#therapy speak if you're a Good Person
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gloriousmonsters ¡ 3 days ago
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reading Bu/ry Your Gays because my brother said it was an improvement on Cam.p Damas.cus and like, yeah! Somewhat! I do wanna see where some of the horror threads are going! But man for a guy (gender neutral) who was known for writing short erotic/romance stories, you'd think that the relationships wouldn't be the most cardboard part of the story. yet here we are
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mooned-knights ¡ 3 months ago
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i think taash could be really good if everything about them was different
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iamnotlookingidonotseeit ¡ 3 months ago
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i've always found it easy to talk about my personal shit in therapy and small groups or whatever, places that seem like they're expecting me to be vulnerable, but CHRIST it is so much fucking harder to actually be vulnerable
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bananonbinary ¡ 2 years ago
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i think one of the most misunderstood and misused "therapy speak" things is I Statements.
I Statements aren't just about starting with "I feel...." they are about identifying, specifically, the emotions you're dealing with, and acknowledging your subjective experience instead of making objective claims about the other person that you can't possibly know.
"i feel like you hate me" is not an I statement. "you hate me" is not an emotion. "i feel insecure in our relationship" or "i feel vulnerable," or even "i'd like affirmation," those are I Statements. you can't just slap "i feel" before an accusatory sentence and call it good. you need to actually pay attention to the spirit of the idea too.
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a-memory-a-distant-echo ¡ 3 months ago
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i feel like people forget that sometimes characters in fic are written like that because it's a reflection of real life.
people have sex without setting boundaries. people have unprotected sex without talking about their sexual histories or producing recent sti tests. people play with kink without discussing it ahead of time or establishing a safeword. they have anal without 'enough' prep or lube—they may even prefer it like that.
and none of this is really a fantasy. it's all pretty normal. you can feel that it's inappropriately normalised, and you'd probably be right! but it is normalised: one study found that 58% of female undergraduate students on the campus studied had been choked during sex. 20% of those students said that they'd never been asked if it was ok; another 30% said they'd only sometimes been asked if they consented. fully half! (non-paywalled journal article on choking during sex here, including these numbers.) despite a rise in stis of all sorts, condom use is declining. (pdf link to the full text of this study about declining condom use in the us; aidsmap article about an australian study with similar results.)
even when people do talk about things—sex or anything else—they communicate imperfectly. 'yeah, but don't go too far' is consenting and setting a boundary, and also relying that the person you're talking to has the same metric for 'too far' that you do. for some people, 'the trash needs to go out' is a neutral, factual observation; for others, it's a request that the person they're speaking to take out the trash.
even when people understand each other perfectly, people react unpredictably to things sometimes! we behave irrationally! people laugh uncontrollably at funerals, or get angry at the straw that broke their back rather than the enormous load they were already carrying. they get scared and lash out at people trying to help them. when hurt, most people do not instinctively reach for therapy-approved grounding exercises and 'i feel' statements.
pretty much any bad choice that characters could conceivably make is a choice that people make in real life, on purpose, all the time. people do things that can have catastrophic, life-changing effects because it felt like a good idea at the time, or they're leaning into the vibe, or they just didn't think about it all that much, or an infinite number of other reasons.
fiction isn't intended as a guide on the best, safest, and most responsible ways to live your life, and fanfic isn't any different. it's not a narrative flaw to let characters do things that are messy or harmful or downright stupid—it's a reflection of what people are actually like, and not something that authors should feel they have to apologise for.
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thebibliosphere ¡ 2 years ago
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Speaking of therapy, I say, as though we're old friends, and you're not a stranger trapped in this metaphorical elevator with me and you can hear the suspension wires starting to fray.
I've been doing a lot of work recently that's focused on imposter syndrome and the feeling that no matter how well or how much I do, I'm not good enough. That I'm somehow tricking everyone into thinking my work is actually good.
Some days it's a minor niggle in my head that I can gentle and soothe with logic and affirmations. Or smother, depending on the mood. Other times it's loud and all-consuming and the mental anguish it causes me is so real I can feel it twitching in my muscles. This desperate fight-or-flight instinct with nowhere to go and nothing to fight but myself.
Anyway, because I'm several types of Mentally Unwell™, I was switching between workshop sheets ahead of next week. Filling in different forms. (Trying to get a good grade in therapy) And I got my "recognize your harmful ADHD coping mechanisms" worksheet mixed in with the "you're not actually lying to people, you just feel like you are because your brain is full of weasels" worksheet, and seeing them side by side made something go topsy turvy in my head, and I just had to sit and breathe for a couple of minutes until the urge to scream passed. Because it clicked, it all suddenly clicked.
The reason the imposter syndrome workshops and therapy sessions aren't sticking was because I do routinely trick people into thinking I'm someone I'm not.
Because I'm masking my ADHD for their convenience.
I've always known there was something wrong with me. My neurotypical peers made it abundantly clear I didn't fit in or was failing in some way I couldn't see nor remedy, no matter how hard I tried.
So I compressed myself into a workaholic box of hyper-competence in the hopes they'd stop noticing the flaws and exploit like me instead. And then subsequently lived with the daily fear that if they looked too close, they'd realize I'm a monumental fuck up with enough personal baggage to block the Suez Canal.
If you ever need someone to burn themselves to ashes for your comfort and convenience, I'm your gal.
Or I used to. Until I had a bit of a breakdown, and the rubber band holding my brain together snapped and pinged off into the stratosphere, never to be seen again.
Unfortunately, the trauma of living like that didn't also fuck off and instead left a gaping maw where my personality ought to be, so now I get to deal with that aftermath.
And it's that aftermath that's affecting the imposter syndrome shit. Because yes, I am hyper-competent and good at what I do-- but it doesn't feel real because that is how I mask.
And the truly frustrating thing is I am good at what I do. I am not pretending. I worked hard to be good at this. It just feels like I'm dicking around because 90% of my personality turns out to be trauma masquerading as humor in a trenchcoat, and having people genuinely like something weird I'm doing is so foreign my brain has decided it's just another form of masking.
I'm pretending to be a good author so people will think I'm a good author, and my brain thinks we are in Danger of being found out. We are in Danger, and writing is Dangerous because then people will know I'm Weird and not whatever palatable version I've presented myself as for their NT sensibilities.
Like the neurotic vampire with a raging praise kink wasn't an obvious giveaway.
Anyway. I got nothing else. Thanks for listening.
I'm going to go be very normal in another room and not stare into the abyss of my own soul for a bit.
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bubblegumgothglados ¡ 5 months ago
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This is my RACK focused judgment free primer for heavy impact play. It covers every part of the body from head to toe and at no point does it say you can’t do something just the risks of doing so. I don't normally put warnings on my posts but most of my writing is fantasy, this isn't. I'm going to talk about any number of painful deaths and heaps more ways of becoming disabled.
In this primer "you" means the one doing the hitting, "victim" is the one being hit, and "tool" is the thing you're hitting with which could be a fist, foot, hammer, bat, anything. I'm writing it this way because its fun for me.
This primer also assumes you know the different types of impacts and how they affect the body, if you don't go look at my other writings.
Finally i take no responsibility for anything you do. All this information is what i could put together from medical journals and car crash reports if I've got anything wrong (and you can prove it) please let me know.
Enjoy
Head. With hits to the head, the two major concerns are concussions and neck injuries. A concussion occurs when a person’s brain impacts with the inside of their skull, this happens because the brain is suspended in fluid so if the skull stops or starts moving suddenly the brain will move out of sync with the skull. Symptoms of concussions can include headaches, confusion, lack of coordination, memory loss, nausea, vomiting, dizziness, ringing in the ears, sleepiness, and excessive fatigue. If your victim lost consciousness for any length of time and is having trouble speaking or understanding your words, you need to get them to the ER. There is no cure for a concussion but the best treatment is pain medication and activities that won’t tax the brain to give it time to recover. There are any number of ways to damage a neck, but generally it happens when a person’s neck is moved suddenly and violently or pushed past its limit. Minor injuries should heal by themselves within a few weeks but if unlucky pain and stiffness can last months or even years. For more major injuries, physical therapy or a neck brace might be necessary but only if the pain lasts longer than a few weeks. It’s also possible to hit someone hard enough to break their neck or fracture their skull but that takes a lot of force. All of these injuries can be avoided by supporting your victim’s head and neck by bracing their head against a surface or holding their head with your hand.
Jaw. It takes surprisingly little force to dislocate a jaw, you can do so with a good slap Dislocations are talked about in Note 3 at the bottom of this primer. Heavy bleeding from gums or a tooth that feels loose could indicate a fractured root. This is a fairly minor issue and if you see a dentist quickly they should be able to fix it back in place with no lasting damage. A tooth that has been knocked out completely should survive; get your victim to rinse their mouth out and rinse the tooth off and shove it back into the gap, and then have them see a dentist to make sure it’s properly seated and avoid chewing with it for a while.
Eyes. A fun combination of fragile and complicated. There's no first aid tips I can give you and it'll be real obvious if something is wrong. I will say you don't have to hit someones eye to give them a black eye, it’s bruising around the eye socket that matters. Also check Note 1 about the use of ice when treating injuries.
Nose. It’s more difficult than you think to break a nose. You definitely can with a good punch but you'll have to really commit. A broken nose isn't that serious (I've broken mine twice now) and isn't even ER worthy. If your victim is leaning backwards after breaking their nose the blood will run down the back of their throat potentially making them vomit or very sick. There is a chance a broken nose will heal in a way that restricts breathing in which case your victim may need surgery.
Cheek bone. Below the temple but above the gum line, running from just bellow their ear to their nose. Special mention to this spot because it’s the best place to hit your victim in the head (in my opinion). This piece of bone is very sturdy and not that risky to fracture. Plus, when you hit them here they have to watch it coming.
Neck. The windpipe, jugular, cranial nerves, vagus nerve, carotid arteries, and spine all live here and damage to any of these can cause permanent disability or death. Seek medical attention if your victim has trouble breathing or swallowing, or a lot of pain or swelling. Stingy tools are far less risky here than thuddy tools.
Shoulders. Note 2 on joints. The shoulder blades can either be an ideal impact location or one of the most risky depending on how it’s sitting. If the shoulder blade is jutting out away from the rest of the back, it’s very easy to damage If it’s laying flat against the back, it’s protected by a thick layer of fat and muscle.
Biceps. Top 4 impact location. The main concern is damaging the elbow and shoulder joints, if hitting in a way that will pull on those joints. Much like with the head, bracing the impact area against a surface will minimize the risk. Repeated hits to this area can temporarily disable the arm, which is fun.
Forearm. As above, the main risk is damaging the adjoining joints. There are also several important blood vessels and nerves running through this area and not a lot of fat an muscle to protect them.
Hands. Very little fat or muscle, mostly tendons, nerves, and cartilage. See Note 2 on joints. Special note to the palm, which hurts like hell but is relatively safe because of the extra muscle and fat in that area, great for punishment. Once again, stingy tools are much less risky than thuddy tools.
Breasts/ biceps. Top 4 impact locations. Thick layers of fat, muscle, and bone protect anything vital.
Sternum. That is the bone running down the center of a person’s chest that connects to their ribs. Not in itself very fragile but the cartilage that connects it to the ribs is easily damaged and will take a long time to heal. A fractured sternum will likely cause shortness of breath and pain when taking deep breaths. There's not much to be done about these injuries just rest and avoiding strenuous activity.
Spine. The single most risky impact location. Any damage to the spine risks permanent paralysis of everything below that point. As ever, stingy tools present less risk than thuddy tools.
Rib cage. Designed to protect a person’s most vital organs, the rib cage is very strong. Fractured ribs will cause pain breathing but aren't particularly serious. Snapped ribs can pierce organs If this happens, it'll be immediately obvious and medical intervention is required to prevent painful death. Special note to the 'floating' ribs at the bottom of a persons rib cage which don't connect to the sternum and are therefore much less resilient. Second special note to the spot right above a persons heart. A significantly hard impact at exactly the wrong moment in their cardiac cycle can stop their heart. They will loose consciousness and you will need to give them CPR until they can be defibrillated. This is ridiculously unlikely but better to mention just in case.
Abdomen. If you feel around your victim’s belly, you can figure out the line where their abdominal muscles sit. If you have them tense these muscles, you can hit them fairly hard with relatively little risk because the muscles plus the fat in that area create a thick layer of protection. (Pro tip: "Stay tense or this will might kill you" is not only true but hot and terrifying). Outside of that area or if they don't tense, there's real risk of bruising or even rupturing their intestines, which carries a 50-70% survival rate depending on how quickly you can get them to the ER. Symptoms to look out for are bloating, diarrhea, loss of appetite, and fatigue. Special note to the kidneys, which sit next to the backbone just below the rib cage and are very easily bruised. The primary symptom to look for is blood when peeing. As always, stingy tools carry less risk than thuddy tools.
Gluteus maximus. That's their butt. Hit it as hard as your victim will let you. Enough has been said about this region; I don't feel the need to recover that ground. Note 4 on bruises.
Genitals. I'm not going to get into CBT, that's a separate kink. But the vagina is very durable as it’s pretty much just flesh and fat on the outside Minimal risk, go to town.
Thigh. Top 4 impact location. Outer thigh will hurt more and bruise more. As with the head and arms, the primary risk is damaging the adjoining joints. Note 4 on bruises because this is the primary place for DVT.
Calf. As above. Shins are also a great location for punishment because they hurt like hell.
Feet. Very similar to hands. The soles of a person’s foot are intended to impact with the ground frequently and with some force, so they can take a fair bit of punishment.
Note 1. Ice. It is no longer suggested injury procedure to use ice to reduce swelling. Yes, it is effective at reducing swelling but we now understand swelling is an important part of the healing process and although ice might make it feel and look better in the short term, it actually increases the amount of time the injury will take to heal. You want the blood to be able to flow to the injury to take away dead cells and bring nutrients and energy.
Note 2. Joints. Neck, spine, shoulders, elbows, wrists, fingers, hips, knees, ankles, and toes. The reason these are almost always labeled "red" or "no go" on impact play body maps is because these are choke points for blood vessels and nerves; they are made of fragile tendons and cartilage, and they have very little padding for protection. They're also important for movement day to day and very difficult to heal properly. If a joint is damaged, you can buy braces for every joint from most pharmacies.
Note 3. Dislocations. If you're lucky, a partial dislocation will relocate by itself if you move the joint around as you normally would, not forcing it or trying to manipulate it with your hand, just moving it with its own muscles. If it does naturally relocate but you still have pain a few weeks later seek a medical professional. If you're unlucky or if it’s a total dislocation, you will have to see a medical professional. DO NOT TRY TO FORCE IT BACK INTO PLACE!
Note 4. Bruises. Normally, bruises are nothing to worry about but there are situations where a deep bruise can be a health concern. If the bruise continues to get worse after a week, there could be a hematoma under the skin, which is like a blood clot, and might need to be removed. The other possible complication is Deep Vein Thrombosis, which is a blood clot and can be lethal, if not treated quickly. With DVT, the symptoms are tenderness, warmth, and a "pulling sensation" which are pretty normal impact play symptoms. But if you're doing impact play at the level that could cause DVT, then you and your victim should know their healing process intimately, so if something feels off or isn't healing right, get them to a medical professional; better safe than dead.
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yinyuedijun ¡ 6 months ago
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TOKYO VICE | part 1
You knew that if you agreed to move in with Suo, you'd be setting yourself up for a life without autonomy. You also knew that these alarming behaviours were all signs that he desperately needed therapy to process his master’s untimely death. Living with a man in constant grief, who refused to talk about his trauma unless he was making up a lie related to the nation of China, was probably not a good decision. Doubly so when this man was clearly paranoid about losing you, and triply so when he was a high-ranking member of a violent syndicate. Unfortunately for you, you rarely made good decisions. (Or: After joining the yakuza, Suo develops the concerning habit of controlling every facet of your life. This is somehow less worrying to you than your uncontrollable lust around him.)
8.7k words. suo x fem reader. deeply unserious yakuza au. yandere suo (not abusive and reader is into it), dark comedy, a little angst, smut. warnings: borderline sex work, off-screen criminal violence. nsft – no actual smut in this chapter, but there are still graphic discussions of sex. mdni. thank you to @sleepyqinfei for beta reading and to @/cafekitsune for the banner!
sequel to sincerity and this sakura/reader wip
part 2 here
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You’re not exactly sure why you and Suo have never fucked.
It’s certainly strange, given that you're pretty sure that Suo has expressed at least passing interest in you over the years, and you have felt a lot of interest in him. (By ‘interest’, you mean that you feel an insatiable lust around him that you fight to ignore on a daily basis.) You can't exactly pinpoint why nothing has ever happened despite this mutual attraction, especially given your profession and indifferent feelings toward casual sex.
You can think of a number of probable reasons, which are separate from those you classify as stupid reasons. The latter class comprises silly concerns like a fear of rejection, fear of abandonment, fear of not being pretty enough, fear of not being good enough, et cetera. All very juvenile feelings—insecurities that you had in your teenage years, the days in which Suo ran around Makochi as a delinquent while you worked an honest job at a bar. (It was a girls’ bar in the red light district, but that's neither here nor there.) Your circumstances have since changed, and those anxieties have since faded. None of them have any material consequence for your current life, so you don't see any point in thinking about them.
The stupid reasons, then, definitely don't have anything to do with why you've never fucked Suo. But you can think of a few, more concrete reasons that may explain it. For one, Suo has been your friend since childhood and it’s generally a bad idea to have sex with your long-time friends. He was also your roommate for a while and it’s an even messier idea to have sex with your roommates. And now, in your adulthood, he’s your landlord in addition to being your boss, which makes him the worst possible person you could have sex with. You could lose both your home and your livelihood if things go south—both severe, material consequences that should theoretically keep your lust at bay.
Also, he's also a member of the yakuza.
Now, strictly speaking—you're not really opposed to having sex with violent criminals. It’s definitely not a good idea, but you don't usually have good ideas anyway. But for the past several years, you’ve been pissed at Suo for joining the yakuza in the first place, which actually does keep your blatant attraction to him in check. You simply dry up when you think too hard about all the feelings of betrayal.
When Suo was on the cusp of graduating from Furin and thinking about his future, you’d grabbed him by the collar and made him promise not to join the yakuza. They constantly tried to recruit from Bofurin, and they especially wanted Sakura, Suo, and Sugishita. You were adamant about chasing them off from Suo and Sakura whenever they approached—you had no need to worry about Sugishita, as Umemiya had already said he shouldn't talk to them, so there was no chance he was going to—and you begged Suo over and over not to join. Delinquency was fine, but a crime syndicate was something else altogether.
Suo seemed serious about it when he said he'd listen to you. He even applied to colleges, talked about maybe becoming a teacher and eventually supporting you so you could stop working in the mizu shobai industry. Back then, he often teased you by saying that you should marry him and be his housewife (or he could be your trophy husband, if you so wished). You thought he was joking, but with the way he always talked about his life after his degree, you wondered if he would seriously suggest it.
Of course, it was most likely just teasing, and you were fine with that. You were simply excited that he'd found a career that would make him happy. Nirei had also been accepted to university at that point, and even Sakura had an honest job lined up on Keisei Street. The future had looked bright for everyone.
Then Suo’s master died, and he lost his fucking mind.
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The two of you buried Suo’s master in a Chinese funeral. He had never had children of his own, having satisfied his paternal instincts by picking up strays, and he didn't have much in the way of family in Japan either, so you and Suo performed the shou ling yourselves. One person kept a constant vigil over his body while the other searched on Google for what arrangements should be made next. After all, while Suo’s master had immersed his foremost disciple in his culture, he had never taught Suo any funerary customs. He hadn't thought there would be a need.
Suo didn't cry nearly as much as you, but he was probably in more pain. Your master had trained you a little bit when you were a kid, and he'd taken you in for a while after your parents kicked you out, so of course you were gutted. But he had practically raised Suo, so it was naturally worse for him. More shattering.
You often think about the first night you decided you'd sleep with him in the same futon because he was crying so much. He insisted he was fine, but he didn't complain when you got under the sheets with him and started thumbing away his tears. When you took off his eyepatch, you found, to your astonishment, that he was crying from his missing eye as well. Both of you thought the tear ducts had been destroyed in either the accident or the enucleation, but it appeared that not even that prior trauma could mask his grief over this one.
Nevertheless, by the time of the funeral procession, Suo had stopped crying.
“Master supported us and taught us to stand on our own two feet,” he said as the joss paper burned. He took your hand in his and smiled. “So it'll be fine. We’ll be okay on our own. I'll make sure of it.”
At the time, you had found this very comforting. You didn’t think too much of it, as you had a bad habit of relying on Suo for your emotional stability. His master had raised him to be an emotionally intelligent person, so it had been fine, even though you had a track record of reckless decisions. He’d still exercised endless patience with you. He never once got angry with you, nor did he ever force you to do what he felt was the right thing. Instead, he gently redirected your self-damaging behaviours—not so different from the martial art that he practised.
He disapproved of the run-down and lonely conditions of your apartment, so he spent a great deal of time there and helped make it into a proper home. He didn't like how dangerous your job at the girls’ bar was, so he walked you to and from work every night until you never left without him. He worried when you started having sex with your customers, especially when you began having nervous breakdowns over it (you were, after all, still a teenager and really only interested in having romantic vanilla sex with Suo), so he staged an intervention with Nirei and Sakura. In this way, Suo convinced you that you were loved and protected and didn't need to do something you hated so much. They would get you out if you felt trapped. And you didn't feel trapped, per se, so you left on your own—but it was still only because of them. You promised them afterwards that you'd never do it again.
This was Suo’s brand of kindness as a teenager. He always taught people, guided them away from harm rather than steering them—a behaviour he’d mimicked from your master. Your master, in general, had defined all of Suo’s values and his way of living, which was honest and gentle and conscientious. It was one where he used his abilities to protect the weak and care for his friends. He even kept his spiteful and alarmingly violent tendencies under control, though sometimes he slipped when fighting genuine assholes. But he still tried. He tried because he strived to be as kind as his master—who represented everything that Suo wanted to be in his adult life.
Thus, the death of Suo’s master meant the death of his principles. It changed the kind of man that Suo wanted to be. You don't want to say that he became a worse person, but he absolutely became a worse person.
He especially became a worse person with you.
As it turned out, Suo’s idea of making sure that the two of you would be fine on your own was, well, not really fine. It wasn’t that he became cruel to you, per se. It was more that whenever he saw a problem with your behaviour, his approaches to redirecting it became—put as nicely as possible—heavy-handed.
After your master’s death, you got a job at a high end, yakuza-owned club. Two weeks later, Suo broke his promise to you and joined the yakuza. So I can stay close to you, he explained gently, wiping away your tears as you cried hysterically, but you're convinced to this day that he did it partly out of spite. So a few years later, when you started having sex with your customers again and he tried to stop you, you decided to spite him back. I need to stay on top of the rankings, you'd explained dispassionately. The mamasan said it's fine, and the manager doesn't care. He even thinks it's good for business.
Suo’s response was to simply become the owner of your club.
This move was very extreme, but also very effective. Any customer who so much as brushed against you on the premises was instantly thrown out, and the mamasan started watching you like a hawk to make sure you weren’t going to any love hotels after work. Douhan were off-limits. For the first time since your teens, you became completely celibate—not only because of your new workplace circumstances, but because you simply didn't want to find out what Suo would do if you got together with a man he despised (and he despised every man you dated).
His most absurd play was when he became concerned about your living conditions again. Your latest apartment was too plain, too small, and the area was too dangerous. It didn't even have a shower, and the other tenants behaved concerningly toward you when you went to the bathhouse at night. But the rent was cheap, and it was still an upgrade from your last place, so you shrugged it off when Suo suggested that you move. Even when someone tried to accost you at night, you were nonchalant about it. You kicked the shit out of them in a fight and continued your routine unbothered.
The next month, Suo bought a luxury penthouse and suggested you move in with him.
His offer (command) came with conditions. One of the bigger ones was that you'd let him accompany you out at night if you ever needed to run errands in dangerous places. Or—nevermind, actually. He should really just accompany you everywhere at night. Maybe during the day too. And—ah, there was no way you'd be going to work alone, nor coming back by yourself—you were now always to be driven by someone in his organisation, if he wasn't available himself. Rent was a point of contention, when you asked about it: you wanted to pay at market rate, and he insisted that there was no need to pay at all. He ended up proposing a highly discounted price, which would give you ample financial freedom, but questionable financial independence.
These were insane terms. You knew that if you agreed, you'd be setting yourself up for a life without autonomy. You also knew that these behaviours were all signs that Suo desperately needed therapy to process his master’s untimely death. Living with a man in constant grief, who refused to talk about his trauma unless he was making up a lie related to the nation of China, was probably not a good idea. Doubly so when this man was clearly paranoid about losing you, and triply so when he was a high-ranking member of a violent syndicate. Case in point—he was likely connected to the brutal accident that later befell the man who tried to assault you.
“I'm not sure what you're implying, but at least he didn't die,” Suo said cheerfully when you confronted him about it. Which really meant: At least I decided not to kill him. This was a flag bigger and redder than any other you've ever known, and you consider yourself an expert in red flags. You knew you should run in the other direction.
So naturally, you put your arms around him, tenderly said, I'm sorry I've been worrying you, and then you moved in the next day.
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While Suo treats you with endless patience, you have personal limits to the patience that you exercise with him. Specifically, your patience with how he treats you.
You don't mind the lack of social freedom, nor the lack of personal freedom, nor the lack of freedom of movement. You also don't mind living with a man full of intractable trauma surrounding the death of every parental figure in his life; in fact, you'd rather be by his side than not, if he needs to cope with something so painful. And anyway, your friendship is otherwise unchanged if you ignore the heavy restrictions he's imposed on every facet of your life. So that's all fine.
But the celibate lifestyle that he's cornered you into? You simply aren't built for it. Holy shit, do you need to get laid.
Nearly two years without sex has brought you close to another nervous breakdown (there have been few better sources of entertainment or validation in your life), and worst of all, it has made your profound lust for Suo incredibly hard to ignore. Waking up every morning to him in a towel, his hair still wet from the shower and his broad silhouette exposed, tests the absolute limits of your self-control. The contours of his lean and muscled form are distracting enough; coupled with the vivid colours and lines of his irezumi, the sight of him becomes maddening. It is a horrible thing to be exposed to when you haven't gotten any dick nor strap in over a year. It gives you thoughts about him that are overtly sexual, which is bad, as you have materially consequential reasons for not wanting to fuck Suo.
Things with him must absolutely stay platonic. But with sexual frustration like yours, being platonic with him means that you need to get erotic with someone else. A boyfriend or girlfriend is out of the question; you don't want to be responsible for yet another brutal accident. So you instead decide to quit your job at his club and start working on Keisei Street. At least this way, you can start fucking your customers again.
It’s a perfect plan. Suo’s oyabun is very indulgent toward him, and everyone else in the family respects him too. He consequently has a tight grip on his organisation and the territory they control, despite his relatively young age. Not a single person is ever to touch Keisei Street—largely because Sakura is part of Roppo-Ichiza, and Suo is nearly as weird about Sakura as he is about you. Plus, many of his other fellow Furin alumni are in the gang as well. If Suo’s men ever started fucking with people on Keisei Street, it would not only have grave implications for gang relations—it would be personally upsetting for Suo. This means you can fuck all the Keisei Street customers you want, and not get a single one of them threatened or killed.
A pretty brilliant idea, if you do say so yourself.
Suo’s expression doesn't change when you break the news to him. He delicately places his teacup—custom-made from Yixing, just like the matching clay teapot—down on the mahogany tabletop, and he looks at you with a calm smile.
“Come again?”
“I'm quitting my job at Red Dragon,” you repeat. “I already gave the mamasan my resignation.”
“And she accepted it?” Suo asks, in a tone that is so carefully nonchalant that you know it means he is actually furious with her. “How interesting,” he muses. “What brought this on?”
“I've found a better paying opportunity on Keisei Street.”
“I'll give you a raise,” he says easily.
“A raise?” You cock a brow. “The pay is mostly commission-based at Red Dragon. You know that.”
“Then it would be unwise to leave. You have a loyal customer base at Red Dragon. All very rich, and”—his smile grows sharp—“very polite.”
Polite. An interesting word. It actually means: None of them will ever proposition or harass you because they know they'll be maimed if they do. An easy thought to use to your advantage.
“It's loyal but it's small. Everyone who's anyone in this part of town thinks that we’re married. Do you know how hard it is to pull new customers in when they're scared shitless of my yakuza husband? And anyway”—you frown, trying to look as pathetic as possible—“I'm lonely.”
Suo stares. He looks surprised, possibly because you absorb every minute of his free time with silly conversation, new restaurants, and skiing trips. (He likes snow, so you ask for these trips more for him to relax than anything else.) You also text him frequently on days he's working, and he very diligently replies, even if he's in the middle of something like a raid or a hit or brokering a massive deal. Suo still very strictly keeps to his rule of never touching his phone when in conversation with other people—unless he needs to text you.
So his suspicion is fair. Suo is very attentive and doesn't allow you much opportunity for loneliness. In turn, you’ve always been very happy spending time with him, even when it's only him.
“Lonely?” he repeats. “Are you, now?”
“Yes. You work so much,” you complain, which is not a lie, “and I don't have any friends to spend time with when you're gone.”
“You have friends from work.”
“No, I have competition at work. The hostesses are so cutthroat about rankings, they hate me. And each other.”
“You like Shuuhei and Hanzo,” he points out, referring to his men who most frequently chauffeur you.
“Yeah, they're friendly, and they're very funny. I like them, but I can't be their friend.” Suo stares at you, nonplussed, so you spell it out: “They're too scared of you to get close to me. What if it looks like they're trying to fuck the boss’ wife?”
“Hm…” Suo studies you, looking thoughtful. Perhaps for the first time, he's contemplating the consequences of restricting your freedoms and marking you as his. That is to say—maybe he's finally realising that you have no friends and no life.
The beads of his earrings glimmer as he tilts his head at you and frowns. Suo almost looks innocent with that confused face of his. “And how would working on Keisei Street help?” he asks.
“Because all our old friends are there!” you exclaim. “Sakura’s in Roppo-Ichiza now so he’ll definitely be coming by all the clubs. Tsubaki too. And Nirei and Kiryu visit them quite often—and even Tsugeura does sometimes, even though clubbing isn't one of his virtues.” You grab onto his arm, pull yourself close, and give him your most disarming, pleading expression. “Please, Suo?”
“Hm.” He strokes your cheek and looks at you fondly, in the way that one would do with an adorable and slightly annoying kitten. “I don’t think so. It’s not very safe there.”
He isn't wrong. Not only are you untouchable on his turf because of your association to him, Suo has also just crushed all the han-gure and petty criminals in his territory with brutal efficiency. His part of the red light district is, quite ironically, one of the safest places in the city, and certainly safer than Keisei Street.
But undeterred, you point out, “Shuuhei and Hanzo can still drive me there and back if you want. But I don't think it's necessary. Do you really think Sakura would let anything happen to me?”
This is the true brilliance of your plan: capitalising on the fact that Suo is as nearly as weird about Sakura as he is about you. He pauses as soon as you bring up the point, and you can practically see the gears turning. “Well, if it's him…”
“I even texted him about it. Look—here!” You whip out your phone, receipts ready. The corner of Suo's mouth lifts at your obviously rehearsed pitch. “He says he'd make sure I'm taken care of. And he says it'd be nice because he misses seeing us. Can you believe it—Sakura actually admitted that he misses us! Typed it with his own two hands and pressed send! I bet he was super embarrassed about it.”
“Huh. He even used a sticker. I've never seen him do that.” Suo smiles as he reads through the chat. He looks like his old self. You suddenly feel a little wistful, and also a lot bad. This started as a ploy to get laid, but it’s made you realise that you really do miss your friends—and Suo probably does too.
“If I worked on Keisei Street, then you would have plenty of reason to visit,” you point out, feeling somewhat tender.
“I guess that's true,” Suo says. Your heart aches a little bit at the look he gives you. It's a platonic ache, of course. Or at the very least, it isn't an erotic one. It doesn't really make you want to have sex with him anyway. But if you could lean forward and press your lips to his—platonically—then you definitely would.
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Suo's civilian friendships are complicated by his double life. Quite unusually for yakuza, Suo’s syndicate insists on using pseudonyms and false histories to avoid anti-yakuza laws, on the off-chance that the police decide to do their jobs and actually enforce those laws someday. Lying for comedy is one of Suo’s greatest passions, so he was happy to manufacture an absurd backstory: his name is Yanzhao, and he learned kung fu in a Shaolin Temple before moving to Hong Kong and working for the triads. He wears the eyepatch because he lost his eye in an altercation with the cops, which he won. By the way, you're his criminally beautiful wife who he met in Macau. The two of you had to leave for Japan since he killed a police officer and now he's wanted by the governments of both China and Hong Kong. Also, he's a very devoted husband, so if anyone lays a hand on you, he’ll kill them too.
Somehow, everyone has bought into this story. Every criminal organisation in the red light district now fears a high-ranking yakuza known as Yanzhao, who is easily recognizable by his eyepatch and tassel earrings, and who is also homicidally obsessed with his beautiful wife.
In some ways, his infamy is convenient. No one wants to fuck with Suo, or with you by extension. But it also poses some issues: Suo has to keep a low profile in areas controlled by rival organisations, or else he might be ambushed. It also means he cannot easily go out and see his old friends. Even though he always masquerades as a civvie when he does, wearing stud earrings and a glass eye, it's still a little risky—especially since he likes to visit the strongest member of Roppo-Ichiza. While Roppo-Ichiza aren’t yakuza, they're still han-gure, so some of its more criminally entangled members might recognize him anyway.
But Sakura himself, bless him, has not put two and two together and figured out that Suo Hayato and Gui Yanzhao are the same person. This is partly because Suo lies very convincingly about his fictional career in the tea industry, but you think it's also because Sakura is so gullible it's endearing.
I use the glass eye now because it's better for networking, Suo had explained before Sakura could interrogate him too much, his voice too smooth and too quick for the other man to get in a word edgewise. My business partners find the eyepatch too silly. The tassel earrings too. By the way, would you like some Baimudan tea? I thought of you when I smelled it—I know you like fragrant things—so I picked some up for you on my last visit to China. I was there for business a couple of weeks ago.
He, of course, neglected to mention that said business involved meeting with the 14K triad.
Despite the enormity of Suo's omission (lie), Sakura is none the wiser whenever he meets with you. He thinks you're just a regular hostess who has freedom of movement and various other human rights, and that Suo’s just a regular guy who isn’t homicidally obsessed with you (a detail of Suo's fabricated life story that is unfortunately grounded in reality). All this to say, Sakura doesn't think twice about mentioning the fact that you have a routine of going to love hotels after work.
Suo, as always, remains calm in the face of unsettling information. He sets down his tea (just tea, without shochu), and politely says, “Pardon?” He's once again using the nonchalant kind of tone that suggests mortal danger.
“She's always going to love hotels after her shifts.” Sakura is frowning at you, pink but scowling. “I thought you said you were done with that stuff. You promised us you wouldn't do it anymore. Suo—are you really okay with this?”
On the one hand, you find it exceptionally sweet that Sakura, after all this time, remembers your promise and wishes to hold you to it. He was so worried about you when you started having those nervous breakdowns as a teenager, and he probably still is. On the other hand, you're shitting bricks at the fact that Suo is now aware of your activities. Because sure, he likely won't fuck with Keisei Street—but you realise, as he stares at you, that you can't be certain of this. After all, your fake yakuza husband has very real homicidal urges.
“Um,” you say. “It's just business.”
“Business,” Suo repeats.
“You don't have to do that stuff to keep good business,” Sakura grouses, unaware of Suo’s carefully suppressed rage. “You're real popular already.”
“Are you?” Suo asks, looking right at you.
“I mean—I told you the pay would be better, right?” you reply, voice oddly high and nervous, and this is when Sakura notices that something is wrong.
“Oh,” Sakura says, looking between the two of you. “Suo, you didn't know?”
“I didn't,” he says. “Actually, she told me specifically that she wasn't going to do that if she worked here.” He turns to you, still smiling. “That's the only reason why I allowed this at all, remember?”
A chill travels down your spine. You did, in fact, commit to a perpetually sexless lifestyle in order to be granted some semblance of freedom: Of course I won't sleep with any customers, you'd said. You know I don't really like doing that anyway. I promise I'll behave! I’ll be out of the clubs and right back home. Sakura said he’d make sure I’ll get to a cab safely after the bar closes and everything!
“Um,” you say again, but this time you have no follow-up.
“Wait,” Sakura demands, “what do you mean by ‘allowed her’? What, do you need to give her permission to work now or something?”
Suo smiles disarmingly at Sakura. Without missing a beat, he says, “Generally no. But we’re dating now, which complicates what she’s allowed to do with other men at her job.”
Sakura spits out his drink. You choke on your spit.
“I… um?!” Sakura’s staring at you, so you quickly recover. This is a mortifying lie, but it's better than Sakura finding out just how batshit Suo has become since his school days. “I thought we were going to keep that a secret, dear?”
“Ah, you're right. Sorry, I got too excited.” Suo gives you an endeared look before turning to Sakura. “We were going to keep it to ourselves unless we got serious about it. But we've been talking about marriage lately, so I thought it was fine to mention.”
“...”
You’re going to have an aneurysm. Why does every cover that Suo comes up with involve a marital relationship between the two of you?!
“Oh… holy shit.” Sakura’s expression is complicated—somehow, more complicated than yours, even though you’re the one getting cornered into a fake engagement. It's unbelievable how shy he still is about this kind of thing. Maybe it’s just particularly embarrassing since he's known you two for so long, you reason. Regardless, he remembers his social cues enough to say, “Congrats, guys. That's great. That's really great.”
Suo gazes fondly at you across the table. “We were thinking you could be our best man,” he adds, and you consider violently kicking his leg.
“O-oh. Uh, yeah! Sure! But what about Nirei?”
“Rather than having a maid of honour,” you say reflexively, used to lying through your teeth for Suo, “we’d like him to be our best man as well.”
“Oh. That makes sense.” Thrown off guard, Sakura completely forgets about the love hotel business. He whips out his phone. “When were you thinking of having your wedding? I'll put it in my calendar.”
“I’m not sure.” Suo turns to you. “What were we thinking again, dear?”
You're going to die. You're going to die and it's a good thing because if you survive this embarrassment, your future will be bleak. As soon as Nirei finds out about this, he’ll want to start helping you with wedding planning, and then it would just be too awkward to cancel things. You’ll have to enter a fake marriage with Suo, which will be completely sexless, because even with a vow of everlasting love, there are still too many concrete and materially consequential reasons for not sleeping with him.
Condemning yourself to a lifetime of sexual frustration, you reply, “I think we were talking about a summer wedding.”
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The drive home is awkward.
Hanzo and Shuuhei pick the two of you up. Suo mentioned that he wanted to talk to you and you alone, so they bring the Rolls Royce with the privacy suite. The two of them are entirely cut off from you thanks to the soundproofing, which traps you with Suo, who’s drinking a bottle of oolong tea as the two of you sit in complete silence. You think he's waiting for you to squirm—which you do.
You stay like that for five, agonising minutes before Suo finally says, “So you're sleeping with your customers.”
You swallow. “Yes.”
“For business?”
“Yes.”
“How much do you make?”
You blink. “Huh?”
“How much do you get paid for a single night of work, including gifts that your customers give you in exchange for sleeping with them?”
You're halfway through citing your earnings when you realise where he's going with this.
“So you make less than you did at Red Dragon,” Suo concludes, “and you're very smart with your money, so I know you know that, and you probably went into this knowing that you'd end up at a net loss.” He turns to you, gives you a look so sharp that it almost scares you. All made worse by his civilian disguise, which makes him feel unfamiliar. His glass eye shines strangely in the light, and his scar tissue is hidden by the makeup you helped apply. You wish he'd taken it all off before having this conversation.
“So,” he says, “what’s the real reason you changed jobs?”
Already knowing that he’ll figure you out sooner or later, you admit, “I just wanted to start having sex again.”
Suo blinks. “You… what?”
“I wanted to have sex with people,” you repeat. “I hadn't been touched for nearly two years, okay? I needed to get laid or else I'd go insane.” You cross your arms and look away, suddenly feeling petulant. “I'm sure you've noticed that our arrangement makes it impossible for me to see people.”
He doesn't answer, because of course he's noticed. He’d designed his house rules with precisely this intent. If he accompanies you everywhere you go, then you can't exactly go on dates, and you definitely can't meet people for sex. Not unless you feel like having Suo watch as some anonymous guy fucks you, and you don't. As hot as the idea is, it’s definitely not platonic behaviour, and it would probably trigger the whole homicidal obsession thing.
“Do you like it?” Suo asks, startling you. You look at him, confused.
“What?”
“Do you enjoy having sex with your customers?” he asks. His voice and gaze are even. Unrelenting. “Does it make you happy?”
You stare at him, a deer caught in headlights. You didn't expect Suo to actually care about whether you enjoyed it or not, and you didn't really expect to care yourself either. But truthfully, you hated it. You simply weren't feeling it with most of your customers and avoided intercourse with all but one. Then in that one case you let someone earnestly fuck you, it was a complete letdown. Possibly the worst sex you'd ever had. You spent the whole time watching the clock, wondering how long it would take, and it turned out that your hookup had remarkable stamina but absolutely no technique. To pass the time, and in an attempt to feel something, you tried to imagine it was someone else who was inside you. You cycled through a whole list of people, including all of your exes, a few of your past customers, every single member of BTS, and then—finally, inevitably—your long-time friend, roommate, and landlord.
To your complete horror, when you imagined that it was Suo who had you folded in half, his cock so deep inside you that you could feel it in your throat, you came so hard that you drenched the sheets.
You lay there afterward as your customer showered, alone in the bed. Normally you'd be getting dressed at that point, but you were too distracted. You kept thinking about what it would feel like to be held by Suo after having your guts rearranged by him—embraced tenderly like you know he would do with you, kissing him platonically like you've always wanted to do with him—and you realised that you didn’t actually want to have sex with anyone else. Despite all your life experience, sexual experience, and job experience—in that moment, you felt like a lonely nineteen year old girl who wanted nothing more than to have romantic, vanilla sex with her best friend, but who was instead having impersonal, disappointing sex with various salarymen.
This was a feeling so disgusting that you’ve decided to never tell anyone at any cost.
“Yeah, it's fine. I guess I like it.” You pretend to study your nails. “Sometimes I cum, which is all I really want.”
Suo keeps staring at you. “That’s it?” he asks, voice measured and careful. You raise a brow, playing dumb.
“What do you mean?”
“That's all you want? Just to get off?”
You gaze out the window, trying not to look at his lips.
“Yes, that's all.”
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No matter how batshit Suo gets, he always maintains a certain kindness and maturity in how he handles conflict with you. It's a lesson that he learned from his master, which has perhaps been distorted over time, but remains important to him nevertheless.
If you do something upsetting, Suo is never forceful about getting you to act differently. Sure, he has fucked up ways of either getting you to behave or making you understand the consequences of your actions, and perhaps he has his manipulative moments. It was probably not a good thing that he coaxed you into indefinite house arrest, for instance. But he never threatens you, and he never hits you, and he never disrespects you. In fact, more than anything, he makes it a point to never let you feel like you aren't loved.
So when Suo abandons you after that conversation in the Rolls Royce, you lose your fucking mind.
Suo doesn’t come home in the days following that evening, without any note nor explanation. For the first time in years, he stops replying to your texts. Your immediate thought is that he's been gravely injured or perhaps even killed, which sends you into a panicked spiral. But every one of his men who's come by to check on you has implied otherwise—but I'm not allowed to tell you anything else, anesan, I’m sorry, they all say. And when you realise that Suo is actually fine and he's just playing a fucked up mind game with you, one that makes you feel distinctly unloved, you feel simultaneously heartbroken and apoplectic. The man is not allowed to corner you into de facto imprisonment and then just fucking leave. In fact, if he tries, you might imprison him.
You spend a few days sitting at home and crying over this, as well as torturing yourself by thinking about useless things (fear of rejection, fear of abandonment, et cetera). But eventually, you get tired of wallowing in self-inflicted misery, and you decide to just track your fake husband down. His men have been adamant about not letting you out of their sight—presumably so you don’t fuck any more of your customers, because Suo can be spiteful like that—so you have to be strategic about your plan to find him.
You decide to do it during work. You tap out in the middle of a shift, feigning illness, so nobody bats an eye when you put on the most shapeless hoodie you own and throw on a face mask. Your chauffeurs (handlers) don't notice as you sneak off—and for the first time in years, you walk through the red light district all alone.
It feels strange not to be protected, and even stranger not to be surveilled. You marvel at the unfamiliar experience of complete freedom, and at the possibility of being able to run off and disappear if you so wished. But you don't, of course. Not only do you care too deeply for Suo to abandon him, you're also pretty sure he has your driver’s licence and ID card locked up somewhere. At least you haven't been able to find them, and Suo was oddly evasive about it when you asked. (I haven't seen them, he'd said, but I don't think you’d need either of those things immediately, anyway, do you? And you nodded in response, because it was true that you liked being his passenger princess too much to care about your licence.)
So rather than bolting for the subway, you head straight to your old workplace. The gleaming doors of Red Dragon welcome you as you cross its threshold, and you're greeted immediately by the scent of luxury colognes and expensive cigars—both evoking a strange nostalgia in you. Even the click of your heels against the marble floor feels familiar. You realise that you've missed the place despite its cutthroat culture and its owner’s authoritarian control over you, which you suppose isn't surprising. This club was more or less your home for years and, thanks to said owner, was the safest place you've ever worked.
And being that you feel you've returned to your very safe home, you don't expect it when you're abruptly stopped by the bouncer.
“Can I help you?” he asks, his arm in your way. You don't recognize him, but you see the edges of his irezumi peeking out from the rolled-up cuffs of his shirt.
“Yeah, actually,” you say. “I'm looking for Gui Yanzhao. Is he here right now?”
The bouncer—or chinpira, you guess—bristles.
“You're looking for who?”
“Yanzhao?” you say impatiently. “Eyepatch, tassel earrings? Owner of the club? Probably your boss?”
The bouncer steps forward and reaches for something in his pocket, which makes you suddenly nervous, and also makes you realise that in a hoodie and a face mask, you ordinarily wouldn't be allowed in this club, let alone into the room of its yakuza owner. You're so used to VIP treatment here that you simply forgot.
You take a step back. “Um. I think there's been a misunderstanding.” You lower your face mask, which doesn't help as you've never met this man, and he must be new. You’ll need to complain to Suo about his onboarding process later, if you aren't killed before you can find him.
It turns out that this yakuza rookie has a knife in his pocket, which is not the worst thing he could have been carrying, but is also not the best. You're getting ready to run in the other direction when a more senior member of the gang comes by. He gives you a startled look, which then turns alarmed when he sees his younger brother’s knife.
“Anesan!” he yells hurriedly, and he snatches the chinpira’s knife straight from his hand. His lunge for the weapon turns into a hurried bow. He pulls his colleague—whose face has turned very white in a very short amount of time—into an even deeper one. They look on the verge of prostrating.
“Oh, Yamashita. Hi! Is this guy new?”
“Yes! My sincerest apologies for my younger brother’s idiocy, and his insolence in raising a weapon at you.” There's a sheen of sweat on the back of his neck. “If you would like him to atone, then he would be more than happy to—”
“No, that's fine. I'd really like him to keep all his fingers.” If you have to see a rookie cut off his pinkie today, you think you might actually change your mind on running away. Fuck your documents—Suo can keep them. Surely life without proof of identity can't be that hard. “By the way,” you say, trying to change the topic before Yamashita can suggest alternative acts of atonement, “have you seen my husband?”
Yamashita hesitates at your question, looks conflicted. You feel a little bad for him, and for every other gang member who needs to worry about accidentally offending Suo. You watch him sweat for a full ten seconds before he says, “You can follow me. But anesan, you might find it unpleasant upstairs. I can find someone to drive you home instead, if you'd like.”
You give him a funny look. This was your workplace for a very long time—you can’t think of many things that would happen here that might seriously upset you. “What, is he cheating on me?” you guess.
“What? No! Aniki would never!” Yamashita seems genuinely shocked at the suggestion. “He's crazy about you!”
“Then I'm sure he’ll be happy to see me,” you say, although given that he's ignored your texts for four days straight, you aren't so sure. Regardless, this seems to be good enough reasoning for Yamashita, and you’re taken to the top floor of Red Dragon. You ponder the whole time, on the elevator ride up, just what exactly Suo’s been up to that's made Yamashita this nervous about letting you see him.
Then the door opens, and you’re given your answer in the form of several body bags—all cleanly zipped up and conscientiously laid out in front of the elevators in a single, neat row. A sight that is significantly worse than a rookie cutting off his pinkie finger.
“Oh,” you say faintly. You try not to throw up. “So this is why he hasn't been home.”
“Exactly!” Yamashita replies, beaming. “See, anesan, I told you. He'd never cheat on you!”
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Suo is in the lounge of the top floor, which has been cleared of both civilians and corpses for the night. He's sitting on one of the couches, leaning back with his one eye closed, as if asleep. The golden tassels of his earrings are draped over the expensive leather of his seat, intertwined with his dark hair. A cup of tea sits in front of him, steaming. Even this far away, you recognize it by the scent alone: jasmine, probably from Longjing. One of the most expensive blends he has, and that which he saves for days he’s stressed, though he never admits it when he is.
The sight of him would almost look tranquil, except for all the blood on his knuckles and his cuffs.
Off to the side, two of his younger brothers are chatting away. One is pouring cups of some doubtlessly expensive liquor, and the other is smoking a cigar. There's karaage on the table too. You recognize all of this as part of a ritual that some of the guys like to do after a hit or a shootout, not dissimilar to getting ramen or McDonald’s after going to a club.
You catch a bit of their conversation as you approach. One of them holds up the liquor bottle (Isojiman sake, you now recognise from your girls’ bar days, one of the rarer bottles costing around nine million yen) and asks Suo if he wants to join. “No thanks,” he says predictably, “I'm on a diet.” Then he turns and looks right at you—startling you, because you had thought you were being fairly quiet—and gives you a smile so genuine that it reminds you of his Furin days. “Would my beautiful wife like to drink for me, though?”
“No thanks,” you reply, “but your beautiful wife would like to talk to you.”
The two guys clear out to give you some privacy. You’re left alone with Suo, feeling awkward after several days of resenting him for no reason. (You’d rather die than go to therapy, but the whole fear of abandonment thing is probably something you should start addressing.) You don't even know where you want to sit. Eventually, you settle for placing yourself next to him, which is a decision that Suo quickly overturns by pulling you into his lap.
A flutter erupts in your stomach as he settles you on top of him. This physiological reaction is absurd, as not even ten minutes ago, you were trying not to throw up at the line of corpses in front of the elevator. It should also scare you somewhat that Suo’s hands—delicately adjusting your body—are still covered in blood. But truthfully, you can't help but be happy when he makes you feel so loved.
You take one of the napkins on the table and start wiping at his knuckles. Tenderly, in case they're bruised or skinned.
“You didn't call or come home,” you start.
“I thought it would be too dangerous.”
You frown, thinking of all the bodies outside. “Was this a rival organisation?”
“No. They were ours.” He sighs. “A succession conflict. There are a few people who don't like how I'll run things if I take over.”
You nod. Suo is very old-fashioned in his ideals about the yakuza, which you think is an imprint of his master’s influence, and something that appeals to his current ‘father’. He values chivalry. He likes protecting the weak. His filial devotion to his deceased master has now extended to every member of his yakuza family, especially his oyassan. He’s almost certainly the top candidate for taking over after the oyabun dies, but being that part of his old-fashioned principles excludes lucrative projects such as sex trafficking, you suppose it’s natural that some people in his organisation would prefer him dead rather than in charge.
“You’ve never ghosted me during violent conflicts before though,” you say. “I was worried that something happened to you. Or that you were upset with me.”
Suo’s hand drops to your waist, pulling you a little closer.
“They knew where we live. They tried to get to you, you know.” Your eyes widen in alarm, so he cups your face with a palm. His thumb glides along your cheek, and your response is almost Pavlovian: your heart rate immediately slows at the comfort of his touch. “It’s fine. They won't bother you ever again.” The cheerful smile returns. “And if anyone else ever does, I'll handle them too.”
Your heart swells. Enthusiastic pledges of murder are not a healthy sign of affection, but after so much loneliness—whether from the past several days, or the years before that, you aren't sure—you can't find it in yourself to be disturbed. You feel and sound painfully fond when you reply, “I know.”
Suo’s expression dims a little then. “I thought you'd like the space anyway.”
“What?” You give him a confused look. You have never once given him any indication that you want even an inch of space from him. You'd crawl into his ribcage if you could. “Why would you think that?”
“I thought you felt suffocated. You left my club just so you could have sex with other people.” You blink, lingering on his wording. Other people. He continues before you can ask about it, sighing, “You didn't even ask me who I'd give permission to touch you. You just went ahead and decided on your own.”
“...”
You try not to look disturbed. Suo’s apparent wish to control your sexual decisions is news to you, and somehow more alarming than the murder pledge. And even worse—you immediately clench in response to his words. The thought of Suo dictating who does and doesn't get to touch your cunt is… well, your mind is heading in a distinctly non-platonic direction.
Trying to ignore the heat in between your thighs (but at the same time encouraging it), you ask: “Who would you have been, um, okay with touching me?”
“Sakura or Nirei,” he says immediately. “Though only Sakura would be interested.”
“What.” You gape at him, all arousal forgotten. “Bullshit. He would never.”
“Yes, he would.” Suo tilts his head. “Haven't you noticed?”
“I don't think there's anything to notice? And also—he’s so shy, I don't think he'd ever agree even if he were interested!” You give him a bewildered look. “He couldn't even look at us when we said we were getting married, he was so embarrassed!”
“Embarrassed?” Suo stares at you, an amused glint in his eye. “Is that what you thought was going on?”
“Was there anything else?”
He studies you for a moment, clearly entertained but not explaining why. “Well—it’s fine,” he says. “It doesn't matter for now. Especially since he's helping us plan a wedding and all.”
You make a face. “I still can't believe that's the cover you went for.”
“Are you upset with it?” he asks smoothly, and you huff and say yes, but from his sly look, you think he knows it's a lie.
Naturally, you deflect before he can further interrogate you. “So, given that you are now my fiancé, am I no longer allowed to work on Keisei Street and see customers after my shifts?”
You don’t expect it when Suo says, “No, you can.”
You stare. “What?”
“You can keep seeing customers if you'd like. You said it makes you happy, so why would I stop you?” Suo’s brow furrows, his usual calm replaced with concern. “Do you really think I do the things I do to make you miserable?”
Guilt gnaws at your heart. He looks so disappointed. “No,” you tell him. “I just thought it'd make you miserable that I was sleeping with people without your permission.” It is partly why you hid it from him in the first place, after all. You don't like to see him sad—you’re still haunted by the deep grief he was in, after your master died—and also, his misery tends to bring bodily harm to other people these days.
Cognizant of both concerns, you ask, “You’re really okay with me sleeping with my customers? I can stop, if you want.”
“No, it’s fine. I still don't like it, but you can continue for now if you want.”
Suo’s mouth curls—not in a gentle way, as has been his expression since seeing you walk in, but in a way that sets off your flight or fight response.
“I'm sure we’ll reach a mutual understanding soon enough.”
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END PART 1
thank you genuinely if you read all that because this is a deranged au and I still can't believe I wrote it sldfkjsldfkj. please do let me know if you enjoyed my yandere suo delusions. sorry there was no smut in this chapter. I promise there is a ton in the next one (probably too much... lol. it's a 10k chapter and literally half of those words are about orgasm denial sldfkjalskdjdf). it's completely written and I hope to edit and have it up by next week!
also here is glossary of terms and world building notes if you are interested!
tagging @kweenkatsuki-fics !! <3
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harunayuuka2060 ¡ 4 months ago
Text
WHB Series #1 (Cont.)
MC: ...
Michael: *offers them a bouquet of flowers, smiling at them charmingly*
Michael: Good morning.
MC: ...
MC: I couldn’t see a shit. *from their perspective, Michael’s face is shining so brightly that they can’t make out his features*
MC: ...
MC: Raphael, Gabriel, how did this one manage to slip by you both?
Michael: It’s nothing special. I’m just stronger than the two of them combined.
Gabriel: What did you say?
Raphael: Are you saying you're superior to us?
MC: Hmm, I can’t argue with his point. They should be on equal footing when it comes to their abilities and still present a challenge to one another. If he was able to slip by without them noticing, then it means...
MC: ...
MC: That's enough. You both were tired last night, so it's understandable that you're not at your best this morning.
Michael: ...
Gabriel and Raphael: ...
Gabriel: But god... I don't think that reason is enough for us to be excused...
Raphael: Spending time with god should not be a reason for us to let our guard down.
MC: *smiles* How adorable.
Michael: ...
MC: Should I just send you back?
Beelzebub: *who could actually have stopped Michael from entering their chamber*
Beelzebub: He brought you flowers~.
MC: Tch.
Beelzebub: *chuckles* You know I'm a romantic person.
Beelzebub: He's being sincere, so I let him be.
MC: You're fascinated by his sincere obsession, eh?
Beelzebub: It won't be bad to entertain him once in a while. You can consider this as an exposure therapy.
MC: *unamused*
Michael: The descendant of Solomon is not a sinful human and has steered clear of the sinful pleasures of this world.
Michael: I know they can't possibly be involved romantically or sexually with Raphael and Gabriel, yet I still feel an overwhelming sense of jealousy.
Michael: I want them to be mine...
Michael: *imagines himself in their arms and speaks lovingly to them*
Michael: *finds pleasure in the idea, which is evident in his expression*
Beelzebub: Are not going to eat?
MC: *feels sick* I want to throw up.
Beelzebub: Oh, dear. Is it your allergy?
Beelzebub: Just think of beautiful thoughts. Ah, like when I swallowed your fledgling.
MC: *glares at him*
Beelzebub: *laughs* It worked!
Leviathan: ...
Foras: *has reported to him that Michael is having fantasies about MC*
Foras: He was so engrossed in his own activity that he didn't notice anything unusual about his surroundings.
Leviathan: ...
Leviathan: And what does Beelzebub think of this?
Foras: He finds this situation amusing, Your Majesty.
Leviathan: ...
Leviathan: Send a message to the descendant of Solomon, informing them that I will be paying a visit.
Foras: Yes, Your Majesty Leviathan.
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writingdungeon-inactive ¡ 8 months ago
Text
SDV Bachelor domestic headcanons
MDNI
Just some headcanons, not anything nsfw but they are adults, and I hit the zaaaaa so these will be dumb, like dumb dumb
Alex:
He has full-on elbowed you when he woke up a few times. Forgive him he's not used to sleeping with someone and he likes to stretch when he wakes up. 
If you have a dog he’s definitely buying one of those running leashes, the one that goes around the hips. Who will tire who out first?
Usually the dog gives out first, and he carries them back home cooing at them like they are a baby… they are
Modifies your home with Robin's help so George and Evelyn can visit
Evelyn, how did you feed this boi? He’s burning through calories 
Especially after helping pick up the farm work…. Sweaty Alex… Cowboy lookin fine ass… Horny jail….
Elliott:
Journals EVERYWHERE, all of them have different ideas, title workings, and little ideas that just popped into his head.
Sits on the front porch head in hand watching you pick fruit, mumbling something like
From tiny seeds to branches high. With gentle hands, they pluck the prize.
Loves to shower with you, he just holds you helps wash your hair, and scrubs your back. Tell you how pretty/handsome you are.
Bought you both matching bathrobes
Tell me he doesn't sleep with a bonnet, look at that silky hair. 
Matching silk pillowcase as well
I imagine this man is a mover in his sleep, and wakes up lookin like the Peter Griffin dead pose meme
Harvey:
The first night yall are married he cant sleep, he's just watching you. Playing with your hair giggling like he was high, he was high of how happy he was.
Has just as many self-care products if not more then Elliott, his mustache looks sculpted, you don't get that look without gel and a little mustache comb
He has a little pocket mustache comb you bought him as a joke but he loves it
Wears an apron when he cooks. Wait where did his go? Why is there a maid one in its place.... Horny Jail....
Charges you for passing out or almost dying to fund his therapy visits, you caused this farmer, look at the gray hairs.
Silver fox Harvey that's all I'm saying
Sebastian:
Good luck getting out of bed, hes like a fuckin backpack
Wakes up eyes not even open just pawing around for whatever hes trying to find.
Eyes are all bloodshot cus he was up all night working, sitting on the porch with his coffee, smoking, petting your pet
Doesn't fully wake up till about high noon
Helps out on the farm, but still does his own thing.
Stays out late with Sam and Abigail practicing for their upcoming gig, you both usually see each other returning home around one am
Momma Boi still goes to Robins for dinner every now and again
Sam:
Puppy at your heels, you go one way hes there. Forgot something? Turn around and trip over his feet
Loves living on the farm with you because now he can crank the tunes all the way up, and you can hear his speakers while you're in the field
Falls asleep anywhere, the porch, the couch, lying down in the grass with the dog/cat
If you cooked it hes eating it, he does the same for his mom
When Kent is back he babysits Vincent some nights
Speaking of, when he Vincent and Jas all get together good luck on the unsuspecting person about to get pranked.
Shane
Its law you adopt Jas, i said it, it cant be broken
Taking Jas to school, returning and helping you with the farm
He and Jas chant “Pizza,Pizza,Pizza” over and over when you ask what is for dinner
Warm, squishy, cuddly, bear hugs in the morning. Hes another backpack boi
When he's awake though, unless you are at home, light PDA
Works with Haley to learn his video camera more, its another hobby to keep him busy
First time seeing you wearing one of his shirts, the shirt is no longer on you… Horny Jail…
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imfinereallyy ¡ 10 months ago
Text
I wonder if you look both ways (When you cross my mind) pt. 2
pt. 1 pt. 3
🐝・゚ ・゚·:。・゚゚・✦ʚɞ
June 1996, Chicago
Steve doesn’t exactly know when Eddie Munson became one of his best friends, let alone when he fell in love with him.
He supposes both things occurred between the end of the world, and Eddie’s back walking out the door for the last time, unbeknownst to anyone. Though, that is five years of time, who’s to say when it really happened.
Dustin will argue the friend part. He likes to think it was he who brought them together (it certainly wasn’t; in fact, it put a real bump in the road for them). Dustin also thinks, which Steve is more inclined to think is true, that the two of them had become friends during Eddie’s slow recovery and Steve’s guilt complex, which made him feel responsible for him.
Which—ouch, Dustin—but years of therapy would prove him right.
Little shit.
Dustin doesn't know about the love part, though, and Steve doesn’t think much of the party knows except for one or two of the perceptive ones.
Looking at you, Lucas.
Robin likes to argue that Steve doesn’t know when he fell in love with Eddie because Eddie was different from everyone else.
Steve puts everything into love, moves fast, falls hard, and ultimately gets crushed by his own passion. Steve doesn’t know how to take things slow or wait around for the right person.
Until he did, with Eddie.
Steve managed to have a slow decent into the madness of loving a man like Eddie Munson. And he never did anything about it, although he didn't mind. Steve was okay with just being friends and loving from afar.
Until they weren't even that, and Eddie was gone.
Steve can't think about that now, instead he should probably worry about the man himself breaking into his apartment at 3 a.m.
"Get. Out." Robin hisses, breaking Steve from his thoughts.
Suddenly, Eddie stands. His hands thrust forward in a placating nature, and nervous energy radiates off of him. "Robin, please—"
"No, Munson. You don't get to disappear from our lives for five years, and then break into our apartment!" Robin whisper shouts, the metal bat waving around in her grip.
Steve still hasn't said anything, still unsure of any of it is really happening. But he can't help but warm at Robin's fierceness.
She will go down swinging for Steve, even against someone she cares about.
Fuck, he loved her.
"Give me one good reason not to bash your skull in with this thing, Munson. I dare you!" Robin took the metal bat and pushed it into Eddie's chest.
Steve gets a good look at him as he stumbles backward. He doesn't look much different—well that's a lie. He does look different; more tattoos, more piercings and Steve is pretty surprised to catch him wearing anything other than a band tee. It is just so all quintessentially Eddie. The jewelry is all silver, any tattoo he got after 1986 appears to be in black and red ink only. Even his tee is still black despite the lack of a band on the front.
"Birdie, I don't think you should have Steve's bat in your hands, you're a bit dangerous." Eddie tries to grab the bat from her hands but Robin yanks it back.
"Oh, fuck you, Munson! You don't get to call me Birdie, and this is my bat. Steve's is wooden and full of nails and underneath his bed. You should know that, or has the last five years really rotted your brain?" Robin is now waving the bat around with gusto, nearly missing Steve's head at one point.
Trying to shake himself from his frozen state, Steve decides it is probably in everyone's best interest if he steps in.
"Robs." Steve speaks gently, hand on the bat as he slowly lowers it down. Her shoulders drop, the fight draining out of her in seconds. "It's okay."
It's not okay. Steve doesn't understand what's happening right now. But Steve is okay as long as he has Robin, and Robin has him. Steve hopes she understands that's what he meant.
Robin nods her head, and shuffles closer to him.
Steve takes a shaky breath, "What are you doing here, Munson?"
Eddie cringes at the use of his last name but doesn't comment. "Listen, I know it's weird me just stopping by suddenly—"
Robin snorts, "I wouldn't exactly call breaking in 'stopping by'."
Eddie shakes his head, ignoring her. Stray curls start to fall loose from their bun. "I just want to talk, for you guys to hear me out."
Steve rubs a hand down his face, he is getting too old for this stuff. Being blindsided, being surprised—being thrown sideways and upside down. Sure, twenty-nine isn't exactly old, but Steve has lived practically six different lifetimes by now. There is so much damage to him—physically and emotionally. He is supposed to be past nonsense like this.
Robin takes his silence as permission to snip at Eddie, "No. Go away, Eddie. You don't get to do that. Get out."
Eddie moves a step forward, he is now illuminated completely by the side table's light. He looks tired—good but tired. It's not the kind of tired you see of someone in distress, not the ache that comes along in the tunnel that has no light in the end. No, Eddie looks tired in the way that comes with healing. Like working hard exhaustion. As if coming home from a long but good day at work, and the night grows weary.
Eddie opens his mouth to argue, but Steve cuts him off. "It's fine, Robbie. It's late; let him crash on the couch."
Eddie's shoulders sag in relief, "Thanks, Stevie, we can talk—"
"No." Steve chokes out, moving his hand towards his throat so he can remember to breathe. "You don't get to call me that. And we're not talking about anything. You'll sleep here, but that's it. I might not want you here, but it doesn't mean I'm going to let you wander the streets at night."
"Steve, please—" Eddie reaches out his hands to touch Steve. It is most likely going to be a gentle touch, but Steve can't help the way he violently flinches.
Eddie looks taken aback, eyes wide and full of sadness. He pulls his hands back.
"No, Eddie." Steve grabs Robin's hand and starts to pull her to bed. She doesn't protest and instead leans into his touch. Steve turns over his shoulder to look at Eddie again. "You'll stay the night. It's not an option. But my morning? I want you gone. I don't want you to be the first thing I see after sunrise."
Steve turns quickly back around, ignoring the pained grunt from behind him.
Bypassing Robin's bedroom, Steve pulls them both into his. Robin doesn't question it and instead makes herself comfortable in his forest green blankets.
Steve quickly follows after, snuggling into the bed beside her. People have thought them weird over the years—always in each other's spaces and knowing every little thing about each other. Partners, friends, family—all of them had something to say about it, never even bothering to understand.
Well, except Eddie. Eddie appreciated it, accepted it. Adored it at times.
"Are you really okay with this, Dingus?" Robin whispers softly between them.
"No." Steve never lies to Robin; she'll know. "Not at all, but I'm not going to let him wander the streets, no matter what I loved him at some point. I don't let the people I loved, get hurt."
Robin squints in pity, "Loved?"
"Not now, Bobbie," Steve whispers.
Robin nods, "Besides, I'm pretty sure 'Ed Sloane' can afford a fucking hotel room."
Steve lets out a loud snort, it echoes throughout the room. "God, don't remind me. What a stupid fucking name."
The two of them dissolve into giggles, bumping their heads together. Under the covers, they clasp their hands together tight. "I just don't want you to derail your life, for someone who walked so easily out of it. I know you have that important lunch with Drew tomorrow."
Steve takes a breathe through his nose, "Yea, I do. But it'll be fine. He'll be gone before I'm even up. You know Eds, he's a runner. Wouldn't stop trying to prove it, in fact."
Robin's face is scrunched in pain, and her eyes pool with pity. It's as if she knows something Steve doesn't or sees something he chooses to ignore. She doesn't comment on it, though. Instead, she raises an eyebrow, "Eds?"
It isn't snippy or accusing. Her voice is soft against his cheek. Steve doesn't have the mental capacity to argue though. "G'night, Birdie."
"Goodnight, Stevie." She whispers.
Steve closes his eyes, knowing it will all feel like a dream tomorrow.
Steve is familiar with having dreams with Eddie in them.
🐝・゚ ・゚·:。・゚゚・✦ʚɞ
more to come i promise, especially after your (loving demands). especially my mutuals who yelled at me in the tags and my dm's (it made my day).Part 3 is currently being typed up. Also might fuck around and make this a full-blown ao3 one shot; who knows.
tag list!:
@stevesbipanic @withacapitalp @emryyyyy09 @brainfugk @blueberrylemontea-fanfic
@slv-333 @thetinymm @connected-dots-st-reblogger @helpimstuckposting @dreamercec
@goodolefashionedloverboi @stripey82 @little2nerdy @anne-bennett-cosplayer @resident-gay-bitch
@ghostquer @sourw0lfs @devondespresso
(please let me know if you don't want a tag, I had to guess by the comments, and sorry if you’re getting a random tag after posting, I had to fix the tag list cause tumblr is weird)
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romanticandupsetting ¡ 4 months ago
Text
part two of reader who secretly wants to disappear
part one here
you sit still on your sofa when hawks visits, coming in through the window.
no lights on, not even the tv. just sitting there silently with the moonlight as company.
"hawks," you call out to him, not looking at him. he walks towards you to get a look at your face and it seems that your eyes have sunken further than before.
you look like you hadn't eaten and the clean sink and kitchen confirms his observation.
"you kill people in secret, don't you?"
his eyes widen.
yes, he has told you a lot about the bad sides of his hero work because he trusts you more than anyone but he never expects you to bring that topic up.
"i'm sure you know how to kill someone swiftly and without pain."
he kneels by your side, taking your soft hand in his. he wants to ask why you are saying this.
but he doesn't want to hear it.
"what if... i pay you a huge sum if you do it to me?"
silence.
he doesn't know if he's in a nightmare watching you disappear again.
you scoff and smile at him but your eyes remain vacant. like an empty metal box.
"ju~st kidding," you say. "what would happen to hero society without me?"
you're right.
despite not being a hero anymore and retiring early, your influence on hero society far exceeds the number one hero's or even HSPC itself.
your words and actions are what resonated with the people.
hawks wishes that someone could inspire you as well.
to not be this empty.
you are his childhood friend and you both grew up together.
he doesn't know when it started but somewhere along the way, you started to only be a shell of a person that once was you.
you couldn't take it anymore and eventually you crumbled. you retired before you can even reach 30. currently, money won't be an issue but hawks promised himself to provide for you when time comes that your income dries up.
"...why would you say that?" he asks.
he puts a gloved hand on your cheek and you bask in its comfort.
"i have issues, hawks." he knows. "sorry for scaring you like that."
he's the one who accompanies your walks to therapy from your home and back.
"were you serious?"
you remain silent.
unmoving.
"i... i have bad days too," he smiles weakly, resting his head on the couch beside your legs.
"i experienced a bad past too... though you already knew that."
he sighs, caressing the back of your hand with his thumb.
"i saw things i shouldn't see and did things i shouldn't have done."
hawks speaks like he's in pain. he looks up at your eyes and sees you looking already at his.
not that empty stare again.
"but... despite all that, i still have happy days y'know?" he gives your hand a light squeeze. "like when we eat fried chicken together... or when i found someone to mentor from UA... or when my patrols go smoothly... or when i see endeavor and annoy him," he chuckles.
"there are still good days ahead."
he places both of his hands on one of yours as he looks at you.
"like when you're with—"
you easily cut him off.
"you wouldn't understand."
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yandere-daydreams ¡ 1 year ago
Text
tw - stalking, unhealthy relationships, mentions of masturbation, obsessive behavior, and medical malpractice galore.
Harper is the kind of man who can't help but study what he loves.
It's a bad habit - an unfortunate combination of natural curiosity and burning academic passion that always seems to end with a mess and a few broken toys. A childhood fascination with insects might lead to shoeboxes full of tattered wings and twitching bodies. A passing interest in hemogobular coagulation would be poured into a university internship that gave him access to more pints of blood than he knew what to do with, despite his best attempts to put it all to good use. A lasting fondness for hypnosis could, theoretically, earn him a small collection of pocket watches, a soothing timbre that often played underneath his passive speaking voice, and a few asylum patients too far gone to ever truly recover.
His research wasn't always destructive, but it could be. His love tended to veer towards obsession; the kind of burning infatuations that could leave more than a little devastation in its wake, if he wasn't careful. A measured amount of collateral damage was acceptable, compared to the alternative.
He studies you, too. Idly, at first - nothing more than an intrusive thought allowed to fester during your all-too-infrequent appointments, a quick jolt of excitement when he noticed your name on his schedule - then more consciously, in the form of an extra question asked at the very end of his time with you, a note tacked onto your file that doesn't strictly have to do with your health. His chances for observation are limited. You rarely make it to your therapy sessions, no matter how often he insists you should see him, and you're sturdier than he'd like, too used to being thrown around and mistreated to come running to him every time you scrape your knees. That's something he decides he doesn't like about you fairly early on. Part of a case study is deciding which parts of your subject will need to be adapted, and even you aren't beyond correction.
He records your reactions to his mis-prescribed medication with a religious sort of zealousness, reviews your symptoms and lab results while fucking his fist in-time with your pulse. He makes sure to visit your bedside personally whenever you find your way into his emergency room, and you're rewarded for your newfound attentiveness with a healthy supply of shots that leave you too removed from reality to remember your time on his examination table. Harper's always preferred the written word, but he find himself with a budding appreciation for film during his nightly evaluation of your records. His memory is keen enough, but there's nothing quite like being able to study your body detail by detail whenever he isn't fortunate enough to have access to the real thing.
He thinks, as he watches a pair of his nurses drag you through the asylum doors, that it might be time to start the next leg of his study. Studying is useful, but you've always benefited from more proactive measures, more personal attention. It'd be a discredit to his occupation if he was too preoccupied with his own little pleasures to see to the needs of his favorite patient.
It's far past time he moved on to more hands-on research methods, when it comes to you.
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twstowo ¡ 5 months ago
Note
Oyo, um I read one of your fics and it was rlly good. I'm pretty sure it was one of the 'they end up another universe twst' fics. They're rlly juicy BTW
I was thinking like...what happened if otherverse bois met normalverse yuu and they actually start liking them? Sorta yandere-ish type stuff to the point where they don't wanna leave normalverse yuu? (Yes, I've been calling normal yuu 'normalverse' yuu bc it makes a bit of sense lmao)
Understandable if you're a bit uncomfy with this :)
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
♡︎This is quite an interesting idea! I had though about it once but since you asked now I'm really going to write it! Also I'm not the best with yandere themes so I hope this is good enough!
♡︎Includes: OB! Characters
♡︎Warning: Malleus's part made me kinda sad, IM SO SORRY MALLEUS LOVERS. Also all of them need therapy.
[AU Masterlist]
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NV - Normalverse (Thank you for the idea Anon!)
First things first, in general, I believe that they would understand that you aren’t the same person from their Universe, however, this wouldn’t excuse the fact that every time they see your face they are thrown back to your relationship back in their world, which to say the least is not the best.
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⋆⋅☆Riddle
There would be no doubt that he would dislike you intensely. Moreover, the fact that this Riddle would be even worse than the pre-overblot Riddle in the NV would put you in a difficult position.
The first time he spots you, he would be blinded by rage and probably try to behead you. Fortunately, Trey and Cater quickly save you, taking you as far away as possible from Tyrant Riddle.
He will do anything to find you, and he will have no tolerance for your actions. At the slightest inconvenience you cause, he will be right behind you, ready to tell you how much of an annoyance you are.
But you catch on to his game pretty quickly, so you counter him by being the very definition of perfection. You make sure not to break a single rule and set an example for everyone around you, and by the Sevens, that only makes him even angrier.
But is he really angry? He can’t deny that he feels slightly impressed. Among everyone else at this strange college, you are the only one who comes close to reaching the level of perfection he demands.
Slowly, he finds himself growing fonder of you. He starts thinking about bringing you back with him once he finds a way to return to his universe. You’d fit perfectly in the castle with him, and he’s certain his mother would have approved of you.
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⋆⋅☆Leona
When it comes to Leona, he is more annoyed with the NV version of you than anything else. After all, you were always pestering him about being lazy and irresponsible. He had been plotting to have you exiled once he took the throne by killing his brother.
So, the first time he spots you, he's ready to turn around and leave, not wanting to hear your nagging. But that doesn’t happen. You speak to him as if he were a normal person, with no harsh words, and even smile at him when you finish talking.
Is he seeing things? Why are you so different in this universe? And why is he enjoying this new kind of attention so much?
Yet, he remains rude, constantly sending glares your way. He firmly believes you're trying to trick him into something malicious.
Still, you bring him lunch and talk about your day. You are strangely kind, something he never thought he would experience, especially from you. You are the first person ever to treat him like this.
Slowly, something starts to shift inside him. Your attention becomes something he craves, and he starts becoming obsessed, to the point where he checks if you give the same treatment to others.
And if you do, he makes sure they are out of the picture the next time you look for them. He will ensure that you have only him to turn to, to talk about your day, and to give your full attention.
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⋆⋅☆Azul
OH NO! He’s had enough of your antics ruining his business! Azul puts up a sign with your face and a red cross over it in front of the Monster Lounge. YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED IN!
Floyd and Jade find this absolutely hilarious and watch as you stroll into the Monster Lounge without a care in the world. (You’re literally that meme: "This sign won’t stop me, because I can’t read.") They don’t even try to stop you, they’re far too entertained by the thought of seeing how this new Azul will react to the chaos.
Let’s just say that Azul quickly learns the hard way that you aren’t here to ruin his business. Instead, you seem determined to ruin his reputation by being overly affectionate and making him squirm with your sweet words in front of all his clients, no less.
He tries to distance himself, avoiding your gaze and setting boundaries, but you keep coming back. In that, you remind him of the version of you from his own universe.
And for some reason, he finds that persistence very attractive. He can’t deny that, before you decided to ruin his business, he used to have a slight crush on you back then.
But now, you aren’t trying to ruin his business. Quite the contrary, you’re a magnet for attention, constantly drawing more customers to the Mostro Lounge.
Slowly, Azul starts losing himself in this fantasy: you and him, together, expanding his business. But at a certain point, he realizes he’s thinking more about you than the money the two of you could make.
He becomes determined to keep you by his side, even if his business suffers because of it. If all it takes to have you is tarnishing a bit of his reputation, then he’s willing to do it.
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⋆⋅☆Jamil
By the Seven, he was already annoyed that Kalim was here, but you too? This was about to be the worst day of his life, two incredibly annoying people threatening to ruin his plans.
He keeps his distance, but when you spot him, he’s about to tell you to go find someone else to bother. Then, you say something completely unexpected: you’re actually annoyed by Kalim’s antics.
You? Annoyed? At Kalim?
He’s taken aback. In his universe, you and Kalim were inseparable friends, always together. But the you from this place is actually bothered by him? He doesn’t even need to know why you’re annoyed. Just the fact that someone finally agrees with him about Kalim makes him incredibly happy.
He enjoys it when you come to him with your frustrations. Whether you’re irritated by Kalim’s constant gifts or his endless parties in your honor, because you feel overwhelmed, Jamil is always there to listen. He savors your complaints, and he’s quick to add his own criticisms about Kalim, which only deepens your dislike for him.
As time goes on, you start finding comfort in Jamil’s presence. His understanding and validation make him seem like a refuge from the chaos that Kalim brings. You begin to rely on him more, and Jamil can’t help but enjoy how your dislike for Kalim boosts his own ego.
Jamil starts subtly shaping your view of Kalim. By reinforcing your negative feelings and positioning himself as your only true ally, he ensures that you depend on him more. He carefully creates situations where he appears better compared to Kalim, making himself seem like the perfect match for you.
Jamil feeds off your growing dislike for Kalim. Your negative feelings towards Kalim seem to boost his ego, and he finds himself loving your voice even more.
You deserve someone who truly understands you, and Jamil believes he’s that person. He’s confident that he’d be the perfect match for you.
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⋆⋅☆Vil
There you are, Neige’s number one fan. He doesn’t even look in your direction, you aren’t worth it. Shouldn’t you be with him, guarding him like the lapdog you are?
Vil has to admit that at least you seem more elegant here. You look more relaxed and gentle, but maybe you were always like that back then. Perhaps he was just too focused on Neige to notice you.
Or maybe this version of you from this universe is simply sweeter and kinder. Perhaps here, you don’t make Neige your whole identity and actually treat Vil like a person rather than just competition for Neige.
Vil is intrigued, he finds you interesting, even. There’s a charm to you that brings him comfort. When he learns that you’re not that close to Neige here, he finds himself feeling pleased. And when you tell him that you find him “oh so much more beautiful,” he realizes that you might not be so bad after all.
Then he becomes attentive to your habits, your likes and dislikes, he memorizes every time you express any small detail about yourself only to use these as a way to create more opportunities to be closer to you. He brings up things you’ve mentioned in passing, showing how attentive he is to your likes and dislikes. His compliments become more personal, always tied to something he knows you value.
He loves especially when you talk so sweetly about him, or when he overhears you telling others how beautiful you think he is.
So whenever you mention Neige in a good way he becomes jealous, you should be exclusively devoted to him, he should be the only thing that crosses your mind and he was to make sure you only see him as your number one option.
He’s determined to make you see him as your everything, and he’ll stop at nothing to ensure that you’re his, completely and utterly.
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⋆⋅☆Idia
(In here both Idia and Ortho from the AU get sent to the NV.)
Ah yes, the ruiner of fun, you.
Back in his world, he used to send his followers to pester you, hoping you'd leave him alone. But no matter what, you always managed to bounce back and ruin his mischievous plans. What was with you, always messing with the fun? If a person or two died, who would even care?
But this version of you seems so much more into the chaos. He watches as you join in Ace's dumb ideas or get excited when Ortho prepares to blast off half the school.
You actually seem like someone who would join in his schemes now, and he'd love to have some help.
Howver the idea of you laughing, scheming, or enjoying yourself with anyone else starts to eat away at him. He starts sabotaging your interactions with others, asking for Ortho’s help to keep Ace busy with other things, making sure you spend more time with him.
He starts sending Ortho on missions to monitor your every move, always keeping tabs on who you’re with and what you’re doing. If anyone tries to get too close to you, they mysteriously vanish from the scene, often without you even noticing.
Everything feels so perfect when the two of you are together, you don’t need anyone else just like he doesn’t need anyone else.
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⋆⋅☆Malleus
Poor Malleus had been treated badly by his crush back in his universe. You never answered the letters he sent, and he had heard that all the little trinkets and flowers were returned because you didn’t want any of them.
So when this version of you from this strange new place treats him with such devotion, such kindness, and accepts his small gifts, even inviting him to spend time with you, he can hardly believe what’s happening.
This was essentially a dream come true for him. He wonders if it had been you he sent all those letters to, whether you would have written him back with the same excitement.
Why, then, hadn’t this lovely and perfect version of you been the one in his universe? Why was he the one left unloved in his world?
He wants to take you with him. Surely, you love him, you wouldn’t be angry if he took you back to his castle. The two of you could finally do all the things he had dreamed about while gazing lovingly at the flowers he once sent you.
After all, why else would you shower him with such kindness? Why else would you invite him to spend time with you? You must love him too.
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nib-mettaton ¡ 5 months ago
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(FYI: Comic shouldn't imply that classic Mettaton is suffering from emotional neglect. Headcanon is just headcanon. :P)
A short comic of Nib!Mettaton making good use of free therapy offered by Mettaton!Stitch (i.e. Stitch taking the shape of a Mettaton). Nib unpacking his emotional baggage was an idea I had for some time, but I couldn't figure out the best scenario where he would do it. And then I saw the Stitch AU and thought, yeah, he would eventually hear about Stitch's free therapy services through the cyberspace grapevine and try it out.
Credit where credit is due: Mettaton!Stitch is from the @stitchau by @centfornothing
There was supposed to be some stitching right in the middle of Stitch's face, but apparently my scanner did not pick up well on that. Also the scan of the last page went wonky and I'm too lazy to re-scan. Scanner troubles be troublesome. ���_ಠ
Slowly getting back into the groove of making more comics after the life debacles of the past two years. I had to adjust my comic-making process to adapt to certain life changes, so the comic style is experimental; let me know if the text is too small for the Tumblr dashboard.
Older readers might recognize the dialogue from the "Overgrown" chapter (from 2021!) and this minicomic happens sometime after the events on "Overgrown". I like to design my comics so that new readers can jump in easily without having to read any of the older stuff. But if you're new and want to know more (or if you're an old reader and need a refresher), more thoughts under the cut:
In "Overgrown", Reed!Flowey is the one who originally says that the reason for doing good things doesn't matter so long as the result is good. At one point, Nib and Reed have a bit of a spat, causing Reed to go onto a tantrum, and Nib throws back this same answer at Reed to get him to calm down.
But needless to say, that's viewpoint on being a good person makes more logical sense for Reed (because he can't feel most emotions) versus someone like Nib (whose actions would be emotionally driven).
There was going to be more explanation to where Nib's emotional neglect stemmed from. Essentially, it would be revealed that Nib's sense of emotional neglect was related to working at the farm at an early age. Basically, he was discouraged from things he really wanted to do due to farmwork, and most positive reactions was often tied to doing things for other people or just (i.e. being responsible) doing a good job.
Hence, he would sometimes have a hard time distinguishing when doing something good for himself is healthy/neutral versus something selfish/hurtful, as well as have a hard time telling people "no" or speaking up when a healthy boundary would need to be set.
But the mini-comic was meant to be experimental process, there was no way I could unpack all this info in three pages. Maybe in another comic.
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doberbutts ¡ 7 months ago
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What I never understood is like... I thought we all agreed that past trauma doesn't justify abusive behavior, and that intent isn't as important as impact. So when the people who say stuff like "I hate all men" and "All men are trash" try to justify that by saying that they've been traumatized by men, I really can't get behind that reasoning? I mean, I can empathize with wanting to vent about past abuse, but I just don't think it's ever cool to generalize entire groups of people in the process. If a man was abused by his mom and started going off about how much he hates all women, we'd tell him to go to therapy. It's just so blatant to me that they want to avoid seeing the impact their words have on the people around them & they don't want to see how their man-hate interacts with racism, ableism, transphobia, etc etc.
Anyway, thanks a bunch for speaking on this! While I have not read Bell Hooks myself, I agree with all the snippets I've read through Tumblr, and I'll be looking up The Will To Change during my next library visit so I can become officially acquainted with her work. Thank you for leading me in that direction, and thank you for making such thoughtful, informative posts. You're a delight, and I hope you have a lovely week.
I think as well that often times people confuse venting- which is good and even therapeutic- with political and/or actionable discourse.
Person who was attacked, assaulted, and now traumatized by men talking about how they have an inherent distrust of men and at times wish they could live in a world without men is speaking from the darkest place of their fear and is working through their trauma.
Person who then takes these opinions and turns them into actual theory and pushes for this to become the new social norm, however, is no longer venting nor are they acting in a therapeutic manner. This is where it begins to harm people, and thus where it begins to be a problem.
There's been people- feminists, even- a lot smarter than me who have discussed at length the difference between the two. How we need to make space for one, but need to ensure the other is not being used as a bludgeon to harm those who just happen to be in the same demographic.
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