knew this very well), and being in the spotlight was out of his control.

That loss of control was caused due to his own body, and a virus breaking through his weak immune system that showed itself as a messy, sneezy cold.

“HhrrITTSCHHiewww!” Jughead sneezed for what had to be the 10th time that hour, pitching his head forward into his locker. He cringed as he pulled his hand away, revealing a layer of mist on top. He groaned in annoyance; annoyed although he knew that this was going to happen, considering his living situation.

He kept his head down as he felt stares burning holes onto his back, loathing how much attention he was receiving from this cold. He rubbed a finger underneath his nostrils in irritation, sniffing hard.

Suddenly, a strong arm grabbed him and wrapped around his shoulder, “Morning Jug! How’s it crack-a-lacking?”

Jughead rolled his eyes at his best friend, “Doing jusdt fide, I feel fresh, revitalised, ready to kick sobe ass.”

Archie raised an eyebrow, about to comment on his friend’s deepened voice and the congestion lacing his words but before he could, Jughead was pushing away and pitching forward into his hands, “hhhtTTSCHOO! Hahh..eeeHHTSCHHOO! Excuse me.”

“Bless you, are you catching a cold?” Archie frowned, pulling Jughead back into his bro embrace.

Jughead groaned softly, rubbing at the side of his nose, hand covering his face as he sniffled to keep his nose from running, “I’ve got one alright, and it’s shitty.”

He pulled a tissue out of his pocket and blew his nose, considering that Archie was the only person he felt comfortable being gross with and being doted on with. As he finished, he began to cough chestily into his fist.

“Jesus Jug, that doesn’t sound too good. What happened?”

’Well I’m living in a closet under the stairs like Harry fucking Potter and its cold as shit so I’m sick, naturally,’ Jughead wanted to say, but shrugged instead.

“Shit happens, dude,” Jughead said casually, scrunching his nose to ward off a sneeze.

“Well if it gets worse you should go see the nurse and maybe go home,” Archie suggested.

Jughead wanted to laugh.

‘Archie, I am home, you doof,’ Jughead thought, glancing behind him towards the closet. In his slight haze he seemed to have forgotten to respond to Archie because Archie was sighing.

“..You..aren’t gonna do that..right, you’re a stubborn prick so I’m going to have to be checking on you constantly, you little shit.”

Jughead could only smirk at that, grinning as he headed towards his first class’s door, one he didn’t share with Archie, “I live to make your life hell, pal.”

Archie rolled his eyes fondly as he trekked on, his gaze lingering until the door of the Maths room shut, his friend disappearing from his sight. He then looked ahead, swallowing as the feeling of worry wouldn’t quite leave him.

No one was having a good time.

Jughead certainly wasn’t, his nose constantly dripping as Jughead frantically tried to mop up his mess before it left his nostrils, and one time a string of clear liquid began to droop down his left nostril and he had cleaned it up as quickly as possible, but one of his classmates had noticed. Jughead could only blush and look straight ahead, pretending like this wasn’t the most awkward situation ever.

His classmates certainly weren’t enjoying this either, the sound of constant sniffling not exactly their opinion of quality learning backdrops. Jughead absolutely despised the judging looks he got, staring holes into him, eye rolls and side eyes, small frustrated groans..His mind had wandered off to a slightly dark place, wishing he could just disappear.

Granted some of the stares were of concern and pity, but they weren’t much better. Jughead just wished he was invisible, not wanting any attention and wanting to be by himself. He wanted to be gross and not having to keep up a somewhat passable image of himself by himself. He wanted to be in a safe environment in a warm, comfy bed he could call his own. None of those could happen for him, so sat in self loathing, seething.

To make matters worse, his oblivious teacher in his History class made him read out a long ass document about the French Revolution. He tried his best to be understandable, his voice croaky and horribly congested, and constantly having to sniffle through his sentences. It was turning out to be a lesson about Jughead’s sniffles rather than history.

“..The king’s trial was ode of udfair circubstadces..snff..mady of the trialgoers..snff..biased in their opidiods..snff...of the king..snff..”

Jughead’s reading was interrupted as a irresistible tickle suddenly began to brew intensely within his sinuses, the tickle quickly escalating down to the tip of his nose where it rampaged, the sneeze completely unavoidable. For some reason, Jughead decided to fight it.

His nostrils twitched, Jughead scrunching up his nose to attempt and suppress the tickle, but only succeeded in worsening it, his nostrils now flaring widely as the whole class began to look over at him to watch this spectacle.

“..mady were angered..b..by..hhehh!!hh..the king..hh!!heehh…hhhhihh!!”

Jughead gave in, aggressively pressing a tissue against his nose and pitching forward violently with a series of progressive sneezes, “hhhAATTSCHHH! hhrrSSTCHHHH! hepptttSSCHOO!! hahhrrSSCHHHH!!….hhhhRRSHHHOOOO!”

Jughead blushed a deep red hue, clearing his throat as he pressed another tissue against his nose as the previous tissue was on its last legs, clearly soaking. He cleared his throat, “Excuse mbe, sorry.”

“Blow your nose, Mr Jones, we want to learn about the French Revolution rather than about your cold,” His teacher said boredly, a couple of people chuckling.

Jughead blushed further, anxiety blaring as he nodded and awkwardly did so, looking around wildly as all eyes were on him. He took in a panicked breath, but met the eyes of a sympathetic and kind Kevin Keller and managed to finish the rest of the passage before he began to sulk in his self loathing once more.

Jughead dragged his sickly ass into his middle of the day class and flopped in his usual seat, slouched and resting his head on his arms, headache beginning. He was so done with today, and wished it would just end.

Archie had already been in the class, completely shocked to see Jughead’s condition worsen that severely in just a few classes. Jughead wouldn’t meet his gaze and just slumped, not even seeing Archie.

The whole class he could only stare at Jughead, not able to concentrate on whatever novel they were reading now, watching as Jughead sniffled or pinched his nose to stop a sneeze or cough repeatedly.

Suddenly Jughead stopped reading the novel, hand shooting up to his face and covering his nose as an unexpected fit took over him, taking one sharp and large inhale.

“hhATSSCHH! hhrrrRRTTSCHHH!” Jughead sneezed harshly, obviously very wetly, his eyes widening as he realised that mess was now on his hand. He reached for his pocket, digging around and panicking as he realised he had none left.

To his despair everyone was watching him, in disgust, in concern, pity..whatever. As Jughead pathetically rummaged around naively his breath once again suddenly caught, “hhEETSCHOOO!”

He blushed furiously as even more mucus leaked out, knowing he would have to face his fate. Jughead cleared his throat, raising his free hand very awkwardly.

The English teacher who was kind to Jughead, and clearly admired his talents, was the one saving grace who only gave him a sweet and comforting smile as she nodded towards the door.

Jughead got up and tried to get out as quickly as he could, rushing towards the bathroom and pulling at some toilet roll and mopping up his mess, cringing at the strings clinging onto his hands. He washed his hands thoroughly, trying to waste time as to avoid walking back into that classroom.

As he walked out to the hall, he glanced up at a clock that said he had two minutes before his next class. Jughead thought about it for a second, and he was completely done. He was done with today, this enough, he couldn’t do this anymore.

He stomped towards the closet, closing the door behind him and collapsing against his sleeping bag, pulling the covers over him as he shivered, wallowing and sulking, willing today to just go away.

When Jughead didn’t return before the bell, Archie became extremely worried.

Archie scanned and searched the halls, but couldn’t find any trace of a grey beanie or blue denim jacket. As the hustle bustle of people walking to their next class died down, Archie found himself alone and Jughead-less. He frowned, figuring he could miss out on Study Hall and went to find him.

Archie walked down the corridor, getting frustrated. He sighed, pulling his phone out and pulling out Jughead’s name on his recents, and the second he pressed his name he heard something coming from the closet under the stairs.

“hhNGHHXTT! hahh..nnggXXHTT-shIEW! ugh..hehhNNGGHXTTchIEWW!”

Archie blinked, stunned, and then heard a vibrating coming from the closet. The vibrating stopped, and his call was declined. Was Jughead..?

Archie rushed to the closet and swung the door open, to find Jughead curled up in a sleeping bag, looking pale and exhausted. The younger boy jolted in shock, looking stunned and even a little afraid, but his mouth curved into an uneasy grin.

“..uh..'Yer a wizard Harry..,” Jughead joked, scrunching his nose up in irritation as he scrubbed a finger underneath his nostrils.

“..Jug?? What the heck is happening here??” Archie asked, extremely confused.

“You gotta go home, Jug! Not here!”

“This is my home!” Jughead snapped.

Archie became silent, words escaping from his brain, not knowing what to say. He was shocked, a plethora of emotions flooding his senses as he looked around, realising what this was.

“..I..”

Jughead grumbled and rolled over so he didn’t have to face Archie, “..you don’t have to say anything.”

“..Jug..I..” Archie’s voice cracked.

Jughead sniffled, trembling slightly, and Archie wondered if this was a result of Jughead’s illness or if he was crying.

Archie’s gaze softened as he kneeled down, a gentle hand resting on Jughead’s back, “Jug, are you crying or just really sick..?”

Jughead sniffled, letting out a shaky breath. “Both,” He choked.

Archie’s heart broke as he slowly picked his best friend up, bringing him into a hug, holding him close in his comforting embrace. Jughead melted into it, wrapping arms around Archie’s built frame and burying his face into his shoulder, beginning to sob softly.

“You’re okay, Jug,” Archie whispered comfortingly.

“..I-its just been a really s-shitty day, A-Archie,” Jughead sobbed, holding him tighter.

“I can make this better,” Archie mumbled.

“What?”

“Come home with me,” Archie whispered, pulling Jughead away so he could meet his eyes. He looked sick, and miserable with tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Archie, what? I can’t do that.”

“Yeah you can. I’ll figure this out with my dad, he’ll let you stay, I know it. When he..fired your dad he told me how worried he was about you..and if anything went wrong..he’d do all he could to help you,” Archie explained.

“Archie, I don’t doubt your dad would–but I can’t. I can’t possibly..”

“Please, Jug. At least until you get better.”

Jughead sighed, about to pick up his bag of belongings when another tickle had him bending at the waist, “hhETTSCHOOO! hahhTSSSCHH!” He cringed at the spray that he caught dangling down the air.

Archie shot him a sympathetic glance and put a hand on his shoulder, hoisting up his bag, surprised at how heavy it was.

“Damn, Jug..” Archie commented.

“I’ll carry it,” Jughead protested, reaching for it but Archie already had it firmly hoisted on his shoulder.

“No, you’re sick, and we’re checking you out of school,” Archie insisted.

“It’s not a hotel, Andrews,” Jughead huffed. Archie could only smile at that, knowing that if Jughead was still joking, he hadn’t lost him quite yet.One look at Jughead and the nurse was handing off an excuse slip to go home. Archie explained that Jughead’s father was out of town and was staying with him, and a slip for Archie was also issued. They handed the slips to the receptionist and the two were heading over to his house.

As they approached the door, Jughead stopped suddenly.

“What’s wrong?”

“Archie, I can’t–”

“Nonsense!” Archie exclaimed as he pulled Jughead closer to him, and unlocked the door.

Jughead’s nose began to twitch as he entered the house, breath hitching as Archie quickly plucked a tissue of the tissue box they kept by the entrance and quickly pressed the tissue against his friend’s nose.

“Huh–Arch..archie wha..what’re..hh..hehh..hhITSSSCHOO! hehhTTSCHIEWWW! hahhTTSCHOO! Ugh..”

Archie laughed and threw away the tissue, looking sodden and wet, leaving Jughead completely mortified.

“Arch..”

“What?” Archie teased.

“Bless you Jughead!” Came Fred’s voice, walking out of the kitchen.

“Huh–thank you, but how did you..”

“Archie texted me telling me that he was bringing you home because you’re sick,” Fred smiled.

Archie cleared his throat and tossed Jughead a blanket, “Go sit by the couch Jug, im just going to make you some tea.”

Jughead blinked as Archie made his way to the kitchen, noticing how Archie slightly gestured Fred to follow him. He sighed softly, not wanting to burden the Andrews but made his way to the couch all the same, wrapping himself in an actual warm blanket, in a soft, comfy couch. He found himself nodding off.

Then a gentle hand was prodding him awake, and as he regained consciousness, a nice warm mug of tea was being placed into his hands. He couldn’t smell very well, but it was clearing his sinuses. Archie took a seat next to him and Fred sat on the pouffe across from him.

Archie cleared his throat, “..So I told my dad about your situation.”

Jughead looked anxious, wringing his hands and sniffled softly.

Fred gave him a warm, kind smile, “..Jughead, you are welcome to stay here for as long as you want. I don’t know the full story, and you don’t have to tell me, but I encourage it, if you want someone to talk to the Andrews men are here. You have been a part of the family since you were born.”

Archie grinned, “So what do you say, bud? It’ll be a lot of fun, you and I sharing a room..”

Jughead smirked, “..Well..I will have to share a room with Archie Andrews which is horrendous..but..I’ll take it.”

Archie laughed and pulled Jughead into a hug, before Jughead pushed him off and retreated into his sleeve, “hehhTSSCHH! hahhAAATSCHH!!” He went to lift his face to find mess clinging on, and he went bright red.

“Uhh..Archie..tissue?” He said awkwardly.

Archie could only laugh and pass him one, watching him wipe up his mess.

“I hope you don’t mind me..mess and all,” Jughead chuckled.

“We’re happy to have you just the way you are, Jughead,” Fred chuckled.

[deepest-devotion]

Holiday

I helped build this breeze block cell that’s moulded into the contours of our cellar, with its small concealed entrance. Already, I’ve spent many hours locked behind its walls. Imprisoned and isolated from all of society’s temptations. But this time it would be different, very different. She was going on a 2 week holiday to Thailand with her girlfriends. A couple of weeks partying and socialising, while I wait for her, locked in this cell. I’m a little scared, apprehensive. A few hours of confinement is one thing, but two full weeks, it’s frightening.

But there is no alternative, I belong to her, I must fully submit to her will, it’s who I am. She’s going on holiday without me, so should I be free do as I please during that time. Honestly, that would be crazy, laughable in fact. No, I must be imprisoned, removed from society until my owner returns. There really is no alternative, and I know it. In fact, I wholeheartedly agree with her, submission must be fully embraced. Because my owner is out of the country does not mean her dominance and control goes on hold. No, ownership once established, is established for eternity. This is not a game, it’s real, I must endure this two weeks incarceration, of that I’m sure.

There’s been a number of extras added to the cell in recent weeks, in preparation for this extended stay. Extras that will abuse my mind and body during my stay. All remotely controlled via her mobile phone app. She’s been very imaginative, no doubt about it. Along with the extras, there’s the necessities, a chemical toilet, fridge, food, wash basin, mattress, bedding and the recently piped in water faucet. Everything visible via the cell’s CCTV camera peering down from above. And now the time has come, standing naked, I hear the cell’s door click shut, and it’s lock engage, as my incarceration begins. I hear her footsteps fade into the distance, as I sit down on the cold floor.

It’s amazing how time slows, when your confined in a small cell, with no entertainment. No tv, iPad, books, music, nothing but silence, complete isolation. I stand up, maybe I’ll exercise for a bit, that should kill a bit of time. I’m not in the greatest shape, and its probably no more than 10 minutes, before my enthusiasm for exercising wains. That will not fill the minutes, hours and days that lay ahead. As usual my mind and thoughts begin to drift towards her, her I was born to worship. Her ownership of me brings contentment to my soul. I’ll never understand it, but you can’t fight your primeval sexual instincts. Those sexual desires have led me here, locked in a cell for two weeks, while she parties in Thailand. To some that may seem strange, to me, it feels right. I hope my sacrifice pleases her, pleasing her is my only desire.

I would masturbate, but she locked my cock up in a plastic chastity belt before leaving. Dreaming of her, feeling sexually aroused, but with no sexual outlet. The joys of being a submissive, my cock was always going to be locked up for these two weeks. She left it to the last minute, before fitting it. Giving me some hope, before cruelly extinguishing it, moments before she departed. Human sexuality is a strange thing. I’m locked in a cage, like a prized cock, a cock who will be sexually used and abused on her return. A cage that I helped construct, knowing its walls would house me, while she wanders free. She’ll be at the airport by now, pretty soon she’ll be walking the seedy streets of Thailand, smoking, drinking, no doubt taking in the she-male sex shows, and god knows what else. Two weeks of fun and debauchery, while I wait in this cell. And that’s the deal, dominants do as they please, whereas the submissive does as he’s told. We’re not equal, but we are sexually compatible. As much as I need to serve, she needs complete control, she wants her prized cock safely locked away, while she parties. We both know this is the right thing to do, there is no alternative. We understand our roles, and our rights within this relationship. It’s simple, complete female supremacy, and male subjugation.

I try to sleep, eat up some of the hours to come. But it’s difficult, the light stays on 24/7, I can block its glare with my covers, but still it’s hard to sleep. I hear every little sound, all the creaks that this house makes are amplified in the silence. I shudder at every little noise, my mind constructing all sorts of possibilities to the sounds. Eventually I drop off into a deep sleep. I’m awoken by pain in my groin, as my night time erection encounters it’s cage. The chastity cage always wins, and my erection quickly subsides. I’ve no idea how long I’ve been sleeping, is it day or night? The harsh cell light does not betray the time. Boredom is starting to really kick in, making me question the sanity of this situation. I’m sure I’m not the only male submissive locked up by their dominant female owner, and I take some solace in that. The life of a submissive isn’t always easy, but it’s worthwhile, although it may not seem so at the moment.

I exercise again, at least for ten minutes or so. No alcohol or junk food for two weeks, I should embrace this health opportunity she has bestowed upon me. Try and make the best of it. I belong to her, I should be grateful she cares enough to lock me away. I’m grateful, and begin focusing on her again. I’m really lucky she allows me the privilege of serving her. I wonder what she’s doing now, I hope she’s enjoying herself, having fun. I’m sure my sacrifice pleases her, that thought warms my soul for a little while. Then the boredom really kicks in again, it feels like time has come to a standstill. I even begin to dream of her using the extras she’s installed in here on me, to break the monotony.

The dildo connected to the plunger motor, that will move in and out of my anus at the press of a button. It’s speed controlled by her finger on her mobile phone. Or the mask at the end of that chain. It’s a short chain bolted to the cell’s concrete floor, that’s secured to the mask’s collar. The heavy steel mask is hinged, allowing it to be opened and closed around the victim’s head, completely enshrouding the head in its metal walls. Only two very small eye level slots provide limited visibility to the wearer. The collar’s locking mechanism is manually engaged, but can be remotely opened. It’s been lying ominously in the cell’s corner since I entered, soon I might understand its power.

Did she installed these extras to combat the monotony, or are they just to demonstrate her power, her complete control of my mind and body. She could anally rape me from a few thousands miles away, while sipping a cold beer in the humid heat.