Author: Hidden Guardian
Rating: Yes. There are not enough Shadows in the world to suffice.
Full Name (including any titles): Marluxia; Vexen.
Full Species(es): Nemo Alteruniversalis Contumeliosus; Nemo Alteruniversalis Enervatus Stepfordiensis (Abusive AU Nobody, Spineless AU Nobody--Stepford variety).
Hair Color (include adjectives): 'the pink-haired man'; 'the blonde', 'wheat locks'.
Eye Color (include adjectives): 'ocean-blue eyes'; presumed green (as canon).
Unusual Markings/Colorations/Physical Features: None noted; 'spidery hands' and bruises. Lots of bruises.
Special Possessions (if any): A corkscrew; none noted.
Origin: 1950's suburbia.
Connections To Canon Characters: Claim to have met them once. Lie.
Special Abilities: FAILING. Inciting feminist RAGE without actual female characters. Acting like characters in a Lifetime movie and/or a documentary about the dark side of suburban domestic life. In Vexen's case, not only does he not have any special abilities, but he seems to have lost most normal abilities, like dialing 911.
Other Annoying Traits: Having the lyrics of an entire song at the top of the story. Lack of any kind of logic or causality. EPITHETS, dear sweet god the epithets! The word 'house-hubby'. Did I mention the feminist RAGE? Also, seem to have broken the economy. In fact, the only thing it does not commit is offenses against spelling and grammar.
I Say/Notes: Domestic abuse. We can all agree that it's bad, yes? Great. I have no doubt that it can be handled tastefully and effectively in fanfic. Most things can. This fic? Did not do so. I would almost like to believe that it's supposed to be a social commentary, but social commentaries don't have song lyrics at the top. And Vexen is not on my list of candidates for battered 'wife'.
Also, it loses all possible points with me forever for containing, apparently in all seriousness, the line, He did not draw the same sense of satisfaction that most people did from being the home-maker. I'd give it the Ansem, if I could, just for perpetuating the myth that cleaning house and cooking is inherently satisfying for everyone except people who are somehow messed up. And men/'bread-winners', to quote the fic, who are different.
SPECIAL WARNING: VIOLENCE, DOMESTIC ABUSE, GORE, and RAPE.
Continued from Part One.
Five years ago, back before Marluxia had graduated. The pink-haired man had always wanted to open up his flower shop, but by the time he had paid back his student loans, he had barely had enough money to rent himself a cheap apartment on the opposite side of town from his older, blonde lover.
Axel: Hey! Realism!
Zexion: Why does this writer consider it necessary to inform us at every opportunity that Vexen is blond? We have seen him before.
The sex was definitely good and Marluxia was bold and unpredictable, so Vexen had decided to take a chance and let Marluxia move in with him,
Zexion: I see no causal relationship, and I doubt Vexen would either.
even putting up some of the money for the other man’s shop.
Vexen: IS MY MONEYS! GET UR OWN.
Roxas: Quite a sugardaddy you have there, Marluxia.
Things had been wonderful for a while. Marluxia had loved being his own boss and was always in a good mood,
Marluxia: Even the badfic knows I would be in a better mood if I didn’t have to put up with you lot trying to give me orders.
Axel: But you don’t love being your own boss. You love being everyone else’s boss.
Marluxia: I shall hire some high school students to browbeat.
Roxas: Not it!
on Valentine’s and Mothers’ Day, he was brining in great business,
Zexion: I see the flower shop has a sideline in pickles.
Roxas: Or maybe he’s pickling the customers.
Zexion: Mmm, tasty.
and Vexen had finally gotten a raise for tenure.
Vexen: I HAS TENURE? WIN!
Zexion: And for some reason you seem to have given up being a tenured professor in favor of cleaning house.
Vexen had actually been happy, as unusual as that was for him. But he realized one of the mistakes he had made after a while.
Roxas: Only one?
Marluxia: ‘Being in this fic at all’ is one mistake.
He had never asked Marluxia about his ex-lovers.
He realized this when one of them, a sassy blonde girl named Larxene, had come to visit Marluxia on vacation.
Zexion: Larxene is ‘sassy’ in the same way that Axel is ‘a free agent’.
Axel: What’s that supposed to mean?
Zexion: That you’re a backstabbing—
Marluxia: Do we have to have this fight again?
Zexion: *gauges own odds in fight* Not right now.
He had hated that stupid whore.
All: *reflexive duck*
She was just absolutely cruel, making jokes about Vexen’s age, boniness, and job.
Roxas: How come Larxene gets to be in character?
Axel: Would you want to get her mad?
Zexion: *Vexen* Shut up about my job, bitch: I have tenure!
Vexen: UR DOIN THAT REALISM THING AGANE.
Zexion: I dislike talking to you when you’re this drunk.
And the florist’s shop was not something she would have done. But Vexen was willing to deal with her presence for a few weeks; she was Marluxia’s best friend and she would be gone soon enough anyway.
Marluxia: I do not have ‘best friends’. I have ‘co-conspirators’.
Roxas: Does anyone in this room have a ‘best friend’?
Zexion: *smirks* Yes. Insofar as Nobodies can be friends.
Axel: *pouts more* I completely don’t regret killing you, and I hope it hurt.
When Larxene left, though, Marluxia was not acting quite like himself.
Roxas: Because she had replaced him with a clone programmed to do her bidding!
Vexen: I can fix him. I have the technology!
Zexion: Please tell me he’s sobering up.
Vexen: NOT YETS. SRY.
He was broody and irritable and, well…
Marluxia: …significantly more like myself.
his sex-drive had completely shut down.
Marluxia: *begins praying* Please no smut, please no smut…
Vexen had tried to pull Marluxia out of it, patiently suggesting things that they could do together.
Axel: He’d always liked playing ‘Backstab Bonanza’, even if he never forgave me for beating his high score.
Marluxia: *scythes Axel*
With some time, he had managed to get Marluxia into bed with him again. And then it had happened.
Marluxia had started to moan that bitch’s name while fucking his lover like an animal.
Marluxia: *swigs absinthe*
Roxas: Gimme some of that!
Marluxia: You’re too young, and also? Mine, all mine.
Vexen had been furious! And he had certainly not given Marluxia time to think up an excuse for it either. Vexen had not even let Marluxia finish. He had immediately let Marluxia have it.
Axel: Well, which is it? Either he--*scythed*
Marluxia: Your talking privileges have been revoked.
He was not some blonde dominatrix running around in a leather corset-top
Marluxia: Thank—you for clearing that—up. *swigs absinthe more*
Zexion: *summons drink* That mental image will haunt me forever.
and Marluxia would do well to remember exactly who it was that he was living with.
That was the first time Marluxia had punched him. It was just a fact that Marluxia was the stronger out of the pair.
Vexen: ‘Just a fact’. O RLY?
Roxas: Stop agreeing with the badfic!
Vexen was bony and pale from spending his life locked in a lab
Zexion: …Xigbar, what did you do?
Roxas: Why do you assume it was Xigbar?
Zexion: Because that’s the kind of thing Xigbar does.
Vexen: HE CAN HAS SCISSORS.
Zexion: We agreed not to discuss that incident.
while Marluxia spent most of his time out in the garden at his shop working the ground.
Axel: So who actually runs the shop? Whoa! *falls into plot hole and vanishes*
Roxas: I suppose it’ll be quieter now.
Naturally, three of his teeth had chipped, and he had been forced to call in sick while the bruise healed over the weekend.
Zexion: Naturally. Because being punched always results in three teeth chipping. I find this misuse of the language deplorable.
Vexen: IT CAN BE NO MOAR ABUSE TIEMZ NAOW?
Roxas: If only! I think it’s just beginning…
And for the most part, the abuse hadn’t stopped since.
Marluxia: Not once? When do I have time for that kind of abuse? Don’t I have a job in this drivel? Not to mention need for sleep—!
Roxas: Maybe you subcontract out to Larxene.
Vexen: DO NOT WANT!
Vexen grabbed the dessert and carried it out to the dining room, Marluxia’s eyes once again on him. “Took your sweet time, didn’t you, Vexen?” Marluxia asked, irritably.
Roxas: *Vexen* Bitch, bitch, bitch. When you make the shortcake, you can bitch about how long it takes me to get it.
Vexen: Y COLD SHORTCAKE? IT HAS A UNPLEASING FLAVA.
Zexion: Sober up or I will not be responsible for my actions.
Zexion: *books Vexen*
Vexen: Ow. Was that really necessary?
Zexion: You were speaking LOLcat. I couldn’t bear the ungrammatical structure any longer.
Vexen: I also couldn’t be horrified by the badfic!
Vexen: No, you’re not.
Zexion: No, and I wouldn’t be if I could.
“Sorry.” He served the shortcake but didn’t have much appetite for it.
Vexen: Because of the poison!
Marluxia: Fortunately, I have developed an immunity to iocane powder.
Marluxia wolfed down the treat before getting up and going to the living room. Vexen cleaned up quickly and followed.
His stomach dropped when he saw Marluxia at the bar, trading the wineglass for a small cup of bourbon.
Marluxia: As it should. Bourbon on top of a good wine? Sacrilege.
Roxas: I’d pass out Badfic Bingo cards, but I think by the time we got to ‘gratuitous drunkenness’ we’d all have bingo.
Marluxia only drank like that when he was planning a long evening.
“Come here,” Marluxia said, sitting down in his comfy chair and patting his lap.
Vexen: Put him in the comfy chair! */Monty Python*
Zexion: If nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition, do the Spanish expect the Nobody Inquisition?
Vexen: Someone should go to Spain and find out.
Zexion: Someone to run around torturing and murdering people to see if they expect it…
Marluxia: Larxene did say she wanted a vacation.
Vexen walked slowly across the room and climbed into his lap, pulling his legs up and putting his head under Marluxia’s chin.
Vexen: I don’t fold up that small!
Marluxia: I don’t want you to!
Zexion: Why is everyone shouting?
The florist’s fingers ran through his hair, catching the small tangles and pulling as he worked them out of the wheat locks.
Marluxia: Your hair is made of grain?
Vexen: *pokes own hair* No, just keratin as usual. And I’ll thank fic!you to stop touching it.
The two sat there for a while, starting to get comfy.
Roxas: Except for the bit where Vexen is too tall to sit comfortably on Marluxia’s lap.
Marluxia: And too heavy; I’m not comfortable either.
Marluxia used his free hand to tilt Vexen’s chin up and kiss him deeply on the lips, a small trickle of whiskey dribbling into his mouth.
Marluxia: *sips absinthe*
Marluxia smirked and his blood red lips trailed from Vexen’s mouth, up to his ear where his teeth dug into the lobe, then down to his neck.
Zexion: Fic!Marluxia might want to wash his lipstick off at some point.
Vexen squirmed a bit. Damn the pink-haired man for knowing every weak point on his body.
Roxas: I’m just going to pretend the fic is talking about pressure points.
Marluxia: From context, it more likely means—
Roxas: *fingers in ears* Lalalala, I can’t heeeeeear you!
“Go get the mail off of my desk and bring it to me. You can take a shower while I pay the bills.”
Vexen: Yes, yes I can. I am capable of this action. Did you have a point?
Roxas: You pissed your mom off a lot when you were a kid, didn’t you?
Vexen: What do you mean?
Roxas: ‘Could you do the dishes?’ ‘Yes, I could. It’s possible. Thanks for asking!’
[Vexen can has shower yay.]
Sometimes, on his worst days, Vexen wondered if he could ever get away with just up and leaving Marluxia.
Vexen: What? No! It’s my house, and apparently I’m a tenured professor who has enough free time to sit around the house half the day. I’m not leaving! Marluxia, on the other hand, may come home one day to find a very small suitcase of his things on the sidewalk and all the locks changed.
Marluxia: You forget: I am ZOMGabusive and would never let you kick me out.
Vexen: That’s what the police are for.
Zexion, the librarian, had promised to help him get away, and his editor, Xemnas, had said the same.
Zexion: *glances ahead* Oh my. Even my badfic counterpart must be able to realize that on some occasions one calls the police first and convinces the victim that this was the correct course of action later.
But he just couldn’t leave. Goddamn his sentimentality, he still loved Marluxia. He had no idea why, but the idea of leaving the florist made him feel like his heart had been ripped out of his chest.
Roxas: You mean kind of empty and vacant?
Zexion: As much as I want to regain my heart, if the alternative is being in this badfic, I’m content to be a Nobody forever.
He just had to keep believing that, if he managed to do enough right, Marluxia would go back to being the arrogant but full-of-life freshman that had marched up to Vexen’s desk on the first day of class, sat down on the corner, and had immediately introduced himself.
Marluxia: Such wonderful option I’m given. Pointlessly abusive and also interested in Vexen for reasons that escape me…or a college AU student.
Zexion: Those reasons might involve the salary of a tenured professor as compared with whatever a small-town florist might make—and considering that he owns the house and paid for ‘you’ to start the shop…
Marluxia: So not only am I abusive, I’m an abusive gold-digger.
Zexion: In essence, yes.
Lost in his memories, he didn’t notice when the bathroom door opened and footsteps padded across the tile. He jumped when the shower-curtain was pushed back. Marluxia was standing there, and he didn’t look happy.
Marluxia: *does not look happy* If this leads to shower sex, I’m drinking until I pass out.
“What do you do, turn on every light in the house as soon as I leave just for shits and giggles?”
Roxas: *Vexen* You caught me. It’s my life’s ambition to give myself more bills to pay.
“What are you talking about?” Vexen demanded, turning off the water and grabbing the towel to cover himself.
Zexion: Thank you. Seriously. We all appreciate it.
“Of course I don’t!”
“There is absolutely no other excuse for that electric bill,” Marluxia hissed.
Roxas: Other than the skyrocketing price of oil lately, I mean.
“When you’re home, it’s the middle of the day and the sun is out! It’s bright enough for animals, it’s plenty enough for you.”
Vexen: *himself* And when animals can write scientific articles, your comparison will have some merit.
“I don’t know why it’s so much, but I’ll change some things so it won’t be as high next month, okay?”
Marluxia: *himself* Fine, whatever. It’s not like I’m the one paying for it.
Marluxia’s eyes narrowed again. It was the classic sign of his anger.
Zexion: *art gallery tour guide* This is a work of the eighteenth century, titled ‘Victim of Badfic’. Note the narrowed eyes, a classic sign of his anger.
“Don’t you start copping an attitude with me, Vexen.
Marluxia: While usually I agree with the sentiment, for crying out loud! In what universe could that qualify as ‘copping an attitude’?
Roxas: Fanfic fuckyhell.
When it comes down to you and me, we both know who will win, and it won’t be you.”
Vexen: Possibly. It’s too bad for you you’ve been allowing me to cook for you. But don’t worry; arsenic will do wonders for your complexion.
Marluxia: What’s wrong with my complexion?
Vexen: It’s on your face.
Vexen clenched his jaw and Marluxia’s arm shot out, grabbing him by the upper-arm. “You’re done. Get out.”
Marluxia: The time for preventative drunkenness is now. *chugs absinthe*
[Vexen can also has rape boo.]
Marluxia: *chugs more absinthe*
Vexen: *summons a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster*
Zexion: *takes same away* I didn’t actually purge the alcohol from your system, and while I admit that death by alcohol poisoning seems a mercy compared to finishing this fic, I would probably get into trouble.
Vexen ran his fingernails through the carpet, choking on mouthfuls of painful shouts.
Roxas: ‘Eating his words’ is a metaphor. You can’t actually choke on them.
Vexen: I never did get to do that experiment with force-feeding someone his lab reports…
Zexion: Again, I would probably get into trouble.
“You have no reason to treat me like this just because I’m not that stupid bitch that you wish you were living with!”
Zexion: If he wants to be living with Larxene, why isn’t he?
Marluxia: *singing* You know I can’t afford to buy her pearls, but maybe someday when my ship comes i~in, she’ll understand what kind of guy I’ve been…
Vexen: *regards quizzically* What?
Roxas: Drunk Vexen speaks LOLcat; drunk Marluxia speaks song lyrics. Who knew?
Zexion: And what is he trying to convey?
Roxas: AU!Larxene would run through his bank account inside of a week.
The florist paused and looked down at the bruised figure under him, rivers of blood running down snow-white skin.
Marluxia: *singing again* Over the river and through the woods—
Roxas: …Where did that come from?
Zexion: I suppose that while we’re being disturbingly literal, we might as well continue.
Vexen: *hides eyes* Let me know when I’ve bled out and escaped this horror.
He was unmoved. “How fucking dare you,” he started slowly, “even speak about Larxene!”
“We both know you’d rather be with her, so why do you stay here and torture me?!”
Marluxia: *sings* I need you (need you, need you) to beat to a pulp on a Saturday night, oh baaaabe!
Zexion: I thought we could avoid this with Demyx not here.
Marluxia got to his feet, all of his sexual passion turning into rage at the blonde who had pushed him one step too far that night.
He walked around the bar and his hands slipped out of view.
Vexen: Probably to get a cocktail to drink on top of the whiskey and wine, while he’s mixing drinks that were never meant to be mixed.
Vexen watched every move he made, realizing far too late that what he had said would probably infuriate his lover.
Roxas: Is it bad that, after all this, the thing that pisses me off the most is that Badfic!Vexen is still thinking of Marluxia as ‘his lover’?
Zexion: *hands gripping armrests* *through gritted teeth* You presume that the perpetrator of this offense against everything understands the purpose of epithets.
Vexen: *head in hands* I do demonstrate that I have a spine in canon, right? It’s getting harder to remember.
He let out a tiny sound and, despite the pain, curled up into a little ball.
Vexen: Despite? Do we have to have that normal-pain-responses talk again?
Marluxia: *sings* Where is the lion in you to defy him when you’re this weak and this spaaaceeeey?
Roxas: I think that was supposed to be some kind of comment on how you aren’t fighting back, but it’s kinda hard to tell.
“Do you know why I stay with her when it’s so obvious that Larxene is the real love of my life?” Marluxia grinned.
Marluxia: *momentarily shocked into sobriety* The what of my what?
Zexion: It’s more plausible than the actual so-called ‘pairing’ in this so-called ‘story’.
“Larxene is perfect. She has no faults.
All: *silent* *exchange looks* *mouths twitch* BWAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!
Marluxia: *sings* She can kill with a smile, she can wound with her eyes, she can ruin your faith with her casual lies~
Others: *duck reflexively*
Lightning Bolt: *equal-opportunity smite on everyone*
Zexion: That was completely unnecessary.
She is not a slut like you, and I am too far from perfection to be celibate for her.”
Vexen: *momentary reversion to LOLcat* O RLY?
Zexion: Your causality. It fails forever and a day.
The blonde knew that had to be a bold-faced lie.
Roxas: I guess it’s good to know he’s not quite OOC enough to believe it.
Vexen: Your definition of ‘good’ leaves something to be desired.
Not only had Larxene hit on him between her cruel jokes, but she stayed out until two or later almost every night she was visiting. Nothing about her screamed chaste or virginal. And, also, Vexen himself was the one who wasn’t a slut….
Vexen: *puts shield over head for better defense*
Lightning Bolt: *not in evidence on this occasion*
“Get back on your knees, Vexen, and I mean now,” Marluxia said, tone quiet and dark.
Roxas: *puts empty popcorn bag over head* I don’t want to see this.
“I’ll have to teach you a hard lesson about butting in where you aren’t wanted.”
Marluxia: *singing* The trouble with schools is they always try to teach the wrong lessons…
Zexion: I agree; this is not a lesson any of us wants to watch.
Vexen ducked his head and knew that Marluxia was going to be even rougher with him now that he had openly brought the florist’s ‘true love’ into the situation.
Vexen: As mildly refreshing as it is to know that I’m not supposed to be his ‘true love’…What. The. Fuck?!
Roxas: *still in the popcorn bag* I’d ask how much rougher than the violent rape scene this could get, but I’m scared we may be about to find out.
It would just be another one of those days, where Vexen was lucky if he could half-stumble through his daily chores and pray Marluxia made plans to go out.
Zexion: *Vexen* Ho hum, another one of those days…I’ve been raped and beaten to an inch of my life. Oh, well. Some days are just like that. Even in Australia.
Marluxia wrapped Vexen’s hair around his hand a few times so that he could keep absolute control before one of his knees pressed down on the backs of Vexen’s legs.
Roxas: What? I realize I can’t really see right now, but what?
“You just stay still,” he hissed.
The position was unusual, and if Marluxia was facing sideways so that his own leg would be going across almost perfectly, then he couldn’t be parallel to Vexen - the geometry just didn’t add up.
Marluxia: *sings* You know you twist so fine (twist so fine), c’mon and twist a little closer now (twist a little closer)~!
Zexion: *incensed* How dare they bring geometry into this stinking heap of refuse?!
Vexen: *incensed likewise* I bet they don’t even know what parallel means!
Roxas: …And then, out of nowhere, someone yelled, ‘Right hand, red!’
Ignoring the command to remain in that position, he turned his head for just a moment and saw a flash of something small and metallic before Marluxia jerked his hand back, forcing Vexen’s face forwards.
Roxas: Bad feeling?
Zexion: I second the motion!
Roxas: All in favor?
Roxas: That makes it unanimous. Marluxia, don’t!
Marluxia smirked and dove the small corkscrew into Vexen’s back, right in the center of the small, and ripped it back out, watching blood splatter.
Marluxia: *sings* Die, die, die my darling…
Vexen: AUGH! *hides eyes*
Roxas: I can’t see, and boy, was that ever a good idea.
The blonde was screaming louder than Marluxia had ever heard him before and he frowned, stabbing him again and again to shut him up before the neighbors came pounding the door down.
Marluxia: *continues the same song* Don’t utter a single word. Die, die, die my darling, just shut your pretty mouth…
Zexion: He’s screaming because he was stabbed, so the solution is…to stab him more? Stabbing => screaming, therefore more stabbing => less screaming? What is this, Bizarro World?
Vexen: It would explain a thing or two, to be sure.
Roxas: As the neighbor, I’m just going to promise right now to pound the door down ASAP.
Vexen: I appreciate it.
Vexen felt like fire was racing all over his spine and there was no question that the blood from the stab wounds was flowing over his skin, leaving a huge bloody stain on the carpet, though that was the last thing on his mind.
Zexion: If it’s ‘the last thing on his mind’, why is it even mentioned? Do we care?
Roxas: I’m not sure which is worse: the violence or the mention of the stain on the carpet, like it matters compared to the bleeding stab wounds.
Marluxia: *continues singing the same song* Don’t cry to me oh baby, now your life drains on the floor…
Marluxia had never done something like this, never more than just a smack or a burst dam of verbal abuse.
Vexen: And the violent rape.
Zexion: *dismissive hand gesture* You can never be raped by a lover or spouse. Everyone knows that. …Some lingering fragment of Ienzo feels unclean just saying that.
As Marluxia continued to vent his rage on the skinny figure under him, he didn’t realize that some of the blood spattered against the ceiling and the window, still half-covered by the fallen curtain.
Roxas: Holy shit!
Vexen: Spattered against the ceiling?!!
Zexion: How does it feel to be dead from arterial bleeding?
Marluxia: *still the same song* Don’t cry to me, oh baby, your future’s in an oblong box…
He continued until Vexen stopped screaming, but by that time, the blonde wasn’t moving at all.
Marluxia: *same song, one last time* I’ll be seeing you—in heeeeeell!
Roxas: I think we’re already there.
Vexen: I hate Lexaeus and his immunity to Ukefication too.
Zexion: I kind of want to go hide behind him now so the badfic can’t find me.
Vexen: Sounds like a plan. I’ll join you.
Roxas let out a few dull-minded grumbles as he walked down the hall towards the kitchen.
Vexen: Insert dull-mindedness joke here. I don’t care nearly enough.
“Goddamn, Axel,” he muttered, “at least crack a window; it was hot in there.” The red-head was at the wall, turning the air-conditioning on to get rid of the humidity in the bedroom while Roxas went to get them both something cool to drink.
Roxas: Lovely. We’re back to me.
Marluxia: *apparently stunned back into sobriety by that last scene* There’s something very wrong about seeing us in this suburban Hell.
Vexen: You mean other than feeling like I’m in an exposé about the dark side of the fifties?
Marluxia: I mean the part with Roxas being a suburban housewife.
Vexen: That too.
He paid no attention as he passed through the living room toward the refrigerator and pulled out two beers. His lover always teased him about his habit of drinking after sex, but Roxas figured if he was old enough to be pounded into the mattress by a college student, he was probably old enough to drink in the afterglow.
Roxas: Waitwaitwait. If I’m a teenager, and Axel’s a college student…
Zexion: Then who’s paying for the house?
Roxas: …Oh my god. I just realized: I’m the girl who dropped out of high school at sixteen to move in with her boyfriend!
Vexen: Like I said, it’s like a political documentary gone horribly wrong.
As he walked back through the living room, he glanced at the closed curtains and frowned. Axel was probably right, and there was nothing for him to be watching.
Roxas was home from school for the summer while Axel was working his tail off as a waiter, but he insisted that the blonde not work his last summer of high-school.
Zexion: That has yet to answer my question of where the money for this house is coming from.
Marluxia: The economy in this fic is broken. Axel makes enough for a house as a waiter, a small-town florist is the ‘bread-winner’ of the household compared to a university professor…
Roxas: The economy is usually broken in badfic.
Marluxia: Yes, but it’s not this obvious!
Even though Roxas felt guilty, he had liked that Axel was willing to spoil him so much, coming from a family where his twin brother was parents’ pet.
Roxas: Sit, Sora. Stay. Good boy. Have a treat.
Marluxia: Sounds about right to me.
[Roxas met Vexen, who was every battered wife stereotype in the book. Despite seeing hand-shaped bruises on Vexen’s wrist and blood on the carpet, Roxas did not report his suspicions to the authorities.]
Zexion: I am beginning to realize that in badfic, there are no authorities.
Roxas: Only just now? Word of advice: never go near a medical professional in badfic.
Vexen: You know, as embarrassing as it would be to send the police after people who are just kinky, it’s going to be worse when Roxas realizes his failure to do so made him an accessory to murder.
Marluxia: I wish I could believe this was an incisive social commentary on the horrible things respectable people will sit back and allow.
Roxas wondered if Axel was right and he was just inventing a mystery about the two odd men living across the street, but he decided that one more check couldn’t kill anyone.
Marluxia: Roxas, you are such a Peeping Tom.
Roxas: It’s me or Axel. Suck it up.
Vexen: It’s not like Axel would do anything if he did peer through the windows and see Fic!me being tortured.
Zexion: Except possibly offer to assist.
He pulled back their own curtain and frowned.
Across the street, half of the window was covered by the fallen cloth and rod, and something like paint was streaked across the glass.
Vexen: *Roxas* Maybe if I get out my binoculars, I can see through the window! Awesome!
Roxas leaned forward a bit and clicked off their own living room light so that he could see better without the reflection in the window.
Zexion: A practiced Peeping Tom, I see.
It was red… and looked too thin to be paint.
Axel: *falls out of plothole close to the ceiling* What?
Roxas: Where were you?
Axel: Traveling by plothole. It was weird; I couldn’t tell where I was going next. You should try it!
Roxas: No. While you were out enjoying yourself, I was suffering.
Axel: *looks back over script* Maybe it’s the Disney half of me coming to the fore for once, but…ew.
Vexen: Thank you so much for telling me. I would never have guessed without your input.
The red-head came rushing into the room, thinking that something was wrong with his boyfriend. “What is it, Roxy?”
Marluxia: *hums quietly* The name on ev’ryone’s lips is gonna be—
Roxas: You die now. *Keyblades*
Marluxia: *Keybladed* That was excessive.
Roxas: Get called ‘Marly’ every fic and see how you like it.
he demanded, green eyes darting everywhere.
Roxas shoved one of the quickly-heating drinks into his hand. “Take this; you’re going to need it. And call the hospital… and police.”
Zexion: So there are authorities!
Marluxia: Pity no one ever called them.
Axel: Don’t play all innocent!
Marluxia: Well, I’m not about to call the police on myself, even in badfic. The rest of you, not being Evil McRapey, should have known better.
Axel: If I’d called the police, they’d’ve found out I was squatting in an unsold house with an underage boy.
Roxas: I’m an uke. Ukes never make decisions.
Zexion: Apparently I have some weird idea that I should get permission from Vexen to turn this sick bastard over to the cops.
Vexen: And I’m just a drip.
Axel: So! What have we learned?
Roxas: Far too much about the mind of the writer. Far, far too much.
Zexion: That feminism still has a lot of work to do, if people can seriously write this. Of course, it is possible that this was intended as a cautionary tale about the evils of domestic abuse and societal apathy, but somehow I doubt it. Social commentary is not songfic.
Marluxia: That Larxene is the love of my life, whom I place on a pedestal like the Victorian ‘lady of virtue’. No one tells me these things.
Vexen: That when I thought I had lost my heart and retained my spine, I apparently was mistaken.
Marluxia: Let’s just get out of here.
Vexen: I have never been in such agreement with you and hopefully will never be again.
Roxas: I’m going to find somewhere without a drinking age and then go beat people up until I feel appropriately non-housewifely. *portals out*
Axel: Roxas, wait for me! I didn’t mean to run out on you! *follows*
Vexen: There isn’t enough alcohol in the world to erase this memory, but I’m willing to try anyway.
Zexion: I should point out that the script was labeled part one…
Marluxia: NO. No. I am not going to sit through something half as bad as this without a good long break in which to persuade Naminé to edit these memories heavily. Or, failing that, to consume mind-altering substances until they have the same effect. And that’s that. *portals out*
Vexen: Xigbar wants me to get out more? Fine. Better than fine. I’m going to find him and make him take me to every bar he knows.
Zexion: Try not to kill yourself.
Vexen: Why not?
Zexion: …Because it would be a waste of all our effort in the other direction?
Vexen: Good point. I’ll take care in that area. *portals*
Zexion: Tea. I need tea. And to talk with Lexaeus about something completely irrelevant. And a book in which no one is abused or murdered. *portals*