#which is so fucking scary since it’s getting both worse and more frequent

[dagasinfilo]

[editedbywandamaximoff]

Cruel Intentions Part 2

A/N: okay I have no excuse it took me more than it should sorry.

taglist:@vicmc624 @thelaststraw3,@d3m0n8ch1ld

Silence has never been that scary before. The absence of life, the quiescence, everything reminded those few last peaceful moments of absolute nothingness before war and chaos began. Those moments in which you start to reconsider your actions as you can see clearly now their consequences. And it was in those moments when a feeling of escapism fester finally able to acknowledge the catastrophe that will follow. But it's alright because at the end some might even find catharsis in that dead silence.

A loud gasp escaped your lips as you jumped into a sitting position, your hand running up from your sweaty chest to your throat. Everything surrounding you was bleak black and no matter how many times you blinked hoping for your vision to clear but it was pointless.

You were in a vast, unescapable abyss of your own creation. One that followed you both in your sleeping and awake state. Unable to run from it, weak, powerless, vulnerable. 

Rubbing your eyes with your hands you tried to stand up from the futon mattress but before you could take one step the silver chains reminded you of their presence pulling you down and causing you to fall on the ground with your face.

‘’Fuck!’’, you groaned in pain and supported on your hands, you sat down, the nightmare never ending. 

It must have been three days or maybe a week. Then again it could be two weeks as well. To be honest you had lost track of time spending all of your days locked inside that cage made of glass. The only thing that indicated the time of day was the agents that walked by, some of them looking at you with an arched eyebrow, others with disgust, some even with interest. 

The interrogations were frequent as you never talked no matter how hard they tried to convince you otherwise, promising you deals, safety, freedom, a fresh start. But you weren’t stupid.. Well you were since they caught you but you weren't enough to start spilling secrets about HYDRA.  So you kept your mouth shut giving them the hardest time. You weren’t going to let them treat you like a monster, lock you in a cage, waiting to be killed. You knew they were soon to come here and kill you - or worse take you back. 

Then there was the scientist. Their visits were weekly and their tries persistent as they wanted to discover what kind of mutation your organism had gone through all those years with HYDRA and their vile experiments. So they ran tests, took blood samples and then they gave you a prescription with pills to keep your powers at bay.

So when you weren't interrogated you spent your time observing them working, or staring on the glass and if you tried really hard you could even see your reflection and damn- you never looked uglier. And things got even uglier after an interrogation with the side-effects of your medication. Then it was as if you were high and started having conversations with your reflection and damn that bitch was mean.

Slowly your vision came back, as it did everytime you refused to eat and drink water in one of  your attempts to make the whole process difficult or how they called it a show of your stubbornness. 

‘’L/N’’

Suddenly the door opened and two agents appeared with your usual wheelchair. Your forehead furrowed as you observed every detail closely to make sure whether they were SHIELD or HYDRA’s agent. Getting used to the process you pulled your hair to the side, exposing your neck for them to inject you, too exhausted to play it hard to get. It wasn’t as if they wouldn't force you. What really scared you though were the side-effects, the drowsiness, the dizziness, the delusions, the blurry vision and then the nightmares. You knew that once they injected you you would stay awake for a couple hours for the interrogation and then once you were back to your cage you would have deep sleep for hours with neverending nightmares and dreams.

Unlocking your legs from the chains they put you again in a straightjacket and forced you to sit before they dragged you out of the room. You frowned as you noticed that they didn’t inject you but you rather not remind them.

‘’A goodmorning would be nice’’, you said but once again they didn't even look at you, let alone speak to you. You didn’t mind though it was nice to even see someone after all those days of isolation. 

‘’It's afternoon’’ one of them said and you sat back quietly hating how unaware you were of such basic things, like what day of the week it was or whether it was morning or not. You didn’t have the sense of the next day anymore. Each day you were here felt like they were all combined. Like a really really long day with no end or break. ‘’You know it’s funny how easy you, people of HYDRA have things’’, one agent broke the silence, causing you to frown unsure whether he was talking to you or not. ‘’Even though you’re an abomination, not human, entirely not even mutant and despite your notorious past as a ruthless assassin you still,somehow, you leave this place without a scar’’, he said and then laughed, deriving from something rather tragic than funny.

‘’You know Mark’’, he spoke again, now referring to his coworker ‘’2009. I was sent to escort a scientist out of Iran. Then someone shot out my tires near Odessa causing us to fall off a cliff, guess who?!’’, he exclaimed as if he was telling the most hilarious joke. From the corner of your eye you show Mark who was walking beside you rolling his eyes, probably because he had heard that story too many times. ‘’James fucking Barnes!’’, he hysterically laughed ‘’Who then worked with HYDRA going by the name the Winter Soldier!’’,he said with  a derisive tone ‘’You heard that pretty girl? Your boyfriend’’,you gasped as he patted you on your shoulder to get your attention and you tried hard not to flinch away from his touch -not that you could.’’A fucking marciless assasin and his freaky-witchy girlfriend are now walking around these rooms, one calling himself an Avenger and the other is ready to get a cloak and fly around’’

Your nose crinkled in disgust. Not because of how he called you-no you knew you were a freak already he didn’t have to tell you- but how he talked about Bucky. How they neglected the fact that he was cheated out of his life. How he didn’t have a thought of his own for years, how he was forced to kill and kept captured. How he didn't have the chance to fall in love, get married, have children, friends, travel, live in his era. And when he did he fell for someone like you. All of that shit he and you had to go through.

‘’And I? I lost 12 people that day. my coworkers, my friends and almost lost my life. My kids would be orphans and instead of punishing him for his crimes he got a title and we who he fought, who he killed have to call him sir ‘cause he’s above us. And now the same is going to happen with this one.’’ You clenched your fist and bit the inside of your lip overwhelmed by anger, not able to bear the bitterness in his tone. Your eyes shimmered with tears and you bit harder your lips, hoping for it to bleed as you fought them back. You understood his sorrowness and how angry he must be with the unfairness of the situation however what you and Bucky went through wasn’t any less painful. Abducted by your families, forced into a series of brutal experiments which by the end you had forgotten your identity, unable to form a thought of your own other than the ones they wanted you to think. 

You couldn’t even remember a day in which you weren’t under the control of HYDRA. You never had any friends, you never had a family, you never had anything. At some point during the endless training you couldn’t even remember who you were. ‘’ They are nothing but filthy, inhuman monsters that deserve to die for their crimes’’

 Suddenly that entertaining ride came to an end with them stopping outside the very same room where everything had started. Even when you hadn’t entered the room you could already feel their glares boring into your flesh full of anger, hatred. God things have gotten messy.

The agent behind you bent closer to you, his filthy breath now hitting your neck as his mouth was right beside your ear ‘’And between us, sweetie I hope you die in that hell they are about to send you. Then your boyfriend might get a taste of loss’’, he whispered and then laughed, pleased. You clenched your teeth, the thought of all the things you would do to him for all the filthy things he said about Bucky somewhat calming you down. 

‘’I wish you’d fallen down that cliff that day. Sweetie’’, you spat back and with the same attitude you faced the Avengers as you and the agents entered the room. You knew from HYDRA that you had to not only keep your calm but push away any type of emotion. You must never appear vulnerable or weak. 

As you entered the room the agent's words repeated in your head but you tried not to give it much thought hoping that he just said it to get a reaction from you.There was no way they would let you free, right? And even if they did, Earth didn't have any type of hell. Right?

"Oh it's you again, our local witch terrorist. Hope there wasn't any traffic in your way here", Tony greeted you with another of his usual jokes causing you to roll your eyes. 

Trying not to make known your interest, your gaze slowly moved around the room, hoping to meet those familiar blue eyes. To your disappointment everyone was there except him. From bored Bruce and cocky Tony, to tired Natasha, even Steve was there watching you from the corner of the room, his eyes boring into you. But he or his friend Sam wasn't there. 

A strong wave of sadness hit you for a second before you tried once again to maintain your facade. 

"So?",  you broke the silence, deciding that it would be better to get over with it. 

"Take a seat", Natasha told you and you looked at her with an arched eyebrow.

"It appears you have already ensured me one", you sneered and suddenly Steve scored having all the eyes on him.

"Take a seat Y/N", he repeated now his tone full of assurance and annoyance as if you were one of the soldiers he got to order.

You rolled your eyes before you stood up, taking that chance. It had been a while since the last time you had walked, SHIELD never allowed you to go anywhere without your wheelchair and in your cage you could either lay or sit down. Slowly trying to find your balance again you sat to a chair opposite from them and wait for someone to explain why you were here.

For a few minutes the room drowned into dead silence. Even Tony, the one that could never shut up with his sarcastic remarks was silent and honestly for a moment you thought they were as clueless as you.

Your heart pounded against your ribcage and your mind ran through millions of thoughts about why the Avengers would have to interrogate you. Perhaps SHIELD had reached a decision about you, finally getting tired of your silly mind games. Maybe that was why Bucky wasn't here; your punishment must have been so harsh he couldn't handle it when they'd tell you. But no. That couldn't be true. You lied saying you loved him only for him to find out after a few months that the only relationship goal you had was turning him back into a ruthless killer. No. He was completely over you and as much as it broke your heart as the only person who would love you in this life is disgusted by you, you can't help but hope that soon he would find someone. Someone he truly deserved not a cliché facade as you.

You squeezed your eyes and took a deep breath but before you could open your mouth Tony spoke. "Where the hell is he! Can't he be here in his time for once?"

Immediately after he said that and before you could think of a thing the doors burst open and you looked to the side to see who was. 

Natasha's eyes lightened up as Bucky and Sam suddenly entered the room.

"Where is he?"Steve asked and your brows drew together as all of the Avengers were already here.

"Oh you know him, he wants to make an  entrance", Bucky explained before Bruce gave him his seat that was opposite of yours. 

"Show-off", Tony muttered mostly to himself but Natasha tried to hide a chuckle when she heard him.

Your gaze scanned Bucky intensively, taking in each of his features, from the dark circles down his eyes to his beard that had grown more than usual. He was a mess. You frozed when his gaze met yours, his eyes slightly red from the lack of sleep; however they still managed to send chills down your spine.

Uncomfortable you quickly looked away, hoping the awkwardness was mutual yet from the corner of your eye you still felt him glaring at you. 

Suddenly orange sparkles appeared out of nowhere and your eyes widened in shock as a person stepped out from it into the room. You looked at the Avengers to see their reaction however no one else seemed to share your amusement.

"Ooff ", the man huffed and fixed his weird clothes before looking at the very annoyed Avengers. "Hello team"

"You're late!", Tony exclaimed with a stern expression.

"Never, you're just very early" His gaze scanned the room till it got fixed on your face "So this is our witch?"

You arched an eyebrow to the odd-looking man 

and then looked at the Avengers asking for help or some kind of explanation. 

"Who are you?!"

"Doctor Stephen Strange?", he told you, confused as to why you weren't aware of it "Protector of your reality?"

"Never heard of you"

"Yeah us neither, before he popped out of one of his sparkly circles and asked to talk to you. Now can we get to the point?", Tony 

‘’Well’’, he cleared his throat and his hands locked together as he started approaching you ‘’Recently and for unknown reasons the Multiverse opened. Fortunately I noticed it quickly enough to manage to close it again and send anyone who managed to enter this reality back to their own without doing any harm.’’, he explained and furrows appeared in your forehead as you tried to comperhead every information he gave you. ‘’Now however, a couple weeks later there has been a crack on the Multiverse as if someone from this reality tried to enter another. Their attempt was unsuccessful of course -otherwise none of us would be here’’, he continued murmuring the last part to himself ‘’But, I need your help. I need you to come with me,-’’

‘’What!?’’Steve exclaimed in shock. ‘’When you said you wanted to talk to her you didn’t mention anything about freeing her. She’s a criminal’’

‘’Let him finish Steve’’, Bucky placed a hand on Steve’s arm who had stood up before sceptical he looked at you and then back at Stephen.

‘’Our reality is in grave danger and only people with her abilities can help’’

You didn't understand what exactly caused Stephen to appear so calm and well-contained even though he had to face a multiversal threat. At some point you stopped listening him but stared at him with an open mouth not believing the words that came out of his mouth.

‘’Yeah, Cap’s right. You can't just burst in here with your prince charming cape, take her and leave’’, Tony told Stephen, the conversation slowly becoming more heated.

‘’First of all is a cloak. And I didn't burst in here. Well to be honest I could, all it takes is a portal, however I’m here to talk about it civilised. Our universe  needs us’’

‘’If you wanted help from someone that one should have been the Avengers not a trained killer!’’Tony yelled, losing his temper. 

‘’Oh so according to you Natasha and James shouldn’t be here either?’’Stephen replied to him in the same tone. 

‘’No, of course not. What Tony meant is that she is a killer by choice and has to be taken in jail. She is no hero, she can't help you! But we can, we are heroes’’, Steve explained and you huffed.

‘’With all due respect Captain, do you also happen to be a witch? Because this time we don't need neither iron powers nor a guy from the 40s. This is a real threat. The guy we’re looking for is a real criminal, she is just-’’

‘’A weapon?’’, you cut him off having enough from everyone talking about you going on a mission you knew would kill you ‘’Because that's what I’ve always been and not by choice. For HYDRA, then SHIELD now you. They've used me for their dirty work for a long time and now that I'm of no use they’re gonna pass me to you only to have me killed in this suicide mission. I’ve been an experiment, I've been a killer now I won’t be some kind of mystic detective. I’m so done with everyone’s bullshit and there is nothing you can do, doctor weird’’

‘’It’s Strange’’

‘’No, it's weird. All of it and I'm deeply uninterested’’, you said and everyone went silent.

"Can I have a moment with you Y/N? Private?" 

Everyone left the room leaving you alone with Stephen, however nothing could change your mind not because you didn’t want for once in your life to do something right but because to be honest you were afraid. For the first time in your life you were afraid of dying. While you were in HYDRA the possibility of death in missions had been nothing but a blessing. There wasn’t anything else but your life that you would lose and that was of no worth. You had witnessed countless people lose their lives in front of your eyes innocent people, guilty people, people with family, friends, people who loved them, people who had experiences but you? You were nothing but empty, you had died a long time ago.

But now? Now you had lived something even if it was all a lie. You had felt how loving someone is, how being loved felt. He had shown you how. The fear in his eyes whenever you came home late at night, how he made sure you had eaten all day, how he remembered all of your favourite songs, or every small detail of your fake life. No one had ever cared for you. So for once in your life you had something you feared to lose, you had something you wanted to protect. You were starving for love and he fed you, was it so weird for you to be hungry again?

"Everything was a lie, Doctor. A mission, a role I had to play to acquire back HYDRA's assets", you spoke.

"Is that so?", he frowned in disbelief  "Come on Y/N.  You expect me to believe that you don't want a normal life? Free from HYDRA, you can learn how to control all those powers of yours, you can actually become that role you played, don't you want that?" ,he asked but you tried to look as uninterested as you could. There was no way that could be achieved. He might be the Sorcerer Supreme however he surely couldn't erase your past mistakes, wipe off all the blood on your hands and even if he could you could never forgive yourself and move on.

"You have the power to help me Y/N.  You have the power to save this reality and the people in it", he continued but you looked away.

"Why would I care about the people?", you scoffed "Why would I help them? Why would I help you?"

"I should remind you that among all those people you will save James too. I know you miss him"

"Oh please! I miss James!?", you laughed "James was my mission I haven't developed any kind of emotional bond with him other than the one HYDRA allowed me to"

To be honest there hasn't been a day you didn't think of him. Everytime you woke up you waited for a few minutes hoping that you would open your eyes only for the nightmare to end. That he would be wrapped around your arms too troubled with his deep sleep after a night full of nightmares to notice you had woken up. And then you would trace sweet kisses from down his neck to his handsome face till he woke up and blaze one one his beautiful smiles at you. 

And then it stroked you; the pain, the hurt, the betrayal. Everything you had caused him. Sometimes when you spoke to him about fresh starts, safety and love there were moments when you actually believed your empty promises, that maybe you had found a safe place, someone who would protect you. For a moment you even forgot HYDRA and your mission, your past and the blood dripping from your hands. You actually believed you were the girl he thought you to be. You tried to be that girl, you needed to be that girl more than anything.

Bucky gave you the kind of comfort and affection you always longed for. Even if it was all part of a well designed fabrication you wanted nothing more than to relish in it, you wanted it to last, you wanted it to be real. You wanted to prove yourself worthy of his love. For he was the first one to ever hold you without hurting you, without wanting something from you. You just wished your motives were as pure as his.

"Tell me why you think I would take part in a mission in which I will probably die. And please don't don't me your only argument was my fake interest toward my target"

"Because you are on the run and have people looking for you and let's say they don't want to have just a talk with you as I do. I can protect you. Help me with this mission and then you'll never have to take part in any kind of mission. Never again'' What he said wasn’t any different from what SHIELD had told you during their interrogations. But there was something in his eyes that made him look trustworthy. You weren't a fool however.

"Will SHIELD or the Avengers allow such a thing?"you asked

"It'll take some convincing however they'll soon realise you are their last resort", he said and you looked at him sceptically "Of course there will be someone from them that'll come with us; make sure you stay safe or-"

"Won't do anything bad", you finished his sentence. You had to admit it was tempting. Freedom, a fresh start, maybe you could have a life now. A real one without missions and murders. Maybe. 

"Well it's good that I don't have anything planned for the weekend", you smiled after a while.

"It's Tuesday"

Bucky had started missing those days he was frozen in ice. No emotions, no problems, things were easy (and frozen) and for someone who couldn’t get drunk the only time he wouldn’t have to think. Of problems like you.

That week he had done nothing but endless pub crawling, hopping from one bar to another till he could feel dizzy to some degree. After throwing away the bouquet he bought you and having to cancel his reservation and ignoring everyone’s call he was trying to drown his sorrow. He was sleeping either at Steve’s or Sam’s or sometimes at Natasha’s, depending on who his wasted self had called to pick him up. He didn’t dare to go back to his place, not when your things were all over the bathroom, your clothes in the bedroom, your books in every table god even the whole place had your scent. So he stayed away, but even then there were moments when he was in that state between solemnity and insobriety that he could hear you calling his name or laugh and then it was when he broke. He tried too hard to push any thought or emotion he had for you away and replace it with all the anger and hate he was supposed to feel. But God how could he do that when he loved you and knew that he would never have the chance to tell you that.

He hated how cursed he was. After being taken from his family, having wiped out all of his memories, ending dozens of people's lives he had for once the chance to step out of this endless circle of hell. And the person he had to fall off not only lied to him about everything but wanted to hurt him, take away his life and drag him back to that hell.

‘’If you need anything just call me and I’ll be there in no time, okay?’’, Steve told him on the phone.

‘’Yes Steve, but you have said this three times already’’ Bucky pressed his phone to his shoulder, as both of his hands were searching in his pocket for his keys. 

‘’Just looking out for you, buddy. I know you care about her, you just have to remember that she’s no good’’

‘’I know that’’

Taking out his key he unlocked the door and then took a deep breath as he looked inside your shared apartment.

"Alright I have to go now. I might call you later" After hanging up the phone he slowly paced inside the apartment before he stumbled on one of your t-shirts that was thrown on the floor, forgotten since last week. Grabbing it he closed his eyes as he brought it near his face inhaling the faded vanilla scent of it.

In the end of the corridor the lights of your room were on, harshly bringing him back to reality. He threw the shirt on on the couch before he walked closer to the light. Hesitantly he opened further the already open door revealing the back of your figure as you put on a clean sweatshirt. Carefully he noticed the bones of your back being more visible than before. You had lost a couple pounds while in SHIELD making you appear thinner than before,  in a very sick way. Now he knew however that it was not only due to your own stubbornness but also HYDRA's special diets.Why did you have to be so stubborn? 

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to interrupt?" Quickly you turned around to see who was there before furrows of confusion appeared on your forehead. "Are you ready?"

"What are you doing here?" You asked and fixed your sweatshirt so it would cover your waist.

"Stephen told me to come"

He watched as your once confused face turned into a shocked one with your jaw dropping and your eyes widening.

"What are you talking about?", you asked

"Someone has to keep an eye on you during the mission. You didn't really think we'd let a criminal run around the place, did you?"

He bit the inside of his cheek, pushing aside every kind of sympathy or tendency to grab you and run away, out of this mess. No, he couldn't think of how he wanted to protect you, wrap you around his arms and kiss your forehead, or how he wanted to leave everything behind and start fresh somewhere away from HYDRA or SHIELD because you knew even if they were to set you free you'd be dead by week. And certainly what he couldn't think about was about you scared dove-like eyes in the headlights that had to wait for the car to kill it. No.

"Alright", you said quietly almost like a whisper and turned around to look yourself at the mirror pretending to fix your outfit "I'll be ready in five"

From the mirror you watched as he nodded and walked out of the room closing the door behind. He shouldn't be here. But of course they would choose him to escort you. There wasn't any chance you would do something inappropriate, not when his life would be at stake. That would be a long mission.

[makeste]

save no matter what.

so this is going to ultimately be a post about Deku. however, if you’ll be so kind as to indulge me, I would like to start things off by making a point about Bakugou. specifically, I’d like to point out that back in the day before this kid got Character Development no Jutsu’d, people weren’t always so inclined to view his attitude towards winning in the best light. which is a nice way of saying that he came off as unhealthily obsessed, not to mention more than a little unhinged.

sorry for the image spam btw, I just think they’re funny. he’s so demented lmao. KILL DIE CRUSH.

anyway so we’re gonna do the rest of this below a cut before it gets long. but I promise it really is a Deku post lol. don’t let the pre-readmore stuff fool you. I PROMISE THERE IS A POINT, AND WE WILL GET TO IT.

anyway! so yeah, we really didn’t have the best impression of Bakugou’s whole winning fixation at the beginning there. and I mean, it’s not like we had the best impression of Bakugou himself at the start of things either. we were already primed from the very first chapter to see this kid as an adversary to Izuku. the story goes out of its way to paint him in pretty much the worst light possible. which is why what happens next is so interesting.

because one might see all this and think, “holy heck, this kid is off the shits, somebody needs to set him straight pronto and get it into his head that winning isn’t everything.” because that’s almost the natural conclusion to draw. “look at this kid, he doesn’t care about helping other people at all, all he cares about is winning, someone needs to come along and show him that he’s got it backwards.”

except that’s not what happens, is it? because this is where, much to my delight, Horikoshi came along and started subverting expectations. because not only is Katsuki not rebuked for being so obsessed with winning -- it’s pretty much the exact opposite.

the one and only time Deku ever straight up hands Katsuki’s ass to him is when he says he doesn’t want to win. Deku is IMMEDIATELY all, “THE FUCK KIND OF BULLSHIT DID I JUST HEAR OUT OF YOUR TRASH MOUTH,” and that’s when he sets him straight.

the important people in Katsuki’s life never tell him, “hey you need to cool it with the whole winning thing.” All Might and Aizawa never scold him for it, or tell him that he shouldn’t try with everything he has to win, or that wanting to win is a bad thing. on the contrary, they both commend him for it. and ultimately, he’s told by All Might that this desire is actually one of the two fundamental qualities that every great hero needs.

he completely turns the whole thing on its head. not only is it not a bad thing, it’s actually crucial. essential. because what the desire to win really is, at its core, is tenacity. it’s the fiercest kind of determination. it’s not something he should be ashamed of; it’s something that sets him apart, something that makes him worthy. he is someone who refuses to back down no matter what. refuses to give up, no matter what. and this quality, which is initially misunderstood by some to the point where even the villains mistakenly take him for one of their own in the making, is eventually validated to the fullest degree by the person that Katsuki looks up to the most. his desire to win goes from being this awkward “son wtf are you doing” thing to being one of the core philosophies of the series. and ever since then, we pretty much don’t question it.

so why do I bring this up now? well, the answer to that can basically be summed up in one word.

“parallels.”

so here’s the thing. there’s been a lot of talk lately about Deku’s ridiculous, reckless, and absurdly self-destructive desire to save others while having little to no regard for himself. currently he’s lying in a hospital bed, having broken approximately 218 out of the 206 bones in his little hero body (yes, somewhere along the way he found an additional dozen bones to break). it is worrying. it is Concerning. and it’s raised a lot of questions, such as “???” and “wtf is this idiot doing.”

and a lot of people have been pretty critical of him! this is, of course, an ongoing thing with this child, and people have been giving him grief over it going as far back as chapter 6.

while others have been bothered by it going even further back than that.

and I’ve seen these sentiments being echoed pretty frequently in the fandom as well. and there are basically two talking points that I want to address here. the first is the idea that Deku’s aggressive brand of selflessness stems from an inherent lack of self-worth. in other words, because he prioritizes other people’s safety and well-being above his own, and is willing to go to such drastic lengths to save them, there’s this feeling that he doesn’t value himself enough, that he must not care about himself.

but I don’t think that’s quite it. let’s go back to those parallels first, though. let’s take another look at Kacchan.

what I mainly want to call attention to is the intensity here. again, it’s something that at first strikes most readers as being absurdly over the top. the truth is, I think a lot of people simply can’t relate to it. Katsuki cares about winning with a ferocity and a fervor that most people, for better or worse, simply don’t have. I certainly don’t, lol.

but he does. to him it’s not a shallow, superficial thing at all. it’s important to him, perhaps the most important thing. I think we often talk about it in terms of it being a desire, but imo a more accurate way to define it is not as a want, but as a need. in other words, it’s the opposite of the question “what is it this character wants” (i.e. “what is it they can’t live without”)? instead, it’s a question of “what is it they don’t want” (i.e. “what is it they can’t live with”)?

and in Katsuki’s case, the thing he can’t live with is feeling like he hasn’t tried his absolute best. he needs to give his all in everything he does. he wants to win, but winning just on its own is not enough.

it has to be earned. he has to prove to himself and to everyone else that he deserves it. anything less than that is unacceptable. anything less than that, and he can’t be at ease. he can’t be settled. he can’t rest. and so he puts everything he has into winning, even if it means going to extremes. because it’s that important to him.

it’s something that’s at times alarming and even disturbing for others to witness. but nonetheless, it’s a part of who he is, and at the end of the day his teachers accept that, and the story acknowledges that it’s his greatest strength.

so now, to finally bring this back around to Deku, this is what I keep seeing in his character as well. only in his case, the thing he can’t live with is knowing that he didn’t do everything he possibly could to save someone. or to put it another way, Deku, at his core, is someone who cannot rest until he knows that everyone is safe. simple as that. it’s not just a desire to protect people; it’s a need. he needs to know that everyone is safe and protected. otherwise he can’t be at ease. it’s no different from how normal, everyday people aren’t able to feel at ease unless they know that they are safe and that their loved ones are safe. it’s just that in Deku’s case, this same fundamental need extends to everyone, not just himself and his friends and family. everyone. he can’t live with himself knowing that someone was in trouble, and he had the ability to do something to help, but didn’t. and so, if you literally can’t live with not doing something, you basically have no choice but to do it.

and this is what in my opinion defines Deku’s character. Kacchan, in trying to understand it, noted that Deku doesn’t seem to take himself into account. but I think OFA Prime summed it up a little more accurately. “he rages for the sake of others. for them, he does his best until he can do no more. this young man is possessed by a drive to save others that eclipses all common understanding.”

so yeah. it’s not that he doesn’t care about himself at all, it’s that he cares about others even more. he has that same intensity and ferocity towards saving people that Katsuki has towards winning. and just as it was difficult at first for fans to understand Katsuki’s feelings, it’s hard to fathom the sheer depth of that “save everyone” feeling that compels Deku to break his own body in that pursuit. it’s scary, not to mention extremely destructive and dangerous. and so really, it was almost inevitable that there would be some backlash.

but just like Katsuki’s desire to win was ultimately validated in the end, I think Deku’s desire to save others will be as well. in fact it already is being validated, for starters by the other denizens of OFA, led by Lil Bro as mentioned above. let’s go back for a moment to that same scene.

here we get a huge hint that “Deku gets taken down a notch and chewed out and scolded for his recklessness” is not, in fact, the direction that the story is going in. because in general, when the main villain starts mocking the hero and saying that they’ve done something wrong, that’s a very good sign that said hero is actually on the exact right track. like, no offense, but as far as character critiques go, AFO is probably the least qualified person in the entire manga to start offering those up lol. so yeah. if AFO is denouncing Deku for something, and OFA Prime is praising him for that exact same thing, I think it’s safe to say that means he is in fact doing something very, very right.

“okay but makeste, he nearly got himself killed and broke all of his arms AND legs and is now lying in a fucking coma,” you say, gesturing emphatically to the last page of chapter 298. “so I mean, that’s all well and good that Wonder Boy has the best of intentions and all that, but at the end of the day he’s only one kid. he literally can’t save everyone, and if he pulls one or two more stunts like this, he’s going to get himself killed.”

and okay, but this here is the other talking point that I wanted to address. because it’s true, Deku does need to learn a specific lesson here. but that lesson is NOT that he can’t save everyone. this is a superhero story, guys -- “you can’t save everyone” is never going to be the underlying message, ever. it’s the OPPOSITE of the message. Deku is the hero because he tries to save everyone. because he doesn’t give up on saving people no matter what. that is literally the core of the story. it has been since the very first chapter.

so then what is it that Deku actually needs to learn here? well, once again, it all comes back to those parallels.

btw, I really just love how he’s carrying Katsuki there lol. he’s just so done with him.

but anyway. so, the final exam arc. Katsuki initially wants to win at all costs -- but there’s a hitch. because even though he wants to win, he refuses to do so while working with Deku. enter Deku’s left hook, and one impromptu Rival Encouragement Speech later, our boy has thankfully come to his senses.

but here’s the point -- the lesson here wasn’t “you can’t always win.” rather, the lesson that Katsuki needed to learn was that you can’t always win alone.

yeah. so now you can see what I’m getting at here.

“...on your own.”

that’s the key. this is the one and only thing that Deku actually needs to get into his head. wanting to save everyone is fine! his will to save others has never been a weakness -- it’s been the most admirable thing about him from day one. it’s what makes him strong. it’s why All Might chose him. it’s why OFA has chosen him. it’s what sets him apart, and I firmly believe it’s what will ultimately help him save the day and defeat AFO as well. because what other character would look at Shigaraki Tomura, the person who just impaled his friend and destroyed an entire city, and instinctively reach out a hand to try and save him? and if you don’t think that’s going to wind up being key to the final battle, you and I have very different ideas about this series’ endgame.

Deku’s determination to save everyone isn’t arrogance or futility. it is and always has been his greatest strength. but what he’s missing now, what he needs to learn, is simply to trust. y’all might have seen that theory about the Fourth’s quirk, and why All Might was so hesitant to tell Deku about it. basically, the theory (which is based on an attempted translation of the crossed-out parts of All Might’s OFA notebook) goes that the Spidey Sense was so overwhelming that the Fourth -- whose cause of death was one of the things crossed out -- eventually couldn’t bear it, and went to live alone in the middle of the woods somewhere. and possibly wound up killing himself?? all of which is just speculation right now of course. but it makes sense. and it would certainly explain why All Might, being all too aware of Deku’s self-destructive tendencies, would keep that from him.

but if this is the case, that means it’s clear that the Fourth’s solution didn’t work. “give up and accept that you can’t save everyone” clearly is NOT the answer to be had here.

the answer is trust. trust that his fellow heroes have his back. trust that they’ll be able to help him reach the people he’s not able to reach on his own. trust that they can work together to save everyone. that he doesn’t have to rest the entire world on his shoulders alone.

it’s the one lesson that All Might, his predecessor and his teacher, never learned himself until it was too late. but of course, All Might never had a prickly and determined rival who was ready to step in and deal out some tough love if need be. a rival who, perhaps, just might soon get a chance to repay an old favor.

“I don’t wanna hear you say you can’t save someone.”

I’m just saying. just as Deku has been watching Katsuki all this time, and admiring his determination to win, and emulating it himself, so has Katsuki recently begun to emulate Deku’s determination to save others. we’ve seen it not just in his recent act of self-sacrifice, but even in little things like his habits and tricks of speech. just like Katsuki is Deku’s image of victory, Deku is becoming Katsuki’s image of saving others.

and so I’ll bet you anything that if Deku ever starts to doubt himself, or starts feeling like his dream and desires are futile, Kacchan will be there to set him straight with a good old fashioned Rival Encouragement Speech of his own. possibly with his own left hook to match, though his left shoulder is currently out of sorts atm so he might need to modify that approach a little bit. but the point is, he’ll be there. and he will not allow Deku to give up on himself. he will be there to remind him that he doesn’t have to face this alone.

so yeah! finally managed to wrap up my giant Deku meta which I’ve been working on for ages and rewritten like fifteen times lmao. just in time for this to be relevant for all of a day, probably, depending on what happens once chapter 279 drops lol. but yeah. tl;dr, local boy tries to do too much, but his heart is in the right place, and hopefully all he really needs is a good pep talk from his tsundere bff to set him to rights again. r.i.p. to the Fourth, but he’s different.

[hillbillyoracle]

Shadow Work and the Language of Trauma

***note: this is not a well thought-out essay, it's three ideas in a trench coat. please forgive the spelling mistakes and understand that this is a thought process not a thought finished ***

It is my great hope that the way we talk about trauma has a fundamental reckoning soon.

The toll moralistic language around trauma has taken on me personally has been staggering and I can't imagine I'm the only person. What I mean by that is how western psychology in particular responded to the research around trauma by spreading this message of "it's not your fault" and "you didn't deserve that" and "you're not a bad person".

"What? But it's true!" you might say. Well, it's true - in a specific context. But when it's generalized there are issues that come from using such heavy language like "deserve", "bad", and "fault". I've seen a progressive uptick in people using the language of trauma in contexts where it really does not apply as talking about trauma (in this loaded moral way) is normalized*.* I think I've seen it most often used to escape the discomfort of being held accountable but I've also been seeing it used to hide an intolerance for experiences someone merely does not enjoy by moralizing it through the language of trauma and integrating it through a traumatic narrative instead of actually attending to the tolerance issue.

Example: Person A is upset with Person B. Person A is speaking in a way Person B does not like but that they are not unhealthy or abusive for doing so (ie. being slightly louder than Person B would prefer, naming their experience of a situation in a different way than Person B would). Person B physically and emotionally cannot tolerate this exposure to something they don't like but rather than use a healthy coping mechanism like breathwork and then active listening, they connect the discomfort with a past largely dissimilar traumatic experience and begin to paint Person A as if they're being abusive for doing what they don't like - "Stop yelling at me!" or "You're gaslighting me!" For Person A, this send the message their neutral/healthy behavior is actually abusive and bad and healthy behavior is only what Person B has a tolerance for.

Here's the rub of it though. Person B's lack of physical and emotional tolerance is itself a symptom of past trauma. Connecting the experience to unrelated trauma and painting the other person as abusive as a way to deal with that intolerance is also a trauma response. But for Person A this is fresh trauma or possibly retraumatizing depending on their experiences.

Everyone involved is dealing with trauma, but since trauma carries this moral weight in our discussions, Person B is highly incentivized to focus the conversation on their trauma so they can escape being a "bad" person. Moral language tends to be totalizing meaning Person A might not feel like they can acknowledge Person B's past trauma for fear of their own being erased and not getting support. It's a bad fucking time.

This situation is not one of resilience, it makes communities weaker, and it's a conversation trauma professionals are only relatively recently having. But those of you who've been here a minute know I'm not really social theorist, I'm a shadow worker.

And my concern with is that this type of moralizing and the trauma-as-coping-mechanism in particular pose a real risk for shadow workers who don't confront and name it in themselves and others. For a few reasons.

For one, trauma is fundamentally disruptive to how we organize our personhood - an importance factor in doing magic - and if you are in a position where you're either using your trauma to moralize your way out of situations you can't tolerate or having to be around someone who is doing that frequently, there's a high incentive not to integrate fully, to give up your Power generally so you can exert what seems like more control in the micro of how those situations play out. By incentive I mean - who the fuck wants to be the "bad" person at the end of that and if "good" people are the one that's more traumatized than the other, well...you see where I'm going. If your immediate circumstances are so compelling that giving up your Power feels like a matter of life and death - it's going to be hard to do any integration work that doesn't immediately get undone.

Because of it's impact on Power, any spellwork done on the issue - without remediation for the issue itself - is likely to get weaker and be less helpful as time wears on. It's just kind of a black hole of a situation.

Two, it encourages black and white thinking which is at odds with Reality and you can't reshape reality skillfully if your view to begin with is prone to narrowing and narrowing. Not only are you less likely to assess and isolate an accurate root cause to perform work on, you're also less likely to select an effective spell given the situation in front of you. If you're continually using trauma-as-coping-mechanism and villainizing other people for what some part of you likely knows is totally neutral behavior, you're more likely to isolate them as the root cause and cast spell toward changing them. There are two outcomes from this - the spell work works on them but doesn't ultimately achieve what you want because what you really want is to be safe and they weren't being unsafe to begin with or, what more likely from what I've seen, the spellwork doesn't work because a faction of you knows that the root cause is inside you - which can even lead to curses or cutting ties to backfire on to you if you're not careful.

Okay so what do you do? To be honest, I've not seen a specific modality that works terribly effectively on this. I wish socially we'd have a reckoning and that would help a good many people. The best I have is something that I know will be incredibly unpopular but - stop moralizing trauma. Both people who've caused it and people who have it. I think the prospect of that is so scary because people think it's the only way to hold abusers accountable for their actions. But I promise you it's not. In actuality, labeling someone as "bad" is more harmful for us and holds less weight than talking about the material harms their abuse has had on us. I include emotional harm in material harms because I mean, it is. The body and the mind aren't separate so feelings are material.

From the prior example, maybe Person A makes the decision not to participate in the moralizing and instead stops to name the harms Person B's coping mechanism is having on them - confusing healthy behavior with preferred behavior, distress at being told a neutral/healthy behavior is abusive and by extension they're bad and deserving of being socially isolated or worse. Even Person B doesn't respond in a material perspective, Person A retains their Power by naming what's happening in reality as they see it and not fracturing to maintain the high ground.

Better yet, Person B, when they can't tolerate the actions Person A is doing that they don't like, could name that - "I'm having trouble tolerating what you're doing even though it's neutral/healthy. Parts of me want to say what you're doing is abusive even though in reality it is not." Then Person B would be able to rob the trauma-as-coping mechanism of it's appeal and retain their Power as well.

Clarity of language, free for the totalizing effects of morality, I think is the clearest path forward to putting down the trauma-as-coping mechanism. But it has to go both ways; stop using it for those who've harmed you and stop using it to describe yourself. I know that's the part I'm still struggling with a lot.

Anyways, I hope this is helpful to someone out there. You're not bad person for overgeneralizing your trauma to cope with things you merely dislike - but it does, in my experience, come at a cost to your ability to do effective spellwork. It's worth looking at the cost and seeing if it's worth continuing to use the coping mechanism to you.

[zv5x]

Okay, I wanted this fic to be a thing for a while, but I just now got a good idea on what I wanted it to be about. So....enjoy, and if you want me to branch out on this AU in any way or have any other requests, just hmu! Always happy to do stuff for you guys! ♡

Yan!Poly Senpai & Spirit • Reader

( :̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)

You shouldn't have done it. You tortured yourself by thinking of what your life could've been, as your slightly trembling hands gripped at your kneecaps. You really shouldn't have done it. You thought hopelessly to yourself as you glanced over at the PlayStation collecting dust in the corner. You scoffed, actually quite surprised that neither of them had disposed of it by now. You should have let them rot in that damn game. But, their pleas were just too...convincing. The way Senpai (the first one you met of the two) sighed and pressed his pixelated palms against the glass screen of the television, telling you that it was only a matter of time before the broken coding of the game they were in consumed them completely. At the time, you didn't want that. What sane person would? Senpai was, as far as you were concerned, a sentient being, and so was the other one of the two. As far they let you know, they were imprisoned cruelly and left to die. And, as tears pricked your eyes, and as those tears made the PlayStation look as if it was shining, you had a good feeling as to why they were put in there. You had a good feeling as to why that girl with the pretty red dress handed you the console and the game with such a pained and desperate look in her eyes, expressing her "guilt" towards whatever the game happened to inhabit. The game and the memories that came along with it are burned into your brain. The way the words "Hating Simulator" were scrawled so messily onto the game cartridge, the way the console was kept so well cleaned, like it wasn't nearly as old as it actually was. And of course, how could you ever cease to remember the game itself? The glitches, the cutesy music you could expect from a dating game like that one, the hours of dialogue you somehow sat through, all of it was forced into your brain so deep that you couldn't forget it no matter how hard you tried. You shouldn't have taken it, you thought. Things would be so much better for you if you just didn't do it. If maybe, just maybe, you smiled at her just like you did anyways, and trashed the console and went on with your life, then maybe your life would be a lot more brighter than it was. Maybe you wouldn't be sitting prettily on the couch waiting for your personal hell to pick up where it left off. Just like clockwork, both or just one if you somehow got lucky, Senpai or Spirit, would enter the house you were confined in, to "spend quality time with you". Just the thought made you sick. You, for whatever reason, put some of the blame onto yourself. How did you not notice the signs? The way Senpai would angerly confront you while he was still inside the game, all because you were an hour later to turning on the game than you said you would be, only for him to turn into a sickeningly sweet pile of putty as you explained the reasoning - you got too absorbed in trying to figure out a way to free him and Spirit, and lost track of time. You should have noticed it when you freed the two of them both, and their protectiveness increased tenfold. The way the two of them would almost be at each other's throats at first, arguing at who would get to spend the most time with you, before they eventually stopped fighting after seeing your fearful and tear soaked face. You should have noticed it when Spirit insisted on temporarily ditching his more humanized form in favor of the one he used in the Hating Simulator so he could hitch rides in your backpack, to accompany you to school and whatnot. The world was scary, he told you as he cupped your cheeks in his hands, and he wants to make sure not a single soul will be given the opportunity to harm you. Senpai even offered to enroll to the same college, but you turned down his offer. But, now that you think back on it, you wouldn't be shocked if Spirit and Senpai arranged for him to go anyways. Spirit had his ways, which he always bragged about like the sick bastard he turned out to be. You can remember it like it was yesterday, holding him in your arms as he was in his tiny spirit form. Placing him inside your backpack and giving him a gentle kiss on his forehead as he looked up at you.

This form, being a direct copy of his form of the Hating Simulator, held that same look of pixelated, twisted agony. But even still, you could tell he was looking up at you with pure love and adoration. He loved you, he wanted to make sure you were safe, you told yourself. Wasn't that cute? He really cared, didn't he? If only you knew. If only someone was there to really warn you. It was after you started bringing Spirit along with you, that everything started going dark. Since he was right there in your backpack, he could hear everything going on. All the laughs you had with your friends, all the interactions, everything you did with others, he saw as "too much". They were clearly flirting with you, or, they sounded too suspicious. You were lucky Spirit was there to make sure they didn't do anything to hurt you, they were clearly getting too comfortable around you! You brushed it off, as stupid as that was. You still loved him and Senpai dearly, so you made excuses for the both of them. Spirit just didn't understand human interaction, since he was a demon. He just didn't get it, but a little bit of empathetic explaining could do the trick. However, no matter how much reassuring you did, it just never soothed him. There was always something else. Something more. Senpai and Spirit started getting closer and closer. At first, you were glad. They've been through a lot together, and you knew they could be really good friends if they tried. You were happy for the two of them. But, you couldn't help but feel uneasy every time you entered a room and saw the two of them sitting together. Their bodies close and their voices quiet, only ceasing their speech as one of them was the first to notice you, smiling sweetly, a lip movement which the other soon copied. You smiled back, but even in that moment, you couldn't help but wonder if that smile was genuine or not. The arguments became more frequent. But, now, much to your own shock and dismay, it wasn't one against one as the third person watched in fear like before, it was two against one. You just didn't get it, they thought. You were so stubborn, so hopelessly brainwashed by mortal society. You couldn't see things their way because the world wouldn't let you. Of course, logically, you called bullshit. You had genuinely no clue what they were going on about. The people they were suspicious of, they were nothing more than acquaintances and friends. The brainwashing they claimed you were going through, was just you finally seeing through their lovesick bullshit. Alas, you just couldn't make them see the way things really were. Their little kinship became your downfall. And soon, they put the plan they were whispering about into action. You couldn't leave now, you had absolutely no chance against them. Not when you barely even put in the effort to figure out explanations for your friends and other loved ones strangely vanishing with only weak and unfounded excuses to explain their disappearances. Spirit and Senpai both had you trapped, mentally and physically. You sat in despair, wondering what things would be like if you took a left instead of a right that day, if you took a mallet to the damn console instead of giving those sick fucks any of your compassion and time. Soon, the door creaked open which interrupted your thoughts, but you were too broken mentally to even look up. "You alright, dear?" You weren't alright, but you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he got a response out of you. You could recognize his voice, it was Spirit. You especially hated him, he was far more agressive than Senpai. More demanding and possessive. Senpai was as well, but he was far more passive than Spirit was. Your eyes could see him crouch down to your level, but you refused to look up from your lap. Why give him the satisfaction? It will only make your situation worse in your eyes. You couldn't help but cringe as you felt Spirit's fingers grip the soft skin on your chin and lifted your head up to look him in the eyes.

"Still acting all upset, hm?" He mumbled to himself, looking at your features as if he was studying you. It made you want to vomit. He made you sick. Him and that prissy bastard Senpai. "Me and Sen have been trying so hard to keep you safe, (Y/N)...don't you think we deserve a little gratitude?" Spirit asked in a soft, comforting tone. You looked at him in disgust, anger coursing through your veins. That sick mother fucker. That sick bastard. You can only take so much of his delusional bullshit without rage building up in your entire body. How dare he? Does he and Senpai genuinely rationalize this as love? Murder, kidnapping, abuse and manipulation? Yeah, sure. Maybe in Hell this could be considered love, but not in any place you ever lived. Spirit continued on with his sick rambling, but his words fell on deaf ears. All you saw was a deep red, and you couldn't help but notice your body beginning to twitch. Looking back on it, you really shouldn't have done it. But, you couldn't blame yourself, and your body just couldn't allow yourself to refuse. The moment you felt yourself returning to your normal vision, your fist was already slamming into the middle of Spirit's face. He yelped, clearly not expecting the impact, and actually stumbled back slightly. Seeing him holding his tiny nose and seeing his chest rise and fall in a rapid motion, you then realized just how badly you screwed up. He's a demon, a simple punch from a mere human wouldn't do anything but anger him. And, anger him it did. The room was so silent that you could probably hear a pin drop, the air was heavy and cold. It was silent, completely so, until your ears picked up on what was the sound of a low growl coming from the entity you just punched in square in the nose. Fuck. Spirit slowly got up, resulting in you scrambling to the back of the couch cushion and sitting in the fetal position as your body trembled violently. It took him a few deep breaths to regain his composure, but when it did, it was arguably more terrifying than if he were to stand screaming at you in rage. Senpai did just that all the time, you were damn near completely used to it. "Well, we can't have you acting like that, can we?" Spirit sighed, his hand twitching as he once again felt his nose. You couldn't help but wonder, did he actually have cartilage in there? If so, did you break his nose? It seemed like you did, considering how Spirit was consistantly holding it as if to check it. Your thoughts were cut off, as he made his way towards you, grabbing you by your ankles and ripping away their protective shield for the rest of your body. He hummed, his eyes piercing your body like a hot blade. "Sen won't have to know about this if you're good for here on out, you wouldn't want him to join in. He'd probably be a lot less easy on you then I." You were about to verbally call bullshit once more, until your bodies nerves were stimulated in the most painful way you could possibly imagine. The last thing you could remember before everything went white, was your own agonized screams, and the psychotic giggles of a demon enraged. You shouldn't have done it. You really shouldn't have done it.

[dannystheone]

First year hqs

Okok im gonna refer myself as 🌸anon because i will be coming here frequently if you don't mind

FIRST IS THE FIRST YEAR BOYS BECAUSE I LOVE THEM (and my ler yuu propaganda)

- Okay this might be a unpopular opinion BUT I totally hc that yuu/mc is just...a very scary ler - As in theyre a skilled tickler AND. Get this : not ticklish. At all. - i just love imagining yuu getting fed up with everyones bullshit and just tickled them to death -*cough*adeuce*cough* - Ace and Deuce got it the worse since theyre close to them (and cant stop getting into trouble somehow gosh someone give prefect a break) - Ace so ticklish omg and his reactions are so fun - If he's being a lil shit just tickle him until he gives in. Itll be hard tho because despite being ridiculously sensitive hes as stubborn as a rock - he'll be a total drama queen as well, screaming "im dyiiing!!!" Or "youre killing meee!!" - Deuce is a lot easier to break, not as ticklish as ace but he's weak to the teasing and anticipation of it - doesnt really mind it though, it reminds him to when his mom used tickle him a lot - if the lers is not close to him he'll immediately kick them in the gut, but if its someone hes close to/respects/scared of (cough riddle and leech bros) then he'll try to take it and not hurt them - Both of their laughs is cute!! Ace is high pitched and squealy and deuce is more low and breathy (though the worse you get him he'll let out some belly laughs and giggles which is a blessing to hear) - Jack.... floofy boi.... id like to imagine his laugh is very growly but cute - "nnggggrrrhhehehehe! K-knock it oooff!!" - tickle him long enough and he can accidentally transform to his wolf form. - which yuu takes advantage of everytime -BELLY RUBS..... It kills him - Sebek so fuckin loud right and sometimes its bothering other ppl so yuu would just pinch his sides - itll go smthn like "What are you doing humaAAAAAH!!" and just. Imagine how loud his shriek is - anyways thatll make him embarrassed enough to shut up the whole way lmao - he probably would be pouty and wont talk to them for like, a week or so though - if you get him, he'll try to stiffle his laughter first , BUT when he breaks its just sweet giggles and not that loud and its honestly very wholesome - surprisingly epels probably the least ticklish out of them (apart from yuu) sooo he's usually more of a ler. He is ticklish tho, but just a normal amount - he would totally glare daggers at you if you tickle him and is not close to him -"DONT FUCKING TOUCH ME-- ah, please?" - His laugh is pretty boyish, like a kid?? I dont know how to explain it - "Hehehe! Stoooop" - but tickle him long enough he'll go "I SAID FUCKING STOP!" - All of them tried to have revenge on yuu before, miserably fails, and gets their shit wreck instead - Yuu also tickles grim a lot but usually when he's not laughing he's purring and it honestly makes them melt

Ok thats it for now im gonna come back with the 2nd years next. HAVE A GOOD DAY AND THANK YOU FOR LETTING ME PROJECT MY TRASHY HCS HERE 🙏

[obeyme-kaidii-writes]

Chances

Mammon x gn!MC

Words - 5245

Content warnings - lots of angst, cheating, no smut, lots of comfort

Prompt/Inspiration - none

Summary -  You and Mammon start to drift away from each other, and a drunken mistake forces you both to have a very difficult conversation.

AO3

Mammon had just made the biggest mistake of his life.

Which is honestly saying something when taking into consideration his age and tendency to make frequent stupid mistakes. But this one was far worse than anything he had ever done before. And the minute he was done, he knew just how badly he had fucked up. If he thought it would do any good at all, he would have gone to Lord Diavolo and Barbatos and begged, groveling if necessary, to go back in time and stop himself from doing this.

Ordinarily, he would go to you when he needed help getting himself out of a tight spot. But this wasn’t the sort of thing you could help with. It wasn’t something anyone could help with, really. He briefly considered just not telling you, but he knew the guilt would eat him alive. No matter how he looked at it, he was going to have to talk to you.

But where would he even begin? Should he start with how he’s been feeling for the past month? Or just the incident from earlier in the week? Or should he just cut to the chase and say exactly what he did? He didn’t want to make excuses for himself, but at the same time he wanted you to understand how this all happened. It wasn’t because he didn’t love you, and he wanted to make sure you knew that more than anything. You could think he was stupid, selfish, a total scumbag - but he wouldn’t be able to live with it if you thought he didn’t love you.

And oh did he love you. So much. More than he ever thought possible. More than himself, more than Goldie, more than all the riches in all three realms combined. There was only one thing that would satisfy his Greed now - and that was you.

That’s why it hurt so much when he felt you pulling away from him. He wasn’t sure how it happened exactly, either. Only that it was a slow process where he lost you little by little. The first thing he noticed was that you weren’t laughing with him as much as you used to. Instead you’d roll your eyes and ignore him. The next thing that caught his attention was when you stopped standing up for him in front of his brothers. Up until then, you were always quick to put an end to their shit when they’d try to pin all their problems on Mammon. But then one day...you just didn’t.

That was probably the first big red flag that he was unable to rationalize away. And after that, he noticed dozens of other little things - how you stopped saving his seat at dinner, you didn’t wait for him to walk home from RAD, when you canceled movie nights without a reason.

He wanted to talk about it, he knew he should. He knew that’s what you would want. But he just couldn’t make himself take that final step. Partly because he felt he had to have done something to upset you and that’s why you were acting this way...and partly because he was afraid of what you’d say. Afraid that you’d tell him you didn’t love him anymore, or even just confirm that it was all his fault, that you were tired of dealing with him.

So he bottled it up, and shoved it down, and tried to ignore that lonely, empty feeling. But the longer he went without talking about it, the worse he felt, and the angrier he got. Couldn’t you see he was trying? Why didn’t you appreciate his efforts? Did you have any idea the things he’d given up, the changes he made, all to make you happy? To make you proud of him?

Until finally he started to pull away too. He stopped crawling into your bed at night. Stopped buying you little trinkets. Didn’t invite you out as frequently. Started spending more time out partying again, trying to keep his mind off you.

And it was one of those late nights out at The Fall that started him down this path he was now clueless as to how to escape from.

Before he had even left the House of Lamentation, he knew what he was going to do - he was going to break up with you. It just hurt too much to be constantly rejected, avoided, and ignored when he was expecting you to be there for him. When it felt like you should be there. Too afraid to try to talk things out, he decided this was the only thing to be done. He would leave you before you had the chance to leave him.

But first, he needed some liquid courage. He didn’t want to be completely hammered, he still needed to be coherent enough to tell you what he wanted to say. He just needed some help working up the courage to knock on your door.

It was then, while he was enjoying his third glass of Demonus, that he was approached by a beautiful demon. Of course, he didn’t think they could hold a candle to you, but there was no denying that they were attractive. And what better way to help himself relax than by giving himself over to his more demonic...urges? He was about to break up with you anyways. So what did it matter if he got a little frisky on the dance floor with someone else? Plus, knowing there were others that were still considered him desirable was a huge confidence booster, something he desperately needed right then.

Thinking back, he could see that this was the moment when he should have just turned around and left and went straight to you. Because maybe if he had talked to you right then, everything still could have been salvaged. He would be able to tell you how he felt, and you could tell him how you felt, and everything would just...work out.

But that’s not what he did.

Instead, he took this demon’s hand and let them lead him out to the dance floor. Right to the middle of all the action. With so many bodies pressed together, and so little light, it didn’t take long at all before he lost himself in the music and the feeling of them grinding against him. Soon, his hands had found their way to their waist, and they encouraged him to let them roam. Under the hem of their dress. Pushing the straps on their shoulders aside for better access to their neck. Teasing the edge of the V on the neckline of their outfit.

Mammon didn’t think he had been that drunk. But the combination of music, alcohol, and heat was overwhelming. So he didn’t hesitate when the demon asked if he wanted to get a private room. He didn’t hesitate when they pushed him down on the sofa. And he didn’t hesitate when they began undoing the buckle on his pants. All he could think about was how he wanted more, more, MORE. Something, anything , to fill that hole you had left inside him.

And then it was all over.

He was left in the room by himself. His partner not bothering to help him get cleaned up or get dressed. Wholly unconcerned with how he would get home, if he managed to get home at all. They had gotten what they wanted - a fun romp with a powerful demon - and now they could brag to all their friends about how they absolutely ruined Mammon, Avatar of Greed.

The cool air on his bare skin began to return Mammon to his senses. And the more he sobered up, the more he hated himself, and the harder he cried. Silent tears, just streaming down his face, getting caught in his ears. He missed you so badly. You were always so tender and affectionate with him. You spoiled him. And this...it had been the opposite of everything he loved about you, and he felt so hollow, so dirty , the longer he thought about it.

Why had he thought that talking to you would be so scary? What made him think breaking up with you would have been so much easier? How did he manage to convince himself that this would give him courage?

Mammon wasn’t sure how long he laid there, staring at the ceiling and reflecting on where exactly it had all gone wrong. He didn’t remember getting himself dressed again either. And by the time he had returned to the House of Lamentation, he just felt numb . There was no point in delaying the inevitable, so he shuffled his way to your room, careful to avoid disturbing his brothers, and knocked on your door.

When you saw him standing there, unsteady on his feet, reeking of booze, clothes absolutely filthy and unkempt, your eyes went wide. And then a moment later you had flung your arms around his neck, hugging him close.

“I’m so glad you’re ok!” you whispered in his ear. Mammon was stunned. He didn’t know how to react. Should he hug you? Is that the appropriate reaction for someone who was about to shatter your heart into a million pieces?

“C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up,” you said, releasing Mammon, only to tug gently on his hand and lead him inside your room. He sat obediently on the edge of your bed, still trying to work out what he’s supposed to do next, as you gathered up a fresh change of clothes for him, and a couple damp washcloths to clean away all the grime.

You couldn’t even begin to fathom what sort of trouble Mammon had gotten himself into this time. Did he start a bar fight? Refuse to pay for his drinks? It didn’t really matter to you though. You had been trying to reach him since earlier that afternoon and his DDD kept going to voicemail, and all your texts were ignored. You were just glad he was alive and in one piece, you’d deal with the fallout from whatever this was later.

When you went to remove Mammon’s shirt, he finally reacted, grabbing your wrist and halting your movements. He still hadn’t figured out what to say, but he knew if you removed his shirt, it really would be all over. You’d see the evidence, marked all over his body.

“Mammon? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

You knelt down on the floor in front of him, trying to catch his eye, as he was refusing to look at you. When you brought your other hand up to gently caress the one that was holding your wrist, he finally looked at you. Why were you so tender to him? Even now? Even when it was clear he must have done something absolutely awful?

And that was all it took for the tears to start to flow again. Mammon let go of you, just to bury his face in his own hands as he tried to curl up into a ball from where he sat. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go! He was supposed to be mad at you! He was supposed to march into your room, and tell you things were over! Why was he now sitting on your bed, while you rubbed his arms, as he cried harder than he ever had cried before?

“Hey, sweetheart, what happened?” you asked softly, your concern only mounting the longer you spent with him as you watched him unravel. Mammon had always been on the emotional side, but this was beyond any reaction you had seen from him before. Carefully you moved to sit on your bed next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as he continued to cry.

“I’m sorry. So sorry. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry,” he choked out between sobs and gasping for breath.

“Shhhhh, we’ll talk about it later. We’ll figure it out.”

You had started running your fingers through his hair, something you knew that he loved, before gently pulling him to you so that his head rested on your lap and his body curled up on the bed.

Mammon hated himself more and more with each passing second. He knew he shouldn’t be letting you do this. He knew it was wrong of him to let you comfort him. He knew that he was just taking advantage of your kindness. But he just couldn’t help himself. He hadn’t been able to spend quality time with you in weeks, and laying here like this, your fingers running through his hair while you whispered soothing words in his ear, was just what he had been wanting. So even though each motion of your hand felt like a barb to his heart, he stayed and soaked up that feeling. This would be the last time you ever touched him, wouldn’t it?

As Mammon rested in your lap, you realized how much you had missed this. He had been so busy, for what felt like months, and no matter what you did your schedules never seemed to match up. You knew that was partly your fault though. You had been avoiding him to a degree.

When you had first started dating him, everything had been amazing. He lavished you in love and attention. You gave him your whole heart, your entire being - and he returned your affections in full. There wasn’t time for anything else, the two of you were enamored with each other. Obsessed, even.

But after awhile, you started to become aware of tiny little things that started working their way under your skin, grating on your nerves. On movie nights, he stopped asking if you’d be there. It wasn’t that he just assumed you would since it was your custom, but he didn’t even tell you he was looking forward to it or...anything. In fact, he hardly texted you at all now. Unless he wanted something.

Before, it wasn’t unusual to find the two of you with dopey grins on your faces, sitting in the same room, sending each other all manner of adorable and ridiculous messages. And he always had a word of praise for you. Even if it was simple things like how he enjoyed the way you smiled at him that day during class. But those compliments had just dried up too.

You tried a few times to send sexier texts, just to tempt him and get him to respond, but those were also ignored, aside from a flirty demoji. He just didn’t seem to have time for you anymore.

The breaking point for you was one day at RAD, when you were waiting for him to walk home with you. He was late. Very, very late. You tried calling him, he didn’t answer. And when he finally appeared, he acted like nothing was wrong. He didn’t apologize or offer an explanation. He just grabbed your hand and started heading home, talking about his day like he hadn’t just left you standing at the entrance to the school for 30 minutes.

That’s when you decided to pull back a bit. Just a little. You just wanted him to notice all you did for him so he’d stop taking you for granted. You were expecting him to ask you about it, or to take a step towards you and initiate things for a change.

But...he never did.

He never breathed a word of it to you. He didn’t ask you what was wrong. He didn’t pick up the slack. He just let you drift away. And the less he said to you, the further away you pulled, until the two of you hardly saw each other at all.

You were at the point now where just the sight of him made your heart break, especially when you’d catch him laughing or smiling with anyone else. It was like a slap in the face - he was still happy without you. He didn’t miss you. He didn’t need you. For all those words of love and promises of eternity, you were just another passing distraction. You had served your purpose. And now, he was simply no longer interested in you.

Today, you had decided to finally talk to him about it. You didn’t think you could survive much longer in this relationship limbo you currently found yourself in. You needed answers or...well, you didn’t want to think about the or. You still loved him. But you were starting to think he didn’t love you, even if you didn’t want to believe it and refused to let yourself admit it.

When he first ignored your calls, you assumed he was just avoiding you, maybe even playing hard to get. Which you felt was fair, given how you had been behaving recently, not that that made it any easier to stomach. The longer he went without contacting you though, the more concerned you grew. Until he finally showed up at your door looking like death warmed over. And as soon as you saw him, nothing else seemed to really matter.

After awhile, Mammon’s breathing had finally begun to even out and you could tell his crying had stopped. He didn’t move to sit up though, and you didn’t stop running your fingers lovingly through his hair. It seemed both of you knew that whatever happened next wasn’t going to be pleasant. You still needed to talk to him, and he still needed to confess to you.

“...I made a mistake…” Mammon finally mumbled into your lap, tightening his grip around your legs. He was going to hold on for as long as he possibly could.

“What sort of mistake?” you asked, in a quiet, gentle voice.

“...a really...really...bad one…” he choked out, fighting back his tears.

“Tell me about it. We can fix it together.”

“...no...you can’t...you can’t fix this…”

“You won’t know for sure unless you tell me.”

“...someone…”

“Did someone hurt you?”

“...no...I...I...was...with...someone…”

“You were with some…?” you inhaled sharply as you finally began to understand what he was getting at. The hand that was combing through his hair stilled, but you didn’t push him away. You didn’t know what to do. Was this why he had been so distant? Why he started avoiding you too? Why he let you drift away? Because he had found someone else to take your place…? The thought of it made you sick. But why was he sobbing into your lap, desperately clinging to you if he had already decided to replace you?

Not knowing what else to do, you resumed running your fingers through Mammon’s hair. You felt him flinch under your touch, but he still didn’t move. It was obvious he didn’t want to leave. And you...you didn’t want him to leave either. Not yet. Because the moment he did get up, and he did leave...that would be it. As long as he stayed here, holding you like this, you both could pretend that everything wasn’t as bad as it was for just a little bit longer.

Maybe it was the fact that your disposition made you naturally good in a crisis, but for whatever reason, you were calm. Irrationally so. Anyone else in your position would have shoved Mammon to the floor by now, and chased him from their room. But you didn’t. You were doing the unthinkable - you were comforting him. And all you could think about was finally getting the answers to the questions that had been plaguing you for over a month now.

“Do you think we could start from the beginning?” you asked.

“The beginning…?”

“Yeah, like why did you go out tonight? Or when did all this start? The beginning. Whatever it is.”

“Umm...I…” Mammon stumbled over his words. Where did he even begin? Where was the beginning anyways? His heart was so mixed up. And even though he was sober now, he still couldn’t get his thoughts to focus.

“Just start somewhere, ok? We can piece it together as you go.”

Mammon took a deep breath, steadying himself, before finally continuing, “I was...going to break up with ya tonight. That’s why I went out. I didn’t...I didn’t mean for this…” now that he had started talking, he was finding it easier to get his words out. He still had so much to answer for and so much to explain, and if you wanted to know, telling you was the least he could do.

“After...I...I knew I messed up. That’s why...why I came here…”

“...why did you want to break up with me?”

Mammon’s admission of cheating hadn’t really bothered you. Perhaps you were just rationalizing it, but if he was planning on leaving you, then you weren’t really sure it could be counted as cheating. At least not in the same way as if he had stepped out in the middle of your relationship and had been trying to have his cake and eat it too.

What really bothered you was the fact that he was even planning on breaking up with you in the first place.

The thought that maybe he didn’t love you anymore briefly crossed your mind, but you had a growing suspicion that it was more than that. Something told you that you were somehow responsible for this. That your attempts at getting him to appreciate you had actually hurt him, instead of their intended effect. That if you had just talked to him sooner…

“...I thought ya didn’t want me anymore…” Mammon’s voice trailed off. He hadn’t said that out loud before, and it hurt far worse than he was expecting it to. It was like now that he had said it, it made it real. It wasn’t just something he feared or worried about. Now, it was simply a fact.

“Wh…? Why would you think that…?” you asked, but you knew why. You knew exactly why he thought that. You had done such a good job of pushing him away, after all.

“You just...stopped laughin’. Like ya didn’t have fun with me...like ya preferred my brothers. Jus’...seemed like ya...were tired of me…”

By now, you had started crying. You tried to muffle your sobs with the hand that wasn’t still carding through Mammon’s hair, but you were unsuccessful. As soon as Mammon realized, he immediately sat up and turned to face you. He wanted to comfort you, to hug you. But it didn’t seem like the sort of thing you’d want from him right now.

When Mammon sat up, all you could do was stare at him, both hands clamped over your mouth. The reality of what you had done was finally starting to hit you, and all you could feel was overwhelming guilt. Why didn’t you just talk to him first?? Why did you wait so long to talk at all?? You hadn’t accomplished anything that you had set out to do - you had only hurt the one person who mattered most to you.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so so so sorry.”

What else was there to say really? How would you explain that you had done those things...intentionally?

Mammon started to reach out to you, instinctively wanting to hold you, but then he froze with his hands hovering halfway between you, not wanting to do anything that would make you uncomfortable. You didn’t hesitate to return the gesture though. And soon he had you pulled into his lap, straddling him, while you hugged one another, with your arms around his neck.

“I thought you were sick of me .”

“Why the hell would ya think that?”

“...you stopped texting me. And there was that one day at RAD…”

“Huh?”

You pulled back from Mammon a bit so that you could sit up and face him, resting your hands on his shoulders, “There was one day I was waiting for you after school. I had to be waiting there for 30 minutes at least, before you finally showed up. And you didn’t say anything. You never told me why. You never apologized...and I just…I just felt like you were taking me for granted.”

It wasn’t difficult for Mammon to remember that day. He had been so happy to see you waiting for him, even after he had taken so long to get ready. You still waited. Part of him just assumed you knew, that saying those things was unnecessary, because you always seemed to know what he was trying to say.

“I was happy to see ya. I’m always happy to see ya.” Mammon tucked a stray hair behind your ear before cupping your cheek tenderly with one of his hands and wiping away what tears he could reach with his thumb. You closed your eyes and just held his hand to you, enjoying the feeling of the warmth on your skin. Why hadn’t you just talked to him sooner?

You knew the next part of your story was going to be hard to hear, and even harder for you to admit. But it needed to be said, probably more than anything else.

“So umm...I decided to...kinda play hard to get I guess? I thought if I wasn’t as available, if you had time to miss me, that you would appreciate me more. Except...you didn’t...so…” silent tears had started running down your cheeks and you couldn’t bring yourself to raise your gaze to meet Mammon’s either.

“I just…” you continued, determined to get the rest of your thoughts out, “...I thought that you would say something to me about it, you know? I kept waiting for you to notice. But you never did...you just kept on like nothing was wrong. And…I...I didn’t know what to do…”

To your surprise, you felt one of Mammon’s hands begin to tenderly rub your back, as he gently pulled you towards himself so he could hold you again. He had been so stupid. The irony was not lost on him that by avoiding talking to you, he managed to let you slip through his fingers. If he had only mentioned that he even noticed any of the things that had been bothering him, the two of you likely would have worked things out. Or at least, had the opportunity to try.

You slipped your arms back around him, burying your face into his neck. From that position, you couldn’t smell the alcohol - just the comforting, warm scent you came to know as “Mammon.” Wouldn’t it be nice if you could just stay there? you thought.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, “I should have talked to you. But instead I...”

“Shhhhhh, it’s ok. It’s ok,” he soothed, continuing to rub your back ever so affectionately. It was clear to him now that this massive dumpster fire that his life had become had all started from some small, seemingly innocuous incident. Hindsight is 20/20 as they say, and his was no exception. All the small moments when he could have done something to prevent things from spiraling out of control replayed in his mind with perfect clarity. So many chances that he ignored where he could have taken you aside and just said “thanks” or asked if you were ok. And he had just let them all pass him by, too scared to make a move.

“I’m sorry too. I should have talked to ya.” His response just made you hug him closer. How could you be mad at him when you did the exact same thing?

“...do you still want to leave me…?” You were hesitant to even ask, but...you had already wasted enough time not talking these last few weeks.

Mammon stiffened. He was not expecting you to ask him that. At least not in that voice. And especially not after he had admitted to being intimate with another. Of course he didn’t want to leave you. He never really wanted to in the first place; he had just backed himself into a corner and couldn’t figure a way out. And weren’t you supposed to be pushing him away now? The air had finally been cleared. There was no more reason for you to let him stay. He couldn’t forgive himself for what he had done, and he had no right to expect you to.

“...do ya want me to…?”

You sat up again, keeping your arms looped around Mammon’s neck. You knew why he was asking that question. And you had almost let yourself forget about it. But it was something that needed to be addressed and couldn’t be simply ignored, no matter how much you wanted it to.

“I think...this was like a perfect storm, you know? We did this to ourselves. I mean, even if you didn’t make that...mistake...I can’t act like I wasn’t responsible for hurting you in the first place. And if we had just talked…? I feel like none of this would have happened. So…” you wove your fingers into Mammon’s hair at the nape of his neck, before leaning your forehead against his and continuing, “I’d like to try again. And maybe not make the same mistakes twice?”

You opened your eyes to find him staring at you, and you offered him a small smile before pressing a kiss to the tip of nose. Mammon smiled at you in return, a light blush dusting his cheeks. How had he managed to get so lucky? You were...he didn’t even have a word for it. “Everything” didn’t seem like it was enough, his feelings about you were much stronger than that. All he knew for sure was that he couldn’t live without you.

“I love you,” you whispered, wrapping him up in yet another hug, “so much. And I’m sorry I didn’t make sure you knew that.”

Mammon hugged you tighter, hiding his face in your neck. He was so glad you were still here, that you hadn’t left. He had a second chance, and he was determined not to mess things up.

--------

This is just some tooth-rotting fluff to make you feel better after the main story. I didn’t feel like it belonged with the rest, so I’m adding it here as a little “extra”.

It had been a couple weeks now since you and Mammon had finally talked to one another. And things were going a lot better than you had expected. After your conversation, Mammon had gotten himself cleaned up, changing into a set of clean clothes he kept in your room, before crawling into bed beside you. The two of you then spent the rest of night, into the early hours of the morning, talking and whispering words of love to one another. There had been so much to catch up on, that you hadn’t been able to share while avoiding him. And it felt good to finally have your best friend and partner in crime back and talking with you again.

After that, you two were stuck together like glue, always touching one another in some way - a hand on the shoulder, pinkies linked together, legs resting against each other. You still felt a knot of anxiety sometimes when Mammon was slow to reply to a message, but both of you made a considerable amount of effort to draw closer to one another. And the results you felt spoke for themselves - everyone in the House of Lamentation got so sick of looking at the two of you, that Lucifer finally gifted you a voucher for a free meal at Ristorante Six just to allow the rest of them to have a peaceful dinner. Well, that’s what he told you at least. But you were fairly certain he had noticed how depressed you and Mammon had both been and wanted to give you something as a way to celebrate resolving...whatever it was.

As you walked home, Mammon swung your joined hands happily between the two of you, fingers laced together to get as much contact with you as possible. He was in such a good mood. To think a few short weeks ago he had been positive that he’d never get to enjoy a moment like this with you again. And now look at him. Laughing and smiling, with a big dopey grin that hadn’t left his face once. So happy that he didn’t even care how much his brothers tried to tease him.

And boy did they try, in a vain attempt to discourage the lovebirds from all their PDA.

It did not work.

In fact, it only made it worse.

Not that you were complaining.

Feel free to discuss in the comments! Do you agree with MC? Are you sympathetic towards Mammon? How would you have reacted differently? 

[katarastrans]

i really hate when people say that azula shouldnt get a redemption arc. like i get that not every villain or bad guy deserves one, but azula absolutely does.

before i get into it, it want to say that im not very good at putting my thoughts into words, so i apologize if any of this is hard to understand or is worded poorly. its not completely cohesive or coherent but i just really need to get my thoughts out.

there are a few things that are vital to remember about azula: shes fourteen, shes a victim of abuse and shes mentally ill in a way that is very frequently demonized.

im not saying that these things excuse any of her actions. they dont but these things provide important context as to why she does what she does. shes still under the thumb of her abusive father and shes only fourteen.

ever since azula was very young she’s had to deal with both ozai and ursas abuse. ursa openly disliked, maybe even hated, azula. theres one particular scene in zuko alone where ursa says “what is wrong with that child” within azulas earshot, as azula is running past her and that might not seem like a lot but as someone who has had to deal with similar things its fucking awful and i struggle to believe that thats the only time something like that happened. its obvious that ursa cares more for zuko than azula, and its obvious that iroh(more on him later) also cares more for zuko. 

the only adult that azula has is ozai, so it makes sense that she wants to be exactly what he wants her to be. she does what he wants and acts how he wants her to act. theres a lot more than can be said about azula and ozai but im not going to because its not necessarily important to whether or not azula deserves a redemption (thats not to say that its unimportant to azula and her character, its obviously extremely important, its just not necessary to get into all the details for this particular discussion) and i found that trying to write in depth about this i was unable to say anything i was really happy with. other people can and probably have written about this better than i can.

so azula has never been able to come out from under the influence of ozai. she only has him to look up to.

why doesnt she deserve redemption? what is it about azula that makes people think that she shouldnt be able to learn and grow and become a better, happier person?

now im gonna talk about iroh a bit. iroh was a general for presumably a while. he literally laid siege to ba sing se for 400 days and didnt stop until lu ten died. he is a war criminal as an adult. as an adult who is old enough to have a son who is in the military. he killed so many people and didnt stop to consider that hmm maybe this is a bad thing until someone close to him died. and like yea, thats horrible. its a horrible thing to lose someone close to you but hes activley caused the death of hundreds.

so why do we forgive iroh? to me, hes done worse things than azula. yes, azula conquered ba sing se but she didnt lay siege to it for over a year and he did this as an adult.

well, we forgive iroh because the show has forgiven him. whats more is that the show puts iroh on a moral high ground. iroh is always made out to be right and he hates azula.

he never even put in the effort to get to know her (as seen by the fact that he gifts her a doll, which she proceeds to set on fire because its obviously a ‘well i guess i should probably get you a gift too. what do girls like? dolls?’ kind of gift’ while he gives zuko something he actually likes). 

azula is in a situation that is while different from zukos, is also very similar, and iroh treats her like a villain for it while he only supported zuko. dont get me wrong, what he did for zuko is extremely good. he did a good thing supporting him because he desperately needed that, but azula also needed it and what does iroh do for her? he calls her crazy and says that she “needs to go down.”

this isnt me saying that you should hate iroh. hes important to the story, does good things for zuko and is interesting (though hed be much more interesting if the show actually acknowledged his flaws instead of making him the moral authority of the show -_-). its just kind of fucked up how people treat iroh vs how they treat azula.

iroh gets paired with the phrase ‘make tea not war’ (a complete mischaracterization. my hatred for this phrase is unending.) and is treated as some wise old man. azula is routinely called a psychopath. and i get that the show displays iroh as good and azula as bad, but we do also get to see azula in a sympathetic light at the end.

im not saying that the last scene with azula is perfect, but it shows azula as a young girl who is suffering. whats going on is a tragedy. the music is telling us that and then we see her sobbing and losing control after katara has beaten her. i dont like that this is the last we see of her, but i do like the scene because, at least to me, it shows that azula is sympathetic (though she shouldnt have to have a public breakdown to be sympathetic but thats something else) and that shes just a kid in a really shitty position but apparently people miss this. apparently people watch the agni kai scene with its sad music that culminates in a child weeping and still think that azula is an irredeemable monster.

and even if the show didnt show azula as sympathetic to some degree she still shouldnt be treated the way she is by the fandom.

azula is psychotic (said in the actual use of the word and not in the ableist ‘oh she fucking evil’ kind of way. also said as someone who is psychotic). she hallucinates and has delusions and intense paranoia on screen. psychosis is extremely demonized. 

to me its kind of obvious that a lot of the ‘azula doesnt deserve a redemption’ argument is ableist. people will see an abused, mentally ill child and think that shes worse than her war criminal uncle. if you think that azula doesnt deserve redemption please think about why you think that. think about why you dont want her to get the chance to grow and become a better person and to eventually be happy. i dont care if she makes a good and interesting villain, that doesnt mean she doesnt deserve redemption. zuko was also an interesting villain but he got a redemption and stayed a good and interesting character.

anyways to end this: let characters with “scary” mental illnesses have the opportunity to grow and change and live happy lives.

[pipsqueakparker]

first line meme

i saw @annabellelux and a couple others tag me on this, so i’ll try to do this as well (if tumblr doesn’t destroy everything 😂) 

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line.

I’ll go ahead and put these under a cut, there’s gonna be a weird mix of smut and non-smut, so be warned (i don’t think any of the opening lines are too graphic, but fics are)

And I’ll tag @caitybuglove23, @thehoneyedhufflepuff, @krisrix, @sharkmartini, @scone-lover & anyone else that wants to do this!

breaking routine 

I don’t know what’s gotten into Baz lately, but whatever it is, it’s a blessing in disguise. Or whatever the saying is.

thank you steve jobs 

“I’ve got an idea.”

Those words frequently scare me when they come out of Snow’s mouth, but somehow even more so when we’re on separate sides of the city, connected only by the small screens of our phones. My screen is mostly dark, with a flash of light or color here and there as Snow walks through his flat. He’s living with Bunce and I’m still staying at Fiona’s—it’s just easier right now, to be this way.

the one with the frogs 

We’re meant to be putting up the Christmas decorations tonight, but Baz won’t let me off the sofa. Our Christmas tree is still boxed up somewhere in the flat, mixed up with some other boxes of decorations we’ve brought in recently. And Baz is nestled into my side, both arms wrapped tightly around my middle, his nose pressed into my cheek. We were going to watch a film while we decorated, but I think he’s gotten a bit distracted.

“Enjoying yourself?” I ask, my voice soft and low. I want to turn to look at him, but I feel the tip of his nose press deeper into my cheek and find myself laughing. He gets especially soft and silly around the holidays.

twinkle 

It’s dark, nothing lighting up the night except for the sliver of moon peeking out over us. Stars twinkle among the wisps of clouds, in and out of my field of vision.

The only thing clear about tonight is the swell in my chest when I watch Simon swoop down over the treetops, wings beating powerfully as he makes a sharp turn. Thank Crowley for my heightened sight; I can make out the individual bones in those mighty wings, the way his curls get tousled by the wind, and the grin split across his face.

Simon Snow is a vision.

love’s not a competition (but we’re winning) 

Baz is on top of me, pressing me into the mattress with his entire body.

reconnecting for christmas 

I’m not a grinch, or a scrooge.

I don’t hate Christmas; I just hate all of the ridiculous expectations that come along with it. The ugly jumpers, the secret Santas, the grown adults trampling each other and trading blows over toys.

The annual holiday parties held at my university that I’m always forced to attend because my cousin is a fucking horror.

chore negotiation 

It started as a joke.

Well, mostly a joke. I hate doing the washing up after dinner; the only thing worse than the Humdrum is a sink full of dirty dishes. Every moment I spent in front of the sink felt like a special kind of torture. (Maybe that’s an exaggeration.) (But not much of one.)

scary movie 

“Let’s watch a scary movie,” Simon suggests. At seven in the morning.

His face is just inches away from mine, eyes bright like it isn’t seven in the fucking morning.

I glare at him.

And then I turn my back to him and go back to sleep.

Because it’s seven in the fucking morning.

poorly timed christmas decorations 

Someone has taken it upon themselves to decorate Mummers for the holidays.

I’m actually fairly certain it was a group of someones, and I wouldn’t be surprised to discover that my ridiculous cousin and his roommate were at the helm of the poor decisions. Niall genuinely wants to start celebrating Christmas as early as possible, but Dev just wants to create chaos.

There are lights wrapped around the railings and hung over the walls, wreaths on every door, and poinsettias on each landing. If it weren’t the middle of October it might be nice. However, it is the middle of October.

carving pumpkins 

Baz is good at a lot of things. He’s smart, fit, athletic, flexible, charming, etc. He’s an expert at nearly everything, at least that’s what he’d have you believe. It’s what he’s had me believe for the longest time. It’s part of what made me hate him so much. (Suppose that wasn’t as much hate as I thought initially, though, was it?)

Anyway, Baz is good at shit, and it’s annoying.

spooky ghosts 

I don’t know what prompted me to open my mouth as I was leaving Watford.

I don’t know what possessed him to accept such an offer.

But somehow, by the grace of either Merlin or Crowley (potentially a little of both), Simon Snow is at my family home for the winter holidays.

black cats 

Sometimes Snow can be a mad genius.

And sometimes he’s just mad.

witch hats 

It’s our next to last day — well, my last day, I suppose — at Watford.

We’ve a whole ceremony to deal with, us eighth years. It’s strange to be preparing for this without Snow or Bunce.

new candles 

Coping mechanisms are something we’ve been talking about a lot in therapy. Healthy ones and unhealthy ones.

Apparently I had a lot of unhealthy ones for a long time. I didn’t even realize until my therapist pointed them out to me, but we’re trying to replace them with healthier ones.

cinnamon spice 

Simon’s working late tonight.

He got a new job at this little bakery on the other side of town. He positively loves it, I swear he came home after his first day already best friends with the entire staff. I don’t blame them, Simon’s a delight.

warm apple cider 

“We should get lunch,” Simon says, swinging our joined hands between us as we follow a dirt path toward a picnic area.

Bunce asked us if we could find our way out of the flat today, she and the Normal wanted some alone time. I was just going to take Simon back to my flat, but Fiona decided she would be coming back early from her trip, knocking that option out. (Not that I don’t love my aunt, but sometimes it’s just easier to keep her away from Simon. For my sanity’s sake.)

We were just going to drive around for a bit, maybe find somewhere to spend some time, try to have our own day to ourselves. Simon ended up looking up events happening around and found this little autumnal festival, which is where we ended up.

fuzzy socks & a book 

Snow always teases me when I wear these socks, but they’re soft, and warm, and nice. They run up well past my ankle, about mid-calf, and they’re sherpa-lined so they’re especially insulated and soft. They also have two little vampire teeth at the top, and two little leathery black wings that stick out from the ankles.

Mordelia picked them out when she was around six or seven, Daphne was just properly tickled by them and put them into my stocking that Christmas. Several years later I’m still wearing them.

They’re nice.

take two 

We’ve not talked about the clone incident since that day.

In fact, we’ve not talked much since that day. Full stop.

We kissed until our lips were sore, until we were both gasping for breath, until the sun went down and the shadows lay over us and we fell asleep.

The next morning I woke up in his bed. He was nowhere to be found. He didn’t show up to breakfast, or lunch, or dinner. He was absent from all of our classes. I didn’t see him again for nearly two full days.

baby animals 

Baz is letting me hunt with him.

Well, not hunt with him, really. But he’s letting me go out with him. Into the woods behind his family house.

I know how hard it is for him to let me in on this part of him, the whole vampire thing. He’s trying.

(basil the) scarecrow  

Simon Snow was well into middle age now, as he carried his two youngest to bed.

[trunkzbriefs]

Any Son and/or Briefs family headcanons? Spicy hot takes? Truths Toriyama and Toyotaro themselves can not handle? Straight up lies?

GODDAMN SORRY this took a while cause i suck at putting thoughts together. i apologize for my obvious briefs bias i have more hcs for them than the son family despite loving them both :pensive: anyway heres some random stuff

briefs hcs:

all of the briefs are pros at non-verbal communication. i hc that saiyans have their own language (and also in my own Mind Canon they still have their fuckin tails) and a lot of it is done through tail movement/body posture/grunts/etc. etc so theyve all sort of picked that up. even bulma, who doesnt have a tail, is pretty good at getting across what she means without actually speaking. they still do speak normally but it comes in handy sometimes considering that both trunks and vegeta are prone to running out of speaking energy or getting very frustrated with words, so having another way to communicate works very well for them

vegeta is fffffffffffffffffffurry. without getting too deep into my own General Saiyan hcs (thats why i made a whole ass four subspecies!!) i think that the entirety of planet vegeta tended to be very hot aside from the part where the castle was, where the temperature would drop. meaning that saiyans working in the palace would grow thicker fur around certain parts of their body, and in the royal saiyans theyd be Especially fluffy. he kept it down on earth, but he has thick patches of fur around the bottom parts of his arms and legs. kind of like snowy boots and gloves! he also has fur that grows in on his neck like a lions mane.

future trunks is an actions sponge, vegeta is a words sponge. vegeta will pick up words VERY quickly regardless if he fully understands the meaning of it or not (completely inspired by 'THATS RIGHT BOYS... MONDO COOL' in z) and future trunks will unintentionally mimic the actions of people - around people he looks up to he might take a few small mannerisms from but this extends to copying the disposition of anyone; he's just very adaptive. this is the most obvious (and funniest) when he's around vegeta bc it really shows like. yeah damn that sure is vegeta's son

vegeta & bulla have an intimidating bastard smirk naturally. their natural smiles are pretty frightening and they have to put effort into a 'normal' one. this also extends to current trunks, his default smile is the Vegeta Bastard Smirk but he learned to have a normal smile quicker than his father and sister. future trunks has a slightly unnerving natural smile (the fact that his pupils are always drawn so fucking small makes me hc that he just has a very intimidating look of 'cat thats about to pounce on an unfortunate trapped mouse' whenever he smiles) but he learned to look normal even quicker than current trunks since he's around humans a Lot and is sort of their uh, Hope. don't want to look scary to the people who depend on you!

bulma has some fighting knowledge and mildly good ki control. vegeta taught her it as a just in case so that she'd be able to defend herself against Bigger threats if he wasn't there and also so she could raise her own ki to alert someone to her if she had to.

vegeta is extremely clean and can not stand to have things disorganized for more than like... an hour before he has to tidy everything up. every time he goes down to the lab and bulma is passed out in a pile of bolts and circuit boards it kills him inside just a little bit

future trunks has little concept of power control. since his timeline was always in danger it wasn't really an important thing for him to learn. the amount of mugs he's accidentally crushed is impressive

vegeta tends to not sound like he's asking questions when he is. he doesn't add the proper infliction to the end of his questions and just sounds flat most of the time. it's confusing to people who dont know him well.

im not even gonna lie, im a BIG fan of the chill demon panchy headcanon so i love the idea that the briefs have a Lil bit of demon in them but just dont know it ghjnkm

[banging my fists on the 'hcs that not even got could take away from me' table] future trunks has OCD

vegeta doesn't really get labels but he's bisexual & "debatably a man", bulma is bisexal & bigender transfem (sometimes shes Wamen and other times its like "gender? no"), bulla is a nonbinary lesbian, current trunks is a bisexual trans man & future bulma forgot to explain the concept of gender and sexuality to future trunks so he's a little confused on that front and his gender & sexuality are "i have literally never thought abt these concepts in my life but i think men are nice. i refuse to think about gender though" (i actually have two main hcs for future trunks which are either gay trans man or more-feminine-presenting nonbinary bisexual)

son hcs:

goku is Not as fluffy as vegeta at all, but he does have fur on certain parts of his body. namely on the back of his elbows + ankles, down his back connecting to his tail, and on his shoulders. its inherented from gine!

gohan is learning saiyan language from vegeta! vegeta acts grumpy about it but he's glad to have someone to teach. when gohan learned that most of the history had been lost he basically wished shenron for a big ol book on saiyan culture and gave it to vegeta just as an act of kindness and vegeta was like [in an angry voice but very touched] "Ok. Sit down. You're learning." by extension gohan is also teaching the rest of his family!

i will take ox king being actually non-human to my grave so like, chichi has horns and a very short ox tail! gohan and goten both have horns, but they're hidden by hair. goten's horns are bigger than gohans.

goten also has a more ox-like tail, with a little puff of fur at the end. generally, gohan looks more saiyan-like and goten looks more ox/human-like.

although he keeps up his cheery demeanor very well, goku is still haunted pretty badly by like... everything that’s happened in his life. he still has frequent nightmares about cell & buu specifically.

gohan will freak out at worse, zone out at best, if he's even tapped on the neck. it reminds him of the whole 'getting his neck snapped on namek' so that area is pretty off limits to everyone

goten gets along really well with android 17. they both have a love for nature and 17s kind of like his chill uncle, so whenever he gets too stressed out or just needs a break you can find him face down on the ground outside of 17's place on monster island.

goku is really really good at remembering completely random shit. bulma uses this to her advantage whenever she's working and has him memorize random technology stuff. a week later goku can not remember what he had for breakfast that morning but as soon as bulma asks "hey do you remember what i told you last week" hes like "oh yeah sure i have no idea what it means but [blurts out three hours worth of technical garble]"

oh boy is this a headcanon that has a lot more depth to it than just a bullet on a tumblr post, but gohan has DID!

goku, like vegeta, doesnt get labels either, and does not even Try, ask him about any of it and hes like "i dont get the gender thing but i think lots of people look nice :)" gohan is gay and like vegeta, "debatably a man", goten + chichi are both bi nonbinary, & pan is a lesbian trans woman.

both:

bulla and pan are both into music! i think theyd mess around making their own stuff w/ launchpads

i have a general hc of ki mixing or shielding, essentially, if youre close enough to someone people wont be able to tell apart your ki and you can also 'shield' someone with your ki for a small amount of time. if vegeta has his energy low, his and bulma's energy are the same. same thing with goku and chichi! goten and trunks are near impossible to tell apart, and same thing with gohan and videl.

though goten and trunks are both protective over their younger siblings, gotenks is that protectiveness times a thousand. look at bulla or pan wrong for 2 seconds and you're going to have an angry gotenks in your face asking if you have any last words. i like to think that trunks and goten fused casually a lot, especially around the time where bulla and pan were young, so its basically goten and trunks own attachment to them PLUS gotenks' attachment to them as his own person combined.

i like to pretend end of z did not happen the way it did so uub, using nimbus, travels back and forth a lot. goku isn’t the only one who teaches him how to fight as goten, gohan and trunks all think of him like a little brother and love training with him!

fuck you letters to toriyama/toyotaro hot takes:

cell, as cool of a villian as he is, definitely should have had a creepier final form. or multiple- just something that really drives in the fact that he's made up of other's dna & fuckin ABSORBS people. also his first two forms should have had a different absorbtion method other than the tail thing (not the drinking thing thats fine) it just feels.   Weird. not good

it would have been far more interesting to keep the bitter attitude towards vegeta that future trunks had imo... in super trunks was going through a Lot granted but the fact tht he wasnt more confrontational to vegeta being a dick to him seemed kind of off considering his attitude in z i just.. think it would be interesting and far better if they had more of a back and forth 'family but lowkey hate each other' relationship

i dont want to rant about super so heres some super condensed takes, goku black arc specific because thats 90% of what ive seen of super:

mai is a fucking freak ass weirdo, why did they not just make another character to pair with trunks

trunks not flipping the fuck out at his timeline being erased feels... out of character. also trunks deserved the win against zamasu

future bulma did NOT need to die

trunks should have just stayed in the current timeline

please fucking let trunks and goten grow up. we SAW a version of trunks who looked 14 (history of trunks....) and the versions of goten & trunks we have r/n in super do not look 13/14 respectively what in the goddamn hell is going on in the character design department

super definitely should have taken place later down the line

supers version of bulma and videl look awful. why are they That stick like.

vegeta needs to kill frieza. just once.

fu has enough potential to be a very interesting mainline character and i am so sad he's not

i would actively enjoy a sdbh anime with more  budget that isnt just a promo anime and has a plot that makes sense... i think db should have more wild spinoffs

xenoverse deserved a better story that went FULL in on the 'what if' type of timelines- like they did in raging blast which is a FUCKING GREAT GAME

straight up lies:

dragon ball z is a good series

[studyingsobriety]

Why Did I Get Help NOW

This was my second exercise for my rehab program. It's called "Why Now?" The purpose is to explain why we got help now and not a month ago or a month later. What led up to the point where I decided that I need help right now? Then, I had to write what could've happened had I not decided to get help.

Here's my story:

I was sitting in my bathroom floor. I was home alone, depressed, and wanted to get that daily high, but I wanted more this time. So I had a 100 pack of whippets (whipped cream chargers or cartridges of nitrous oxide which you can inhale). I felt guilty, ashamed, depressed, alone. I was having a panic attack so bad that I was retching into the toilet while I loaded up another whippet and hit another after another.

I knew whippets could cause seizures or even kill you, I had done enough research on it. But I liked them too much to care, they eased the pain. Part of me even hoped in that moment something dangerous would happen. That was my "rock bottom," as some call it. That was when I knew I had to change. This happened around Christmas time in 2020. As the days and weeks went by, I stopped doing the, everyday like I had been. But I would still give in every time the cravings were too intense to ignore. One day, I had another breakdown after using again. I was "sick and tired of feeling sick and tired." I was determined, and I was whippet-free for 3 weeks.

Until one day, I had another panic attack, and those cravings just came back. "It'll make you feel better." "They numb your body and your mind." "It'll make your emotions less intense." All of which were true while you're using...but after, it only gets worse. But I didn't think about the aftermath until I was sitting in my car, hitting a whippet, when someone walked up to my window. It was my roommates...I could see their hearts breaking, and it broke mine too. I wish I could say that's what brought me here and that I haven't done them since. But I did them the next day. And the next. And the next... Next thing I knew I had been using everyday again for a week.

I drained my bank account, both checking and savings. I would ask my parents for money for food and gas, but that's not what I was spending it on. I relied on my boyfriend and friends for any food. This whole time I was lying to everyone around me. Friends suspected but were too afraid to speak up. That last time I used, it was a Monday, I had class at 12. I told myself, "well, I'm going to be late anyway, might as well get some," so I did. I didn't go to class. I hit my last whippet. I had to use the bathroom, so I walked into a building on campus to use the restroom. I suddenly started crying, uncontrollably.

I felt that guilt and shame again, like I was a liar, a drug addict, I was hiding and taking money from my parents. I felt like a bad person, like I didn't deserve anything good. On top of that, I was having suicidal thoughts. I broke down, I asked my friends for help, I told them the truth. I'm lucky to have such understanding and supportive friends. One of them told me I should call the 24-hour on-call counselor we have on campus, so the next day, I did. She really, really wanted me to go to a rehab, but she wanted me to be in an inpatient rehab, which is a huge step and a big decision that I wasn't ready to make.

She set up an assessment for me with an inpatient rehab, but told me I didn't have to go if I wasn't ready. I've been in inpatient care before. In 2019, I admitted myself to a hospital for having suicidal thoughts. I had some...interesting experiences in there that scarred me a little. Of course, a rehab is different than a psych ward, but I think that lonely feeling would still be there. So I started researching outpatient rehab treatment programs. The first one I found was Lion Rock. I talked to them, and it sounded like a good fit for me. I wouldn't have to drop out of school for the semester, leave work for a few weeks, and I could still have my main support system with me (my friends and family). So it just seemed to be the best fit for me. And that's how I got here.

Now, here is what could have happened if I didn't reach out for help:

Had I not reached out for help or told anyone about my continuous use, I would've continued to use. It would've continued to be that endless cycle of "I'm depressed, some whippets would help" and "I did whippets again, I feel like I'm just a stupid drug addict." The depression would've progressed. I would continue to drown my anxiety and depression in intoxication. I would hide it from all the people willing to hold me accountable, because I wouldn't want to be held accountable. I'd rather get high than do what's best for me.

At some point after using regularly and hiding it for weeks or even months, there is only these negative outcomes of continuous use with no help:

I would be mid-whippet when my heart decides to stop or my body has a seizure from my organs getting so cold. Someone would find me in my car, with the canister still in my hand, with my lips purple, and my face cold. Whoever it would've been to find me, it would be a horrific scene for them. It would likely traumatize them for life.

I would be so depressed, so suicidal, I'd be blaming myself for everything. I'd tell myself, "this is who I am now." I would use the whippets as an act of self harm, hoping it'd kill me or give me a seizure. Praying that I'm putting myself in danger. It would be what I want. I'd want to physically hurt myself so that people can physically see my emotional pain. People don't understand what you're going through until they see it physically. Since people can't see your mental health, it's harder to understand how severe it gets sometimes unless you physically show them. And in that moment of self harming by whippets, I would hope I could physically show them my pain.

I would continue to use in a riskier manner. What I mean is, I would continue to drive while high on whippets. Driving down the road, loading one up, hitting it, holding my breath until I load up the next one, exhale, and hit another. It would be a high possibility I could kill myself. Or someone else. Worse case scenario, I kill someone else and am totally safe myself and have to live the rest of my life with the consequences. I could kill somebody's child, somebody's wife or husband, somebody's best friend, somebody's mother or father. I could have another incident where I black out while driving except actually passing out this time. I could run into a tree, run a pedestrian over, hit a motorcyclist, or just have a horrific freak vehicular accident. Granted, I could be totally fine and never actually get to the point of passing out while driving, but all of these are possibilities.

I could be sitting in my parked car or even driving down the road, hitting whippets, and a cop could possibly catch a glimpse of me inhaling something that doesn't quite look like a cigarette or vape at all. If they were to catch a glimpse and question what I'm doing, they could easily come up to my car or pull me over and ask what I was just doing. As someone who doesn't lie well, I'd freeze up, but there's no way I'd admit to a cop that I'm inhaling nitrous oxide in public or on the road. I'd probably say something like, "Oh, I was just sitting here on my phone," or "Oh, I'm just driving home, I was just hitting my vape." But they'd suspect. The bigger problem is if they'd ask me to step out of the car. That's where I'd be terrified. During my use, because I would do them so frequently in my car, there'd be piles of cartridges and boxes for whip-its! in the back of my car. They would find the numerous cartridges filling up my console, underneath the seat, in the cup holder, everywhere. The cop might not know right off the bat what it is exactly, but it would definitely be suspicious. They would ask, "what are these?" I would--not being able to lie--tell them they are whipped cream chargers. That they are used to make whipped cream. They would ask me, "why are there so many in your car?" That...I don't know what I would say. But I only see myself getting arrested at this point and possibly being reported to a rehab and being court-ordered to attend an inpatient rehab. Inpatient rehabs are scary to imagine, but being forced to be in one...even scarier.

"Whippets" could turn into something else. Like how marijuana turned into Adderall. And Adderall turned into the whippets. How do I know I wouldn't find a new substance to replace the whippet addiction? I don't know. I had tried Xanax a couple times and really liked it and craved it often, I just didn't have a source of finding it easily. I remember worrying Xanax was the next move. How would I know this replacement of one drug to another wouldn't lead me to heroin, meth, crack, or something terrible? Something that would take over my life the way marijuana, Adderall, and whippets did but is much harder to hide, harder to control. How do I know I wouldn't fuck up my brain from all the drugs? I could kill so many brain cells that I can't function. I was once hospitalized for severe anxiety and depression, I've met people who can't even function like a human because they were so messed up from the drugs they've used. I met people who couldn't relax without some xanny. How do I know that wouldn't be me in the future? I didn't know, I still don't know. It could've been me if I had continued.

Like I said, any of these scenarios would have been possibilities had I not reached out for help sooner. They were all possibilities when I was using and that's scary to think about. I have to say that I am grateful that I reached out for help myself. I wanted help before one of these scenarios became a reality. I am doing this all for me.

My takeaway from this exercise:

Writing out what led up to the point of getting help makes it clearer just how bad it really was. It's kind of sad. I knew it was a rough time, but reading it in black and white really opens my eyes, and it's crazy.

Writing what could've happened really makes me just feel...like the face palm emoji. Because not only were these scenarios possible had I continued to use, but they were all possible when I was using. And that's really scary. These scenarios really paint a picture, and not a pretty one. Overall, this exercise made me incredibly grateful that I decided to get help when I did. 

[steveharrington]

your dustin opinions are impeccable. also, would you mind elaborating on what your problems with the scoops troop plot? something about it has never sat completely right with me but i'm not sure how to put it into words

yeah for sure! to start out i’ll say that the scoops troop plotline was probably my favorite of the season, as in i had the most fun watching it. obv im biased because whichever group steve is in will probably be the most entertaining to me, i adore him, but it was also due largely to robin’s presence and the chemistry that i think joe maya gaten and priah all had as a group. that being said though i think the plotline was handled in a really weird, lowkey eerie way that all comes down to tone. 

stranger things started out as a drama. like, when it’s recognized in awards shows it’s in the drama category, which puts it up against shows like game of thrones, the handmaid’s tale, shows that tend to have really serious, oftentimes dark content. it fits because stranger things IS dark. it draws inspiration from classic horror movies, characters die, usually in pretty horrible ways, children are traumatized, etc. that’s not to say that there hasn’t ever been humor in the show before scoops troop, obviously there has been, but on the whole the show had a pretty dark premise and a lot of dramatic moments that are written 100% to be dramatic. there tended to be a really good balance of knowing when to keep the tone serious and when to lighten it up a bit. in season three, i personally felt like the duffers decided to try to make the show both a drama and a comedy in equal measure, and their way of doing that was to keep the dark content matter but to make the lighthearted tone more frequent, and that manifested mostly in the scoops troop. it’s made a little worse by the fact that steve, dustin, and erica are undoubtedly comic relief characters. steve’s entire character since season one has pretty much been delegated to being laughed at, dustin has always been the kid with the most jokes and the least emotional arcs, and erica was literally made a season regular based on the fact that people thought she was funny in season two. also, i think the duffers lowkey realized how ridiculous the russian plotline is so they figured adding humor and making the russian general so cartoonish would relieve some of the audiences disbelief that this would ever happen. the result you get is really fucking weird, though. 

right away it’s strange how casual they are about everything. i think the duffers were going for like “these clueless children were just having fun and they accidentally stumbled into a dark deadly secret” but it doesn’t really work when they see men with giant guns and think “okay anyways, how are we gonna get past them?” you can argue that steve and dustin have been desensitized, but robin and erica haven’t. once the elevator drops, they become reasonably freaked out and for the first time you get the since that they’re genuinely scared, but even then it’s treated as a joke. again, this isn’t the first instance of this happening in stranger things. steve has a meltdown every single season and it’s always been used for humor during a serious moment, but in seasons one and two it was just a momentary break from the intensity of whatever was happening. in season three, the jokes are consecutive. steve has his meltdown, then there’s a conversation about him liking robin, then there’s a piss joke (??) like there’s never a moment where they stop and really consider that like damn we’re trapped underground with no food or water and no hope at anyone figuring out where we are. that would all be okay if that was the extent of it, because characters on stranger things have had much worse fates than being slightly dehydrated, but then it takes a super sharp turn and becomes irredeemably dark. when i was watching the season for the first time i found it insanely jarring how fast it goes from steve being completely fine to steve being covered in blood. the duffers clearly want to keep up the routine of him getting beaten up, and they go a little harder on him every time, so this being the third time means he’s like pretty seriously injured. i would say the only scene the scoops troop gets that’s 100% serious is the one where they bring steve back to the room and robin is like “what did you do to him” and all that. that was good! that was realistic! but as soon as he’s awake again they switch back to banter and ahaha steve confuses his left and right bc he’s dumb. the thing that Really gets me is that the season 3 trailer used the shot of him getting jabbed with the needle in a very deliberate way to get people to theorize and be like “season 3 steve harrington DIES???” so like obviously they knew how dark it looked out of context. the thing is like......even WITH context it’s dark!! like the duffers were like “so at this point steve and robin, the oldest of whom just graduated high school like a month ago, are going to be tied up and drugged against their consent (after physical violence didn’t work) to get them to confess information that they literally don’t know. and it’s gonna be fuckin hilarious :) one of them is gonna almost get his fingernails removed by pliers haha” and it’s batshit crazy. 

the best way to really realize how insane it is is to rewatch the older seasons. i rewatched season one recently and when the scene where hopper is interrogated came on, i was like wait hold the fucking phone. he’s just getting tased. and it was treated SO SERIOUSLY in comparison to when steve who is at most 19 years old gets knocked unconscious during an interrogation and later says his ears are ringing and he cant breathe. the scene where nancy and jonathan are surrounded by all the lab employees at the park is super unsettling and eerie and you’re like oh shit these two teenagers just walked right into a government secret. when there are russians surrounding steve and robin with guns, they put in a joke about dustin quoting a movie at them. 

im not saying that this is Problematic or Immoral or anything like that. this isnt like a duffer brothers call out post. like i said, this was still my favorite storyline in the season. i actually think it’s weirdly fascinating. like you know when they take trailers for like, high school musical and just add scary sound effects and editing to make it look like a horror movie? it’s the same premise as the scoops troop. it’s a super dark premise but with jokes and writing that makes it seem like a fun goofy coming of age story. if the duffers were Intentionally trying to do a subversion where they’re like “look we tricked you into laughing while these children were traumatized and nearly killed” i think that wouldve been brilliant. i don’t really think that’s what they were going for, though. i think they accidentally put all their comic relief characters into one group and wanted as many laughs as they could get to break up the drama of the other groups. it just so happened that they also almost tore steve’s fingernails out with pliers :///

[getreadytosmash]

][All questions for the otp meme for Jen + Rhys!][

@blind-mutant

Coffee shop AU: Who is the barista, and who frequents the coffee shop?

Jen's favourite coffee place is the only place that has strong enough chairs to hold her weight and who puts far more caffeine into her drink than any Starbucks should allow. She's grateful for this, more so to the little barista who always stares with wide eyes and smiles brightly when she comes in. Jen can smell the crush (and admittedly lust) off him and he's cute, but she doesn't want to scare him off. And lose her coffee place.

Rhys? God, he wishes that he could see and write a phone number down at least. Jesus, he wishes that he wasn't a worker so he could ask her out. For a date or a fun night. Things change though when Rhys trips one day and goes face first into Jen's chest while spilling coffee all over her. He's upset and worried that he's hurt and embarrassed Jen, but she just reassures him that coffee can't burn her...and he can always take her out to help buy a new shirt along with some dinner to make up for it.

Highschool/College AU: Who is the straight-A student, and who’s the backrow slacker?

Jen tries hard. Like, really hard. She needs good grades to get into the top law school and even with the worries and strains of her home life, it becomes easier to get lost in her work than think about how her aunt is dead and how Bruce is still left without answers and how her family did nothing. So it's easier to get lost in work and to try and stay out of the way of parties. If only that annoying boy Rhys would drop it and leave.

Rhys...he knows that he's a stupid guy and that he's only here because a fancy college is better than being kept at home with parents that don't want you around. Jen is pretty, but most importantly, she's smart. Rhys keeps hoping that at some point she might offer tutoring, but she just...doesn't? He wants to try and ask for help but Rhys doesn't want to spill that he's a mutant, not to mention the fact that Jen...always looks a little scary when someone talks to her.

Rivals to loves AU: Who takes their rivalry seriously, and who is half in it just to push the other’s buttons? 

Rhys knows that he's part of the Brotherhood of Evil mutants and that means that anyone who isn't a mutant shouldn't be...well, he shouldn't feel attraction to them. But its HARD when said enemy is 7'5 and knocked the Blob out in one punch. God, Rhys can's survive this when he's faced with being lifted with ease and the moments where Jen flirts as she fights and teases him!

Even worse is the fact that Jen is fully aware of Rhys's little crush and likes to take full advantage of "Little Nighty". Most of the time it's to help win a fight and to not hurt Rhys, but maybe on occasion Jen flirts with honesty. Rhys is cute and yeah, he's a criminal but like, he's a cute and easy criminal!

Enemies to lovers AU: Which one switches sides? 

The world fears the hulks ever since every gamma mutate banded together against the world. If Krakoa could do it, then so could they. Jen loves finally being free with people just like her without any worry from humans or other heroes judging them all the time or worrying that the hulks will kill everyone in their rage. It's a good time, to simply just be with the others until Jen realises one day in an attack that other heroes have decided to turn on hulks too. Of course, some people have decided that it's easier to leave the human world and to join over with hulks instead.

Of course, Jen worries about that. Some humans don't survive being turned into hulks but if it's what they want...not many have specific gamma forms, but a particular mutant, Rhys, definitely stands out to her. He has big wars, dark skin and glowing eyes as he towers above mostly everyone. Samuel still complains about Rhys being a dumbass and letting anyone walk into that giant tuff of fur. But Jen still spares him a lot of sweet smiles and words.

Soulmate AU: Who is eager to meet their soulmate? Who absolutely does not want to meet their soulmate? 

Rhys is...nervous about meeting his soulmate, but excited. He wouldn't have a soulmate that loved him, but he kinda at least wants to see what they're like. He isn't expecting the goddamn She-hulk to be bis apparent other half and boy oh boy does that send his heart into terrified palpitations. How can he be good for someone like her? He didn't even think it would be another woman and yet here he was, trading Blue for Green.

Jen's thrilled but worried herself about meeting the other half of her heart. She had always been worried about not being good enough and now she had to worry about being green or too freakish for someone. Rhys is small and cute and the rudest man she has met so of course Jen is purring, absolutely delighted that her soulmate is someone not creepy or someone who can't control her mind and feelings again. Rhys is shy but Jen is willing to wait and spoil him until he melts and accept that she wants him forvever.

Single parent AU: Which one is the single parent? (Alt. if they’re both single parents: Which one is open to starting a new relationship from the start? Which one is never planning on finding love again… Until they meet the other and are instantly smitten?)

Lyra isn't technically her daughter. But Thundra had been interested enough in Jen that it was kinda a romance? Lyra doesn't exactly want a father anyway and that's how she ends up with a teenage hulk in her care. That still doesn't explain how Jen also ended up with her niece snarling and holding up a small man and something about thieving. Rhys didn't mean to get caught, but he isn't exactly arguing when Lyra's hot aunt comes to sigh and stop him from being killed.

Jen is...gosh, big lady who is protective of her niece? Is there a word for aunt milfs? Rhys definitely wants to try and uh, apologise to Jen for causing such a ruckus and really! He isn't always such a bad guy! Jen finds it pretty amusing and what the hell, agrees to go out with him while Lyra asks whether they just let criminals go now. Rhys has earned the joys of a big green woman adoring him but....he's going to suffer a LOT of shovel talks from a teenage hulk who doesn't understand the human world.

Doctor AU: Which one is the longsuffering doctor? Which one is the patient? 

O K. Rhys,,,in the hospital the same time as when Jen first hulks out??? Baby boy nervous about being there and god, the giant green woman doesn't help-

Hold on.

Rhys needs to follow whatever the hells going on and, well, any excuse to get out of the hospital, right? The giant woman is fucking incredible and it's a shock to see her turn into a small regular woman but Rhys isn't too bothered. He's still starstruck, even through helping her change into something more modest as Jen dazedly asks who Rhys is and what's been going on.

They get coffee later because even as a no one mutant, Rhys thinks that Jen is new to the powered world and needs some help navigating it. He's right and Jen is more grateful for it than he'd ever know.

Bodyguard AU: Who is the bodyguard? Who are they protecting? Which one is secretly pining for the other? 

Rhys's powers come in handy for being a bodyguard. He's practically unknowable, his shadows can help hide people and god knows they make a good offence up close. His client is some fancy little lawyer and originally Rhys tuts at having to follow around some human woman, even if he is being paid rather well. Jen on her hand seems to think its hilarious that she's been told she has Rhys to guard her, which doesn't help the internal insecurity.

It isn't until the week is almost up that an hit is attempted on Jen and yeah, Rhys stops it, that that human lawyer, but it isn't until he turns around that he finds himself faced with a 7'5 green woman and it only now hits him why Jen found the idea of being guarded so funny. She says it's alright and that if he wants, maybe he could...talk about guarding her heart?

It's a terrible pickup line and god does Rhys agree to it.

Pirate AU: Who is the pirate? Who is the member of the royal family who did not sign up for this? 

Jen is polite and sweet mannered on land, but the moment she steps onto her ship, Jen can finally return to the wild ways of curly hair, high waisted pants and cloth shirts that show off her clevelege. Rhys is a beautiful prince who she plainly and outwardly flirts with happily, even with the anger of his parents. It gets even better when such a beautiful little prince flushes so prettily.

Rhys himself can't help but admire the strong and beautiful pirate. He wants adventure! He wants to get out of the tight suits and to wear tight pants and free flowing shirts...but alas he has been fated to a horrible castle where he isn't even the heir to the throne. So what then if he decides to flee in the middle of the night and try to pay the hot pirate woman off to have her take him with her and the rest of her crew? A boy can live!

It isn't...the best plan. What with a bounty being placed to return Rhys back, but for now, all he really cares about it Jen's strong arms around his waist, teaching him the tricks of the sea.

Childhood best friends AU: Which one was super obviously in love with the other the whole time? Who was oblivious until they were older?

Rhys and Jen are friends to the end. It's a cute rhyme that they come up with that makes all the adults laugh, even Jen's older cousin Bruce who is always quiet around anyone who isn't his mom or cousin. They're friends for years until Rhys practically drops off the face of the earth one day and his parents don't say anything at all. Jen's dad doesn't say or do anything either, even though her dad is a sheriff and should be able to do anything.

He didn't do anything when Uncle Brian killed Aunt Rebecca either though. So Jen pushes it down deep enough until hears later, where she's green and wild and strong, her feelings of rage and grief don't come back out until one day where she sees Rys again, remembers him down to her veins and bones as he picks a fight in the bar. After that it gets a little fuzzy.

Rhys uh, he remembers beaming and blushing back when Jen would share cookies with him. But he's pretty sure she wasn't a mutant so that doesn't quite explain why the asshole he was pissing off had gotten tossed into the air with a primal scream. Jen is mortified that she reacted in such a way and made an entrance like that, but Rhys is enamoured! He's touched that someone wanted to protect his dignity like that...and it was hot as fuck. He's up to see her toss more people as they begin to reconnect from years apart.

[argylemikewheeler]

so this is a very specific prompt but could you write something where Mike thinks he’s homophobic like two years after will comes out as gay and goes to steve for advice on how to get over it and steve’s confused because mike’s never had a problem with being will or robin being gay and realizes that mike’s actually just jealous of will talking to other guys and helps mike realize he has feelings for will. Thank you so much!

part 2

By the fall of 1989, Steve’s BMW had been in three fender benders, had one headlight replacement, two flat tires in a week of each other, and a clutch replacement. No, Steve hadn’t suddenly lost sight in both eyes and all depth perception; he had been teaching the Party to drive. Max was really good at tailgating (and not stopping fast enough), El always got nervous and would slam on the breaks or pop a bulb with her powers, Dustin drove straight over railroad tracks way too fast, and Mike rode the clutch far too often. It was a strain on his wallet, but they were all really thankful. Mike more than anyone– which explained why he was wasting his Saturday afternoon sitting with Steve while he clumsily changed his oil.

They were in Steve’s driveway, Mike sitting by the front tires with his arms resting on his knees while Steve was under the car on his mechanic’s creeper. Besides just keeping him company, Mike also had the motive of wanting him alone to ask Steve something– maybe something that was safer to not ask while behind the wheel of a car, and possibly just under it.

“Hey Steve?” Mike poked his shin. Steve kicked his foot gently: he was listening. “Are you homophobic?”

Something clanged. “Am I what?”

“You know, homophobic?” Mike repeated, tucking his hair behind his ear. “A ‘phobe, if you will.”

“No.” Steve said, his voice muffled. “I mean, I try not to be bone-headed, but my mistakes are not because I’m an asshole.”

“Oh. Okay.” Mike nodded. He picked as his fingernail, waiting until he heard Steve put his tool down. “Am I homophobic?”

Slowly, Steve wheeled himself out from under the car. “Okay, where are you getting this word, Wheeler? Homophobic?”

“You know… around.” He muttered.

“Okay, well, Einstein. Did you bother to understand the definition?” Steve wiped his hands on his coveralls and sat up fully in front of Mike.

“It’s a compound word, Idiot.” Mike said, crossing his arms. “I know what it means. That’s why I’m asking.”

“I don’t think you do. Because you don’t show fear at the life and happiness of your friends– I mean, you’re not angry at them, are you?”

Mike bit his lip and bounced his head slowly side to side, the word slipping out. “Maybe…”

“About what? Because just because you fight with your gay friends doesn’t mean you fight with them because they’re gay. All my squabbles with Robin are because we were together constantly and sometimes, I’m a fucking idiot and can’t make change fast enough when there is a line out the door and she’s got a perfect SAT math score. Not because she’s gay.” Steve spoke quickly, sighing when he finished. His hands slapped against his legs, clearing the air for a moment and allowing Mike to meet Steve’s eyes. “That’s not homophobia, Mike.”

“Well, I don’t know!” Mike cried, pushing his legs down. “I got like, really really mad at Will the other week and I– I’m still probably really mad about it now. And I feel bad because…. he’s my best friend and I’m mad.”

Steve blinked at him. “That was the most explosively vague sentence I’ve ever heard. Give me more what happened?”

Mike twisted his finger, the knuckle popping quietly. “Will was over and we were just like, talking about our classes and stuff– he’s in this weird art class thing they’re offering kids who can like, draw and shit.”

“Which is Will.”

“Yeah, I know!” Mike snapped. No one was more proud of Will getting into the program than Mike. Absolutely no one. Mike stood by the main office, waiting for Will to come out of his meeting, and lifted him clean off the floor when Will walked out with a smile and a nod. Mike had never cried from smiling so hard before. He didn’t know it was possible before then. Before Will. “The class isn’t the problem… It’s who’s in it.”

Steve hummed and sighed. “Are they homophobic?”

“No! Still me!” Mike grumbled.

“Wheeler–”

“I am! He started talking about this one kid in his class, Charlie or some shit I don’t know– and I don’t care– but god every time he mentions this kid I get so angry. Like, I know Will’s gay and he’s gonna talk about boys but… when he does I just get so mad.”

Steve looked at Mike for a while, blinking and parting his lips only to abandon his sentence repeatedly. Oh fuck. That can’t be good.

“See? I am homophobic! I’m such a bad person! Fuck!” Mike scrambled to get to his feet, only to collapse back as Steve yanked his arm.

“That’s… That’s not what that is.” He said with a quiet laugh, shaking his head. It wasn’t funny, but Mike was missing the joke. “You aren’t hateful, Wheeler. You’re, uh, you’re jealous.”

“What.” Mike said flatly. “I don’t even know this Charlie kid.”

Steve stared at Mike, his jaw tight and lips rolling inward. He blinked and lifted his eyebrows. “Mike.”

“I’m not jealous! You know what? You really are an idiot.“ Mike rolled his eyes. He wasn’t sure what was worse: being terrible to his best friend or having Steve lie to him and tell him he was just jealous.

“I didn’t say you were jealous of Will.” Steve said slowly. “But perhaps, of Charlie… for spending so much time with Will.”

“I mean, yeah.” Mike scoffed. “That kid doesn’t know Will. He’s not funny or like, as cool as, you know, his best friend.” Mike motioned toward himself and rolled his eyes again. “Why would he be spending time with Will? He’s not… like, I don’t know, worthy.”

Steve clicked his tongue and grabbed Mike’s arm carefully– tenderly, like his words were about to become violent. Mike leaned back, eyebrows furrowing. “Mike.”

“Y-Yeah?”

“I don’t feel that way about Robin.”

“Okay…”

“I don’t feel that way about any of my friends. In fact, I only feel that way about girls that I like when they hang out with other men. And obviously like them better than me. That’s called jealousy.” He lifted his eyebrows, highlighting the word.

“I don’t get it. So you’ve got really bad game. What’s your point.”

“You aren’t getting mad because Will’s talking about another guy. You’re mad because you think Will might like this guy.”

“And that’s homophobia!”

“No, that’s called having a crush, Mike.” Steve was slow with his words, almost handing them over to Mike with cupped hands. In the silence, he held onto them until Mike was ready to take them.

Mike swallowed and it felt like he had inhaled the draining oil from Steve’s car. “That doesn’t make sense. I’m not gay.”

“Okay, valid response… but that doesn’t mean you can’t like other guys. You can be a whole bunch of things and still like guys, Mike. It’s possible.” Steve shrugged. “Sometimes the kid in your business 101 class is cute, and guy who always comes in and rents history documentaries that you stupidly love hearing the summary of the following week. Sometimes it happens.”

“No. No! I– I don’t… That’s scary. W-What I can just start liking guys? That’s… No. I’m not… Since when?” Mike sputtered, shaking his head.

He’d never considered the possibility. He’d always been so relieved to like girls; he’d never have to be what he’d heard so frequently was so terrible from his father. Mike was so fucking relieved when he’d realized that he had the ability to like and love women. There wasn’t a thought that the relief came from a place of worrying he’d ever actually like a boy. That wasn’t right. Mike wasn’t wrong.

“It’s not like a virus, Wheeler. C’mon. It’s just life. Crushes aren’t plagues.” Steve kept his hand on Mike’s arm. There wasn’t fear or even repulsion. Mike wasn’t sure what was happening. Everything felt like a lie.

“I don’t like Will.”

“You just said this boy wasn’t worthy of hanging out with Will. No one says that about casual friends.”

“Well he’s not! He doesn’t even care about Will… At least not… The way I do.” Mike admitted, setting his jaw as he heard himself say it. Steve sat quietly, waving him on.

“What makes you say that?”

“I don’t know! I just… everything he does is… so cool and everyone just thinks it’s normal art or normal whatever, but it’s not, okay? They’re masterpieces and Will’s a fucking genius. At like, ev-er-y-thing.”

“Oh dear God, you poor fucking soul. You are so in love. I’m gonna hurl.” Steve laughed, leaning forward and wrapping his arms around Mike. He wasn’t sure why, but Mike felt like the hug was an admittance of pity, or failure. He was being coddled.

“I’m not in love. I-I’m not.” Mike argued, shaking his head. He was hoping to protect himself with a just a quiet denial. “That’s wrong.”

“It’s okay, Mike.” Steve held the back of Mike’s head, rocking them back and forth. For a moment, Mike was sure Steve thought he was actually holding baby, but accepted it the moment he felt himself start to cry. “You’re okay.”

“Why? Why do I care this much about Will? It’s stupid but he’s just… No, I don’t like him. There’s no way.” Mike pushed Steve away, wiping his eyes with a harsh swipe of his thumbs.

“Mike, this isn’t a bad thing. Crushes are supposed to make you feel good– what’s why we have them. We’ve found someone that makes us feel so good and so happy we just can’t stop thinking about them and how freaking cute and cool they are. That’s how it starts.”

“Well, I don’t…” Mike couldn’t even say he didn’t even feel that way about Will. He knew he did. He knew the prospect of seeing Will was the highlight of every single day. “I don’t want to feel this way.”

“Okay. That’s different. That’s okay too, but… Hm. Okay, so maybe homophobic is the right word.”

“What?” Mike blinked, sniffling.

“Maybe not towards Will though. Maybe think about how maybe you are– I don’t know– having that fear with yourself.” Steve mumbled, waving his hand around to stir up the words.

“… That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” Mike said harshly. That wasn’t possible. Mike wasn’t scared, he just didn’t want to upset his father. Or his mother. Or his friends. Or his neighbors. Or his teachers. Or anyone at school… It was different. Mike wasn’t scared. He just wanted to not bother anyone. That’s all he had been hoping for his whole life; to just be quiet enough to disappear.

Steve shrugged and waved the thought away. “All I’m saying is let yourself feel happy.” Steve said. “And definitely get rid of this Charlie kid. He sounds like a snotty art kid.”

“He is!” Mike cried. “All he talks about is Monet.”

“The water lily dude? Oh, gross. Boring.”

“Hey. That’s Will’s favorite artist right now.” Mike said pointedly, crossing his arms. Mike had stared at that woman and her umbrella in that field for enough hours with Will to at least get it a little bit.

“Oh, so it’s okay when Will talks about him but not this other kid.” Steve chuckled. “That sounds… biased.”

“Um, no. Will’s like, super knowledgeable about him. And tells me all the names of his strokes and shit. This kid just like. Knows he painted that one bridge painting.”

“Oh, so now you’re an expert.”

“Well, yeah. Because I listen to Will! He’s always showing me stuff.” Mike explained flippantly.

Steve positioned himself back on the creeper, lying down and grabbing the bumper of his car. “Does Will always talk to you about paintings and art?”

“Well, yeah. All the time.” Mike nodded.

Steve pursed his lips and nodded to himself. “Okay, so, my advice? Don’t worry about Charlie. Like, at all. He’s a red herring– absolutely a moot point. Complete bozo, nobody, nothing.” He rolled himself under the car as if that was enough.

“Wait! Why?” Mike grabbed Steve’s leg and pulled him out again. “What does that mean?”

“Will definitely likes you too.” He smiled. “He’s testing to see if you like him too.”

“He is? H-He does?” Mike gasped, tensing. There was that relief again, but this time it felt so different. It wasn’t a protective sinking that stuck Mike to the ground beneath him; it was a lifting, glowing sigh that made Mike feel like he was weightless. He was afraid to speak, to shatter the moment in which everything didn’t seem so terrible.

“Yeah. Totally. I may not know anything, but seriously. Showing you the thing he’s the most interested in? Man, Byers is crazy about you. Definitely.” Steve wiggled the creeper back under the car. “You should ask him to go to the movies.”

“We do that every week.”

“Offer to pay this time.” Steve said, moving his foot to nudge Mike’s leg. “Like a date.”

Mike had never heard of the simplistic joy and closeness he felt when he was at the movies with Will ever being linked to people like that– like Mike, evidently. The way he felt, brightly shining in his own pleasant happiness in the darkness of the theater, Will’s elbow nudging his own, was not something Mike ever thought gay people felt. He’d been taught differently. Granted, he saw Will being happy and brilliant every day of their lives, but Mike never thought it was eternal. There was never going to be a day that love was going to run out or joy was going to run dry.

A crush was just a beginning. It was part relief, part terror. Mike had never liked another boy before, never thought he would. And now he had to reconcile that he had been slowly falling for one boy his entire life. The crush wasn’t new; it had been constant and was familiar by then. It was a future Mike had come to expect and look forward to. Maybe it was time he started it.

ao3

[nostalgic-pancakes]

Room 73- Chapter 2/8

Ghosts are met, friends are made, D&D is planned and Patton remains a fashion icon.

Pairings (Chapter specific now because this is how we do): Sibling-y Moceit, Platonic Loceit (eventual romance), platonic intruality (eventual queerplatonic), sibling-y Analogical, brotherly Creativitwins (Remrom don’t interact please)

Read on AO3

Word count: 2869

Warnings: Dissociative episode, minor panic attack, bullying implied, foster system mention, small description of cafeteria food (I think that’s it? tell me if there’s more)

Other notes: Ask me questions about this au! I like those! (I also take writing prompts)

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

It turns out, the guy in a skirt’s name is Janus, like the Roman god, not Janice, like the stereotypical seventies name. This is something Logan only knows because apparently he said Janus’s name wrong, and the other felt the need to correct him. Does this happen frequently? Or is this just another one of those ‘Logan-Things’? He doesn’t really know the difference with new people, and Halry-Dove secondary is just full of those at the moment.

Well, Janus is in his next class, AP Chemistry, so he may as well get to know him better, so that the ‘new person’ designation can be removed, for better or for worse.

(please please please be better, he doesn’t know if he could go through that again)

The spotify playlist in his ear has gotten to the next ad cycle, and the ad voices are so filtered and saturated, that he has to take his earbud out. Logan’s twin bops his shoulder when he takes off the blue earbud, and shrugs a shoulder.

Are you okay? Virgil’s asking. He thinks he probably is. This much nervousness is normal because he can calm himself and think about other things to calm himself. He is, most probably, fine. Nodding to Virgil, who pulls the corner of his mouth up into a grin, Logan enters the chemistry classroom and his brother keeps walking to the next room- Creative Writing, with that one red person that was in front of him on the bus.

The chemistry classroom is almost exactly what he expected it to be, albeit a little less full than he thought. He’s not early, so he knows that this is the full class strength of about five. He rationalises this as the fact that Haley-Dove Secondary is a small school and will therefore not have many chemistry pupils.

Janus is there, occupying a seat with two extra chairs on either side, clearly meant for other people. However, the other people in this class have all sat down, and Nico Flores is already on one side. Logan stands, having no clue what to do.

“Logan? Logan?” he snaps awake from his ‘Think-Logan’ state and tries to find the source of the voice. It’s Janus, who’s pointing to the unoccupied seat on his left, motioning for him to sit down. Is this a trick?

This could be like before. Don’t.

That part of his mind has a point. But-

This could not be that.

The second part of Logan’s brain is louder. He sits next to Janus.

“Hi Logan!” says Nico, opening faer pencil case and digging around for their hexagonal drawing tool. Right. Organic Chemistry. He’d forgotten that. Logan doesn’t think he packed it, but he may as well check.

Nope, he did not pack the hexagonal drawing tool. For all intents and purposes, he is fucked. He hears the slamming locker from outside.

Suddenly, there’s a tap on his shoulder. He manages to resist the urge to flinch, and looks over at who tapped him. It was Janus, but Nico’s looking at him with a...friendly (?) expression, like the ones Virgil used to show to everyone when they were kids. Janus, however, has something in his hand- a hexagonal drawing tool. An extra, as shown by the fact that he has another, a bit more used than the one being offered to him, but a hexagonal drawing tool nonetheless.

“Are you sure?” he asks, and Nico looks at him as if he just said that he planned to inhale the sun someday. (that would be interesting, but he would die so no) Janus nods, a bit slowly, but it seems genuine. Mom usually thinks that kind of thing is, and she’s almost always right when it comes to this kind of thing. So Logan takes the hexagonal drawing tool, just barely not stuttering through a ‘thanks’.

Throughout the class, everyone seems to refer to their hexagonal drawing tools as ‘hexa’s’ or simply ‘tools’. Since both of these phrases are simpler to say than ‘hexagonal drawing tool’, Logan ends up sticking with tools. Janus keeps complaining, however, of an itch in the back of his neck coming from the seat behind him. Nico says the same, however not as frequently. Logan doesn’t feel it himself, though he refrains bringing up that it might be because both of them are wearing clothings which touches the backs of their necks, like the back of Janus’s cape (?) and Nico’s pink turtleneck. This goes on for most of the lecture, though the complaints taper out by the last ten minutes of the hour.

Most of the class had left the room by the end of the class period, though he and Janus had volunteered to stay behind to clear up the supplies and wipe the board. That’s when it happened.

“Hh...hisss-- HI-HissssSSss”

Janus had whipped his head around the second he heard the noise, cape swishing along with him and making the strange ‘ffwpph’ noise. Logan himself only turned around once Janus’s eyes widened, indicating that the object of his surprise was a little behind Logan, and a bit to his left.

Except, there wasn’t anything there. Not really. Not in a way that there should be something.

Instead, it looked like what the world did near a fire- a bit swirly, as if rippling in the air. Like what would happen if TV static had something resembling a physical form, except maybe without the unsettling ant feeling.

It kept hissing, like the TV static Logan hates so much, and based on what Janus’s facial expression looks like, both of them hate it. And neither of them know what to do, so they bolt. Well, it’s more of Janus snapping out of his stupor, grabbing Logan’s wrist and sprinting out into the hallway, but they manage to exit nonetheless.

It doesn’t really catch up to him, not really, not until Janus is waving with a shaky smile and getting off his stop, gripping a boy in a suspender skirt’s hand tightly enough for that hand to become even paler, and Virgil’s booped his arm for the fifth time in one bus ride asking if he’s okay, do you want water, how’re you feeling? and answering monosyllabically to each inquiry.

It really doesn’t hit him until he’s home and in his pyjamas frantically googling what he saw, because he saw it it wasn’t fake someone else did too and--

there’s a hand, Virgil’s hand, entering is vision and--

Wiping away a tear off of his face. Logan was apparently crying, then. Not a new sensation, but a markedly unpleasant one, either way. Virgil looks scared again, like he did back when--

No. Not today.

Logan takes his twin’s hand, tries to make it a hard touch that Virgil can feel, rather than something intangible. Logan’s head starts to clear with the more gentle touches- Virgil’s hand on his face, later on top of the one gripping his own, Mom running her seamstress hands through his hair and Amma Holding him from behind, keeping him upright, steady.

Why was Janus so nice?

Why would he lend Logan the tool? Does he want something?

What was that?

Was he dreaming?

Has he finally gone mad?

Was it real?

Logan doesn’t know. He doesn’t know and he hates the not-knowing so much because what if he makes a mistake? What if something goes wrong and he messes it up because he didn’t know enough, wasn’t good enough--

“Lo, what happened?” he asks, and Logan wants to tell him, but he’s scared that maybe he’ll be wrong, that Virgil will think it’s false. Virgil moves his hands up from Logan's, to his shoulders.

Wait. This entire town is a hive for supernatural activity.

The hands on shoulders becomes a hug.

Virgil’s best friend is a witch. Why wouldn’t his twin believe him?

You are worthy, Logan. You are worthy. You are worthy.

Logan steels himself. “I saw something, today.” he says, catching Virgil’s interest immediately.

“There was a...something? In the chemistry room? And...it hissed.” His twin furrows his eyebrows- not disbelieving, but contemplating, like he does with that tabletop game he likes so much. He’s thinking about it, properly.

Finally, Virgil looks up and bonks his forehead against Logan’s. “I’ll talk to Hildi and see if she knows anything, okay?”

Logan nods freverently, flopping onto the other side of the bed. Virgil laughs a bit, and pulls the duvet over Logan’s curled form, and Logan grins right back. It’s not at full strength like it’d be if he was happy, per se, but it’s getting there for sure.

Virgil smiles a bit wider at his twin’s face, and huddles right next to him. “Hey, can I tell you about the red guy in creative writing? His name’s Roman.” and he does. Roman seems nice- Logan hopes that that’s how Janus could be, maybe.

Right now Logan doesn’t need to worry about maybe-friends or scary things in chemistry classrooms, because his twin’s right here. What could possibly be there to worry about?

…

Patton thinks that this first week of school is going pretty well, thanks! His classes are all with people he knows at least to a surface level, nobody’s been outright mean so far (or even mildly mean, which is...new) and Janus made a new friend!

(Patton’s always been good at making friends, just not keeping them) (He always needs to leave, eventually. Who could want a fucked-up kid who’ll age out in a few years anyway?)

So all things considered, classes have been good and Remy and Emile have been nice so far! (even though that could change, stop getting COMFORTABLE!) Patton’s new friend, Remus, has also been pretty cool, even if he’s different from any other friends that Patton has had in his life.

Case in point, right now.

“Pat! Pat! Didja know that some frogs can FREEZE in the winter?” Is the conversation opener that Remus thinks is a good idea, dashing over to Patton’s side as soon as he has his food in tray and trying to get seated without his skirt flying up. It’s a pink poodle skirt today, with dark blue constellations on it, and it’s till his mid-shins, so Patton had thought that he wouldn’t need leggings or something.

Well, as Janus seems to be communicating through his eyes, bad luck.

Patton finally manages to get his skirt into the seat-slot and sit down, and puts up his smiley face again to face Remus, who almost seems to be vibrating. It makes the smile on his face a lot less fake-feeling.

“Yeah, Remus, I did. Even if they’re blood doesn’t freeze over, they’re mostly frozen for months!” and Remus visibly lights up again, glad to have engaged in his tangent. Does nobody else ask him this kind of thing?

The other people at the table end up joining in the conversation, though diverting it a bit to stay out of ‘disturbing’ and more into ‘mildly strange’. Logan, one of the other new kids, is talking to Janus about the whole point of the Trolley Problem, which Patton makes a point to look up once he gets back. He wants to know. Virgil and Remus’s brother, Roman, seem to be bickering as usual (whatever this new ‘usual’ is), but without any bite.

Lunch is going fine, whiling away the minutes eating school food which looks like it was made out of clay but tastes fine, at least.

“Okay, so when I came out, I realised that on the off-chance of me ever having a kid, I’d give them the most neutral name possible, so that it wouldn’t be too big of a deal.” started Virgil.

“Yeah, same here- I’ve never had to come out, but I just think that it’s such a terrible idea to subject anyone to hating their name, especially as a kid!” that’s him.

The conversation continues that way for a while, flitting from topic to topic, until Roman makes a joke ragging on the fact that Voltron took the definition of Paladin too far to make sense anymore.

“Hey! Why do paladins wear chainmail?” oh hey, Patton knows this one! It’s from some random D&D jokes page.

“Because it’s hole-y armor!” he replies, and immediately Virgil’s looking at the two of them like he has an idea. Logan’s not necessarily exasperated, per se, but he's clearly seen that look a couple of times before.

“Do you guys play Dungeons and Dragons?” Virgil asks, already fishing through his backpack for a notebook, half-eaten tray forgotten. Roman nods vehemently, like he was just looking for a reason for this conversation to come up, but not before hesitating a bit too long, deer-in-headlights style. It takes Remus elbowing his brother to calm him down and nod.

Virgil and Janus haven’t seemed to notice, but Logan’s looking at Roman strangely. Before Patton can say anything, Virgil’s found a blank page in his book and is jotting things down while talking really quickly, eyes gleaming like Remus’s when he finds something particularly gross to scar the entire Advanced Bio class (including Patton) for life. This one is more excited than scheme-y though.

“Okay so sincewealllike--”

“Slow down, Jack and Sullen, we have no idea what you’re saying.” quips Roman, and Virgil seems to gain a lot more awareness at that, proceeding to slow his roll, the gleam in his eyes never fading.

“Okay, Janus, Remus Patton- do any of you know what D&D is?” Patton nods, making himself grin a little wider, Remus sighs in affirmative, and Janus replies with a simple ‘‘Yes, and?”, while trying to look dignified, even though he’s bouncing his knee like mad. It’s adorable, really. Virgil starts grinning, something that Patton’s never seen and automatically makes his heart soar a bit like Flappy Bird.

“Okay, so we all know D&D and probably can learn how to play it, right? Right. How about we tried playing a campaign together?”

Roman squeals and Remus whoops, chattering on about not having played in ages and looking for a way to get back into it. Logan smiles, pushing his glasses up as Janus slowly unfurls his grin as they all make their affirmations. Virgil is positively bouncing in place now, eyebags no longer the most prominent thing on his face in comparison to that smile, radiant and making everything around patton feel less fake.

Virgil waits till he’s calmed down a bir before glancing at his (frankly incomprehensible, what is that handwriting?) notebook, and starts throwing around ideas with his twin, Janus and Roman, who are perking up more and more by the second, while Patton and Remus lean a bit closer, feeling slightly amused. It’s a dangerous thing to think about, that he and Janus could actually become close to these people.

Nothing lasts forever, anyway.

…

Janus didn’t really want to be back in the chemistry room, especially after everything that had gone down last time, but he was a highschooler and subject to the construct of education and schedule-keeping like everyone else, so it didn’t seem like he had a choice.

Well, at least he had Logan, who had (maybe? probably.) become his friend in the past week of school, for at least however long Jnaus had here. He wasn’t a good kid, so probably not long.

Either way, chemistry class was going as normal. There was still an itch on the back of his neck, and Logan felt it too, sitting where Nico was last time, while faer sat where Logan did. Class went normally, with the two of them trying to keep their cool while class happened and hopefully able to get out before anything else happened (again). It made sense, that with his luck, that would not work out.

Once again, everyone else left as soon as the bell rang, and Logan and Janus were the only people left to clean up. Brilliant. Absolutely peachy. Delightful. Maybe he should stop snarking so much. Nah, it’s fine.

So he and Logan were clearing out supplies, packing their own things and wiping the board, hoping to god that the hissing thing wouldn’t come back, when they heard a voice.

“Hello?” What the fuck.

Logan looks back first, this time and sees the static thing again. Except, it’s not? Well, it is, but it’s like the static took on the form of a person, maybe a teenager from what the two of them can make out. And that teenager? Looks very, very confused. What a mood.

With Logan a little it frozen into place, it’s Janus who eventually walks up to the thing (person? What is his life anymore?), and pauses.

“Hello.” but there’s no reply.

“You heard that, right?” Janus turns back to look at Logan, only to see him holding up his phone, presumably recording the whole ordeal. Logan widens his eyes and starts grinning, the way he did when he showed Janus his tool, spray-painted blue by his mom and Virgil.

“Virgil is about to have such a ball with this.” he relies, a bit awestruck, and sends it to his twin, and someone named Hildi. On that note…

What the fuck is Janus supposed to tell Patton?

[yeenybeanies]

Travelers Beware

snakes & serpentine beings are by far my favorite predators, so here’s a naga ( looking something along the lines of this guy, as opposed to the half-man-half-snake model ) having a bit of lunch with you, an unlucky traveler! 

reader ( 2nd person pov ) & a naga

2454 words

warnings: language, soft vore, feral vore, heavily implied fatal vore

reblogs are appreciated!! feel free to leave comments in the tags!! thanks!!

This place is a fucking nightmare. It really is. Oh, it’s horrible! Why you? You ask. Why the hell did it have to be you? You’d heard the warnings from other towns about this place—about how this little village sometimes offers sacrifices to the beasts in exchange for peace—but you’d thought that those were exaggerations.

Apparently not.

And apparently this place has a nasty habit of kidnapping travelers to offer as sacrifices. Especially elves. The local beast seems to have a taste for elves. Apparently.

So you really just answered your own question. Why you? Because you’re an elf traveler. You are not a local friend or family member; you are an outsider, and you are expendable.

You look down at yourself. Your arms are bound behind your back so tightly that they feel numb, and your legs are tied together. As if it isn’t enough, the locals also stuffed you into a cage. You are basically—no, you are livestock. You are an offering of meat to the—to the—what did the locals even say it was? A naga? A fucking snake.

You are being fed to a snake.

Well—that’s their plan for you. That isn’t your plan. You flex and twist your arms under your restraints again, feeling them loosen just a bit more. They’re bound to give eventually. Just a few more twists, and . . . .

And one arm slips free! Which means the other one is free too! You gasp and rub your hands along your forearms, irritating the pins and needles sensation to try and get feeling to return quicker. There are marks on your skin from where the rope dug in, which you suspect will be there for a few days yet. Those ropes were awfully tight.

Now for your legs. You start to pull on the rope, fingers still a little tingly with returned blood flow, when you hear something that makes you still. If sounds like . . . movement through the grass—like grass crunching and sliding under something. Ears perked, you look out towards the noise. You can’t see it, whatever it is, but coming closer, slowly but surely. For the first time in this whole endeavor, you feel a trickle of fear. You hadn’t actually thought the naga was real.

No. You berate yourself and return your attention to the ropes. Even if it is a naga, it sounds slow-moving, and you’ll have yourself free of your bindings by the time it gets here, so you’ll be able to fight it off! Or run away! Whatever comes first! Damn, these ropes are tough though, and having still semi-numb hands isn’t helping.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute that you’d been tugging at your ropes when you look up again, eyes rising to meet a scaly, vaguely humanoid face. Startled, you gasp and flinch, and try to scuttle back from the monstrosity. It just stares at you, motionless, unblinking. Holy shit. How did it get here so quickly? It’s—it’s actually a naga.

For what feels like an hour, you stare at the beast, and it stares back at you. It’s not as big as you thought it would be, only holding its head up about five feet off of the ground. Overall, you guess that it is maybe twenty, twenty-five feet long. The more you look at it, the less scary it is. It actually looks rather silly with its snake body and short, kinda-sorta person-esque face, and its lack of arms. Were you not a little spooked, you might chuckle at such a sight.

Okay. it doesn’t seem to be moving. Tentatively you get back to pulling at your ropes, though you do glance up at the naga frequently. A knife—your knife—would be really helpful right now.

Despite it being creepy, though, there’s something about the naga that makes you almost forget it’s there. “ Frequently ” goes from every few seconds to every other minute to—-

Shit!

You look up suddenly, realizing it must have been at least five minutes since you—-

Fuck!

Fuck! It’s gone!

You look around, trying to find where the big-ass snake went. How the hell did it manage to get anywhere without you noticing? Where the f—-

Warm breath stirs your hair from above, and you freeze. Your own breathing stops, and you think your heart does too. This is not happening. This cannot be happening. Slowly you turn your gaze upwards, dreading to see what lurks overhead. Just inches above you is that almost-human face, its eyes wide and staring deep into your soul. You study its face for several long moments before you look up further. Somehow the naga managed to open the top of the cage and slither in without making any noise whatsoever. How the hell is it so silent? You’d heard it earlier! 

A light flick to your chin makes you flinch and snap your attention back to the naga’s face. You blink, meeting its eyes once more, and then its mouth, where a forked tongue shoots out to flick you again. As if you couldn’t feel any more terror, the damn thing is now tasting you! No way! You shudder and lurch back, shuffling as best you can with your legs still bound. Your back finds the hard metal bars, reminding you that you are, in fact, stuck in a cage with the naga. And it has tasted you. 

For the first time, the naga moves while you’re looking at it. Its eyes remain unblinking ( can nagas even blink? ), watching you, studying you. It’s looking at you like how you’d look at a tasty pastry in a bakery. That isn’t a nice thought. The beast slips down from the opened lid, just staring, coiling itself over. It’s almost hypnotic how it moves, head seeming to stay in place no matter how its body twists and turns. Up this close, you think maybe it’s a little bigger than what you’d initially estimated. 

Okay. So it’s in the cage now with you. And you’re still tied up from the hips down. The staring is really unnerving. The whole damn thing is unnerving. You swallow and slowly sit up more, afraid to take your eyes off of the naga again. Who knows where it’ll end up if you do. But it starts to move with you, its head lowering and its neck flattening into a wide hood. Oh no, you do not like that. Panic wells in your chest. You need to get out of this now. 

Fear gets the better of you; you lunge forward, trying to pull again at your ropes. The naga moves too, even quicker. It chomps down on one of your ankles and your world blurs, both from the pain and from the yanking. You feel yourself being hauled up and manhandled––snake-handled?––before you can even scream. Once everything stops moving, you gain just enough wits about you to realize that you are suspended upside-down. The pain in your leg is searing, bringing tears to your eyes. 

As your disorientation starts to clear, you look up ( down? ) to the cage below––the cage that you were just in, and the one you are now dangling over. Leveling your head, you’re met with a view of the naga’s belly scales. They’re cream in color, with iridescent pink and blue shimmers. If only for a moment, you’re mesmerized, but the pain in your leg snaps you out of it. The naga still has your ankle caught in its jaws. Over the pain, though, there’s another feeling: something wet and slick creeping over your feet. It almost feels like the blood that’s crawling through your pant leg, but, unless blood suddenly defies gravity and feels . .  like a wet blanket, you’re pretty sure it’s not blood. Before you can look, though, the world shifts again as the naga slithers down from the top of cage. Your face hits the grass and dirt, making you sputter, but you scrabble to try and right your position––to no avail. First it pushes you forward, and then pulls you backward, leaving you to claw at the ground with your arms outstretched in front of you. 

Why . . . does it feel like the wet blanket is getting squishier? And tighter? And quickly creeping further up your legs? 

Once the pulling slows, you manage to look back over your shoulder, and your heart stops. The naga’s short, reptilian face is at your knees! Its jaws are around your knees! 

You are in its mouth, in its throat. 

And it is STILL SWALLOWING you! 

You dig your fingers into the dirt, a new desperation filling you. This is not happening! You are not ending up a sacrificial lunch for a snake so some shitty village can––can do whatever! You pull and you squirm, trying to kick your still-bound legs free from the naga’s throat. Much to your horror, though, your efforts only seem to make things worse for you. Every inch you try to pull from its maw, the naga walks its jaws six inches up your legs and pulls you back. You can feel its throat squeezing, muscles bunching and stretching to drag you in.

Were it not terrifying, it might be impressive. You are not a scrawny elf. Your thighs are thick, your buttocks is full, and your hips are wide. You have a bit of a belly, too. The naga’s mandibles spread and stretch to encompass you. 

You do notice, though, that its swallows make less progress as it nears your buttocks. Hope! Just a flash! Surely it cannot stretch all the way around you! It will be forced to spit you back up! ( Better yet, maybe it will choke on you and die. ) It works its jaws, attempting to move further up your body, but you fight back with another wiggle. You curse at the beast, demanding it let you go, and it does pause. Yeah! It can’t get past your ass! It tries again, and again it makes little headway. You squirm almost tauntingly. 

Unfortunately, you not only underestimate the naga’s capacity to stretch, but its determination to consume you. While its efforts to pass its jaws over your rear yield slow, half-inch progress, your own efforts to escape those jaws don’t produce any results in your favor. The hope you feel starts to ebb, dwindling like a dying flame. It takes nearly you-don’t-know-how-long, but you do eventually feel the naga’s teeth prick the apex of your buttocks. Not only that, but you feel your own exhaustion starting to take hold in the wake of all of your struggling. Your blood runs cold. Another five minutes of inching, and it is at your hips. You dare to peek back to see its progress, just in time to watch––and feel––the widest part of your body slip into its gullet. You can see the lump you make beyond its head. It’s sickening. 

The pain in your leg is long forgotten, long lost in the naga’s throat. 

You fight your exhaustion and pull at the earth. The naga, though, has passed the hardest stretch of the journey. Its pace and progress quicken again, jaws walking up your back and under your belly. Your desperation is nothing to its desire to have you within it. It swallows and swallows, and more and more of you slides into its throat. The tight pressure encroaches upon your chest, making it harder to breathe. This, coupled with your exhaustion, is not a winning combination––not for you.

A last-ditch attempt to stop the naga has you spreading your arms wide, fingers dug in to try and anchor yourself to the ground. If only for a minute, it does seem to work. Those jaws reach your armpits and attempt to push past unsuccessfully. The naga twists its head to a new angle and tries again, and then again at a different angle. Its saliva soaks your thin shirt, some of it dripping off in little strands of spittle. Gross, but it’s the last thing on your mind right now. You can only think about how you can barely take a breath in the confines of the beast’s maw. Your remaining strength is fast-fading, and your vision is starting to blur. All the naga needs to do is drag its head back––and you with it––to narrow your shoulders just enough for it to shimmy itself over them. The pressure is unbearable; the threat of passing out is enough to distract you, to keep you from noticing how your arms fold up against your head, outstretched and parallel to each other. 

You do lose consciousness for a few seconds, offering no more resistance to the snake’s inner walls. With its jaws no longer squeezing your chest, though, you can breathe a bit easier, and manage to open your eyes. The roof of the snake’s mouth is in the periphery of your vision. It is no longer needs to walk its jaws over you now; its strong neck and throat muscles are pulling you in with every bunch and stretch. The space around you tenses like a compressed spring, and its release brings you deeper. Eager to welcome you in its embrace, the back of the naga’s throat pushes against your head. You can see the sunlight beyond its mouth, can still feel it on your forearms. All too soon, though, with another bunch and stretch, your fingertips brush its lips on their way in. 

It’s done it. The damned, bastard naga has swallowed you. 

The pattern changes: no longer do the walls bunch and release; now, it’s a constant movement, a tightness near your arms and head and shoulders that continuously squeezes you down. It isn’t a pull anymore, but a push to bring you deeper within. The naga’s mouth stays open for a bit longer, perhaps while it realigns its mandible. It’s like a light at the end of a tunnel. Aren’t you supposed to run away from the light? Yet, you’re being forced away from the light to your doom––your destiny. How ironic. The naga’s mouth starts to close. The light fades, filling your vision with pink, fleshy walls, and then with black. 

Squeezing and twisting guide you along, your body now effortlessly gliding through the tight, slippery passage. You try in vain to fight with what little remaining energy you have, but your squirms don’t seem to bother the naga at all. Nothing you can do within your confines stops your descent. 

From the outside, you are nothing more than an oblong, twitching bulge traveling down the naga’s body. Your journey ends when you pass into its stomach, which expands to accommodate you, to encompass you, as its mouth and throat had.

The air is quickly growing stale, and soon will run out.