#i am just someone who has been repeatedly burned by trusting the wrong people

[prismatoxic]

i know "follows me" is not a perfect metric for "someone who can be normal about ~problematic~ fiction" because some people just cannot fucking read and will ignore all the flashing neon signs i've put up, but when there's literally nothing else to go on it's all i really have to decide if i want to engage with someone or not

[mohluskiepedard]

Rating ATLA Characters literally only from what I’ve seen in fandom

or: posts that probably shouldn’t be on my writeblr except I don’t have a sideblog

the context here is it’s half midnight and I have never seen ATLA except I have opinions now apparently so here we go whoop de do- 

I’m also not actually rating them like numerically that’s too much work i’m just stating opinions I know I’m a fraud

AANG

- A child?  - A son?  - he is Baby. but also. he has had It Rough  - would make the updog joke - has unspeakable power or smth and everyone says he’s better than the Korra girl who comes after him but honestly tastes like sexism to me - doesn’t kill people because he’s like twelve, right? he’s like twelve so he refuses to kill people - I stan honestly - less twelve year olds should kill people - Some people say his name WRONG and they are BAD but i don’t actually know what the right way or the wrong way is so. have fun w that yall - lived in peace unTIL THE FIRE NATION ATTACKED 

KATARA

- She is also like twelve???  - Is everyone here twelve - Cortana?? Katana?? Catbug??  - She has good hair, - Her mother is dead??? her mother is dead n she has a brother but she cares about her mother being dead WAY more than him (or apparently the entire fandom??) - Badass - She seems soft. good. sweet - she’s a water breather or whatever??? her brother is NOT but he is a meme - I love her 

SOKKA

- NGL looks like a fuckboy  - The meme brother! does not do the water things, but he has an aXe???  - dates BAMF lady - ngl until I talked to my ATLA watching friend I thought he canonically dated Zuko  - kinda mad he doesn’t - I haven’t actually seen anything about him except like. in zuko ship posts and also Suki appreciation posts - joined the white lotus not-a-cult by accident???  - dark ATLA tumblr show me more Sokka posts - is his name prounounced the same way as Soccer or isn’t it I need to know - HIS FIRST GIRLFRIEND TURNED INTO THE MOON - (AND THAT’S ROUGH, BUDDY) - He and Suki are a good ship, but also, Sokka Has Two Hands

SUKI

- the BAMF herself - she says STOP in that photo but also to sexism - Rlly all I see of her in fanon is abt her teaching Sokka to drink his respect women juice and I appreciate her doing that but also it’s sad she never gets talked about outside of what she did for a man - I hope she has other badass moments w/o him it would suck if she didn’t - she is NOT the girlfriend who turned into the moon, she is the one who didn’t - I don’t know much else about her ATLA Fandom y’all should appreciate her more

ZUKO

- Look at him... my son... - He has a good redemption arc - he and his sister are evil lesbian and redeemed gay guy??? - has a straight canon ship but should’ve been with Sokka this boy is gay - I Want To Protect Him - That’s literally it - he has a cool uncle and his dad sucks  - people ship him with Katara and I Do Not Get It that’s his sister in law except not really - “We don’t trust Zuko’s change of heart” [the next day] “so Zuko is my closest friend now,”  - His dad was like “fuck up the avatar to prove your worth to me” and Aang was like “counter argument you already have worth and we should fuck up your dad” and I think that’s beautiful - he becomes the fire man and he’s very good at it - Zuko for President 2020 - in the words of myself, half an hour ago: “ I was like "that kid with the burn on his face seems like a sad but then happy mlm who needs found family" and I was RIGHT” - took too long to find a happy picture of him :( Zuko rights NOW please - His mother’s story got compared to an OC of mine and all I can say is oh no and they deserve better based on that alone - I have had Zuko for five minutes but if anything else happens to him I will kill everyone in this throne room and then myself

TOPH

- She is badass but like also will murder you while laughing maniacally? - for some reason reminds me of Nott from Critical Role, another show I Have Not Seen - Is blind but gets more out of making jokes abt being blind than she would from being able to see - “Sight is just a cheap tactic to make weak benders stronger!!!” - Literally the opposite of Aang and has killed many people?? - She Can Tell When You’re Lying. But I do not know how and Am simply mildly threatened by this - Therapist: Toph’s ability to know if you’re lying isn’t real and can’t hurt you. Toph’s ability to know if I’m lying:  - She and Zuko.... buddies???  - if not they should be - tiny sad boy needs friends like toph

AZULA

- Evil Lesbian Culture - [BDG Voice] You committed a war crime! Oopsie! - took be gay do crime too literally - her and Zuko have accurate sibling writin except instead of “you ever want to murder your sibling for breathing in the same space as you,” being a Joke Azula took it seriously - okay but with a name like azula she should be the blue bender this ANNOYS me she should NOT be red bender - AZULa  - AZUL - IT MEANS BLUE - She was half of y’alls gay awakenings and it SHOWS - Should have maybe been redeemed too??? Jury is out no one knows - Was she gay for Ty Lee or wasn’t she I can’t tell how much of that Audio is a joke - IS SHE ALSO TWELVE??? IS EVERYONE HERE TWELVE?? IS THIS TWELVE YEAR OLD COMITTING ATROCITIES? 

UNCLE IROH

- A Good Man - Finally, Some Good Fucking [Adult Figures]  - he has the tea. literally and figuratively - Ozai is like “and I will permanently disfigure my son and throw him out” and Iroh is like “What The Fuck, Ozai,” thus voicing the entire audience’s thoughts - Literally the only adult in this that I trust - I? I love him. this is all I have to say. my love for him is unending. Some1 protect this man from all harm   - he’s Zuko’s uncle (and also Azula ig) but he does not seem related to Ozai. is it just a theme in this family that one sibling is chill and one sibling commits horrendous atrocities against your fellow human beings or  - something happened to his son???? :((((( I Don’t Want Him To Have Suffered Like This

OZAI

- A BAD MAN - Uh Oh (stinky)  - THE WORST OF THE MEN  - I do not like him - Bastard man. nasty. committed war crimes and then went “but what if - get this - i also abused my son,”  - I would like him to Not Be Like This - by Like This I mean present and alive  - :/ 

TY LEE

- She’s NOT the There Is No War In Ba Sing Se lady and I don’t know why i thought she WAS but until I looked up her photo I thought that was her  - She looks like a sweetheart tho - I hope nothing bad happens to her????  - talks about auras??? or smth??? let her vibe - She would talk animatedly to me about warrior cats if she was in my year seven class and I was sat alone and I would understand none of it but appreciate her anyway - if azula bullies her I’ll be :( at Azula and Azula will not care because she has Mommy Issues and therefore is slightly unhinged - She seems like that one kid with no trauma vibing at the edge of [every other kid having trauma] and not really getting it but trying her best - Is she also twelve?????? She maybe looks twelve

CABBAGE MAN 

- HIS CABBAGES - fulfills my favourite trope: ordinary person repeatedly has life disrupted by the inconveniences of relying on actual children to save the world - probably has a campaign post canon for letting trained adults fix the worlds’ problems in the future - or sets up the Very First Cabbage Insurance Company - look at him. he loves his cabbages so much. you go you funky lil cabbage man

ALSO THE MOST IMPORTANT ONES MOMO

- LOOK AT HIM HE’S SO GOOD - small. fluffy. big ears - Lord Momo of the Momo Dynasty: his Momoness - a Good Boy...

APPA

- he looks so soft... - he can fly but he just does it by??? vibing through the air?? motionless??? iconic - I saw that one post about mishearing it as Abba and thinking he was Aang’s dad and he looks like he would be a good stand in dad ngl - he’s so LORGE - a chonky boy - love him

that is everyone I have heard of it and if I left someone out it’s a sign that y’all should talk about em more bc I have no clue they exist put more ATLA On my Dash ig I’ll do Legend of Korra ig maybe apparently that one has canon wlw and i love me some canon wlw

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 301: All My Todorokis

Previously on BnHA: We learned that when a bunch of superpowered villains are suddenly set loose with nobody around to stop them, things get fucked pretty quickly. Old Man Samurai and a bunch of other useless people decided to make “I pretend I do not see it” their new mantra, and resigned. Endeavor had a moment of despair on account of being crushed by the guilt of having ruined the lives of himself, his family, and basically everyone else in the entire world. For various reasons the heretical notion of “person who has done bad things feels sorry for doing them” sent fandom spiraling into a meltdown, so that was fun. The chapter ended with the entire Todoroki clan descending upon Enji’s hospital room to have a dramatic chat about Touya and All That General Fuckery.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “here’s the story of how Baby Touya slowly went insane trying to win his father’s love.” It’s a tale full of subverted expectations and heartbreaking inevitability, and also like twenty panels of the cutest fucking kids who ever existed on planet earth, who are so fucking cute that I can’t stop thinking about their cuteness even with all of the horrifying family tragedy unfolding around them. It is absolutely ridiculous how cute they are. Touya is out here pushing his tiny body past its limits because he inherited the same obsession as his dad and neither of them can put it aside even though it’s destroying them, and yet all I can think about is Baby Shouto’s (。･o･｡) face. Anyways what a chapter.

so I have to confess that even though I managed to avoid being caught off-guard by the early leaks, the number of people reblogging my Endeavor posts from earlier this week and using the tag “bnha 301” kind of gave me an inkling that this chapter will include more Tododrama lol. that said, I don’t know anything else about it, so we’re still good spoiler-wise

AHHHHH FLAHSBAKC AHHHH. omg I know I typoed the shit out of that, but I’m just going to leave it lol I think it’s fitting

holy shit holy fuck. so this is Rei and Enji’s first meeting, then??

yepppp, oh shit

so wait, I know this is not even the slightest bit important, but are they meeting at Enji’s home or Rei’s? because I always figured that Enji was the one with the super-Japanese aesthetic, but maybe that was Rei’s side of the family all along

(ETA: from what I found during my very brief google search, omiai meetings are often held at fancy hotels or restaurants, so maybe that’s what this is.)

there’s such a period drama feel to this setting. like it’s so outrageously formal fff how can anyone stand this kind of atmosphere though seriously

OH THANK GOD

I mean they’re still stiff af but at least they’re not rigidly sitting in seiza and staring at each other unblinkingly anymore lol. Enji’s actually got his hands in his pockets now. why is this somehow almost cute

oh damn it’s the flowers

Rei seems so subdued and it’s so hard to get any idea of what she’s actually thinking. I want to see her side of this dammit

but anyway, so at least from Enji’s perspective it seems like even though the marriage was arranged and he picked her because of her quirk, he still loved his wife and wanted to do right by her. the fact that he was watching her and noticed that she liked the flowers, and remembered that detail for all these years -- there’s a reason why Horikoshi’s showing us this. we know what’s going to happen later on; we know how much fear and violence and breaking of trust is coming up ahead, and while it may seem like this scene is serving to soften Enji’s character further -- which to be fair it is -- it also helps drive home the full impact of his abuse. that it’s so terrible not only because of the trauma of the abuse itself, but also because of the way it retroactively destroys all of the good things as well. this could have potentially been such a sweet scene, but it’s inescapably tainted by the knowledge of what’s to come, at least for me. and that’s just brutal

anyways, shit. is the whole chapter going to be like this?? feel free to toss in something I can actually make a joke about sometime, Horikoshi

oop, back to the present

omfg lol

“are you all right” “NO I’M NOT ALL RIGHT WHAT THE FUCK.” “oh, right, because of all the stuff that’s happened with me abusing you and you having a mental breakdown and being hospitalized for ten years and then our son coming back to life and killing thirty people, right, right. I almost forgot.” whoops

omfg you guys I’m loving this new and improved steely-eyed Rei. I’m loving her a lot

and what do you mean “part one” fkjds how long is this going to be. TOO MUCH DRAMA FOR ONE CHAPTER TO HANDLE

oh, hello

yeah I’ll say you did. didn’t seem to bother you much at the time, though

HMMMMMMMMMMMM

Dabi Is A Noumu intensifies even further. anyways though would you fucking look at this boy lounging on this moth-eaten couch doing his best DRAW ME LIKE YOUR FRENCH GIRLS impression wtf

Dabi what if you actually had killed him??? what would you feel?? satisfaction?? regret?? anything at all?? tell me your secrets goddammit

who are you talking to buddy

Fuyumi-chan, Natsu-kun (is it common for brothers to address each other as -kun?? can’t recall seeing that in many other anime, but hey), and “dot dot dot,,,,,, SHOUTO” lol thank you so much for this bountiful heaping of Tododrama Horikoshi we are blessed

AH, WHAT DID I SAY THE OTHER DAY

ULTIMATE MELODRAMATIC THEATER CHILD. “I’M JUST GOING TO LIE ON THIS COUCH SHIRTLESS AND ALONE AND MAKE SPEECHES TO MY FAMILY MEMBERS WHO AREN’T THERE AND SAY THINGS LIKE ‘WATCH ME IN THE PITS OF HELL’ WITH A STRAIGHT FACE BECAUSE NO ONE’S THERE TO JUDGE ME.” WELL JOKE’S ON YOU MISTER CHATTERBOX BECAUSE I AM IN FACT JUDGING THE SHIT OUT OF YOU LOL

(ETA: and on a more serious note, it’s interesting to see that “look at me”/”watch me” theme being used again though, because we see that same sentiment uttered repeatedly by the younger Touya in the flashback. well kid, you definitely got your wish at last. don’t know what else to say.)

OKAY HORIKOSHI HAS DECIDED THAT’S ENOUGH FUN, TIME FOR MORE FLASHBACKS

oh my sweet precious lord

just as cute as we left him. giving us a child this cute when we all know full well what’s going to happen to him is just unspeakably cruel though

HOMG

I’m fucking speechless. you broke me, congratulations. what am I even supposed to do with this

I can’t get over this. moving forward my life will be split into two distinct parts, B.P. (Before the Pout) and A.P. (After the Pout)

and meanwhile there’s ALL THIS BACKGROUND ANGST BUILDING UP, AND I CAN’T EVEN FOCUS ON IT. Touya’s arm and cheek are covered in bandages (I’m guessing this is shortly after that “ouch!” panel we got some chapters back), and Enji is deliberately avoiding training with him because he doesn’t want him to hurt himself further. I can’t fucking get over the irony that all this time everyone thought Touya had died because Enji pushed him too far in his training, and it turns out that it’s the opposite -- the tragedy ultimately happened because he didn’t want to push him. but I’m jumping ahead of myself though I guess

by the way,

remember this?? just wanted to remind you that it exists just in case you forgot

so now someone is talking and basically saying that Touya is the exact opposite of what Enji was hoping for when he decided to start playing with quirk genetics

-- okay hold up

...lol no, never mind. for a second I thought “holy shit he looks kind of familiar WHAT IF IT’S UJIKO OMG” before I remembered that Enji would have recognized him during the hospital capture mission if that was the case. so NEVER MIND, PROCEED

IMAGINE THAT, ENJI DOESN’T QUITE SEEM SATISFIED WITH THIS SUGGESTION OF QUITTING NOW

(ETA: how the fuck did this man go around saving 62 towns in a single day what even is All Might.)

[clicks tongue several times] trouble a’brewin’

MEANWHILE BABY TOUYA HAS UNFORTUNATELY INHERITED HIS DAD’S STUBBORN STREAK

KLDIHWOEIJFL:KSDJ

!!!!!!!!!!!

oh my god. oh my god. what is this chapter. WHAT IS IT

so now Touya is all “YOU JUST DON’T UNDERSTAND MY MANLY DESIRE TO BURN MYSELF ALIVE” well you got her there champ

THEY’RE TOO CUTE. OH MY GOD. HIS FURIOUS LITTLE TEARS. HER CHUBBY LIL FACE. HIS STUBBY LIL FISTS. SOMEONE HELP ME

also are they just home alone lol or what. “hey Touya, you’re what, like six now?? do us a favor and look after your baby sister for a couple hours for us would you? make sure not to set yourself on fire or anything.” WHAT COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG!!

now it’s nighttime and Enji and Rei are arguing, presumably about his decision not to train Touya anymore

whew. okay. so, a couple of things here

1. first of all I think this conclusively shows that Enji really was trying to do the best he could for Touya. he stopped training him as soon as he realized it was hurting him, but Touya was still determined so he tried to make it work anyway, and even visited doctors to try and figure out if there was anything they could do. then, once they were absolutely sure that it wasn’t going to work, he tried multiple times to explain to Touya why they had to stop. he didn’t just abandon him out of the blue, which is really important to note. “no matter how much I tried telling him...”

so yeah, that debunks another common fandom accusation. so by the time he finally makes this decision, which we all know is going to turn out horribly, it’s basically because he’s already tried everything else he could think of. which, by the way, still doesn’t mean he handled this right. but at the very least he was taking Touya’s feelings into account and he was trying, and he didn’t just abruptly toss his son aside (at least not yet)

2. buuuut, then there’s this panel right below all that

which is the other side of it. if he’d just quit like the doctor person advised him to, that would have been the end of it. Touya would still have been upset, but he would have eventually gotten over it and the family would have moved on and possibly even been happy. but what happens next happens because Enji can’t let go. he still has this maddening urge to surpass All Might, and so he and Rei keep having more children, and then Shouto is born, and Enji finally has a kid he can start projecting all of his hysterical ambitions onto once again, and everything starts spiraling out of control soon after

though p.s. none of that is Shouto’s fault though!! he’s one of the few good things to come out of this whole mess and I’m very happy that he exists. the tragedy is that his dad fucking lost his mind over his quirk and fucked everything up. but that’s on him, not Touya or Shouto

anyways, SLKFJLSHGLKJL

I CAN’T FUCKING TAKE THIS YOU GUYS??? LOOK AT THAT LIL BUTTON OF A NOSE??? I’M LOSING IT HERE???

AND TOUYA JUST SEEMS DEVASTATED OMG

because children aren’t stupid, after all. he understands that his dad is still looking to surpass All Might. and so he feels like a failure, and feels like his dad is trying to replace him because he wasn’t good enough. and even now, isn’t that what the adult Touya is trying to prove?? that he was good enough after all?? “I’ll show you what happens when you give up on me, dad”?? “I’ll show you what I can do”?? fuck my life fuck everything

AND YOU CAN SEE THE TOLL THAT IT’S ALL TAKING ON REI GETTING WORSE AND WORSE AS WELL OH GOD

really nice touch here with the panel outlines becoming all shimmery from the heat of Endeavor’s flames (and/or becoming more unstable as the family gets closer and closer to their breaking point). but man, Horikoshi I can’t handle this, please show us more cute kids or something I can’t

GKELKWFJLDKSHFLKL

WITTLE BABE. BEEB. BUBS. SMOL. lkj; oh ouch a piece of my heart just detached and latched onto him huh look at that

TODOROKI “I’M SO SMALL AND I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT’S GOING ON AND I DIDN’T ASK TO BE HERE” SHOUTO AHHHHH

crazy how they all just seem to know right off the bat lol. kid doesn’t even have object permanence yet, let alone a quirk. but do they care?? IT’S THE HAIR, RIGHT. WE’RE ALL THINKING IT, I’M JUST GONNA COME OUT AND SAY IT. they knew the minute they looked at him lol

AND MEANWHILE TOUYA IS OFF HAVING UNSUPERVISED TRAINING/CRYING SESSIONS IN THE MOUNTAINS OR WHATEVER, AND, UH OH

are those blue flames yet?? they seem pretty close

(ETA: this is one of the few cases where the manga being in black and white is infuriating lol.)

OH MY GOD AND STILL

so it’s not like he was so disinterested that he didn’t notice what was happening, and he was still trying to stop it and get through to him. trying to reassure him that it wasn’t the end of the world and there were other things he could do with his life, but this one particular thing just wasn’t going to happen

fucking hell. it’s agonizing seeing how close they actually were to fixing it. if he’d only said the right words, or if he’d realized at this point how destructive his obsession could be to his kids, and backed off from putting that same pressure on Shouto. we came so close to possibly having a happy ending

AND ALSO THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH ANYTHING BUT PLEASE LOOK AT HOW TOUYA IS LIKE THREE AND A HALF FEET TALL AND HIS DAD IS LIKE NINE AND A HALF FEET. Touya barely comes past his knees flkjlkg. the Todoroki household must have been so filled with like plastic stepstools to reach the bathroom sink and all the little baby toothbrushes, and baby gates to keep the kiddos out of the important grown-up rooms and stuff. and also days-old half-empty cups of water and stale crackers and hot wheels and my little ponies strewn everywhere

“BUT EVERYONE AT SCHOOL SAYS THEY’RE GONNA BE HEROES” a wild Deku parallel appears?? how bout that

I know this is like a pivotal moment in the Todo Tragedy and all, but fucking look at this lil dumpling

“sup bro, it’s me, the manifestation of your fears of inadequacy and lack of fatherly affections. a GAAA. ba-baAA-baa [gurgling baby sounds]”

OHHHHH IT’S THE SOUND OF MY HEART BREAKING OH NO

HE WANTS TO BE LIKE YOU ENJI. good lord somebody please just get this family some therapy

“DAD YOU IGNITED IT IN ME” flkjslkj nope, nope. not ready for this pain here

baby Shouto, would you like to weigh in on this affair? “DA!! ba-ga-daaa, [pacifier chewing noises]” oh my, you don’t say. so insightful for one so young

OH MY GODDDDDD

IT’S SO DRAMATIC BUT ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT ARE THE SHOUNEN WOOSH LINES SURROUNDING FOUR-MONTH-OLD SHOUTO LOL HE WAS LIKE THIS FROM BIRTH OH MY GOD I AM DYING HELP

SHOUTO YOU’RE RUINING THIS ENTIRE CHAPTER!?!?!

“yo, the fuck kind of family was I fucking born into” oh, son. if you only knew. IF YOU ONLY KNEW!!

(ETA: lmao I got so distracted by the ridiculous cuteness that I glossed over the fact that Baby Touya seems to possibly be aiming at him?? it’s hard to tell because he’s also super out of it from heatstroke and may just be losing control in his attempt to show off his upgrade.)

ANYWAY THAT’S THE END EXCEPT WHAT’S THIS LAST LINE OMG

ffffff. and we’re in for ANOTHER chapter of this next week?? MORE drama?? MORE BABIES?? MORE OF EIGHT-YEAR-OLD TOUYA’S SLOW DESCENT INTO MADNESS. MY HEART CAN’T TAKE IT, BUT ALSO YES PLEASE SIGN ME UP

[teenwolffan-with-nolife]

The Witch and The Wolf Pt.58

Word Count: 2,427

Characters: Derek Hale, Braeden (someone plz tell me her last name), Stiles Stilinski, Malia Hale (mentioned), Scott McCall, Deaton, Jordan Parrish, Noah Stilinski, Melissa McCall, Kate Argent (mentioned), Peter Hale, Meredith Walker, Reader

Pairings: Derek Hale x Witch!Reader

Warnings: angst, cliffhanger

A/N: i don’t want anyone to @ me i’ve had the ending planned before i started writing the series

Masterlist         Series Masterlist

You laid awake on your bed, feeling Derek’s body moving slightly with every breath he took. His arm was wrapped around your waist, with his back against yours. It was somehow impossible for you to be able to fall asleep.

You stroked Derek’s arm, before carefully turning to face him, trying not to wake him. Seeing him there with you always brought you comfort, even when you felt terrible. This was by far the longest you two had been together for, without any fighting or arguments. 

You could feel sadness rising in your chest, watching his powers leave him. He was still dying. You ran your fingers through your hair, trying to shake off that thought, it was the only thing on your mind. 

He opened his eyes, tilting his head downwards to make eye contact with you.

“It gets creepier and creepier every time you watch me sleep,” he replied.

You scoffed, wrapping your arms around him tightly.

“You just ruined a good moment,” you replied.

“Yeah, okay. What time is it?” you turned to check your phone, before shooting up.

You had texts from Scott and Stiles, and Lydia, along with a couple of missed calls.

“What? What is it?” Derek asked, moving next to you.

“I need to go,” you said.

“Wait, I’ll come with you,” he nodded.

“No, don't. Just stay here. I’ll see you in a bit,” you began to get out of bed, quickly grabbing a pair of clothes.

“(Y/N),” he started.

“I’ll see you in a bit,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek, before grabbing your phone and wallet, running out.

---

“Stiles!” you ran into his room, wrapping your arms around him.

“I should've gone with you two! Are you okay?” you asked, immediately scanning him for injuries.

“I’m fine! Melissa isn't letting me go,” he shook his head.

“Why not?” you asked.

Melissa walked in, crossing her arms.

“Brunski hit him in the head repeatedly. He says he’s fine but the doctor ordered more tests and I think he needs to rest,” Melissa explained.

“I’m fine!” he groaned.

“Stiles, sit down and shut up. Listen to her, she’s literally a nurse,” you replied.

“But-”

“No buts,” you flashed your purple eyes at him while he groaned, sitting back on the bed.

You rolled your eyes, before walking out with Melissa.

You put your arms around your stomach, holding in a gag.

“Are you okay?” she put her hand on your shoulder.

“Mhm… what is that smell?” you replied, strained.

“Well, I don’t smell anything that could make you sick,” she shook her head.

You inhaled, before sighing.

“It smells like blood,” you shook your head.

“Well, I mean we are in a hospital,” she laughed softly before patting your back.

“Are you sure you're okay?” she asked again.

“Yeah, I just feel a little sick. But it's nothing too bad,” you said.

She nodded, giving you a look before shaking it off.

“I will text Malia. She could probably get Stiles to stay here for a while,” you explained.

“Where are you gonna go?” she asked.

“I’m going to Deaton’s and then probably to the station, it looks like Kira found Satomi’s pack,” you explained.

“Are you sure you don't want to rest for a little bit?” Melissa asked.

“All of these kids aren't getting any sleep, why would I?” you shrugged.

She sighed, before patting your back softly.

“Stay safe,” you gave her a small hug before making your way to Deaton’s.

---

“I think we should leave now,” Scott replied.

“I still think we should wait for the sun to come up,” you stood in front of him, waiting in the clinic.

“I agree with (Y/N) on this one, we don't know how many hunters and assassins are still out there, and after what happened yesterday, we don’t know who’s safe or who’s not,” Kira nodded her head.

You looked inside, taking a quick look at Satomi, Brett, Lori, and the rest of their pack. They were all gathered, talking in whispers.

“Fine. Did you text Argent yet?” Scott asked.

“I texted him but he hasn’t replied. I’m sure he won’t mind,” you shrugged.

“Yeah, okay. Oh, also, Deaton said he wants to talk to you,” Scott motioned to the room in the back, Deaton’s private office.

You raised an eyebrow, before nodding softly, making your way to his office, knocking softly on the door.

“Come in,” he replied.

“You wanted to see me?” you asked, poking your head in.

“Oh, yes. I’ve gotten about ten texts from a certain someone about you,” he started.

You raised an eyebrow, while he showed you his phone screen. 

“Oh my god, he’s crazy,” you muttered, running your fingers through your hair.

“Well, is he wrong?” Deaton asked, leaning on his table.

“I mean… he might not be wrong,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze.

“I’m going to run some tests on you, okay?” he asked.

“What? No, there’s no reason. I feel fine,” you shook your head.

“Well, Derek’s not gonna take no for an answer,” he raised an eyebrow.

“Well, it’s my body, not his,” you gave a fake smile while Deaton sighed.

“Let me prove that it’s nothing to him, and maybe he’ll leave you alone.”

You groaned, crossing your arms before sighing.

“Okay fine,” you said.

“Good, now follow me.”

---

“Lydia,” she jumped up as you called her name, opening her eyes.

“Did you go home last night?” you asked, taking the seat next to her in the sheriff’s station.

“No, I’m not leaving Meredith here,” she replied.

You peaked inside Sheriff Stilinski’s office, seeing people with equipment talking to her.

“What’s going on now?” you asked.

“Sheriff Stilinski’s trying to get her to talk, but she isn't talking to anyone. He won’t let me talk to her either.”

“Why not?”

“Something with her being unpredictable and whatnot.”

“But… you’re a banshee and she’s a banshee. Don’t you guys like, trust in each other or something?”

“Tell that to him.”

“Yeah, I will.”

She raised an eyebrow as you saw Sheriff Stilinski come out of his office, turning to you and Lydia.

“She refuses to talk to anyone,” he crossed his arms.

“Well, why not let us talk to her?” you asked.

“I already said no to Lydia, don’t make me explain it to you too, (Y/N),” Noah replied in an annoyed tone.

“But Meredith has talked to Lydia before when she wasn't talking to anyone else. And Meredith can't hurt her if someone else is there and she’s protected,” you replied.

Sheriff Stilinski sighed, before shaking his head.

“Forget it. The two of you aren’t going in.”

---

You heard Noah sigh from behind the two of you, while Lydia took a seat across from Meredith.

“You used Brunski, right?” Lydia started.

Meredith continued looking down, away from everyone else.

“You knew he’d killed people and he’d do it again. He used my grandmother’s code for the Deadpool, and he’s the one who put it online,” you continued to look at Meredith, raising your eyebrow slightly as she remained stiff.

“He took the money from the Hale Vault, and then he turned the bearer bonds into cash. He made the payments,” you looked behind to Noah and Parrish, shrugging.

“Did you fake your death because he got you nervous? Because you helped?” she asked.

“I want to help,” Meredith spoke.

“Then do it. Tell us,” Lydia sighed.

“I want to talk to Peter,” you tensed immediately, sitting up before getting out of your chair.

“What?” you asked.

“I want to talk to Peter Hale,” she said again.

You shook your head, pulling Lydia aside.

“How does she know Peter?” you asked softly.

“How am I supposed to know?” Lydia raised an eyebrow.

“Well, we’re not calling him here,” you scoffed.

“She said she wants to talk to him. What if she doesn't talk to anyone else?” Lydia replied.

“What's so bad about Peter Hale?” Parrish asked while the two of you walked to him and Noah.

“What isn't bad about it? In simple terms, I would rather get stabbed by every single supernatural creature out there, I'd rather die 1,000 times than spend longer than 5 minutes with Peter Hale. He’s evil, he’s cold-hearted, he’s terrible, he’s-” you continued, anger pouring out of you before Lydia stopped you.

“I don’t think we have much of a choice,” Lydia sighed.

You looked back at Meredith, then at the time. You needed to be back at Argent’s hideout by night, and it was already nearly 3. You bit your lip, holding back your frustration before you nodded your head.

“Fine,” you said softly.

“How are we going to find him?” you asked.

“You don’t have his number?” Lydia frowned.

“Why would I? Do you?” you replied.

“He tried to kill me. Of course, I don't have his number!” she scoffed.

“And? Chris tried to kill me too, and I have his number memorized,” you replied.

“When did that happen?” Lydia frowned.

“Oh, it was-”

“Not helpful right now. (Y/N), text Derek or something and find out Peter’s number. Parrish, you can take Meredith to one of the interrogation rooms,” Noah interrupted you.

You sighed, before nodding your head, sending a text to Derek.

---

You bit your nail, looking through the one-way mirror to Peter sitting across from Meredith, and Parrish standing nearby as a guard.

You, Lydia, and Noah continued to watch their interaction.

“I can just have what's left of it,” Peter said, referring to his money.

Meredith reached forward, putting her hand on Peter's face while you saw him tense up. 

Don't screw this up, Peter

He grabbed Meredith’s hand, before Parrish pulled out his gun, pointing it at Peter.

“Let her go! Now!” he yelled.

Peter clenched his jaw, before letting go of her hand.

“Your burns. They’re all gone,” your eyes widened, looking at Peter again.

“She does know him.”

---

“Are you two still training?” you asked Braeden, rubbing your neck softly.

“Well, not at the moment,” she replied.

“Okay… how is he doing?” you asked softly.

“He’s pretty weak, if I’m being honest with you,” you ran your fingers through your hair nervously, before pacing around the empty office.

“That's… okay,” you took deep breaths.

“There’s no reason to worry, though. He doesn't go anywhere without you or me. I have my guns, you have your thing. You’re getting really-”

“I know I worry a lot but how can I not?” you cut her off, before sighing.

All that was on your mind was Derek, and it was difficult to focus on anything else. 

“Just take a breath. Look, we're gonna get back to training, okay?” she said.

You nodded before rolling your eyes, realizing she couldn’t see you.

“Yeah, I’ll see you later,” you hung up the phone, receiving a text from Deaton.

You heard Peter yelling, while you dropped your phone, running back into the interrogation room. Within an instant, Peter pushed Parrish aside, digging his nails into Meredith’s neck.

Shit!

You ran into the room, pulling Parrish back.

“Don’t touch him! He could kill her if something goes wrong,” you warned.

Noah and Parrish both placed their guns back into their pocket before Lydia walked next to Meredith.

“Can you hear her?” you asked.

She shook her head. You ran your fingers through your hair, before walking next to Peter.

“Cogitationes revelare,” your eyes glew purple as you put your hands on Peter’s head, looking into his mind.

“I told her, I warned her. I knew they were planning something and now everyone’s dead!” you heard Peter yelling, seeing Meredith in a hospital bed next to his paralyzed, scorched body.

You could see as Meredith covered her ears, trying to block out Peter’s words, while some form of Peter, possibly his soul, reached out for her, grabbing her hand.

“Talia made the family weak and weaker! We used to be feared, we used to be the Apex predators till Talia turned us into sheep,” he yelled.

“I swear on it… I’ll kill all supernaturals of Beacon Hills, witches, werewolves, wendigoes, all of them. I’ll create my own breed, and we’ll be on top!”

“With the money from the vault. I’ll pay them. Professional assassins, people like The Mute, The Chemist, I’ll even call in the Desert Wolf. When it comes to it, anyone can be corrupted by money.”

You took a step back from Peter, staring at the scene in shock before you felt your head began aching, pushing through more flashbacks.

You saw glimpses of Kate before you tensed up.

“Don’t kill Scott yet. That'll screw up the plan,” you heard him say.

The two of them stood in the sewers, while you clenched your jaw, breaking away from Peter.

You gasped softly, putting your hands on your head as you stumbled back. Your vision blurred, barely making out Lydia rushing to you before you fell out of consciousness.

---

You jumped up, immediately looking around the hospital room.

You exhaled softly, feeling a slight sense of relief as you ran your fingers through your hair.

You turned, about to get out of your bed before Melissa walked into the room.

“Mrs. McCall,” you said.

“It’s good to see you’re awake,” she gave you a small smile.

“Yeah, I feel fine,” you replied.

“Can I leave?” you asked.

“In a minute. Derek’s currently outside, I told him he could come in after I talked to you,” you frowned slightly as she motioned for you to get back in bed.

“I ran a few tests on you while you were asleep, per Deaton’s request. He’s going to be away for some time and sent me a call before,” you could feel slight panic rising in your chest as she stood in front of you.

“You’ve been getting sick, right? How often does it happen?” Melissa asked.

“Not… I mean sometimes in the morning, like right when I wake up, but sometimes it happens when I’m upset, I thought it was stress,” you replied.

“It’s not stress,” she said softly.

Your heart rate quickened, every aspect of Melissa’s words was causing you to worry.

“Am I dying?” you blurted out.

She laughed softly, shaking her head.

“Quite the opposite.”

You gave her a look, before raising an eyebrow.

“What the hell is the opposite of dying?” you asked.

“You really haven't figured it out yet?” she scoffed.

You gave her a confused look once again, before shaking your head. She sighed, crossing her arms.

“You’re pregnant, (Y/N).”

[judediangelo75]

Her Fear, His Truth

Hi~

So I did feel a bit of inspiration to right this random as I’m teetering on the edge of falling into a food induced coma. But I’m fine, I want to write more Talith (Talbott x Judith). This is going to taking place after the whole “Without You/The Man Behind the Necklace” series (that I might edit, don’t quote me.)

For those who are familiar with my MC and the building lore I’m trying to create here, her fear is the words “I love you”. She fears them because the people who cares leaves her alone and the person whose suppose to love her (AKA her mother) loathes her very existence. So if anyone tells her those words, she most likely lash out.

This is what I’m covering here. This is happening in 6th year when Talbott finally corners his evasive girlfriend to talk about what happened.

Warning: Mentions of suicide attempt

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

Talbott understood more than anyone how valuable personal space was. 

Which was why he didn’t hover over his girlfriend.

She only woke up just a few days ago from her coma, took her older brother to the cemetery where their father had been laid to rest, and found out she and Jamal have a half-brother. All in the same day.

He was okay with giving her some breathing room until she came to him to talk. Only...

She didn’t.

He had an inkling of a feeling that she was purposely avoiding him. He still remember telling her the words that have been residing in his heart for quite some time.

“I love you, little bird...”

While he didn’t outwardly show it, he was emotional for the week Judith been asleep. He never knew that she felt so strongly to try to kill herself. He felt like he failed her as her boyfriend. He known her ever since third year, even crossing paths with her unknowingly from childhood.

He never felt the connection he felt with anyone else.

She has been a constant ever since re-entering his life. Her absence for the week she’s been staying in the Hospital Wing was unsettling. 

He missed seeing her in his classes.

He missed seeing her during lunch where they would sneak off into one of his hiding spots for a private lunch.

He missed her smile. Her laugh. Her sassy eyerolls. Her voice. 

He missed her. 

Everyday, he would visit with a bouquet of flowers, spending time in her presence to ease the ache in his chest.

He still remembers the first night of her in the Hospital Wing, he snuck out to be next to her. With no prying eyes of their friends, Talbott finally submitted to his tears. He held her unresponsive body in his arms, silently pleading to her to stay.

To stay with him.

He already lost his parents years ago. He was determined to keep everyone else from entering his heart again.

Until he met her again. 

Something about her pale gold eyes was familiar to him, but he wasn’t sure from where.

He got his answer when he followed her to the cemetery. Met the man who was his parents’ oldest friend from when they went to Hogwarts. The same man he remembered from that one day from his childhood.

Kendrick Harris, his girlfriend’s beloved father.

When he realized that she was the same little girl he told his secret to, who he taught how to waltz, who gave him an odd but warm feeling in his heart...

The pull was undeniable.

He forgot about keeping his distance. Forgot about keeping others out of his heart. He wanted to try to put the pieces together to what this feeling meant. They became close. Friends even.

Until he realized he couldn’t see her as that. Talbott remembered the intense ugly feeling he felt when he spied Judith with Andre in the Courtyard when flying overhead in the Courtyard during the Celestial Ball. 

Especially when Andre kissed her.

That feeling, he came to realize, was jealousy. He couldn’t bear to see them any more and flew away.

He was convinced that they would be the perfect couple. Both are fashionable, athletic, intelligent, well-known students in his year. It would make sense for them to be together. 

After all, Talbott was a loner who preferred to company of a good book, birds, or himself. He heard some whispers from students about being the long lost cousin of the owls that live in the Owlery. Didn’t help that he was basically built like a Bowtruckle.

Why in the seven hells would Judith look at him like that when there was Andre? 

But she saw something in him. Something that made her choose him over someone who would be considered her perfect match. 

Which was why they got closer. 

Their first date. Being each other’s Valentines. Becoming boyfriend and girlfriend. Making their relationship public at the Festival.

Talbott knew he basically fell for the girl over the years. Accepting that he was in love with her when he gave her the heart statue.

She’s the only one who trusts with his heart. A heart that was holding on by a thread.

Her suicide attempt made him realize that he never told her the words that lived in his heart for so long. Why he told her as soon she was in his arms.

But she hasn’t said anything back, only squeezing him silently.

Now he barely could see his girlfriend since then, and Talbott has had it.

He had David send her a fake note, asking her to meet him in the Courtyard at night. 

He stayed hidden in his Animagus form, waiting for the familiar shape of his little bird to step out into the moonlight.

He didn’t have long to wait.

Judith silently walked into the still Courtyard, gold eyes scanning the area for her friend.

She figured he had something important to tell her why they couldn’t just do it in their Common Room. 

“David? Are you here,” she called out quietly, hand on her wand just in case. She just by the fountain when someone spoke. 

“David isn’t here, but I am.” Judith sharply inhaled at the sound of her boyfriend’s voice. She silently cursed when she realized that she’s been set up.

But she couldn’t get mad.

She has been avoiding the Ravenclaw loner. With all of that has been going on lately, the biggest bombshell was his confession.

Something she feared when she realized her Patronus changed that night.

She couldn’t look at him. Not because she was disgusted with him or that she repelled by him.

No.

It was because she was terrified. Knowing she would be forced to deal her reality, her fear, just like when she faced her Boggart in third year.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. 

“T-Talbott. What are you doing here,” she asked, her voice trembling ever so slightly. Enough for the wizard to notice. Talbott walked up, resting a gentle hand on her shoulder. He noted how tense she felt under his palm.

“Judith, look at me,” he muttered softly. Judith bit her lip, unwilling to move from her position. Talbott sighed, walking around so he could face her. Only for Judith to lower her head.

“Judith, look at me,” he said again, an inkling of desperation and agitation could be heard in his voice. Judith still hasn’t made a move or spoken.

“Little bird-”

“Don’t call me that.” Talbott stared at the Hufflepuff witch with wide eyes. He could practically feel the temperature drop due to her icy tone.

“And why not,” he asked, holding her hand. Something was wrong, something that made him feel like she was withdrawing from him.

He bestowed that nickname onto her when she transformed into her Animagus form. He found it fitting and has been calling her that since third year. Hell even longer than that.

To suddenly to stop calling her that... it was like she trying to break the bond that they’ve created since they were children.

He refuses to let that go, he refuses to let her go.

“I-I...” Judith struggled to get the words out. She wasn’t looking at him, but she can feel the heartbreak and longing in his beautiful gaze. She stiffened when she felt his arms wrap around her, pulling her close to his chest. It was when she heard it.

“I love you, Judith...”

Talbott wasn’t prepared to feel the air literally knocked out of him as Judith punched him in his stomach repeatedly. But he didn’t let go of the suddenly emotional Hufflepuff.

“Don’t fucking tell me that! Let go of me! Let go!” Judith’s voice morphed, bringing back that familiar accent he remembered from childhood. It was also thick with sadness and fear.

“No, Judith. Please talk to me,” he pleaded weakly, trying to regain his breath. Judith never has hit him before, but something told him it wasn’t intentional. Judith melted, ceasing the attack on his torso.

“Don’t tell me you love me, Talbott. Please,” she begged, finally looking the wizard in the eye. Talbott was shocked to find so much pain and fear in her otherworldly irises. 

“Why, Judith? Please tell me, little bird,” Talbott answered in kind, cupping her cheek so he could hold her gaze. He was desperate to understand why she didn’t want him telling her how he felt about her. Why she wanted to pull away when he uttered those three little words.

He wanted understand why she wanted him to let her go.

“I... I wouldn’t be able to handle it if you left me too,” she whispered. Judith knew she couldn’t escape her boyfriend. He wasn’t going to let her.

“I would never leave you, darling,” he whispered, trying to pull her close. Judith shook her head, pressing her hands against his chest.

“Everyone who told me those words leaves at some point, Talbott,” Judith mumbled, feeling the familiar burn in her eyes. 

“Everyone. My grandmother, my father, even my brother... People I love always leave. I... I... I love you too much for you to do the same...” Red eyes widen at her confession. 

She loves him...

Judith gasped when a pair of lips claimed hers. She stared through teary eyes as Talbott kissed her. She felt as if all her strength was sapped from her, she couldn’t find strength in her limbs to push him away. 

A weak moan escaped the back of her throat as she felt his teeth sink into the soft flesh of her bottom lip. A shiver ran down her spine when she felt the stone of the fountain press against her back.

“Talbott,” she squealed when she felt him hoist her up by her thighs. Her legs immediately locked around her boyfriend’s waist. A flush colored her cheeks as she stared into half-lid red eyes.

“Say it again,” he whispered, pressing closer. This was the first time they ever been in such a... intimate position. Judith was finding hard to think.

“W-Wha-Mhm?!” A heated kiss was pressed onto her lips. As quickly as it started, it ended.

“Say it again, little bird,” Talbott pressed. Understanding what her boyfriend was getting at, Judith bit her kiss swollen lips. 

“I... I-I love you,” she whispered quietly, looking down. The Ravenclaw wizard wasn’t having it, taking a hold of his girlfriend’s chin so she can look at him.

“Again,” he said. 

“I love you,” she repeated again, a little louder.

“Again.” Judith suppressed a growl, confused as why Talbott seem dead set on hearing her saying that one phrase.

“I love you, Talbott!” Talbott kissed her again, this time softer. The Hufflepuff didn’t resist, wrapping her arms around her love’s neck as small tears escaped the corners of her eyes. They pulled apart after a few moments.

“I love you too, Judith...” came the soft reply. 

“It’s always been you, Judith. I would never want to leave you, not now. Not ever. I know you fear loving others, I can see it in your eyes. But let me show you that it’s worth it. I know if your grandmother and father had a choice, they would still be here with you. While I can’t speak for Jamal, I know he loves you enough to risk his life for you. His little sister. They will always love you. I will always love you and I’ll try my hardest to stay by your side. Please, little bird, don’t shut me out. Don’t be afraid to love,” Talbott said. He watched as her pale gold eyes became misty with tears, trickling out her eyes like small rivers. 

But she held his gaze.

“I...” Talbott held his breath as he waited for her trail off. If she ended things between them, he knew his heart wouldn’t recover from this.

He loves her. Truly. Deeply.

“I trust you, Talbott... and I love you,” Judith said in a hush tone. She couldn’t deny the emotion in his eyes. Or the feeling that exists in her wounded heart.

She wants to love and be loved. And here was someone who was willing to accept her love and to give it back to her in return.

Unconditionally.

As if to cement her words, Judith pressed her lips against Talbott’s.

“I love you... I love you... I love you...” she whispered against his lips after each kiss. Talbott melted against his little bird, sighing.

This where he was meant to be.

“I’m with you, Judith. Forever and always, darling...”

[cacophony-of-notions]

My feelings on a common misconception interpretation of Sam in “Slice Girls”: 

TL;DR Sam did not kill Emma as “revenge” and Dean was not ethically inconsistent in his actions with Emma versus Amy.

I have seen many times people claim that Sam killed Emma as “revenge” for Amy. I have seen both his antis and his hardcore stans say this (the latter as a means of “justifying” a decision Sam made that they traditionally wouldn’t stand behind… regardless of the fact that killing a kid to get revenge on his brother would paint him in a far worse light than taking the situation at face-value). 

In the same way that Dean killed Amy because he legitimately thought it was the right call, Sam killed Emma because he legitimately thought it was the right call. That’s it. Hate both of their decisions, agree with one but not the other, agree with neither… no matter what, I don’t think wanting “revenge” and taking that out on a child had anything to do with Sam’s actions. There are a few reasons why.

First, looking at the context of the season as a whole, Sam has been worried about Dean’s mental state for most of the season in much the same way that Dean has been worried about his, and accordingly, they didn't trust each other’s judgment fully. 

Dean killing Amy was to some extent, about not trusting Sam’s judgement due to his attachment to Amy and the metal state Sam had been in that season. Sam had been hallucinating and had also lied about it. So on top of not being sure if Sam could accurately grasp reality at any given time, him hiding it also made it very difficult for Dean to trust Sam to be honest if he was hallucinating, needed help, or needed to take a step back.

Sam’s decision to kill Emma was, likewise, to some extent, about not trusting Dean’s judgement due to his natural attachment to Emma as a father and Dean’s mental state that season. We see, on several occasions in season 7, Sam noting that Dean is drinking more alcohol than usual (which is saying something). Several times in the season, Sam expresses concern over this, to Bobby as well as to Dean directly. Sam’s lack of confidence in Dean is actually enough that, when Dean begins to notice things moving from where he left them and starts to suspect that Bobby is haunting them, Sam repeatedly and flippantly dismisses his observations and chalks all of it up to Dean drinking too much and grieving too hard and being an unreliable witness. 

Second, Sam and Dean came to an understanding about Amy in “The Mentalist”, and Sam ended up saying at the end of the episode that Dean’s actions made sense, and that he was right that Sam’s judgement couldn’t be trusted because he was too close to the situation emotionally. 

Season 7’s “The Mentalist” covers the confrontation between Sam and Dean over Amy, and Sam’s decision to work side by side with Dean again. There are two scenes—the initial blow up from Sam and Dean’s rebuttal, and then the resolution at the end of the episode. 

First the initial blow up and Dean’s rebuttal: 

Dean: We agreed to work the case. We didn’t agree for you to be a dick the whole time. 

Sam: What?

Dean: You’re pissed. Okay? And you’ve got a right. 

Sam: Yeah, damn straight. 

Dean: But enough’s enough. 

Sam: Says who? Look, I’ll work this damn case, but you lied to me, and you killed my friend. 

Dean:  No, I put down a monster who killed four people, and if you didn’t know her, you’d have done the same thing. 

Sam: I did know her, Dean.

Dean: Yeah, which is why you couldn’t do it. Look, I get it. There are certain people in this world, no matter how dangerous they are, you just can’t. 

Sam: Don’t pull that card! That’s bull! Look, if I’ve learned one thing, it’s that if something feels wrong, it probably is!

Dean: Usually, yeah. But killing Amy was not wrong. You couldn’t do it, so I did. That’s what family does—the dirty work. And I would have told you eventually, once I knew that this whole “waving a gun at Satan” thing was a one-time show. I think it’s reasonable to want to know that you’re off the friggin’ high dive, Sam. You almost got us both killed. So you can be pissed all you want, but quite being a bitch. 

Then there was the resolution at the end of the episode: 

Sam: Look, you know what... you were right—about Amy. If she was just any monster, I’m not sure I could have let her walk away. I dunno. I mean, I’ll never know. 

Dean: What are you saying?

Sam: What I’m saying is… I get why you did it. You were just trying to make sure no one else got hurt. But here’s the thing: you can’t just look me in the face and tell me you’re fine. I mean, you’re not sleeping, you drink for the record-

Dean: Oh here we go…

Sam: Look, whatever. Last one to preach. I know. But… just be honest with me. How are those the actions of someone who knows they did the right thing?

Dean: You want me to be honest?

Sam: Yeah.

Dean: I went with my gut. And that felt right. I didn’t trust her, Sam. Of course, ever since Cas, I’m having trouble trusting anybody. And as far as how I’ve been acting… I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I don’t like lying to you. You know, it doesn’t feel right. So yeah, you got me there. I’ve been climbing the walls. 

Third, in context, when Sam brings up Amy in the car, it is to say Dean choked with Emma in the same way that Sam choked with Amy and it could have gotten him killed—not that killing Emma was somehow vengeance for Amy. See the conversation at the end of “Slice Girls”:

Sam: What did you say to me... when I was the one who choked? What did you say about Amy? “You said you kill the monster”!

Dean: I was going to!

Sam: Oh, like hell you were! You think I’m an idiot? 

Dean: What you think I am?!

Sam: Dean, you were gonna let her walk! 

Dean: No I wasn’t. That’s ridiculous! 

Sam: Look, man, she was not yours. Not really. 

Dean: Actually, she, uh, she was, really. She just also happened to be a crazy man-killing monster. But uh, hey-

Sam: You know what? Bobby was right. Your head’s not in it, man. When Cas died, you were wobbly, but now... 

Dean: Now what? Oh what, you’re dealing with it so perfect? Yeah, news flash, pal. You’re just as screwed up as I am! You’re just... bigger. 

Sam: What?!

Dean: I don't know!

Sam: Look... Dean, the thing is, tonight... it almost got you killed. Now, I don’t care how you deal. I really, really don’t. But just don’t...  don’t get killed. 

In no way does Sam suggest here that Dean “deserved” to have his kid shot in front of him as some kind of “payback”. In fact, that doesn't really make sense 

In the context of the conversation in “The Mentalist, where Sam said he understood why Dean felt the way he did about Amy. 

It also doesn’t make sense in the context fo Sam’s comment that Emma “wasn’t really yours”. If he did it to hurt Dean, he would have pressed into that relationship, not dismissed it. 

He lectured Dean because he was scared Dean wouldn't have been able to pull the trigger and would have gotten himself killed. It’s the same “are you off the high-dive?” lecture Dean gave him, it’s the same “I did the dirty work for you because you couldn’t”. The shot Sam took wasn’t hesitant, but it also wasn’t emotional. It was calculated and ruthless. It was a choice Sam made, that Emma could not be trusted. He made that call. And maybe he was right—maybe the brainwashing went too deep, and Emma would have come after Dean again if they let her go (which is probably what Sam was really worried about—that she would have gone after Dean again and gotten the drop on him or he wouldn’t have shot her), or maybe she would have come after someone else. Maybe Sam was wrong, and Emma could have been persuaded away from life in a cult. We can say the same about Dean killing Amy. All they had was her word that she wouldn't kill again. And yet, if her son got sick again, it seems reasonable to assume she’d go on another killing spree. Maybe Dean was right to kill her, maybe he was wrong.

Other notes: 

[1] Sam misses a certain detail when he compares Dean’s actions with Emma to his own situation with Amy. Sam only compares the two situation by virtue of him or Dean choking due to an attachment to the “monster” in question. However, there’s a distinction between the two kills that is important within Dean’s personal ethical framework, while it’s not necessarily important within Sam’s... to the point that Sam doesn't really see this distinction at all (in fact, he may not know about it). Namely, Emma had never killed anyone before while Amy had killed four people. Dean’s actions in both situations are actually ethically consistent—which is another misconception in fandom. From Dean’s framework, Emma and Amy are not the same. Emma and Amy’s son are the same. We see the distinction Dean draws between Amy and her son in “The Girl Next Door”: Dean kills Amy but lets her son go because he’s never killed anyone. He doesn’t rescind that even after Amy’s son tells Dean he’s going to come after him eventually and kill him. Dean treats Emma in the exact same way. He tells her he would let her walk away because she’s never killed anyone, and he doesn’t rescind the offer even if it seems like she still might try to come after him again. This is also consistent with how Dean treated Bobby John in Season 6 “Two and a Half Men”, Jack in Season 4 “Metamorphosis”, and Madison in Season 2 “Heart”. 

[2] When he kills Amy, Dean is notedly dealing with trust issues that he himself acknowledges, after what happened with Cas. He trusted Cas implicitly even when Bobby and Sam doubted him, and he got burned, and it shook his ability to trust in anyone (see Sam’s “wobbly” talk above”). Killing Amy is a part of that, according to Dean’s own perceptions. 

[3] To a certain extent, it might even be said that Sam and Dean aren't just wary of trusting each other’s judgement, but also wary of trusting themselves. For example, “You kill the monster” is a hardline stance that’s unusual for Sam and that is rejected by both brothers as early as Season 2 “Bloodlust”. But because Sam doesn’t trust himself at that point in time, and also does not trust Dean’s judgement either, he does what he thinks is “safe” when his own mind is half shredded and he has a depressed and alcoholic brother who he’s afraid is going to let a monster kid murder him one day (be it Emma or Amy’s son). If he were to let Emma go and worse came to worse, Sam doesn’t feel he can rely on Dean to defend himself from her, and he doesn’t know what his own mind state is going to be like in the future. So he does what’s “safe” for them both. In the same way, Dean’s actions with Amy could be viewed as him choosing what’s “safe”.

[blxckbutterfli]

Victor Grantz: Dearest Bunny

Image Credit

Summary: The truth is always hidden between the lines of a letter, but after Victor has been fooled once, how can he trust another letter?

Wordcount: 2.1k

Note: Female reader

Unedited

Hi! Hello!

So… you’re a postman, right Victor? You must walk or bike a lot, you even have a dog! Do you take him to exercise with you? What’s your dog’s name? It’s honestly so cute.

Anyway, I just wanted to write this letter because oooooh mystery person, and I heard that you don’t like social interactions much? I really want to be friends with you so I wanted to start out with something you’re comfortable with.

Good luck with your first match! Don’t get fooled by Michiko’s cute looks.

Victor gripped the letter in his hands until it turned white. Feelings of confusion stirred inside him--should he be happy he received a letter or suspicious of it? It sounded so genuine but he didn’t know if he could believe it anymore. The first letter he received also sounded just as friendly, however, that friendliness and sincerity were just a facade that he fell for. A facade that trapped him inside this horrible cat & mouse game.

He threw the letter in the fireplace with his dog whimpering beside him

.

Greetings,

You’re amazing! I heard it’s only your second match and you already won! I guess you could call it a... VictorY… Yeah, I know, I’m such a comedian.

You have natural talent I tell you, many of us here didn’t get wins until our 5th of 7th match. Also, I found out your dog’s name is Wick, that’s so adorable, it almost sounds like ‘Vick’ which is quite similar to your name.

I used to have a dog when I was little, it was a stupid little pomeranian that’d never stop running in circles, but either way, it was my stupid so I still love him with all my heart.

I look forward to playing matches with you in the future!

I look forward to playing matches with you in the future? That means he hasn’t played with them yet. Victor searched through his memory of who he played with in his first two matches. Andrew… Luca… He sighed in defeat, he didn’t think knowing who his teammates were was this important. 

A soft texture rubbing against his arm brought Victor out of his small misery, Wick rested his tiny body beside Victor’s leg. ‘Wick sounds similar to me, huh’ Victor thought as he gave his dog a small pat.

Victor placed the letter on the fireplace, deciding to burn it away later.

.

Why hello there,

You seem to be in a happier mood these days, I’m glad :D. When you first came to this mansion, I noticed that you looked really excited for some reason, like who would be excited to participate in a dangerous game? But then I found out that you were tricked and now I feel so bad for judging you so quickly. After you found out it was a trick, you were so gloomy all of the sudden so I wanted to cheer you up with these letters.

Is it working?

A big grin dared itself to stretch on Victor’s face but he tried his best to stay calm. This was the third letter sent to him by this person and so far nothing bad has happened. Once in awhile, he’d wake up and would see a letter laying near the door (it was most likely slipped under the door). It was always something positive, never bringing his mood down. Is this person really as bad as he thought they were?

Memories of the ‘sincere’ invitation letter flashed through his mind. No, he couldn’t get fooled again, he won't be an easy and weak-minded person. Victor used to think that conversations were pretentious and filled with lies and that letters were the hidden truth. Now, he doesn’t even know what is true or false anymore

Victor threw the letter, along with the previous one, into the fireplace.

.

Rise and shine because I’m here again!

You know I find it funny how right after I said you looked happier, you go right back to being gloomy. Am I that atrocious to you? Honestly, I can’t really tell if you’re acting gloomy just to spite me or if you’re actually sad. If you are actually sad… What’s wrong? Is there anything I can help with?

You can always send a letter back to me if you want to. Just get another paper, write whatever you want on it, and tape it under the piano. I’ll check there every day at noon to see if you sent something.

How can someone cruel write something as amiable as this? There were so much care and personality written into this one letter that Victor wanted to cry from guilt because of the previous burnt letters. 

The invitation letter he received was carefully crafted but it was also so… formal, no emotions, no feelings. Maybe he was blinded because it was his first-ever letter. The letter that Victor is now holding in his hands, the person behind it can’t be cruel and deceitful, not at all. If they were, they would’ve just continued spreading pretentious positivity and ‘happiness’ and just ignored his feelings.

One chance. Victor will give them just one chance, the moment he senses something bad about the letters is the moment he’ll burn all of them. No point in keeping bad memories alive.

Hello,

Thank you for being concerned about my well-being, I never really meant to bother you with my moods. It’s just that I’ve been… suspicious of these letters. Are they actually genuine or are they trying to trick me? After the invitation letter fooled me, I began having doubts about the truth written inside letters so when you sent those letters, I felt hesitant about them.

But I believe you now, you wanted to be friends? Then we’ll be friends! However, we can’t be friends unless I know stuff about YOU! I don’t know your name, age, or even gender, maybe you can give me some small hints as to who you are?

Was that good? Did he come off as too nosy? Despite delivering so many letters, he had never written one himself. Wick, as if the dog knew Victor’s feelings, barked and jumped like he was cheering on his owner. Victor smiled and made his way to the old piano.

.

Even after almost three months of repeatedly sending letters to each other, Victor only had one clue to what his mysterious friend’s identity was. They were female. Of course, when he read that letter, he started observing every single female inside the manor--he even went as far as observing the hunters much to his fear. No matter how much he observed and talked to them, none of the girls gave any hint of the identity of his sender.

This observation time helped Victor get closer to his fellow teammates. His original goal was to find out who his friend was, this involved talking to people and comparing their personalities to the one in the letter. While at first, he had no attachment to the irrelevant teammates, he warmed up to them over time. Of course, he still wasn’t as social as someone like William but it was a start.

Though Victor didn’t know their identity, he at least got to call them a name--Bunny. Bunny actually came up with the idea, it felt weird to be so close to a person yet not know what to call them so she made a list of nicknames and reasons to call her that:

Clown 🤡 because I’m much funnier than you

Buttercup because I just like that flower

Princess because no one can be the queen except for Mary

And Bunny because I’m cute as a bunny haha.

Of course, Victor laughed at all those choices and was even tempted to circle Clown, but Bunny stood out to him. It was cute, simple, and an animal. Victor loved animals!

Bunny… Victor can’t help but want to meet her.

.

Oh god, he’s so thirsty, and he forgot to fill up his water jug last night. Victor reached to his bedside table to feel for his watch. 6:17 the watch showed Victor’s tired eyes. The postman closed his eyes and sighed, why must his thirstiness wake him up so early?

Victor sluggishly got out of bed and weakly grabbed his water jug. At the door, he frowned when he realized Bunny’s letter didn’t arrive yet--Victor’s gotten used to waking up to Bunny’s funny letters every morning the past months.

Opening the door, Victor walked out and made a beeline to the kitchen

Finally, he got some water to quench his undying thirst. With his water jug filled to the brim with liquid, he walked back to his room--slightly more awake than before. His footsteps paused, however, when he turned a corner and noticed a figure standing in front of his door, Victor quickly stepped back and hid behind the corner.

Y/N? What is she doing here?

A grin was plastered on your face as you hummed a joyful tune, your mood always goes up whenever it was time to deliver your letter to the cute postman. You opened your letter one more time and re-read it to check for any silly mistakes. Victor watched in curiosity, from his angle, he couldn’t see what you were holding. Goosebumps rose all over Victor when he finally saw a letter within your hands.

Bunny… is Y/N?

You crouched down and quietly slipped the letter under his door, Victor should be asleep for another hour so it’s no worry if he’ll see you or not. That thought quickly went to vain when you stood up and was out of the blue grabbed by your wrist. Gasping, you instinctively thrashed about until you saw the cute yellow eyes that you’ve stared at every day.

“Oh, Victor! What are you doing here? Isn’t it too early to be awake-”

“Bunny?” Victor cut you off, you quickly shut up. Damn it, I thought I could slowly escape if I rambled enough. His innocent eyes bored deep into you which made you guiltily look away--how could you lie straight to his face? “Bunny? Is that… you?”

You slowly nodded and looked back up to his face which had gone from a small frowned to one of… joy and excitement? You let out a tiny squeak when you were suddenly slammed into Victor’s chest and was encased in a hug. “It’s really you, Bunny” Victor’s whispered into your hair--you smelled so nice, you felt so nice between his arms.

After a small pause, you finally returned his embrace, your arms wrapped around his body, “Yep, it’s me.” You pushed your way out of Victor’s hug--much to his disappointment--and twirled, “so, do I look as cute as a bunny?” You joked.

No, he thought, you were so much cuter than a mere bunny, so much more beautiful than a lonesome rabbit. Not only your appearance but your personality, the way you cared for him these past few months, you were an angel.

“Y/N,” he spoke your real name, “I love you.” He immediately covered his mouth when he let that phrase out. ‘What that heck? Why did I say that? I just met her!’ he scolded himself.

“What?” You gaped at him as he awkwardly distanced from you while scratching his neck. He stammered for words, not sure how to redeem himself after suddenly blurting the phrase out like a madman, one just doesn’t simply confess their love on the first meeting. “Victor, what did you say earlier?”

The cute postman barely responded to your question, you could see his lips barely move as he responded--or rather barely whispered--to your question. Victor’s face was flushed with red, he could barely look at you in the eye--actually, he couldn’t look at you at all. “I… loveyou.” It was quick, but what’s important is that you understood it.

A few seconds of awkward silence passed--which is also a few seconds of Victory dying inside--and you let out a small chortle. “I’m sorry… you just looked so cute when you were saying that,” you explained to him when you saw his perplexed expressions. You placed a hand on his cheek, brought his face down to your level, and kissed his forehead, “Of course, I love you too.”

Victor cried.

He didn’t mean to, but the emotions filling inside him wanted to spill so bad. He’d never felt such joy before, the man didn’t know how to deal with it so he just let it all out.

And so when you were fussing over his tears, Victor embraced you once again and thought of the many firsts he had with you.

His first genuine letter; his first friend; his first crush; and now… his first lover.

[brokennerdalert]

Lil Internal Romantic Crisis, Maybe? That I need advice for.

(Feel free to skip, I’m just kind of ranting) (But I could use a bit of advice? So maybe skim it and help me out, maybe?) (Please??)

Have you ever felt like when you met someone you could fall in love with them? Like you like the person but you knew that if you had a bit more time you’d just be head over heels?

I’ve never had a boyfriend or been in love. Which at 18 seems sort of sad. I’ve had “crushes”, you know the type where you think someones cute but end up not thinking of them after a few months.

I live in the middle of freakin nowhere. And when I say nowhere, I mean NOWHERE. Like the neared town is an hour and a half away. So I very limited possibilities to go out and see anybody.

 I was at this powered flight academy (with planes)-not really going into details cause it doesn’t matter- with people I’ve never met before, except two people. One acquaintance and the other a very good girl friend.

ANYWAYS. There was this super cute boy (Who we’ll call Blake). I mean he was sooo cute. He had such a nice smile with big white teeth. He had pretty dark brown eyes. He was tall but not intimidatingly so, only a few inches taller than me. To top it all off he had a very charming personality. He was funny, sweet, smart, and confident.

I’ll go through a few situations on how I lead to feel a “pull” toward him. First off, he defended me and my friend (who we’ll call Lola) when one of the other guys at the event was lowkey insulting us. Now I can take a joke, but he was saying how women shouldn’t be pilots, they should stay home and cook, clean and have kids. Again, I can take a joke, but he repeatedly said stuff along those lines. Along with not keeping his hands to himself. He was always kind of grabbing me and Lola. Eventually Blake, took the guy aside and told him to leave us alone and knock it off. Which was sweet, but I could’ve handled it myself.

There was another time where my flight instructor was chewing out my butt because I went to fly with another instructor after one of the adults make me go. I tried to explain to my instructor that it wasn’t my choice, but he didn’t listen and kept yelling at me. I felt like I was going to cry, which is rare cause I absolutely HATE to cry in front of people. But Blake was trying to cheer me up. Which he shouldn’t have, cause Mr. Instructor Man had it out for him and yelled at Blake every chance he got.

One night we were hanging out in the common room they had available watching movies. Do you know that hand thing you do with someone to compare hand sizes. Well we sort of did that for awhile. Eventually he asked if it was okay  to hold my hand. I said it was, and in my head I was screaming. I’ve never held hands with a boy before! Much less a super freakin cute one who seemed into me! I didn’t really know what to do. I was so nervous.

We held hands for a longs time. Since I was nervous my hands got a bit sweaty, which made me WANT TO DIE! So I did what I thought was the normal thing to do and let go! But he looked at me and asked what was wrong. I told him about my hands, and all he said was ‘so?’ AND ASKED TO HOLD MY HANDS AGAIN! 

As the week went on, he always asked to hold my hand before he did it. And when Mr. Sexist ( the boy who said women shouldn’t be pilots) ended up pushing me out of a chair and ultimately making me get a bad rug burn. I played it off and pretended to I had to go to the bathroom. I was really to clean up my boo-boo. Blake checked on my and then scolded Mr.Sexist.

Blah, Blah, Blah. Later on when we were watching movies again. He asked to put his arm around my should and of course I nodded (I didnt really trust myself to talk). But I ENDED UP FALLIN ASLEEP LIKE A DUMBASS! I felt so back because his arm was stuck like that for TWO AND A HALF HOURS. He said it was cool but stilll. Eventually, we talked it out and thought it would be best if we stayed friends since we live so far away from each other (Like 5 hours apart)

We’ve known each other a little over a year now. We used to text almost everyday. You know the talks where you just chat about everything and nothing. We had those a bunch. We facetimed a few times. He use to talk about how cute I am and tease me and stuff.

 Since we both graduated thing year we’ve been a bit busy lately. He got accepted into the Air Force, which it amazing. He even said how he would write me letters while we was away. I plan to go to college in a town which is coincidently near to where he lives. He invited me to go on a hiking trip before he leaves. And I really want to go. I’d have to drive like 5 hours to see him, but I would in a heart beat. 

I still get the signals he likes me, and I like him back. But I dont know if it’s because he’s the first decent boy to show me attention without being a total creep. I want to think it’s cause I genuinely  like him. I know that any person who has him will be lucky. He’s just great.

I dont know if I should hold out hope that someday we could make things work. Like I said before I’m going to college close to where his family lives. So when he visits them we may be able to meet up.

I do feel like I’m jumping the gun a bit though. I mean he could probably meet a really nice girl in the Air Force and forget about me. I do think it would be smart to focus on my school work during college. I don’t even know what to do in a relationship anyways. I dont know what to do in general. 

I do really like the fact that he asked before he did anything with me and stood up for me. That was very considerate. 

I’d take any advice anyone has to give!

Sorry for the long ass speech.

[oumakokichi]

fave dr ships and why?? :0

Hmm, that’s a pretty fun question! There are so many fun character interactions in each game that there’s a lot of ships I really like, so I’ll try to briefly just touch on some of my favorites in each game!

There aren’t really any spoilers in my reply, but I’m going to include a read-more anyway because even trying to keep it brief, there were a lot of ships to cover, so it still got pretty long.

In dr1, I honestly really love naegiri. Naegi gets a lot of flack for “not being interesting enough” or “not bringing anything to the table,” but I think he worked really well as the protagonist for the first installment of the series, and I absolutely think he and Kirigiri have a lot of great chemistry. Kirigiri and Naegi’s relationship is all about finding a balance between doubt and belief, and both of them really help each other grow as people. I think their dynamic is at its best in the first game, since Kirigiri gets so much time to shine and really feels more like the deuteragonist of the series than anyone else. Plus watching Naegi try to learn how to read her stoic façade when she’s really quite emotional under the  surface is so much fun.

I’m also a huge fan of aoisakura. I love everything about their interaction, and chapter 4 of dr1 is still one of the best in the whole series in my opinion. Both of them care so much about each other even from early on, and Aoi’s anger at how the others treat Sakura or talk about her like she’s hardly even a person comes across as so legitimate. It’s such a great and largely underrated ship, so I always love to see it.

I also have to say that I like kirizono quite a lot! They don’t have much in the way of interaction in canon, considering how early Maizono dies, but it’s one of those ships where I’m much more interested in the overall potential. Kirigiri seems to have a very good grasp of what Maizono was actually like as a person and what she might have been thinking in her final moments. While she uncovers the truth of the events of chapter 1, she doesn’t see Maizono as irredeemable for tricking Naegi, but merely as someone who was scared and who ultimately couldn’t go through with her own plan. She knew that Maizono was trying to help Naegi in her own way by leaving him a dying message, and I would have loved to see a detective-and-assistant duo with Kirigiri and Maizono in some alternate universe.

Other ships from dr1 that I enjoy even if I’m not super invested in them from an analysis standpoint are celesgiri (how could I not ship the original liar and detective), naekusaba (DR IF really sold me on this one), ishimondo (all around a solid, great ship), and naegami (honestly I just think the idea of Kirigiri and Togami both dating Naegi but barely tolerating each other as friends is really funny).

Sdr2 is probably the game where I wound up the least invested in shipping, but there are still a few that I like!

Hinanami isn’t quite as appealing to me as naegiri, mostly due to Nanami being used twice for Hinata’s character development, but they have some really cute moments that I do enjoy a lot, and I really love any interaction between the two of them as gamer friends. Nanami is so much more mischievous than most people give her credit for; I still can’t help remembering when I replayed sdr2 a year or two ago and got to the part with her threatening to poke Hinata’s eyes out during an investigation, and I nearly lost my shit because I didn’t remember it at all from previous playthroughs.

I’m not quite as invested in komahina as I thought I would be when I first got into DR, but I definitely don’t mind it either! I think Komaeda’s feelings for Hinata are pretty textual and undeniable; lines like “I’m in love with the hope that’s sleeping inside you” are impossible, in my opinion, to handwave as “just a friend thing,” and Megumi Ogata has all but stated outright that her character song for Komaeda is specifically about Hinata.

Of course, I definitely think Komaeda would need to work on a lot of his internalized ideas about talent and self-worth, and that he and Hinata would have to start as friends first before carrying their relationship into anything romantic, but if their really cute interation in ndrv3’s talent development plan is anything to go off of, I think Hinata definitely does want to help Komaeda value himself more and wants to be friends with him.

As for other ships that I enjoy more casually, I like twobuki (if that’s even what people are still calling Twogami/Impostor and Ibuki as a ship), sondam (all of Sonia’s nerding out about Gundam’s chuunibyou interests is honestly super adorable), nanamiki (I feel like Nanami and Mikan could honestly have a cute dynamic if Mikan weren’t under Junko’s influence), and… I actually have no idea for this ship name, but Impostor/Hinata is really sweet. This is more related to dr3, but one of the few things I did come out feeling positively about was Impostor/Mitarai, despite everything else about how the story turned out.

Finally, there’s ndrv3! There’s quite a lot of ships I really love here, so it’s actually a little hard to narrow it down.

I hardly think I need to mention saiouma at this point, since it’s the ship I talk about the most on this blog, but it’s still my favorite ship from pretty much anything ever. I love their dynamic so much: the way they both embody the themes of “truth” and “lies” within the game respectively, the way they constantly want to know more about each other while being afraid to open up or trust each other completely, and the fact that they so perfectly manage to capture the chase of the “phantom thief vs. detective” trope to the point that it was even lampshaded in Ouma’s love hotel... all of these things just make it so much fun.

It’s another ship where I just love thinking about the potential, whether in an AU where Ouma might have lived or else where the killing game never took place at all. I honestly really love ships that deal with a lot of slow-burn and both characters thinking their affections are unrequited when it turns out they’re actually both just idiots with a bad case of pining. I also really love the fact that, in my opinion, it’s a ship where Saihara would have to really take the initiative in the end—otherwise, Ouma is just going to keep trying to run away every time he drops an “I love you,” or “you’re my favorite.”

I also really, really love himiten. It’s a ship that gets a lot more flack than it deserves, in my opinion, and it’s sad to see that it’s a little underappreciated these days. There are flaws and problems within the ship, of course, but these are things that are actually addressed within the game itself. Himiko’s apathy and disregard towards Tenko’s feelings is called out pretty bluntly in the later parts of chapter 3, and she winds up mourning Tenko’s death and taking her last advice to heart more than anyone else.

Meanwhile, while Tenko certainly meant well and always had Himiko’s best interests at heart, it’s true that she came across as somewhat condescending sometimes (albeit unintentionally) by treating Himiko like a cute animal instead of a person.  I think that she understood Himiko’s feelings a lot better by chapter 3, which is why she prioritized trying to let Himiko talk to Angie one more time despite her own misgivings about Angie. Tenko grew a lot more as a character than a lot of people give her credit for, and I would have loved to see any post-game scenario where Himiko and Tenko could’ve finally started a relationship on equal footing outside of the game.

I actually have two entire ships for Miu that I am equally fond of. Both kiiruma and irumatsu are really great in my opinion, in totally different ways. The sheer chaotic potential of kiiruma gets overlooked a lot of times, I think, but both of them are complete disasters. They have so much fun together and it really shows, both in canon and in the talent development plan as well. Kiibo is so wonderful and I love him so much, because you’d think he’d be the voice of reason as a “cold, logical robot”—but honestly, he’s just as messed-up and over the top as Miu. I mean, he did photograph her poop on what turned out to be a live audience national broadcast and he didn’t see anything wrong with this.

Kiibo is one of the few characters who vocally talks about missing Miu after her death in chapter 4, and he repeatedly tells her how much he appreciates her maintenance work on him both in canon and in one of their talent development scenes. In one such scene, he even mentions wanting to continue their ongoing relationship after they graduate, which I think is surprisingly sweet and adorable for the two of them. Honestly, Miu is about as wild as a DR character ever gets, and I love the idea of her and Kiibo just having fun with each other.

Meanwhile, Kaede and Miu’s dynamic is a lot more back-and-forth. Kaede spends a good part of her FTEs absolutely frustrated and fed up with Miu, but also decidedly worried for her well-being and wondering how she might get her to be more of a team player. She’s not afraid to put her foot down when Miu crosses the line, but she’s also one of the few people who’s ever been willing to stand by Miu and encourage her or actually be her friend in spite of how awful Miu is at interacting with others.

Even in the talent development plan, Kaede’s often seen together with Miu a lot, which I think is super cute and confirms that even at Hope’s Peak, she’d still be trying to make sure Miu had a friend around. And she was able to tell that, despite what a disaster Miu’s idea with the Christmas lights was, it was Miu’s own way of trying to add to the festivities and do something nice for other people. All in all, it’s one of my favorite wlw DR ships, and I really love when fanworks capture just how shy or flustered Miu got around Kaede sometimes.

Of course, I like momoharu a lot as well! It’s one of the ships that has grown on me quite a bit in my absence, mostly just because despite all of Momota’s flaws, he really does want Maki to love herself first and foremost. Maki’s own feelings for Momota are so important to her character growth and really represent her feeling as though she’s finally made a choice for the first time in her life, and it’s really heartwarming to see. Also, any ship where the girl could lift a guy up with one arm without breaking a sweat is a pretty good ship in my opinion.

As for other ndrv3 ships that I enjoy a lot, there’s saihoshi (Hoshi is extremely underrated as a character, and I adore how sweet his FTEs and salmon mode with Saihara were; it’s also another ship where I feel Saihara would have to really take the initiative to make Hoshi fully open up, which I like), amamatsu (Kaede and Amami had a lot of really funny, great interaction in chapter 1 and some fun banter in their FTEs, so I would’ve loved to see more of it), and harumatsu/kaemaki (again, they have a lot of potential and it would have been extremely interesting to see them interact more).

I also like saiibo, not so much in the way that most people ship it (their love hotel is cute, don’t get me wrong!), but mostly because Kiibo’s FTEs are the funniest set of FTEs in the whole game in my opinion, and the twist where they were both looking down on each other without the other one knowing just made my jaw drop before I started laughing my ass off. They’re almost as much of a disaster together as Kiibo and Miu are, and I think the humor in their dynamic sometimes gets overlooked.

There are even more ships that I like, and I could keep going on and on, but I should probably leave things off here. Character interactions are so much fun in DR, both because of the genuine growth and character development from a lot of the cast, but also because so many of them are so whacky and borderline cartoonish that it’s just really fun imagining further interactions between them. Thank you for the fun ask, anon!

[mattzerella-sticks]

Heart Eyes, Motherfucker (ao3 link)

Izuku knows that where Mei goes, trouble follows. And what Mei creates, will ultimately come back to bite him in the ass. Which is why he's wary when she comes to him, seeking help for an assignment. But when she describes her latest creation - a camera that can capture what a person is thinking - he believes there isn't any reason he should be afraid. By helping her with this, there isn't a way for it to blow up in his face.

That is, until the wrong person's photo is taken, exposing something that he would've liked to keep hidden.

           Izuku gently sets the camera down, careful not to trigger a hidden mechanism that might, quite literally, blow up in his face. The memory of Mei Hatsune’s last gift is still fresh in his mind, how the tiny, innocent earbuds exploded once he connected his phone to them. It sent him to Recovery Girl’s ward, and then for the remainder of the week Izuku couldn’t hear anything. Wariness lessens the blow from Mei’s frown, her disappointment palpable at how he didn’t immediately accept her camera. She’s gotten ahead of herself. “I’m not saying no,” he starts, choosing his words carefully, “I just want to know what it is before I do anything.”

           “It’s a camera,” Mei tells him, “It takes pictures.”

           “Is that all?”

           “Well, they’re pretty good pictures…” She taps her chin, eyes spinning wildly as she navigates the labyrinthine puzzle of her thoughts. Her expression shifts, a wide grin that almost splits her face in two like the sun breaking through dark grey and shining bright. “They’re actually better pictures than you’d get from an average camera! After the modifications I made to it –“

           “Yes, modifications!” Izuku interrupts, jumping into the fray before she shifts the conversation elsewhere. “You admit you’ve played around with it?”

           She huffs, a dial shifting inside that changes her mood again. Now, she’s offended. “I don’t play around with tech. I create. I improve. I succeed, Midoriya.”

           “Sorry, sorry…” He chuckles, rubbing his head, “That’s not… what I’m trying to ask is – this is an invention of yours, yes? Is there anything it does besides taking pictures?” Izuku thinks, trying to string together a more thoughtful question then ‘will it blow up?’ “Are there any tactical advantages to the camera?”

           “Of course!” She says, roughly snatching the camera. Izuku flinches, then sighs in relief seeing how it stayed silent despite her brusque movements. “It’s something I’m working on for a class assignment. They want us to create gear that can help heroes proactively take down villains, to keep casualties and damage to a minimum!”

           “And your idea was… a camera?”

           “It’s not just a camera,” she scoffs, holding it up and quickly snapping a picture of Izuku. He blinks, blinded by the flashing light. As he rubs his eyes, he hears the mechanical whirr of a photo being produced. “It uses the latest retinal technology combined with my own, copyrighted, software to capture not just a person’s face… but also what they were thinking of at the moment the photo was taken!” She waves the photo, Izuku’s face becoming clearer and clearer as time passes. “They say the eye is the window to a person’s soul, yes? Well now that really is the case!?” She laughs with shameless glee, drawing other students’ attention towards them in the sort-of-crowded cafeteria. Izuku’s face glows a deep red, especially when he catches sight of his photo.

           It’s his face, but there’s a marked difference between what he expected and what he sees. Instead of green eyes, Izuku finds two bomb-like pupils have replaced his irises, their fuses short and lit. This makes sense, as he thinks about it. Between the seconds her forefinger pressed on the shutter, Izuku’s only thoughts were ‘don’t explode’, chanted repeatedly.

           Mei studies the picture, snorting. “And this is why I want you to have it.”

           “Me?”

           “Every time I take someone’s picture,” she says, handing him the camera again, “they only show bombs!” She produces an immeasurable number of headshots from her pocket, each person’s eyes like Izuku’s. “I keep telling them that it’s not that kind of equipment, but they don’t trust me. I mean, I get it, but how am I supposed to score the highest marks if my experiments keep producing the same result! How can I learn from the data when it’s all the same!”

           Izuku understands her plight, reminded of similar struggles. It’s been forever since he was reminded of his first few days, where no one wanted to spar with him, afraid they might hurt him or encourage Izuku towards injury by using his quirk. Luckily that didn’t last long. If he failed at convincing his classmates at that time, Izuku doubts he would be where he is now. The only way to grow is through constant trial and error, whether human or machine.

           “Okay,” he says, “I’ll help.”

           Mei claps, thanking him while she speeds off and out of the cafeteria. Izuku watches her along with the remaining students, beads of sweat staining his forehead. His gaze trails from Mei’s exit to the camera in his hands. He studies it more closely than earlier, since he’s certain it won’t combust. Izuki then fiddles with the camera, shaking it, and accidentally takes a selfie that nearly blinds his left eye.

           He rubs that blurry eye while the camera prints the next photo, Izuku grabbing it immediately. Waving it around, Izuku uses his right eye to see what his left might express. Mei would be happy if she had stayed, since there’s a small camera that sits in the middle of his iris, and not a bomb. Izuku tucks the photo into his backpack, alongside the camera as he stands. There’s barely anyone in the cafeteria, the stragglers leaving him behind, meaning Izuku has a few minutes to get to class. He races to Aizawa’s room.

           The camera remains hidden for the rest of the day. Izuku dare not show the others yet, waiting for a perfect moment he can snag the most amount of people.

           Today’s weather helps, rain clouds hanging overhead herded all students indoors. After their final class, Izuku and his friends sped down the path to their dorms in a frenzy. All rushing to beat the rain that would inevitably fall.

           Thunder rumbles, announcing what will come. Izuku jumps over the threshold exactly when the first drop hits.

           “Well,” Mina pouts, leaning on a nearby wall, slipping off her shoes, “I guess we’re stuck here for the day.” Everyone nods in agreement, going about their usual ritual, trading in shoes for slippers. They begin moving deeper into the dorms, rumbling with plans for how to spend this rainy day.

           Izuku hurries to the front of the group, bag tight in his arms. “Actually,” he says, loudly enough he interrupts his friends’ conversations, “since we’re all here, I was wondering if you could help me with something – well… help me help Mei with something –“

           “Mei Hatsune?” Iida asks, a sickly pale sheen blanketing his features, “No – no, whatever it is – no.”

           “Iida,” Izuku sighs, “You haven’t even heard what it is I have to say!”

           “I don’t need to!” And, from how the rest of his friends appear similarly distressed, they don’t either.

           He works fast, removing the camera and showing it to them. “It’s nothing too crazy, or dangerous!” he tells them, “She needs pictures of people for a school project.”

           “That sounds… almost normal,” Mina says, stepping to the front of the group, joining Izuki. She snatches the camera from his hands, frowning at Mei’s camera. “Too normal for a support class project.”

           “Well, there’s more to it than that,” he explains, leaning in close and tapping at the lens. “She modified the camera, so that it takes pictures of what a person’s thinking.” He shows them his picture, with the camera reflected in his iris. “I was thinking about the camera when I hit the capture button, and that’s why it’s in my eye!”

           “So, the thoughts are shown in the eyes?” Mina asks. Izuku nods. “Cool…”

           Iida clears his throat, drawing the focus back to him. “If that’s all the camera does,” he starts, tone frigid enough Izuku shivers because of it, “why does Mei need you taking the pictures?”

           “Oh she… doesn’t have enough time,” Izuku laughs, lying, rubbing the back of his neck. He feels slightly bad, but reasons that if he told them of Mei’s problem, it might make some of the others experience similar issues. “I offered to help because, well – it has been a bit of a lull, hasn’t it?”

           “It has,” Mina agrees, looking through the viewfinder at her classmates, “And this is the perfect thing to spice things up!” She crouches low, at eye level with Mineta. “Say cheese!”

           “What -”?

           She slams her forefinger on the shutter, a loud click washing over the group. Mina impatiently pulls the photo free, waving it around with one hand while the other bars Mineta from advancing. His protests are ignored, Mina waiting for the picture to develop. Once it does, her concentration slips. She laughs, Mineta overpowering his limp arm and dashing past her towards the kitchen, overshooting them. “It works!” she announces, showing the others her photo of the smaller hero.

           Izuku steps into view, turning away from the photo in his next breath, cheeks red with shame.

           Mineta awkwardly smiles, a friendly thumb raised and peeking above the border. His eyes, however, were obscured by two pairs of large breasts. Izuku stared at one set, nipples pointed directly forward, and lost his nerve. He wasn’t alone, Iida and Momo equally uncomfortable. The others visibly appear awkward, yet don’t look from Mineta’s face.

           Tsuyu is the only student unfazed. Her head skews to the left as she squints for a better look. “The quality of the photo, kero, it’s amazing. They look almost lifelike.”

           “I think that’s enough,” Uraraka rushes forward, taking the photo of Mineta from Mina. She throws it upwards, steepling her fingers so it will float to the ceiling and stay there. “Why don’t we see what everyone else is thinking?”

           “Can we wait a few minutes?” Denki laughs, “At least let us burn that image out of our minds.” Everyone joins save Mineta, who flexes his hands on the bumps atop his head, gaze locked on the floating photo. Izuku drags him away from it, following everyone to the kitchen where they can prepare dinner and play with the camera. He makes a note to retrieve the photo later, and to draft an apology for Mei.

           When everyone feels ready, they continue using the camera.

           Izuku will admit, he wasn’t sure if he might succeed in helping Mei. His friends, dependable as always, proved Izuku’s doubts were misguided. Even Iida allowed a few pictures of himself, profiles of his brother or Aizawa swimming in his eyes. “We have that test coming up,” he growls, jabbing at their teacher’s face, “It’s a big one, I want to do well!”

           “You will do well, like always…” Kyoka holds the camera, glancing around the room for the next victim. There’s already a steady pile in the center of the table they commandeered, and a few more pictures floating above them. Mineta thought of little else, apparently. She nudges Denki, who sits beside her, “I’ve got an idea…” She whispers to him, an evil glint shining in her gaze.

           Denki timidly agrees, hesitance a striking feature on his face like the black bolt zigging through his blond hair. He stands, moving a safe distance from everyone else. Izuku watches like the rest of their group, perplexed, until a tiny spark erupts from his palms that soon becomes a storm much like what rages outside their dorm walls. Izuku glances at Kyoka’s excited and expectant face; he understands.

           Kyoka hits the shutter, then bowls over from laughter with how Denki dances in place. Izuku grabs the camera from her, helping develop the photo by shaking it. When it finally bleeds onto the small rectangle, Izuku breathes a laugh out his nose. There’s nothing replacing Denki’s eyes save static common on broken television sets. “Weirdly enough,” Shoto says, stationed behind Izuku at one shoulder, Tsuyu next to him, “I think that’s what he looks like without a camera, too.”

           They take a few more photos, learning a bit more as they go. Izuku brought his notebook out and took notes halfway into their trials, keeping track of observations to give to Mei. Like how the thoughts importance can affect size, proven with how Kyoka’s whole face was eclipsed by her guitar, and – when asked about her grades – two, tiny ‘F’s floated in Mina’s. There were also bugs the class managed to find, one being that the camera couldn’t pick up on invisible people. Toru, unfortunately, was excluded by the nature of her quirk. They tried including her, asking her to think of her face. Momo theorized that, since Toru can see what she looks like, if she thinks about that then everyone can see what she sees. The camera didn’t recognize Toru and failed to capture her thoughts. It did create thoughts for objects with face-like shapes. An accidental click by Shoto caught part of the stove, and because of the dials, the camera treated it like a face and ascribed two cacti-like stickers on them.

           “Who knew science could be so fun!” Denki cheers, showing off the latest photo to the group. Eijiro grins proudly, Crimson Riot’s manly figure posing in his eyes. He was surrounded by stars, another feature they discovered during the process. The camera adds symbols to better express thoughts, giving context to them.

           “I’m glad you feel this way,” Iida says, clapping him on the back, “Maybe you can take this energy and apply it elsewhere in your studies!”

           “…They’re not as fun.”

           Their group starts laughing, except it’s cut short by a slamming door. Everyone’s heads whirl towards the source of the noise. Izuku hears a low, growling string of curses that get louder with each stomp. It’s no surprise when Katsuki rounds the corner, especially since he’s the only one of their class who hadn’t been with them.

           He should have, judging by the damp state of his clothes.

           “Bakugo, woah,” Eijiro jumps up from his seat, “what happened?”

           “Stupid umbrella broke on my way back from the gym,” Katsuki yelled, throwing his smoldering umbrella across the room. “Cheap things… don’t know why my mom insists on buying these if they keep breaking all the time.” He glares at them, dripping onto the floors. “What are you losers doing?”

           “Well, we were –“

           “Forget it, I don’t care.” Katsuki brushes past them, a trail of water left in his wake. He enters the kitchen, still in view, but completely ignoring them as he roots through the fridge.

           “If you don’t care, why ask?” Uraraka mutters, sinking into her seat. She and most of the others return to their own worlds, treating Katsuki with the respect he showed them. A few differ, namely Izuku, Mina, and Eijiro. They continue watching Katsuki move about the kitchen.

           Mina holds the camera now, stroking the shutter button. “He’s obviously interested,” she says, “otherwise why would he ask?”

           Eijiro sighs, scratching at his temple. “Who knows? A lot of what he does, doesn’t make sense half the time. You should know that by now.”

           “If only we knew what he was thinking…” The camera rises instinctively.

           Izuku offers a weak chuckle, forcing the camera down with his hand. “Good luck with that. Kacchan will break the camera before you can even take the photo.”

           “Then I won’t do it,” she huffs, handing the camera off to Eijiro. “Kirishima here will.”

           “Me?”

           “Yeah, you,” Mina says, “Who else besides you would Dyna-meathead even allow in his personal space long enough to snap it?” Izuku agrees with her, absentmindedly nodding along with her rebuttal. “It’ll be easy. Go up to him, ask for a photo, then take it and bring it back here.”

           “But…” Eijiro looks from her to Izuku, “but… what if he breaks the camera?”

           Izuku shrugs, “I think it’s safe to say we have enough photos for Mei to use in her project, even if Kacchan ends up breaking it. Besides, that’s a sort of prototype, she’s looking to make a digital one – and I doubt Mei would send me off with that if she didn’t have copies of what was important.”

           That, and an encouraging smile that would rival All-Might’s, give Eijiro the courage to try. He winks at both him and Mina, scurrying around the counter that divides the dining area from the kitchen and into Katsuki’s bubble of personal space. Katsuki doesn’t flinch, chewing on a protein bar while Eijiro asks him a question. Katsuki yells at Eijiro, calls him an idiot, but doesn’t deny his request. Eijiro beams, holding the camera up and takes the photo. Thanking him, Eijiro returns to the group with both the camera and developing photo.

           “Give me! Give me!” Mina wrangles the photo free from Eijiro’s fingers, bouncing in her seat from the anticipation. The others show muted interest, curiosity piqued once Eijiro succeeded.

           “Damn, it’s just a fucking photo you rejects…” Katsuki joins them, leaning on the counter a fair distance away, “If you get all happy over that then I’m scared for what the future of heroes is gonna look like.”

           “It’s not a simple photo, Bakugo,” Iida tells him, finger raised as if he were giving a lecture, “it’s a special one from a camera modified by a support student. Apparently, it can take pictures of what people are thinking about.”

           “What –“! Katsuki chokes on his protein bar, hacking and disappearing behind the counter. Izuku startles, concerned, about to check on him. Suddenly Mina screams at his side, and Izuku’s attention is diverted.

           “I can’t believe it!” Mina cackles, “Ah! AH! Bakugo, Bakugo… you try and act so tough but you’re just a softy on the inside, aren’t you!”

           Izuku can’t see the photo with how wildly Mina flails, and he is the only one. Everyone else had their own chance to look at the photo, all varying degrees of shock rippling across their faces. Eijiro appears the most affected, shoulders shaking, a hand clutched tight over his heart as he wobbles on his feet. He might faint on the spot but couldn’t look happier about it. Soon Mina calms enough for Izuku to grab the photo from Mina. He sees what’s on it and is struck into the same stupor.

           He cannot see Katsuki’s eyes. They’ve been smothered by two gigantic hearts, cartoonish in their design with how they sparkle and glow. Worse, for Katsuki at least, two faces were nestled at the center of these hearts. On the right eye, Eijiro’s teeth are on full display with a large smile. On Katsuki’s left, Eijiro winks.

           Mina knocks her chair to the floor in her haste, uncaring how it topples. She dances, singing, “Bakugo likes Kiri… Bakugo likes Kiri…” After circling the table, she throws herself onto Izuku’s back, “Midoriya, remind me to thank Mei for giving you that camera!”

           “Mina, I –“

           “Fucking… Deku…”

           Time slows. Izuku inches his head to where he heard what sounded like gravel being dragged against asphalt, and where he feels sparks dust his cheeks. Katsuki recovered at some point, protein bar forgotten in embarrassment and anger. These emotions, needing an outlet, latched onto Mina painting the target on Izuku’s chest. He launched himself over the counter towards him like a lion would its prey. And only in the infinitesimal moment before certain death could Izuku notice his utter doom. He certainly can’t react or defend himself. Izuku, with his brief reprieve that grows shorter and shorter, can only muster a single thought.

           It’s hard to describe. But if someone were to take a photo of his face, with Mei’s camera, they’d see a skull in both his eyes.

[cantdwellonanyofit]

Sledgefu Fic Dedicated to @stolperzunge

Hello @stolperzunge!! I decided to finally make an account. I’m the anon that has been messaging you Sledgefu asks for a couple of days XD 

I finally wrote a fic, and wanted to share it with you. Let me know what you think! It’s based on all of the meta we have been talking about recently.

Please note the warnings in the tags. There’s some mention of suicidal thoughts, dissociation, internalized homophobia, and descriptions of gore related to the war. This was meant to be a oneshot and has turned into a multi-chapter fic already. :| Creative criticism is requested and would be appreciated.

Rating: Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh R? For now?

He couldn't sleep. If it wasn't the nightmares, it was the intrusive thoughts. The thoughts were always gently sliding their hands around his throat like an enemy sneaking up on him in the dark. Trying to snuff him out before his comrades could hear. The dreams were worse. They waited until he was lulled into a false sense of calm, warm, security. Finally too tired to fight them off. Blackness opened up to screaming women holding babies. Blood rained from the ceiling of a hut while a woman reached her hands towards him. She begged in a language he couldn't understand. But blind panic was the same in every language. He could see it in her eyes, and he couldn't wipe it out. He couldn't stand to put either of them out of their misery. So he planted his feet and watched until the hut crushed her in front of him. Paralyzed by his fear and angry at his weakness. He would jolt awake, and every morning the anger and shame followed him into waking life.

He used to be a morning person before the war. He'd wake up before sunrise with a cup of coffee. He'd take Deacon on his morning walk. He enjoyed the solitude of morning, and watching the world wake up around him. It was like he and the world slept and woke together in the same rhythm. Everything felt aligned. But now the silence was like screaming. His mind would race while he tried to deal with the onslaught of thoughts and dream laden memories. He began to confuse what he really witnessed in the war with what he dreamt. But he didn't much think it mattered. The feelings that overwhelmed him were the same. He hated himself. He hated what he had brought on himself. He resented his mother for not understanding. He was angry at his father for being forgiving. Didn't his father know what he had done? Who he had become? He crawled in his own skin every waking moment.

He didn't go to Sid with his problems. Sid was busy creating his life with Mary. Gene couldn't bear to burden Sid with his troubles when Sid was just trying to forget and move on. He knew Sid also had trouble with sleep. But unlike Gene, Sid tried not to torture himself about the things he saw and did in the war. 

"You can't dwell on it. You can't dwell on any of it.” Ack Ack had said. And it seemed like everyone but Gene was able to abide by that law. The only person in the world who seemed able to pull Gene out of his moods had abandoned him. When Gene woke up on the train to a gentle shove, he expected Snafu's big blue eyes to be staring a hole in him. Like they always did. But instead, he realized another soldier had nudged him awake to ask if he was meant to be disembarking the train. They had arrived in Alabama. Gene looked around confused for a moment before the soldier repeated himself. But Gene wasn't listening. Where had Snafu gone? He couldn't have left without waking him. It wasn't possible.

But it had been possible, and now here he was. Alone. Like he deserved to be. God was punishing him, and Gene couldn't blame him. He'd killed countless people. And by the end of the war, he didn't much care about the damage he caused. He wanted to kill every Jap left with his bare hands. He wanted to make them feel as helpless as he did. He often thought back to his conversation with Leckie. 

"God created Japs too, right? Yellow slants who've tried to kill me on many occasions. Japs come from the garden of Eden too?" 

God had sent Gene on a mission to kill Japs for what they had done. But he also sent the Japs to bomb Pearl Harbor in the first place. And Gene no longer had any idea what God wanted from either side. Were they all meant to die? Had he survived by accident when God had deemed him disposable? And now God cursed him with these thoughts and dreams. To haunt him for daring to make it out. Maybe they had all been too dirty for God's love in the first place. He knew he'd never again feel the safety of that embrace. He tucked his bible away under his bed months ago after unpacking his suitcase. He couldn't bear to open it. He worried it would burn his hands if he even tried. He was no longer welcome in God's plans. He just knew it.

So, with no faith, no plans, no life, he withered away. He spent hours staring at the walls, off into the distance as he sat outside. And he tortured himself with his thoughts and his lack of purpose. He had no idea what he was going to do with the rest of his life. He wondered if God meant for him to commit suicide. If he had somehow messed up God's plan for him to die. If someone else had died in his place. If he no longer had God's love, then killing himself wouldn't matter. But he lacked any motivation to go through with it. It was as if he was meant to remain stuck between life and death. A ghost among the living. 

He knew God had more than one reason to reject him. Not only had he lived when he was meant to die, but he had been born homosexual. He was doomed from birth. He knew something was wrong when he was 6 years old and Betty Cannon had kissed him on the cheek, and he had cried. Sid would nudge him and point out the pretty girls at school, and Gene couldn't have cared less about them. He'd tease Sid for being a pervert and they'd laugh. His sinful nature was further solidified when he gazed at the nurse on Pavuvu. He demanded himself to feel something for her. She was beautiful. She had a kind voice. His mind recoiled as he tried to imagine kissing her, sliding off her clean hospital whites. He felt repulsed. "Alright, you had your looksey," the lieutenant had jeered. If Gene could've glared a hole through that lieutenants body he would've.

If he could've grabbed that asshole by the head and slammed it repeatedly into every damn cup on the table he would've. ‘I feel nothing, I see nothing, I am nothing,’ he would've screamed at him. Can't you see it written all over me? I'm a sinner, you fool. He couldn't ignore the fire in the pit of his stomach every time Snafu leaned against him. Played along with his jokes. Watched him. Snafu always watched his every move. And it drove Gene crazy. Gene thought about what Snafu's curls would feel like in his fingers. What his sweat would taste like as Gene ran his tongue along Snafu's neck. Along that fucking smirk. He went mad with lust thinking of all the things Snafu could do to him. So when he gazed at that fuckin' nurse and felt nothing another piece of him snapped off and was taken by the ocean. He was ruined, and God knew it.

All through his thoughts Gene found himself biking. As he came to, he realized he was approaching Sid's house. It had to be no later than 0500. He hesitated at the start of the driveway. This was crazy. He couldn't bother Sid. But then he felt his right foot swing over the left side of his bike to land beside his left foot on the ground. He began steering and walking towards the front door. He was like a man possessed. Before he could stop himself, he knocked three times in succession. He waited. What the hell are you doing? His mind screamed at him. He was about to knock again when the door slowly opened. Sid was holding his rifle, but quickly lowered the butt of it to the ground when he realized who was at the door.

"Eugene, you scared the daylights out of me. I heard the bike coming along the drive and just about jumped in the bushes to scout." Sid was laughing, but Gene was not. Sid's smile slowly faded. "Get in here," Sid made to grab for Gene's arm but Gene blurted out, "Can you take me to the train station?" Sid's brows came together in confusion. Or maybe it was concern. Sid's hand halted in the air, "You need me to do what now?" Sid's hand landed gently on Gene's bicep. He tugged him gently through the doorway and into the kitchen. "Have a seat." Sid moved to the stove and grabbed the kettle. "We can have coffee and talk it."

Gene was already shaking his head. "I don't need to talk about it. I need you to do this for me. I don't have a car and it'll take me days to bike there." Sid was pouring coffee anyway. "What are you going to do at the train station?" Sid asked.

"Ride the train." Gene answered, curtly. Sid laughed, and set the cup beside Gene. Sid added hot water to his own cup which had likely gotten cold while Sid had watched a stranger approaching his home from the window. Gene could tell the curtain was off-kilter, as if someone had pulled it aside in an attempt to spy without being seen. Gene felt guilty for worrying Sid. He'd have felt guiltier if he woke Sid up, but it seemed Sid had no better luck sleeping than Gene did. "Ride the train where, you smartass." Gene debated whether he should be honest about his intentions. He trusted Sid. He and Sid had been friends since Gene could remember. Sid had always been on Gene's side. But this would be asking something else entirely of Sid. It would be asking Sid to see him for all of his sins, and accept him anyway. If God couldn't manage, he doubted Sid could. "Louisiana." Gene answered. He provided no context. He planned to provide no further geographical context. Sid didn't know about Snafu. He wouldn't even have guessed what Gene's plans were even if Gene told him he was going to New Orleans. But this secret pounded loud in his ears. Matching the beat of his heart. He felt like he was shouting the word Louisiana so he could be heard over the thumping of his heart. He was laid bare in front of God and his best friend. And he planned to deceive both of them. He really was beyond saving.

"Louisiana?" Sid answered. "What's in Louisiana that has you sneaking up to my front door and demanding I drive you down to the station this instant? Did you meet someone you haven't told me about?" Sid's eyes were mischievous. They were full of hope. Hope that Gene had something or someone out there to look forward to. Would they be so full of hope if Sid knew it was a man that Gene ached for? "You could say that," Gene found himself replying. He was skirting the truth. He was living in half truths and short responses. He was a man to be hanged but he kept outrunning the law. "You sly dog!" Sid slapped his knee and scooted his chair back so fast it made an awful screech. There was a thump from where Gene assumed was the bedroom, when Mary emerged from the doorway in her silken robe. Gene would've blushed had he been his old self. Had he been anyone at all anymore.

"What in the Lord's good name is going on out here?" She didn't seem to be mad, but rather playing at it. "Eugene Sledge, is that you causing trouble in my house?" Gene caused trouble everywhere. That's what the devil did when he got inside your soul. He made you destroy yourself and those around you. His lips lifted in one corner in a true Snafu impression. "Sorry, ma'am. I didn't mean to cause such a disturbance." He stood and bowed gently to her. "Sid and I were just about to head out to the train station." Gene looked down at his untouched coffee and thought to hand it to Mary. She might as well enjoy it before it gets cold. Sid stood up and grabbed his coat. It seemed letting Sid believe this was for a woman had propelled him into action. "I won't be long," he kissed Mary on the cheek. Sid grabbed his keys from the same hook his jacket had been on. "Well, come on now lover boy we best be gettin' on." Gene couldn't move fast enough to get out of his seat. He needed to keep moving before his mind came to. Before he hopped on his bike and rode all the way back home and never came back out again. This was his only chance to act. "Lover boy?" Mary smiled, "Gene, that's wonderful. I wish you the best." Gene cringed inwardly. "Thanks." He mumbled. It was a benefit to him that everyone thought him shy. His guilt could easily be mistaken for sheepishness.

He nearly squeezed himself through the front door at the same time as Sid. He took long strides to the car, and grabbed the handle before Sid had even reached the car to unlock it. "Alright, alright, I'm comin'!" Sid had picked up the pace to unlock the door and climb in. He leaned to the right and opened Gene's door for him. Gene immediately flung himself into the seat and fastened his seatbelt before he could run away. Strapped himself in good. "I'll take your bike home later for you." Gene nearly threw up. He hadn't even told his parents he was going on a walk. And now he was planning to leave the state entirely. His mother would call the police. "Shit, Sid. I forgot to tell them I was leaving. I didn't even leave a note." Gene began attempting to unbuckle himself. He needed to get home. If the police came for him and found him with Snafu they'd be arrested. They'd be blue discharged. He didn't know which one was worse. Sid stopped his hand, "I'll tell 'em when I drop your bike off. Don't worry about it. I'll be home and back to your place before they even realize you're gone."

Gene steadied his hand under the pressure of Sid's. Sid would probably never touch his hand again if he knew. He'd never jokingly wrestle with him. He'd be too afraid he'd catch what Gene had. That Gene would be attracted to him. That Gene would ruin everything like he always did. This was just another secret he would have to take to God before he was banished to hell. Why couldn't he get the devil out of him? But despite his inner chastising, Gene let his body rest in his seat. Sinking into the leather and willing himself to calm down. No one knew. No one would know. Sid would take care of him like he always did. Sid, who trusted him, while Gene wore a liar's face. Gene had no idea if Snafu was even still in New Orleans. Gene had no idea if Snafu even wanted to see him. Snafu had left him on the train after all. Gene had probably read into ever stare, every gentle touch, every time Snafu seemed to cut in the shower line until suddenly Gene and Snafu were undressed and standing close. Every time they searched desperately for each other on the battlefield, or in the line of fire, until they knew the other was still breathing. Both sneaking glances, but doing well to hide it. He had imagined all of it in his sick homosexual mind.

"You alright?" Sid asked, glancing sideways at Gene. Unbeknownst to Gene, he had been wearing a pained expression and holding his breath. "I'm sure she'll be delighted to see you. You don't need to be so nervous." Gene almost laughed. Sid had no idea what he was saying. He had no idea at all. "I'm just tired. I haven't slept well in ages." Gene responded, changing the subject. He couldn't stand telling Sid anymore lies than he had to. And there was no way to explain the worry without explaining the truth. "Yeah, I hear you there. Some nights I get a couple hours. Some nights it feels I get a solid couple minutes. Mary's understanding about it." Gene's mind wandered to whether he and Snafu would keep each other up at night with their nightmares. With their stirring. Maybe they'd both stay up together knowing what it was like in each other's brains. Maybe they'd get real good at distracting each other instead. Gene would give anything to let Snafu use him as a distraction. Gene could wrap his legs around Snafu. He could let Snafu move inside of him until they both forgot about everything but each other.

"I'm happy you two have each other," Gene shouted over his thoughts. Sid laughed at him. "Well, I'm overjoyed you want the whole world to know how happy you are for us, Eugene." He was ripping apart at the seams and it was only a matter of time before he lost the ability to pull himself to reality. He had to get away from Sid. From this town. From these burdens. Luckily, the rest of the drive remained uneventful as Sid let Gene get lost in his thoughts, and Gene willed his thoughts to stay in his head. He worried every thought was writing itself out on his face. On every inch of exposed skin. And when he stepped out of the car to say goodbye to Sid, the truth would be there staring back at him. And Sid would stare on, horrified. Until he called out for the police, and Gene was taken away. All his rights stripped, as if he had never existed at all. Just as God had intended.

They pulled into the station, when Sid slammed on the breaks and the car jolted. "Eugene, you don't have any bags with you! How did I not notice? What the hell are you going to do? You can't show up to your lady looking like that." Gene's head snapped to look at Sid. "How dare you? I've never looked so good?" He left his mouth slightly agape in mock horror at what Sid had insinuated. Sid laughed in return. "You haven't shaved, and I think you slept in those clothes." Gene hadn't even thought about clothes. About belongings. He guessed he'd have to start over when he got to Louisiana. "I bet they dress differently down there anyway. I'll consult the best shopkeepers around when I arrive." Gene wanted to get on that train before he changed his mind. If they left to go to his house to grab clothes he'd never come back.

"Do you even have any money?" Gene could've kicked himself. He really brought nothing. He wouldn't even be able to leave if he wanted to. Sid leaned slightly and dug in his coat pocket until he pulled out a wad of bills with a rubber band around them. Sid had a lot of distrust for banks, and often kept cash on him or hidden in his home. "No," Gene was already protesting. He would go home. He would forget this foolishness. "Yes, take it." Sid was pushing the money into Gene's coat pocket. "Absolutely not, stop it. I won't take money from yo-" Sid unfastened Gene's seatbelt and then pushed open his own car door and stepped out. "Sid!" Gene threw his door open and their eyes met over the roof of the car. "I can't take this." Gene couldn't lie to his friend and then rob him of his money too. "Eugene. If you don't take the money and get the hell out of this town I will take it personally. You can't stay here and keep doing this. Look at you. This is your chance to start over. Don't you want that? I'd do anything to get you back. This is the least I can do for you. Now get your ass up to that counter, get your tickets, and get out of my hair before I drag your scrawny ass up there and embarrass you in front of all of these decent folk."

"Sid--"

"I mean it!" Gene snapped his mouth shut. "I won't take no for an answer. Now get."

Gene came around to Sid's side of the car. "I'll never be able to repay you." Sid wrapped an arm around him in a gentle hug. This may be the last time Sid would ever touch him without disgust. Without questioning what dirty thoughts Gene took away from these interactions. Gene loved Sid, but never in that way. He was his brother. But Sid would never understand that distinction. Sid would be horrified by every time Gene had ever touched him. Gene hugged Sid, hard. He loved him like family. The thought of losing Sid crushed him. He tried to pour every ounce of his love into Sid with one hug. 'Please,' he mentally begged, 'Please know that I'll never be able to repay you for all the love you've given me. I've lied to you. I've deceived you. You're pure, and I'm rotten, and I deserve none of this.' Sid hugged him back with a similar strength before pushing Gene gently to arms length and putting a hand on each bicep. "You write to me, Eugene. You tell me everything." Gene nearly crumbled under the weight of his lies. He'd never be able to tell Sid everything. Even if he died to.

"I will," he lied. He was becoming a pro at this.

Sid stepped to the left and turned around to rest against the drivers side of the car. Giving Gene the room to leave and head towards the counter. Gene took the opportunity before he could stop himself. He approached the long line to wait for his turn. He stole a glance at Sid who waved goodbye at him, and got in the drivers seat. Sid must've wanted to keep his promise to return to his house for Gene's bike, and notify Gene's parents before they worried. Gene again mentally thanked Sid for every single thing he ever did for him, and moved one step closer towards his future.

[fortune-fool02]

Childhood Friends

Dio Brando x female reader

Requested by: anonymous

Warnings: angst, mention of family abuse, bit of fluff

Please enjoy.

In order for things to be balanced, there had to be something to equal them. The daylight had the night. The warm summer had the cold winter. The heads of a coin had the tails. Everything had something to complete it and make it whole, to balance it out. 

That was what [Name] was to Dio and vice versa. For as long as either of them could remember, the other was there. They had each other’s backs through thick and thin, day or night. If one needed something, all they had to do was ask. 

It was almost the perfect friendship. One built on years of trust, seeing sides of each other that no one -not even their families- saw. Dio never shed a tear, but around [Name], he has crumbled into a mess in her arms; often cursing his bastard father for abusing his mother in such an unforgiving, careless way. The man never appreciated his mother’s caring nature and he used her as he saw fit. 

[Name] never judged him for it. If Dio said that nothing was to leave the room, then she would keep her lips sealed. That was something he treasured about her, he didn’t feel the need to wear a mask on around her. He could lay himself bare to her and not be ridiculed and belittled. Instead, [Name] would just hold him in her arms and he would feel safe, like the rest of the world had faded away and all the problems with it when he was with her. 

And, in return, he saw an equally vulnerable side of [Name]. Her family -specifically her father- saw her a nothing more than a tool. Something to be used only for her intended purpose of following her father’s orders like a loyal dog at its mater’s feet. If he wanted something done, she was to do it without question; and if it was not done to his standards, she was to be punished. 

Dio has lost count of how many nights [Name] had snuck into his bedroom with shards of glass in her face or on her body somewhere; hours would tick by as he removed each shard and wrapped her up. Or noticing a fresh bruise or mark on her from her father’s hand. Each time it had happened, something twisted inside of him, a viper curling in his lower gut, ready to lash out. 

He had grown tired of pulling glass from her face or seeing her limp and try to put on a brave face. He had grown tired of his drunken bastard of a father and [Name]’s father’s iron fist clamped around his daughter’s throat. The two had come up with the plan to kill their parents and run away, somewhere far away where they didn’t live in their families’ shadows. 

Dio knew of an Asian Apothecary who sold an array of poisons. That would be their weapon. Though, [Name] was careful; saying it would be better to kill one off first and then wait before killing the other to avoid suspicion. Dio agreed. They decided it would be better if Dio killed his father first then [Name]’s father would be next. 

However, neither of them were expecting Dio’s father to have connections to a noble family. When his father laid in his bed, steps away from Death’s door, he told Dio to mail a letter to a noble house as the man owed him a favour. 

[Name] stood beside Dio as he glared at his father’s headstone. His suitcase sat beside him. Turns out that favour his father had was allowing the noble family -the Joestars- to raise Dio as their own. And that meant he had to move away. Away from Ogre Street. Away from [Name]. 

“Don’t fret,” he had told her when he saw the sorrow in her eyes, “I will remain in contact with you. You cannot get rid of me that easily.” The two had shared one final laugh before the carriage arrived for Dio. The two bid their farewells, her arms wrapped around him and his around her; both savouring their last moments together before reluctantly releasing each other. 

***

[Name] had waited. And waited. And waited. There was no contact from Dio. Not a letter or anything. She had continued to go through with their little plan and poisoned her own father three months later after Dio had left. 

Seeing as she was the only child of the [Surname] name, her father’s criminal organisation -his “gang”, he called it that to make it sound more impressive- had fallen to her. And she grabbed the bull by the horns and refused to let go. Much as she hated it, aspects of her father had made themselves known as she ruled his gang. Anyone who questioned her or failed to complete a job was introduced to the goons who swore loyalty to her father and thus, to her. 

Though, she has had her fair share of inflicting punishment onto those who she saw fit of it. Razors weaved into the knuckles of her gloves, slashing at their faces when she took a swing. Broken bones from the sledgehammer that leaned against the fireplace in her home. All of this, she did to prove her father wrong, to prove to everyone who saw her as weak and frail wrong. 

It was incredible what a person was capable of when pushed past their limit. And having a sledgehammer laying around. 

***

Dio sneered as he sauntered down the street, still as foul as when he was young here. Johnathan was somewhere in Ogre Street, searching for the Asian Apothecary in hopes to heal his father and gain evidence to thrown Dio behind bars for the rest of his life.  

So, he fled. He was unsure why he was so concerned, this was Ogre Street he was talking about. A rich, pampered brat like Johnathan stood no chance in that place. They would be upon him like rats on a corpse. Though, even with this in mind, Dio found himself wandering the streets of his childhood, recalling small things about the place. Like the baker’s on the corner where he and [Name] would steal pastries from. 

[Name]. Someone he has thought of each day since he left this place. He had wished to send her letters but had been unable to. How was she doing? Had she been able to kill her father and get away with it? He hoped she did, for he would hate to see her behind bars. 

As he wandered down the path, he stumbled upon a scene that surprised him. 

“You pathetic failure.” a woman spoke with such a calm tone it was unsettling, repeatedly slamming her knee into a man’s nose, blood pouring from it and staining her pants but she paid no mind to it. “You had one job to do and you couldn’t even do that.” Dio watched with wide eyes as the man crumbled to the ground, clutching what was left of his nose, apologises and begs spilling from his swollen, bruised lips. 

The woman looked down at the man, a glint in her eye that was sharper than any blade, and proceeded to slam her foot against his head, knocking him down. With an annoyed sigh, she dusted herself off and turned on her heel, her gaze catching Dio. 

Her eyes trailed up and down him, examining his clothing and silently judging. “You lost?” she asked, “People dressed like you don’t belong around here.” 

Dio opened his mouth to shoot an insult to her when he stopped. [Hair colour] locks that swayed slightly as she walked, softer than any silk her has ever felt before; [Eye colour] orbs that once sparkled with light now hardened to steel, sharpened to slice through any defences and expose the vulnerability of those before her. The years of being here have clearly taken their toll on the young woman. 

Dio could still see glimpses of the young girl who would sneak into his house each night just to be with him. Her eyes also widened as she examined him closer. In all her life, all the faces she has seen, no one had anything close to Dio.

“Dio? Dio Brando?” the words left her lips in disbelief. Dio only smirked at this, confirming her question. Though, he was not expecting the next thing. The palm of her hand connected to his cheek sharply, snapping his head to the side with the force behind it. 

“You absolute bastard.” she growled at him, “I waited for you. I waited every day for something from you and I got nothing. Not even a letter or a note.” The slap burned slightly on Dio’s cheek. Impressive, she still held that fieriness she had as a child. Though she was no longer afraid to let it show and burn. 

“I know. And I apologise for that-” he was cut off by her, 

“Seven years, Dio Brando. Seven. Years.” He sighed at that, hanging his head low. She was the one person in his life that bared an importance to him that was almost equal to that of his mother’s before she died, and he let that slip through his fingers. [Name] had every right to be angry. 

Before he could speak, her arms wrapped around him and pulled him close, burying her head into his chest. He was caught off-guard by this but his arms soon found their way around her. 

“I’m just glad to see you again.” she muttered, holding him tighter. Dio smiled, nuzzling against her [Hair colour] hair as his hold tightened slightly. 

“As am I.” He replied.

[koorinohebi]

I am curious: how would you describe Kiomi's relationship with Jiraiya? And with Koji Kashin? What you've shared about them so far seems very interesting and I must know more!

Thank you for dropping by and asking about my life blood for Kiomi! xD

Kiomi's relationship with Jiraiya is by far one of my most favorite things (it ties with Sarutobi Arai, another OC whom she formed a really strong bond with over the years, to the point where they are like sisters).

A little tidbit before I begin; to be perfectly honest, with the amount of stuff I dish out that's Jiraiya related, one couldn't have guessed that he was one of the characters that I absolutely HATED back in the day. Whatever admiration I have for Jiraiya mostly stemmed from Kiomi. 

Now, where do I start...

JIRAIYA

I have 3 verses for Kiomi's interactions with Jiraiya. One follows the anime/manga, one is my main verse for her which follows my RP with the Jiraiya she came to know as her sensei, and then one verse with which I've started a long long time ago (and still ongoing with @ambitiousparagon​). Since the most fleshed out is her main verse, I'll be talking about that. 

Truthfully, Kiomi's relationship with Jiraiya is supposed to border on platonic going to enemies. However, fate has a funny way of letting the stars align.

The initial plot for this was Kiomi's desperation to prove herself useful to Orochimaru that she agreed to not only get intel on Konoha, but also take down one of the 2 remaining Sannins. A suicide mission, I know. Since Tsunade had value to Orochimaru as a healer, and someone whom he believed he could still EVENTUALLY sway to his side, her lord instead sent her after the most rumbunctios one of them all. He wasn't going to tell her how to do it. Since she’s so eager to prove herself, he allowed her to plan everything. Which she did, starting with pretending to be a defector from Otogakure. Kiomi had plotted with a few of the Otonins to help her out, set an attack, do as much damage as she could while she escaped to Konoha with pretty valid info (about Sasuke, and maybe a few plans here and there) to try and earn their trust. And while she was accepted, Konoha wasn't so stupid as to simply believe a previous underling of Orochimaru. SO. In order to prevent her from doing any sort of damage, and at the same time to keep her under surveillance, Tsunade had assigned Kiomi as a "student" to Jiraiya who had just returned from one of his reconnaissance missions. And with Jiraiya being a person who doesn't stay long in the village, it seemed like a good course of action to take, one which also worked to Kiomi's advantage because it brought her closer to her goal.

Their student-teacher setup starts out very platonic. Kiomi has always been quite the curious kid. She does her best to learn whatever it was that she could. With her arrangement of being a student, it allowed her to work closely with Jiraiya who, well...being Jiraiya, mostly had his nose stuck in a hot spring somewhere. This made her wonder if this was some kind of weakness that she could exploit when the time was right so she kept a close watch. She'd been warned about his lecherous ways, but since she was a teenage kid who didnt really see herself much of anything, she could care less about his reputation. In fact, there are times when she would wonder if his so called "research" was worth all the broken ribs and bones. Often times she would also use Jiraiya’s love for women and sake as motivation to head to a new village for whatever work they need to do.

Eventually though, the more they traveled the more they kept ending up in trouble's very welcoming arms. And these were the moments when a bond of trust formed between the two. Kiomi had been very open about her principle of not caring about other people's live. Who died and who didn't. After all, she was groomed to be a tool. Her mentor, however, was not having any of that nonsense. Jiraiya instills in her repeatedly the value of human life. True enough that taking one was easy, but preserving it along with learning how to understand one another despite all the differences was the goal of being a shinobi. He also pretty much treats her like an actual human being rather than just someone expendable, which sparked Kiomi's curiosity all the more. Because while Orochimaru had been kind (manipulative), Jiraiya was a very warm individual who didnt seem like his kindness had any strings attached. He also allows her to just bloom into her own person, encouraging her to rediscover herself as more than just a Shinobi, but as a living breathing human being. More than being a mentor on jutsus and other skills, what endeared Jiraiya to Kiomi was how much values and lessons about life she learned from him. To the point where she could no longer push through with her mission of assassinating him, and instead permanently defecting to Konoha. It also helps that Jiraiya hinted that he knew about her supposed betrayal. Where one would have normally sentenced her to execution because she was the enemy, the Toad Sage believed in her, and it was that benevolence that ultimately defeated her.

So it went from platonic to an eventual slow burn of becoming a ship. Which was all accidental, because apparently, due to all the trouble they got into, and due to always having each other's back, the sage developed his own brand of protectiveness over the girl and vice versa. That ended with him being half in denial and half in acceptance of what he was feeling, despite knowing it was probably wrong. He doesn't act upon it though as their bond as Master and Student was what was most important. At the same time, Kiomi who is as dense as a rock had no idea about what exactly it is that she feels. But when she realizes what it is, she tries to avoid it at all cost, as being Master and Student was also more important to her. Every once in a while though, a little bit of their feelings slip through. Mostly when one of them is half dead. (And they get into so much trouble that at the end of a specific arc, one of them is either REALLY injured, or near death, and in one occasion actually died.) There are also times when it just slips on its own from either side, due to careless words, or perhaps impulsive actions that creates a bit of awkward situations.

Here is an example of when Kiomi gives in a little to her own feelings.

===

What am I doing?

She couldn't sleep. She ended up shifting for a while there, turning to look up at the stars that Jiraiya had been so keen on seeing. Everything was pitch black which made her, for a moment, appreciate the little specs of light that seemed to glisten in the vast distance of space. Pretty. However, beautiful as they may, they gave her no comfort. The moon that had so graciously lent them its light was now hiding behind the midnight clouds, shying away from her sight. I can't sleep. At this rate, there would be no rest for her for the entire night.

That was when she felt just a slight shift beside her. Curiously, she took her first glance of him after that short period of silence. A soft sigh passed through her lips. At least, one of them was getting some sleep after a long day of training and misunderstandings. Still, from the looks of how his face was contorting, his slumber didn't seem all too pleasant. I'll check just a little.

And so, she sat up, silently and cautiously moving close enough so that she ever so slightly hovered over him. He didn't look like he was having a good time at all. See, this is why bed was the better choice. The mental note was made. Maybe she should wake him up, just in case he was having a nightmare. In that moment wherein she wanted to call for him, no words came out. Instead, a free hand moved on its own in an effort to touch his face. But they stopped. Just inches away from his cheek. Kiomi remembered the way that he had caressed her own (when he seemed under a delusional trance), but she had no courage to do the same. Even when her mouth moved to speak, only soundless words came out. And even those, she couldn't even finish. Again, she bit her lip inwardly. She didn't have the right to say them. After all, the expression on his face from earlier...the one that enthralled her to the point where she couldn't think straight, wasn't even meant for her.

So instead, her hands retreated to a few strands of hair that was long enough for her to take. Gently, just pressed her lips against them before finally relenting, retreating back to her own spot. And apparently just in time, since a few moments after that, she felt him move. Heard him speak. She had to hold her breath for a moment. Again, pretend to sleep. Closed her eyes.

What...am I doing?

===

In this main verse (where Jiraiya survives through the 4th Shinobi War), we've gotten to a point where they've admitted to what they feel (above is a prelude to said revelation), BUT! More than the awkward lovers they end up as, what's most important first and foremost is their relationship as teacher and student. It’s always the main element, everything else is basically secondary. Their relationship whether it's platonic or romantic, has always been one of learning.

And as proof to that, here is a scenario wherein Kiomi and Jiraiya were having a small lecture on the workings of the heart-- affections vs. unconditional love. She, out of curiosity, blurted out the question, "Isn't it frustrating if you can't touch the person that you love...?". To which the answer came as such:

===

"Hold that thought." He replied as she spoke the last of her words, wanting to take the time to address the prior question which was awkwardly blurted out on her behalf earlier. "It's very frustrating, yes, but...if you can't touch a person's heart with sincere feelings first, then no amount of hugs, kisses, or anything else can fill the void inside of you. There were many things that kept the woman that I loved and I apart. War. Misunderstanding. My own personal faults, but I find that I would've given anything within reason, even not being allowed to touch her in ways that would've held significant meaning for us both, just to be accepted as someone that she loved and was genuinely in love with."

Indeed, he had harbored those feelings for someone else. The unrequited love of the century, in fact, but what was worse in his mind was to succumb to the despair of not being accepted, was giving up on the prospect of being loved or in love at all. This was the man who believed that a ninja's worth was measured in his determination not to give up on their mission. So come what may, this brief skirmish of feelings with Kiomi had strengthened his resolve to maintain that belief system all the more no matter what the outcome between them would be.

"The better question is, why are you alright with hiding so much from yourself?" A contrast sharper than the edge of the most menacing blade, the internal conflict that she was experiencing was the true focus of his next words. "In other words, you won't get anywhere in life if all you do is hide from what you feel for anything." There were no exceptions going to be made, because this was suddenly about far more than mere affection or literary prowess. It was the central issue of Kiomi's very being which needed addressing in its own due time. Jiraiya felt that in the moment, it was his duty to plant the seeds which might otherwise allow her to consider the best options about how to confront and move past so daunting a thing. And there, without ever needing to say a word, his argument was given it's apex example. It didn't matter what realizing the truth of that matter cost if she could manage to pull it off. No price would be too high to pay, even their sacred bond, if it meant that she could grow past the limitation of inhibition which had placed a virtual strangle hold on her heart and mind.

===

Obviously talking about Tsunade in the first part. She feels an irrational bout of jealousy over a person who didn't even choose him, and feels her own emotions to be ugly. It's definitely a different type of envy compared to when she's jealous of Sasuke being Orochimaru's choice for a vessel.

And Jiraiya here made a really good point. The more she hides from what she feels, the more she doesn't get anywhere, which is why in verses where he is dead, Kiomi is left with an overwhelming regret of never having the chance, let alone courage to admit to her feelings and confess. Because she knows that he loves Tsunade, she is prepared for any sort of rejection (and knows that it'll even probably legitimately make her cry all the tears she can cry). If she had just allowed herself that little bit of honesty, then she probably wouldn't be stuck in the mud, unable to move forward in the years to come.

Ultimately though, Jiraiya's happiness is what's important to her. Which is why after the war, Kiomi works closely with both Otogakure and Konoha in order to protect the place and people that her mentor loved and died fighting for.

At the end of it all, I believe that for these three verses, the finality of her relationship with him is one of absolute trust and loyalty. Whether or not her feelings are reciprocated, she has already accepted the fact that Jiraiya ignites a flame within her, not necessarily one brought about by romance, but in the trust that he puts in her. He never was the type to give answers directly. It wasnt a mind game, but Jiraiya's brand of teaching encourages a belief in one's self to find an answer that the student can believe in, something in which he too comes to have faith in.

Kashin Koji’s route comes in a separate post. 

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me- Chapter 85

Warnings:  profanity, violence, mentions of blood, mild torture, very minor references to rape 

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @tragiclyhip​

He briefly loses consciousness,  succumbing to shock and blood loss. When he comes to he’s disoriented. Head swimming and vision blurred; vaguely aware of combined smells of sweat,  urine,  and pure filth. A lone voice to his right;  volume muted and its words garbled, making him feel as if he’s attempting to listen and decipher while being submerged underwater. He feels groggy and weak; head swaying back and forth and from side to side, eyes repeatedly blinking in an attempt to acknowledge and recognize his surroundings. At first he thinks he’s back on the Sultana Kamal Bridge, leaning back against the side of an abandoned and bullet ridden sedan. Right leg rendered useless and the strong metallic taste of blood in his mouth; crimson rivers escaping his lips and trickling down his chin. Chest feeling as if it’s on fire; sheer agony created by a sniper’s bullet that ripped through his back and plunged into his chest. The tightness in his left lung; the distinct rattling and wheezing noise he makes every time he attempts to draw a breath.

It’s seven years ago and he’s back on that bridge. Exhausted and in pain; feeling all semblance of strength and hope...of LIFE...seeping out of him. But there’s no visions this time; no delirious moment where he sees the blurry yet unmistakable image of his dead son. He can hear   laughter though. Faint yet musical; a beautiful sound that somehow cuts through the grogginess and the thick fog of pain and manages to bring a weak smile to his face. And their voices; happy and excited as they call to him. His oldest daughter and his twin boys; giggling as they encourage him to follow them. To run and play and throw them over his head; that blind faith and trust that he’ll always be there to catch them.

Another voice now. Older and deeper. And he tightly squeezes his eyes shut and tries to identify it. Rich in tone and possessing a slow, Southern drawl; a discernible twang that evokes the smell of leather and cheap whisky. A chuckle accompanies it; one that’s both menacing and amused. It’s followed by the shuffle of boots along dirty and cracked cement; a sound that grows as it slowly approaches him.  He opens his eyes when senses their presence; a hazy figure briefly standing at his side before  crouching  down to his level. And as the grogginess begins to lift and his consciousness begins to return, he expects to see fourteen year old Ovi next to him; clad in a dirty t-shirt that is monstrous on his tall, slender frame and jeans a few sizes too big. The words are on the tip of his tongue -“You see that helicopter? I need you to run as fast as you can for it”- but they never leave his lips; forming in his brain yet no sound emerging. But it isn’t a kind, comforting hand that reaches for his now. It's one that is rough and callused and violently yanks his head up by his hair.

“Wake up!” Nathan snarls, and tosses a cup of dirty water in his face. “I’m nowhere near through with you.”

The pain is intense. Beginning at the small of his back and travelling the entire length of spine. Some of the feeling has returned to his legs; extremely limited mobility, but he’s able to move his feet ever so slightly and weakly wiggle his toes. He can smell the blood; sharp and metallic. It soaks his left shoulder and stretches from one hip to the other;  aware that it drips down his arm and off his fingers and trickles down his legs. And as he becomes more lucid, the reality of the situation and his environment returns. Able to recall the moments before he passed out. The phone call from his wife and the concern and panic in her voice as she told him about the letter -the REAL letter- from the Marine Corps; her pleading for him to just walk away and let them handle the situation. It was too late by then. By the time hung up, Nathan was already on the move; free of the restraints around his wrists, a revolver in his hand. And something wicked in his eyes and something even more sinister that dripped from his words; a smirk tugging at his lips as he wasted no time in pulling the trigger.

Tyler struggles against the hand firmly gripping his hair; thrashing his head from side to side, his  legs feebly attempting to push himself away from the dirty surface his stomach is pressed against. It’s futile; he can barely feel anything from the waist down and his arms are out of commission; tightly restrained behind back, the plastic of the zip ties cutting into his skin. He tries to call out for help, but all words are held back; stopped by the soiled rag that has been crudely stuffed into his mouth.  A mixture of blood and sweat drips into his eyes. A large, vicious gash across the top of his right eyebrow; the  result of catching his face on the door frame when the gunshot had pitched his body forward.  

He’s able to register his surroundings. Captive in the locker that previously held Neysa and Aarev; face down on the soiled mattress. The odour hits him at full strength now; a combination of old sweat, stale piss, feces, and puke. His stomach lurches; chest heaving and retching, eyes watering and this throat burning when he’s forced to swallow his own vomit; unable to properly expel it with the makeshift gag shoved in his mouth.

“You’re just a mess, aren’t ya,” Nathan chuckles, then releases the grip from Tyler’s hair; shoving his face into the mattress and holding it there until he’s struggling to breathe and squirming against both the bonds around his wrists and the hand pressing down on the back of his head. “Not so tough now, are ya? So much for the big, bad Tyler Rake. You’re losing your touch; nothing thinking as quick as you used to. Turning your back like that? Maybe your brain is more fucked up than everyone thinks.”

“Fuck you, you fucking piece of shit!” The words are muffled against the fabric in his mouth, and Nathan gives a smirk of both annoyance and amusement.  Then uses his index and middle fingers to shove the rag even further; until it touches the back of Tyler’s throat, making him gag and retch once more.

“Used to be a time where people were afraid of you or admired you,” Nathan muses. “I don't think they’ll feel either of those now; kind of hard to be afraid of someone that’s been reduced to such a pathetic piece of shit. How does it feel? To be knocked off that pedestal of yours?”

He once more struggles against the restraints. Curling his hands into tight fists and tightening his forearms; attempting to yank his wrists apart with enough force to break the heavy plastic. Relegated to dropping  his forehead against the mattress and groaning into it with a mix of frustration, rage, and pain.

“You don’t give up, I’ll give you that much. Apparently it takes a lot more than shooting you in the back to take you out of the game. Guess you’ve got a bit of fight left in you after all.”

Tyler feels the mattress sink and sway underneath him as Nathan looms over him; one knee alongside of him as the other hovers over the small of his back and a hand once more grips his hair. And he screams into both the gag and the mattress when the younger man presses his knee against the fresh bullet wound; his entire body weight coming down on the injured area. The pain is intense; sharp and agonizing, causing his entire body to lock up as a defence mechanism. His vision blurs and his head swims; the numbness in his feet increasing and mobility worsening in his legs. Yet he manages to fight back; thrashing wildly against the mattress as he attempts to shake the former Marine off of him.

“You got some balls, Rake, I’ll give you that,” Nathan smirks, and finally removes his knee from Tyler’s back. “Guess you haven’t learned your lesson, huh? You fuck with the wrong people, this is what happens. It catches up to you; sooner or later. Now do me a favour...look up…” he yanks Tyler’s head back by the hair. “...you see that?” he nods at the cell phone perched on a chair at the foot of the mattress. “See what I’m doing there? We’re gonna save this little moment of ours. For prosperity. So I can look back on this moment fondly. WHILE I’m pissing on your grave. And fucking that cute little wife of yours.”

“Fuck you!”

“What was that?” Nathan yanks the rag from Tyler’s mouth. “Did you just say ‘fuck you’? Is that what you said? I think you’ve got this all wrong. I’m going fuck HER. Whether she wants me to or not. And there’s not a goddamn thing you can do about it.”

“I will fucking kill you!” Tyler rages “With my bare fucking hands! If you go anywhere near my wife, I will fucking bury you!”

“You’re not exactly in the position to be making threats. I seem to be the one in control here. And trust me, when she sees this little video of you? When she sees what a pathetic little bitch she’s married to? She’s going to ask me for it; beg for it from a real man.”

“I swear to God, if you go anywhere near her…”

“You know, now that I think of it, that little girl of yours is quite the looker. Blond hair, blue eyes, cute little smile. She’s actually more my type. I prefer them a bit older, but I’d be willing to make an exception.”

“You motherfucker! You touch her...you go anywhere near her…and I will kill you and everyone you love! I will hunt them down one by one and put a bullet in their heads! You stay away from my daughter, you stay away from my wife, or…”

“Or? Or what? You won’t be around to protect them. And it’s not just me you have to worry about. There’s more of us out there. Mahajan’s been more than generous with the money. Everyone has a price, Rake. Except for holier than thou, self righteous you, of course. You had the chance; to be rich. All you had to do was give up the kid and the girl. But you didn’t take it. All because you had to be a hero.”

“I’m no hero. I’m just not a psychotic piece of shit. Who am I talking to right now? Which one of your personalities?  Which one of your imaginary friends?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about. Or WHO you’re talking to.”

“I’m talking to a fucking psycho. A little bitch who couldn’t beat me in a fair fight so he shot me from behind. That’s a change for you, yeah? Seeing as you spent the last week and a half taking it from behind.”

Nathan scowls, then shoves two fingers deep into the bullet hole at the small of Tyler’s back.

He bites back the scream that threatens to erupt, but can’t control the tears of agony that stream down his face.

“Pathetic piece of shit,” Nathan laughs, then rummages through the pockets on the back of Tyler’s vest; searching until he finds the knife. “You’ve always been pretty popular with the ladies, I heard. The muscles, the pretty blue eyes, the voice. Even Nik was quite smitten with you at one point from what she told me. She’s a nice girl; that Nik. Smart, beautiful, wicked body. Not that great in bed, but…” he shrugs. “...you can teach ‘em and train ‘em, right? Did you know she was in love with you? That she was willing to slum for you? That she would have been more than happy to spend the rest of her life completely devoted to you, waiting on you hand and foot, giving you babies. That must have been a hard decision; Nik or Esme. I don’t envy you for having to make it.”

“There was no decision to make. It was always Esme. It always WILL be her.”

“You broke Nik’s heart you know; picking her friend over her. I don’t think you ever quite appreciated just how she felt about you. Everything she was willing to give up for you. And I get it, I do. You had to make a choice. Believe me, I think you made the right one. The little ones are the freaks in bed, am I right?”

“Fuck you,” Tyler retorts. “Don’t talk about my wife like that. Don’t even say her name. Get your name out of your fucking mouth.”

“Defending your woman at all costs. I like that. I admire it, actually. But…” Nathan moves up the makeshift bed, straddling Tyler’s body and then sitting down on his upper back, pinning him to the mattress. “...I still think you need to be taught a lesson. Nik deserves that.”

He sees the flint that comes off the blade of the knife as Nathan brings it into view. Hand moving towards his face and bringing the tip to rest under his right eye; pressed against the middle of his orbital bone. When  he feels it puncture the skin, he attempts to fight back; summoning the will to dig the toes of his boots into the mattress, hips raising slightly and then giving out. Not enough power or mobility; the blood loss and the bullet lodged somewhere in his lower spine robbing him of any semblance of strength.   And as the knife presses even further  and the tip touches bone, he vows not to scream; biting down on his tongue instead as a brutally deep and slow slice is made from the middle of his eye to his temple.

Once the damage is inflicted, Nathan calmly cleans the bloody blade on the back of Tyler’s shirt, then returns the knife to the pocket on his vest.  “You know,  I did like you at first,” he says, as climbs off the mattress, momentarily abandoning his prey. “I liked you a lot, actually.”

The lightheadedness returns; that groggy sensation that comes from blood loss and when your system starts to go into shock. And despite the pain coursing through him and the weakness that envelopes him, Tyler manages to roll himself onto his back. His vision is blurred; a combination of the haziness that comes before passing out, sweat, and the blood that now covers his face.  It coats his lips; the metallic taste strong on his tongue. And he lies there in the middle of the soiled and filthy mattress; eyes closed as he draws in rapid, ragged breaths. Arms still struggling to free his wrists from the plastic ties that hold them together.

“Don’t pass out on me now,” Nathan says, as he once more kneels on the mattress, a crowbar in his hand. “I’m not done having fun with you yet. I want to make sure Mahajan gets his money’s worth. “

“He’s dead. Mahajan. He died about half an hour ago.”

“Bullshit.”

“Anil killed him. We planned it; he’d kill Mahajan while we made our way in here.”

“You’re lying.”

“He put two in the old man’s head. In the shower room at the prison. It’s over. And if you haven’t gotten paid yet, you never will. There’s not going to be any money.”

“You’re fucking lying!” Nathan snarls, and with an end of the crowbar in each hand, leans over Tyler and attempts to press it into his throat.  

Tyler immediately reacts. ��Smashing his forehead into the younger man’s face; immediately shattering his nose and knocking out his top front teeth. Then he draws both knees into his body and slams them into Nathan’s chest, breaking several ribs and sending him sprawling onto the floor.   He seizes the opportunity as the former Marine curls into a fetal position and bellows in pain; using the last of his strength to  push himself up into a sit. His legs are operating at half power -if not less- and his feet are almost completely numb, but he manages to push himself off the mattress and onto the cement below; forcing himself up onto his knees and then shuffling on them towards the door.

“You stupid prick!” Nathan rages, and lands a kick to the back of Tyler’s head.

His vision momentarily goes black and his forehead and nose collide with the cement; a sickening crunch echoing through the room. And he’s unable to control the scream that erupts from his mouth when the crowbar connects with the back of his right thigh, fracturing the femur. He has nothing left; sight blinded by the impending loss of consciousness and a blanket of blood. His entire body is useless now; sheer agony ripping through every inch of him, all feeling now absent in both legs.  And he's gasping and panting for breath when Nathan once more leans over him; the cell phone directly in front of his face and the muzzle of his own gun pressed against the back of his head.

“Do you have anything to say?” Nathan asks. “To your wife? To your kids? Look at the camera. Let them see you alive for one last time.”

“Kiss my ass.”

“Look at them!” the younger man orders, and slams his heel down onto the bullet wound in Tyler’s back. “I said fucking look at them! Say something!”

“No. I won’t.  I won’t do it. I have nothing to say. She knows. She already knows. She’s always known.”

“At least say goodbye. They deserve that, don’t you think? A goodbye?”

“I don’t say that word. WE don’t say it. We never say it.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much anyway. You’ll get to see your wife and kids soon. That’s if you all end up in the same place. And not before me and the other guys have some with your wife and your little girls.”

“You fucking prick! You’ll pay for this. I promise you that. You’ll fucking pay.”

“You first,” Nathan says, and moves the gun to Tyler’s temple. “Fitting, huh? How it all begins and ends in Dhaka?”

Through his blurred and weakening vision he sees it. Mere inches from his face. Toes and soles of dirty combat boots in the doorway and the tattered and weathered fabric of cargo pants.  The gunshot is deafening within the locker, and when the full weight of Nathan’s body falls onto his, the pain and the darkness finally take over. Eyes closing and cheek colliding with the floor.

*****

When Tyler comes to he’s once more in the back of the panel van; lying on his left side with a bucket -half full of expelled stomach contents- tipped towards his face. He can feel the telltale stickiness; the blood on his face and lips quickly drying.  It’s worse than before; both the pain and the all over weakness. His vision blurry and his head swimming; no feeling or movement in either of his legs. If he had the energy he’d be terrified; panicking at the inability to even wiggle his toes or move his feet within his boots. But he has nothing left; no strength, no will, no hope. All his limbs and his head feel impossibly heavy; eyes and brain unable to focus on what is going on around him.  

Voices. Koen and Rata. They’ve abandoned their usual banter and their off hand and cutting remarks; both serious as they talk in low, even tones that do little to hide the fear and worry. And he can hear the rumble of the engine and the crunch of tires on gravel; each light bump or hard brake feeling as if he’s being rocked to his very core.

“What the fuck…” he manages, and attempts to sit up; his surroundings spinning out of control around him.

“Whoa...whoa…” Koen lays a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to lie down. “...easy now, mate. Easy. Don’t move too much. Don’t want to make things worse. We got ya.”

“My legs…I can’t feel my legs...” he raises his head and looks down at the limbs in question; eyes narrowing in confusion at the sight of an unknown object sticking out his thigh; thick and jagged, tearing straight through the fabric of his pants. And his head pounds and spins when the horror sets in; the realization that he’s staring down at a piece of his shattered femur protruding from his body. “What the fuck is that? What….?”

Rata gives a grim, almost apologetic smile and then yanks his shirt over his head; using it to cover Tyler’s thigh.

“Why can’t I feel my legs? Why the fuck is there a bone sticking out of them? What the hell…?”

“You took one to the back,” Koen explains. “Pretty low down. And your right leg is  broken up pretty good. Probably just the shock; the reason you can’t feel anything.”

“What the fuck is going on? What happened? What…?”

“Just try and relax,” Rata says, and shuffles closer to him; using a makeshift towel made from a torn up t-shirt to stem the flow of blood that comes from the cut across Tyler’s face. “We’re almost there. Just hang in there, mate. Won’t be much longer.”

“Chopper?” he asks.

“Hospital.”

“I can’t go to the fucking hospital! Not here. Not Dhaka. Mumbai.”

“There’s no time to get to Mumbai,” Koen informs him, and presses a rag to the gunshot wound in Tyler’s lower back. “You’ll be dead before we get there. You’ll bleed out.”

“Bleed out?” The confusion and disorientation make his head throb. “What happened? Did we get them? Neysa and Aarev?”

“They’re safe,” Rata assures him. “You got them out. They’re safe now.”

“I can’t stop it,” Koen anxiously frets. “There’s just  too fucking much of it! It just keeps coming and I can’t stop it!”

“Is it bad?” Tyler weakly inquires. “How bad is it? My back.”

“Don’t you even worry about it. We’ll get you to the hospital and get you taken care of.”

“I asked how bad it was!” His hands begin patting his stomach and sides down, searching for an exit wound. “Is it my liver? Did it hit my liver?”

“Could have nicked it,” Koen says. “No way of telling for sure. Just lie still and let us take care of you. Let us get you to the hospital.”

“My phone. I need my phone. Where’s my phone?”

“You don’t need your goddamn phone!” Koen snarls. “What the hell would you need that for?”

“You need to get it. My phone. There’s a video. He took it. Nathan. He was going to send it to her. I need you to get it. My phone.”

Koen reaches into the side pocket of his own cargo pants, pulling out the item in question.

“Check it,” Tyler tells him. “Check the last message sent. And the email. Check if he sent it.”

Koen does what he’s told, then shakes his head. “Nothing. There’s nothing been sent.”

“Erase it. She can’t see it. She can NEVER see it. Get rid of it. You gotta erase it.  I don’t want her seeing that.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Koen assures him, and his eyes narrow when he finds the file in question; jaw clenching with rage as he watches the first thirty seconds before quickly deleting it. “That sick mother fucker”

“Call her,” Tyler instructs. “I need to talk to her.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, mate. I don’t think…”

“Call her,” he insists. “I need you to call her. I need to make sure she’s okay. I need to hear her voice. Call her.”

Sighing heavily, Koen reluctantly dials the first number in the call history, then holds the phone to his friend’s ear.

“Tyler?” She answers on the second ring, voice frantic. “Oh my God...Tyler…”

“Hey, baby…” he manages, the mere sound of her voice causing a smile to tug at the corners of his mouth. “Are you okay? Everything’s good there?”

“I’m okay. Things are fine here. Quiet.”

“What about the kids? Did you hear from them? Did you call them? Are they alright?”

“Nik called a little ago and said they’re okay. Not even a single scare or even the slightest threat in Mumbai. She said it was just like any other day. That the kids were outside playing with Ovi and Kyle; Addie was taking a nap. Are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m not okay,” he admits, and chokes back a sob. “I love you. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too. What happened? How bad is it? How bad are YOU?”

“Pretty bad. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I can’t come and get you.”

“Tyler…” her voice cracks with emotion. “...you’re going to be okay...you’ll be fine.”

“I don’t think so, baby. Not this time.”

“Don’t say that,” Esme gently scolds. “Don’t talk like that. You don’t give up, remember? You don’t know the meaning of those words. You never have.  You survived seven years ago and you’ll survive now. I know you will.”

“I’m sorry. I am so fucking sorry. I didn’t want it to end this way.”

“Nothing is ending. It’s nowhere close to the end. You’re going to be fine. You’ll get looked at it and you’ll be fine. You’re always fine.”

“Tell the kids I love them. That I’ll always love them. And tell Ovi too. And that I’m so fucking proud of him.  Tell them all that I wish it could have been different.”

“Don’t do this. Don’t you dare do this. Don’t you say your goodbyes. You NEVER say that word. You don’t believe in that word, remember?”

“I’ve always loved you. I always will. I need you to know that. It’s important that you know that.”

“I DO know. I’ve always known. And I love you. So much. I’ll get there as soon as I can, I promise. You just hang in there, okay? I’ll get to you. Somehow. Just don’t give up, alright? You’re not allowed to give up, Tyler Rake.”

“I gotta go.”

“No. Don’t,” Esme tearfully pleads. “Don’t hang up. Please don’t hang up. Tyler…”

“I’m sorry,” he says, and disconnects the call. Phone dropping from his hand as he once more slips into unconsciousness.

*****

She’s unsure of how long she’s been pacing the floor; bare feet repeatedly shuffling against the polished tiles in the kitchen. Cell phone clutched tightly in one hand, the other moving over the top and sides of the small -but very visible- baby bump. It’s comforting regardless how far along she is or how much she is -or isn’t-  showing; palm travelling over her stomach in slow, smooth circles.

“Hang in there little bean,” Esme pleads aloud. “I need you to stay calm and hang in there, alright? Because now is NOT the time to be giving me issues. We need to stay calm. Or try to. Daddy needs us to be okay…” her voice cracks with emotion. “...daddy needs you to hang in there. Because once he’s all better, he’s going to watch you grow and rub my tummy and talk to you all the  time. He’s going to teach you all about surfing and you tell you what life is like in Australia. And before you know it, you’ll recognize his voice; just like all your brothers and sisters did. And it’s a nice voice. A VERY nice voice. And you’ll kick and squirm for him every time he talks to you. So you HAVE to hang in there. Daddy needs another surfing buddy. He always says he can never have too many of those. Or maybe it’s a football team he’s trying to build. Maybe THAT’S why he wants so many kids. I’m onto him.”

The cell phone beeps in her hand, alerting her to a text message. Nik. Asking her if she’s heard anything yet. It’s only been ten minutes since the last time the woman checked in, and the answer remains the same. No calls, no texts. Tyler’s phones -both SAT and personal- immediately going to voicemail. Esme has left several messages; everything from stressed yet calm,  to worried and tearful, and then ending with irrational and frantic.  Begging him…begging ANYONE...to let her know what the hell is going on.

Her stomach flutters and grumbles; nerves had kept her from eating all morning. Constant butterflies that are more painful than pleasant, and accompanied by incessant nausea that holds the promise of disappearing as soon as she forces herself to be sick, but only continues to gnaw at her insides. Rationally she knows that now is not the time to be thinking about food; her phone could start coming to life any minute or Koen and Rata could come barging through the door to whisk her away to a hospital to be by Tyler’s side.  

Or they could show up with the worst possible news; that  the brief phone call with him was in fact the last time she’d ever hear his voice.  That whatever happened to him…whatever had gone down at that storage facility...had just been too much for an already damaged body, vulnerable mind, and near broken spirit to withstand. Yet he hadn’t sounded THAT bad; exhausted and weak but certainly not close to death. She would have been able to pick up on that.  Surely there would have been something in his voice or in his words. She’d heard pain and fear and worry, but hadn’t heard DEATH.

It’s something she’s accustomed with; many a first hand experience as people lay dying around her in the Middle East. She’s held countless hands as fellow Marines and even strangers - innocent civilians- took their last breaths. That rattle they make; the last of the air being expelled from failing lungs. The desperation and the pleading in their voices; requests for comfort and miraculous healing and eventual mercy. She didn’t hear any of that. And what she did hear could have been nothing more than the byproduct of fear and concern; a man in physical agony that didn’t truly believe he was dying, but was desperate for relief.

“No,” she orders into the quiet of the kitchen. “No. He's fine. He’s going to be fine. He’s always fine.”

She attempts to distract herself from fatalistic thoughts, moving now to the fridge and throwing the door wide open. Rummaging through the fully stocked shelves and compartments and finding nothing appealing and growing more frustrated with each passing second. The futile search and the determined growling of her stomach suddenly becomes too much to bear and profanities spill from her mouth as tears stream down her face. Angrily slamming the fridge door shut; its contents rattling noisily in response.

“Esme?” Koen stands in the doorway; the front of his shirt and the thighs of his cargo pants saturated in blood. It stains his hands as well; caught in every crevice and crack and gathered around his calluses and under his nails. His face is grim; eyes dark, fresh bruises and cuts decorating both cheeks and under one eye.

“Tell me he’s okay,” she pleads, one hand tightening around her phone,  the other once more finding her baby bump. “Please tell me he’s okay.”

“I…” Koen begins, then clamps his mouth shut and slowly shakes his head.

“No.” The sob is choked as it comes out of her mouth. “No. You’re not here to tell me this. You’re not here for THAT. I know you’re not here for THAT.”

“Esme...”

“No,” she firmly repeats, and suddenly the room feels as if it’s spinning. Panic settles in, making her feel nauseous and lightheaded. Her entire body swaying as she takes a step towards him. “No.  It can’t be THAT. It can’t be.”

The next step she takes is wobbly; her legs threatening to give out from underneath her. And she finds herself caught in her friend’s strong embrace; his body warm and soothing as he pulls her tightly into him. A comforting hand on the middle of her back, the other resting in her hair.

“This can’t be happening,” she sobs into his shoulder. “This isn’t happening. Please tell me it’s not. Tell me he’s not dead. Tell me he’s okay.”

“He’s not dead. But he’s not okay either.”

“How bad is he?”

“I don’t even know.”

“How bad does he look?”

“Pretty damn bad.”

“Where is he now?”

“Still here. In Dhaka.”

She frowns. “Why not Mumbai? You guys have a chopper. Why not get him out of here? Get him somewhere safe? Mumbai would have been a better choice. Why didn’t…?”

“There was no time.”

“Where is he?”

“Evercare Hospital.  It’s one of the private ones. Run by that doctor that Anil sent over the night. He’s  in good hands there; best care he can get, I promise. When I left he was still in the ER. They were looking after him and trying to figure out what tests they needed to do; so they could figure out what they’re looking at and how to take care of him. He was breathing on his own, though. No tubes. At least not yet.”

“But it isn’t safe here,” Esme argues. “In Dhaka. The bounty….”

“There’s no more bounty. It’s been lifted.”

“It’s over?”

“It’s all over. Asif’s people are dead. So is Mahajan. There’s no one left.”

“What about Neysa and Aarev?”

“Safe. He got them out.”

“And Nathan? He’s the one who did this, right? He’s the one who hurt Tyler?”

Koen nods.

“Is he dead? Tell me he’s dead.”

“He’s dead. I made sure of it.”

“You killed him?”

“I emptied an entire magazine in his head and face.”

“Good,” she says, and defiantly holds back a flood of tears. “Thank you. For doing that for Tyler. Thank you.”

Koen once more embraces her tightly, hands slowly running up and down her back.

“And he was breathing?" Esme asks. “On his own? He didn’t need to be intubated?”

“Needed a bit of oxygen; through those tubes that go in your nose. Doctor was pretty surprised; said he’s never seen someone that torn up that didn’t need more help. That’s a good sign, yeah? That he didn’t need more help? Shows how strong he is.”

“Or stubborn. Or both. You’ll take me there? To Tyler?”

“That’s what I’m here for. Are you okay? You gonna be alright?”

“Probably not,” she admits. “But I guess I have to be. For him. He needs me to be alright. You know how Tyler is. Even when he’s at his worst or he’s suffering and in pain, all he worries about is me. Never himself. Just me.”

“Well he’s a fool in love. What do you expect?”

“I’ll have to find my things. I have no idea where anything is. My purse, my shoes…”

“Saw both out in the front hall.”

“My phone.”

He grins. “It’s in your hand.”

Esme glances down. “Oh fuck. I AM losing it.”

“Come here, kiddo.”  Koen draws her into another tight hug, a hand on the back of her head, guiding it down to his shoulder. “He’s gonna pull through. He always does.  He’s a tough little bastard. Well maybe not so little. But tough. And a bastard.”

She manages a small laugh.

“And when he opens his eyes, your face is going to be the first thing he sees. Just like seven years ago. And trust me; there ain’t no better medicine than that.”

“I need him to be okay. I need him to get through this. For me, For the kids. For this baby. I need him, Koen. I can’t lose him.”

“You won’t,” he promises,  and gives her a tight, reassuring squeeze and drops a kiss on the top of her head.  With a comforting smile, he places  a hand on the small of her back and leads her from the room.

[ihavenoconsistentname]

Alright semi-important rant time to give you an overview of what it's about:

-Potential TW/CW for talking about manipulation via victim complex and guilt tripping

-It's about the Crater System so if you know them guess what you need to read this

-Also mentions/talks about victim blaming

-There are mentions of telling people to off themselves/wishing death upon them and spoiler alert those two people are both 14

So be aware of that and just for scrolling's sake I'll put it under a cut

Also, this is not a "callout post" by any fucking means, it's literally just making sure people are aware that this shit happened mainly if those people are associated in any way with the Crater System.

So first of all if you feel the need to see any screenshots as "proof" for any of this by all means feel free to message me for them.

For like at least like around a year the Crater System basically used me as their personal therapist for shit about their dad often just saying random things about it and full on venting without asking if I was in the right headspace to hear it or even asking anything, and even if they did ask I would have the inability to say no, and here's why:

-I am hyper empathetic, and that has prevented me from saying "no" or saying "stop venting to me".

-They constantly said self deprecating and guilt trippy things like "I deserve the bad things happening" or "I'm such a bad person" basically just to get me to pity them and try to convince them otherwise, which severely burned out my empathy constantly.

And guess what? They reacted angrily when I was rightfully upset and TOLD THEM I could never say no because of my empathy when it should have been common sense not to vent and trauma dump TO A CHILD.

I am 14. Everyone in their system with a couple exceptions is an adult. Their system's body is 22, that is 8 fucking years older than me. I'm a child, they're whole ass adults.

They would randomly say stuff about their dad or situation as if I could do something and I never knew how to respond because it was out of nowhere. There were times when they'd throw vent paragraphs at me out of nowhere.

They often complained about wanting a 50/50 friendship but when I've accepted their vent offers, which mind you only happened like once or twice maybe 3 times, very rarely- I got responses nowhere near the level of help I tried to offer them.

One good example? When Cub let Wels vent. Kni vented about the severe attachment/detachment issues kni experiences, and Cub replied saying, and I'm quoting:

"Just try to remind yourself that this is your hormones and unstable teenage mind working against you."

If you were to look up the symptoms of BPD, and I am in no way saying any of us have it, that list of symptoms would literally give you a general idea of everything kni's been going through. All of it.

And mind you, this is a DID system failing to separate alters from their host and from the body because Wels as an individual alter is in knight's 30's and not 14 like I am and like the body is. And even if the brain being that of a 14 year old influences alters? That shit was disregarded as a teenage problem. You know why? Because "we were your age when it happened to us so that's why we think it's a teenage thing", again, quoting that word for word, and once again, failure to separate alters from the body and host. Because "your age" would be saying "we were in our 30's". Wels is not 14. I am. Wels was the one speaking. Not me.

They have such a massive victim complex and that really shows when you see how fucking often they would not shut up about what happened with someone else my age. Aka someone they also manipulated. If you were here when that was going on on my blog you'll know what I'm talking about.

I will tell you right fucking now I do not claim to have not been in the wrong just because I was manipulated into taking their side. I was not correct in doing or saying what I did and said. I reacted so fucking awfully literally victim blaming because of blind trust and I completely blame myself for that. I am not excusing any of that just because they manipulated me.

Over and over they kept bringing up that shit being guilt trippy about how "they ruined a friendship" and saying they deserved whatever bad was happening and I was so tired of hearing about it because at one point I literally regretted every single moment I was defending them because I was starting to realize I was so wrong for that.

And guess what, they would literally wish for that person, another 14 year old they literally manipulated and hurt, to be dead.

One of their alters threw a temper tantrum and told me twice to kill myself telling me once that I didn't deserve to live, that same alter saying, and I'm quoting:

"That fucker that deserves to fucking die-[name, im keeping the name out just because]- can burn in hell for all I care. He used us."

^With worse grammar/spelling that I fixed.

So that's an alter throwing a tantrum telling one 14 year old to kill himself and saying another the same age deserves to die for being a victim. There's a prime fucking example of their massive victim complex. And, how fucking ironic! They say a victim of their manipulation used them while literally using someone the same age as the other victim.

Constantly they brought it up and would either talk about how sooo fucking horrible (/s) that person was or talk about how horrible they were, and to the first I gave half asses replies acting like I agreed just to get them to shut the fuck up about it. Whole ass adults not owning up to things properly and instead being guilt trippy for the pity of another minor they got to defend them wrongfully and making themselves out to be the victim.

So even if I was technically manipulated into being on their side? I still don't take it as an excuse for myself. It isn't one.

To recap:

-They manipulated a 14 year old and played victim constantly about it

-They manipulated another 14 year old using their massive victim complex saying guilt trippy things for pity then got upset when that 14 year old who shouldn't have been used as a therapist for an adult (or adults, plural, if you want to say it that way) expressed that they were tired of it

-They had an alter disregard very serious issues someone was having as "hormones and an unstable teenage mind"

-In doing so they also failed to treat/acknowledge an adult alter as separate from the body who is a minor and the host who is a minor despite literally being a system

-They had an alter tell a 14 year old to kill themself/that they should be dead while also saying another 14 year old deserves to die for being the one they manipulated (once again playing victim)

-They repeatedly vented completely out of pocket/without asking only asking a few times but being so guilt trippy with their words that the person they forced their problems into was unable to say no to them

-And they also failed to respect the boundaries of people they hurt/affected negatively. I didn't go over this but they would not fucking let things go and insisted on trying to "apologize" to people who were trying to let it go basically refusing to leave them alone even after being told several times not to insist on doing it

If you're associated with the Crater System and you follow me, and you're going to continue to associate with them at complete will or downright ignore any of this? Leave.

I highly suggest you don't associate with them. Especially if you're a minor. I don't know who all here might know them but they're not good people and I found that out the hard way. You're literally just going to get yourself used and manipulated.

P.S. If you do talk to them and you ever get a word out of their mouths about me? Tell me.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Youtube vs 5G arsonists

There are plenty of things wrong with 5G.

It's incredibly insecure:

https://www.schneier.com/blog/archives/2020/01/china_isnt_the_.html

And easy for law-enforcement to spy on:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/01/5g-protocol-may-still-be-vulnerable-imsi-catchers

It's a smokescreen for underinvestment in fiber by monopolistic, awful telcos, and its promised benefits will not materialized without fiber backhaul:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/10/why-fiber-vastly-superior-cable-and-5g

On the bullshit scale of lies, damned lies, and telcoms lies, 5G represents a kind of peak bullshit:

https://www.lightreading.com/mobile/5g/2019-the-year-telecom-went-doolally-about-5g/a/d-id/756184

But 5G doesn't give you cancer. It won't make you sick. And...god, I am getting stupider just thinking about typing this, coronavirus is not a false-flag op to disguise the illnesses that 5G is secretly creating.

The reason I have to mention that is that the conspiracyverse is full of that specific theory, and it's inspiring people to COMMIT ARSON and torch 5G towers.

No, seriously.

In the wake of multiple attacks on 5G towers, Youtube has announced changes to its moderation guidelines. It will allow 5G conspiracy theories, just not ones that (oh god my fingers are seizing up from the stupid) link 5G with coronavirus.

https://www.theguardian.com/world/2020/apr/05/youtube-to-suppress-content-spreading-coronavirus-5g-conspiracy-theory

Youtube gets blamed for spreading conspiracies but that's not the whole story. Youtube - Big Tech in general - is a machine for finding people, much more than it is a machine for convincing people. Youtube is not a mind-control ray that bypasses viewers' critical faculties.

5G conspiracy theories are new, but Flat Earth conspiracies are not, nor is antivax. These have been around for a long, long time. Even a cursory perusal of the arguments for these conspiracies reveals that they have not gotten better, even as they've gained traction.

If the same arguments are attracting more adherents, then one of two things is going on. Either:

1. Youtube is a mind-control ray that can turn rational people into believers in facially absurd ideas that have failed for decades, or

2. The number of people to whom these ideas seem plausible has grown and/or Youtube has made it more efficient to reach those people.

I think it's 2. I think that the rise of conspiratorial thinking is connected most closely to a rise in actual conspiracies.

Not elaborate flying saucer conspiracies, but everyday ones, like the Sacklers conspiring to get rich by lying about the safety of opioids, or prosecutors and lawmakers covering up for their pals like Jeffrey Epstein and Harvey Weinstein.

Conspiracies to ignore the evidence about Flint's water, or the failures of Universal Credit in the UK, or to pretend that private equity funds are anything but engines for turning productive companies into mangled wreckages while enriching plutes:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/04/04/a-mind-forever-voyaging/#prop-bets

Why do people believe in public health conspiracies, from antivax to 5G? Well, maybe because public health authorities spent two decades ignoring the opioid crisis in order to protect ultrarich opioid profiteers.

Maybe they doubt journal articles because major journal publishers have repeatedly published fake journals through their marketing divisions that allowed pharma companies to pay to publish unsubstantiated studies.

https://bibwild.wordpress.com/2009/05/05/shame-on-elsevier/

Maybe they don't believe in their doctors' advice because their doctors accept a continuous stream of payments from pharma companies, and then prescribe in ways that fatten their bottom lines.

https://projects.propublica.org/docdollars/

Maybe they don't trust regulators because they sign off on procedures that kill people, despite a lack of evidence for their safety AND a wealth of evidence about their risks:

https://www.latimes.com/entertainment/movies/la-et-mn-bleeding-edge-review-20180726-story.html

One of the best books I read in 2019 was Anna Merlan's Republic of Lies, a history of conspiratorial thinking in America and a look at the rise of conspiracism in the 21st century:

https://boingboing.net/2019/09/21/from-opioids-to-antivax.html

Merlan describes how conspiracists aren't ignorant, but rather lavishly misinformed. UFO conspiracists can go chapter-and-verse on aerospace conspiracies, of which there are so. many. including, most recently, the 737 Max scandal.

Antivaxers know tons about opioid coverups and other medical malpractice. People who believe that the levees were dynamited during Katrina to drown black neighborhoods and spare white ones know all about when that actually happened in Tupelo, MS.

Susceptibility to conspiratorialism arises when someone is exposed to actual conspiracies, and trauma. And while both have been abundant during the neoliberal era, coronavirus is peak trauma and peak conspiracy.

Just think of the spectacle of official inaction, combined with official calls for all the old people to die, combined with the annihilation of huge swathes of the economy, combined with a stream of revelations about corruption and profiteering in the response.

No wonder so many people are primed to believe in conspiracies at this moment, and so maddened with grief and anxiety that they take rash - and foolish - action.

Which brings me back to what Youtube is doing.

Youtube is not a mind-control ray, it's a people-finding machine. That's because advertisers need people-finding machines. The median person buys <1 fridge/lifetime, so it's really hard to find people thinking of buying fridges.

That's why fridge ads appear on highways near airports: "People who fly have money, people need money to buy fridges." Those ads have 0.00000000000000000001% conversion rates.

Targeting ads to people who've searched for refrigerator reviews can make them thousands of times more effective, and even if the new rate is only 0.000000000001%, that's massive improvement for fridge advertisers. YT is ad-supported so it is good at finding people.

Ad-tech companies make two claims, though: the first is that they know where to find your customers. The second is that they can convince them of things that are otherwise unsupportable.

This was Cambridge Analytica's pitch: not that they would find racists and tell them about Trump, but that they would make decent people into Trump voters.

There's some narrow truth to this Running ads that tell lies (especially harmful ones) is often illegal. At the very least, it can mire you in scandal. Targeting allows you to place secret ads: ads whose content is only seen by people who won't narc you out. That gives targeted ads a persuasive advantage that billboards can't have.

Finding people who want to believe lies and lying to them is not mind-control.

It's fraud.

Because everyone in the entire history of the world who'd claimed to have invented a mind-control ray was a fraud, from NLPers and PUAs, to Mkultra and the Cultural Revolution.

Back to conspiracies, Youtube, secrecy and people-finding.

There are lots of things wrong with Youtube (spying, monopolization, and its hospitality to copyfraud and censorship), but people-finding and spying are both double-edged swords.

People-finding is how fringe ideas accumulate adherents, yes. Some of those are terrible, like "scientific racism." Some are laudable, like the rise of trans identity.

Privacy is how lies are spun, but it's also how truths are whispered before they can be spoken aloud.

Secrets like "I believe interracial marriage should be legal" or "cannabis isn't harmful" or "gender is not a binary."

There are lots of things we should do to fix Youtube and tech, but on balance, finding people who share your ideas is a force for good.

Debunking false conspiratorial beliefs is important, but not as important as ending actual conspiracies among wealthy and powerful people to corrupt our political and economic system to enrich themselves regardless of the consequences to the rest of us.

Fighting conspiracism is like fighting a wildfire. When the town is on fire, you have to put it out. But if you want to keep your town from catching fire again, you have to eliminate the fuel that causes it to burn, clear out the brush.

The problem with locating the problem with Youtube - instead of seeing Youtube and its monopoly as a consequence of policies that promote inequality and monopolism - is that it's just fighting blazes, not preventing them.