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elysianslove · 4 years ago

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hi! may i request hcs of the haikyuu boys watching/helping their significant other workout? maybe yoga or just a regular workout? would be sweet if it was all of them but i know there are so many, so mainly kuroo, kageyama, bokuto, oikawa and nishinoya <3 thank you!!

hi anon!! i’m sorry i didn’t do all the boys, but i wrote for the specific boys you requested. if you, or anybody else, wants these hc’s for other boys i’d love to do them hehe. hope you enjoy!

kuroo tetsurō

he’s so excited as soon as you’re like “hey wanna work out together”

like his whole body freezes up and then he just

screams

if you’re already like pretty athletic, he makes everything a competition

but doesn’t actually compete

he just wants to watch you 😏

no fr he’ll be like “i bet i can do more squats than you”

and then just doesnt squat and only watches you squat

this mf 😭

he gets way too excited and puts an alarm at 4;30 am to text you/wake you up to go on a run with him

you: see that’s what we’re not gonna do

if you’re not very athletic or you’re just starting to get accustomed to working out

he is so. encouraging

like sickeningly so

tries his best not to overwhelm you and does really basic workouts with you

but also if ur laying face down on the ground crying “i dont wanna do this anymore” he will NOT have any of it

good luck unsubscribing to his services

he just wants to see you succeed 🥺 👉🏼👈🏼

cooks you the best healthy meals you dont even feel like youre missing out on anything

now

yoga

listen he’s so cheeky

he’s so mf TOUCHY

couples yoga with kuroo >>>>

it’s so funny bc this man is so strong he can do pretty much any move that requires any type of strength but pull out the flexibility card and he will pass away on the spot

he also just likes to watch you do yoga

not just bc he’s a pervert

but also bc it’s just interesting to see you in your zone

buys you yoga pants just bc <3333

“u just wanna stare at my ass”

“how dare you i would never objectify my gf”

stares at your ass <3

kageyama tobio

remember when i said kuroo would make everything a competition but wouldn’t really care

kageyama cares

he’s so annoying youre just trynna have fun working out w ur bf but here he is trynna kill u bc he’s so much better at everything

okay but if YOURE better 🤑

it pisses him off at first but then he realizes he’s pissed off bc ur so hot and make his spine tingle

work outs with him are intense as fuck

like he goes all out

but then he helps you stretch and 😏 it’s worth it

if he’s helping you workout, he’s kinda harsher than he intends to be

and when he realizes that yk maybe he’s being a lil extra

he apologizes and just asks how you wanna do it

spends the night researching hehe

is encouraging in a demeaning way like “do you WANT to regret not working harder” ur like tobio i swear on my life i will start crying

when y’all are done he does like give u a small kiss and the sweetest smile “good work” and it makes it all the more worth it

about yoga though

when he first watched u he was horny hwbwjwks

he was like oop what is this feeling

but then it clicked lmao

avoids watching you unless you’re doing it privately so he can embarrass himself less

if you invite him to join you it’s just rigorous head shaking but he loves you sm he’ll do anything for you

he just follows your lead and is listening so attentively and is trying to mimic your movements exactly and is so awe oh my god he’s so CUTE

once ur done and ur both just laying on the ground you roll over and kind lean over him and give him a kiss “thank u for doing this with me”

“we should do it more often”

not horny just in love with you <3

bokuto kōtarō

so hyperactive good luck keeping up with him

he’s also like

built

LIKE HAVE YOU SEEN. HIM???? no way he doesnt go crazy w the work outs

if you suggest to work out together he’s so excited and he just does everything normally the way he does at 2.5x speed and you’re just like bruh 🧍🏻‍♀️ slow down

you do eventually find your own rhythm that kinda matches his own

and it’s nice to have him with you because like if you’re at a gym and ur using a device across the room from him he’ll just yell and wave at you and blow you a kiss god i love this dork

after you’re both spent you just sit on the ground across from each other stretching just talking just vibing

gives you a big smooch in between everything if he can

it becomes a really positive addition to your life ngl

if he’s helping you work out

he is actually the fkn BEST

despite him being a work out freak, he doesn’t force that on you in any way

if anything i think he’d be super gentle

so cheerful when encouraging you

and rewards you a lot

too much probably

“20 PUSHUPS BABE !!!! LETS GO MAKE OUT FOR 20 MINUTES”

he doesn’t just say it he really does mean it when he tells you he’s proud of you

loves it when you do yoga

immediately tries to join in

“oouu teach me this move” proceeds to fall on his ass <3

t’s okay he has a lotta cushioning 😏

he always wants to try the couples yoga moves

he saves them on his phone to show you later and you cant say no bc ur already in gear and the yoga mat is on the ground hehe

(if you watch cody ko and kelsey kreppel’s couples yoga video that’s basically how it goes with you two)

^^^ in one of the moves he has to like lift you up by your arms as youre sitting down and he’s standing and he accidentally just shoves your face into his crotch

you both couldn’t stop laughing until you nearly peed and thats the beauty of love

oikawa tōru

he has to repeatedly ask you if you’re s u r e you wanna work out with him

if you’re s u r e you can keep up

please hand his cocky ass to him <3

if you’re athletic, prepare to have him try to one up you every time you do something

it’s so sweet though cause he’s so determined and he’s sticking his tongue out between his lips and you’re just like baby please what is this

tells you to lay beneath him while he does push ups so he can kiss you

you complain about how sweaty he is but really you just want him to take his shirt off <3

okay two important things i want to go over

one. oikawa does not know when to stop. so, honestly, you probably suggested to work out with him to keep him in check and make sure he doesn’t overwork himself

please make him drink water and take breaks when necessary :(

two. his knee :( he would probably need to be very careful and he’ll teach you the correct way to massage it and prep it before he does any critical work

if you approach him one day about helping you work out cause you’re clueless — yes it will get to his head

but like ??? he’s your boyfriend??? your very athletic boyfriend???

who else would u ask tf 😹

anyways he makes a whole like list and shit

organizes it so well with color coding and different handwriting

keeps you up to date with your progress and always says things like “look how well you’re doing babe!” and gives you a hugeeee hug

now, oikawa is either weirdly flexible, or not flexible at all

we’re gonna go for the first one for this yoga hc

joins you randomly and starts doing the poses correctly right away ur like ??? sir ???

distracts you. so much.

“can i have a kiss— another one?— one more— one more babe— okay an—“

make out sessions ensued :)

nishinoya yū

actually i think noya would like to be in own zone kinda thing when he’s working out

probably blasting some katy perry in his ears ngl

but when you tell him you wanna go work out with him??

now you’re both blasting katy perry in your ears

stares. stares so much. provocatively.

he’s your bf so you get it

but women have come up to you in the gym asking if you’re okay hbwjwkwe

makes you try out his routine while he tries out yours

��wow babe this is sooo easy” he’s dying dont believe him

you guys probably have a handshake that’s so motivating to do before and after eeekkkk he probably makes you feel SO good about yourself after

takes you to eat the unhealthiest shit he can find after a workout because why not right ? chivalry? undead 😻

if you ask him for help he’ll accept right away

competes with you to help you improve

“one day babe you’ll be beating me at these with such ease”

he’s the loud kind of encouraging

yells a lot

like so much

body worship all the time <3333

“god u look SO good right now i love you so much”

this simp i love him sm

anyways. onto yoga

did i mention he stares 👁👁

because he does

he already knows you do yoga and he will find out your schedule

just. likes to watch you tbh

if you offer to do couples yoga with him he refuses bc he likes the view where he is lmfao

there are so many tiktoks of him just doing the dances while you calmly do yoga

it becomes a trend lmfaowjwnsj

anyways yes best supportive bf award goes to noya (actually all of them who am i kidding)

end note; MY BEST FRIEND PAINTED AKAASHI FOR MY BDAY GIFT I STOPPED BREATHING ,,, anyways i hope y’all enjoyed this!! feel free to request some more mwah

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #kuroo x reader #kuroo headcanons #oikawa x reader #oikawa headcanons #bokuto x reader #bokuto headcanons #kageyama x reader #kageyama headcanons #nishinoya x reader #nishinoya headcanons

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symptoms-syndrome · 4 years ago

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Alters and Race in White-Bodied Systems

I said I was going to write something up, so I’m going to try. I will try to make this as easily understandable as possible, so please let me know if parts are unclear. This will be a little long because it’s a complex topic, but I hope you try to read it if you can. I’ve broken things up into chunks and made the text large for each header so that it is more ADHD-friendly, and tried to use layman’s terms whenever possible.

Things I’m going to be talking about in this post will be:

What is race?

What are the types of racial oppression?

How do people in DID communities/spaces perpetuate racism?

How can I check myself and avoid perpetuating racism?

Final notes

When I can, I will link to sources. For transparency, I am a nonblack/indigenous, Korean-American mixed race person with diagnosed DID. When I use the term “DID” in this post I am referring to both DID and OSDD.

#1: What is Race?

Race is a social construct, created by white people. It is not based in any science, as science has disproven there are significant genetic markers that differ between different races. “Whiteness,“ especially, has been an idea that has changed wildly over time. (A good book to read about this is called How The Irish Became White.)

Socially, people are divided along lines of race, which are blurry at best. Things like “the one drop rule“ make it so that no person of color (POC, a noun not an adjective) can fully claim whiteness. Whiteness is primarily defined by “not being a POC.”

‘Whiteness,’ like ‘colour' and ‘Blackness,' are essentially social constructs applied to human beings rather than veritable truths that have universal validity. The power of Whiteness, however, is manifested by the ways in which racialized Whiteness becomes transformed into social, political, economic, and cultural behaviour. White culture, norms, and values in all these areas become normative natural. They become the standard against which all other cultures, groups, and individuals are measured and usually found to be inferior (Henry & Tator, 2006, p. 46-47).

(In layman’s terms: Whiteness is created by society, and is now defined as “normal” and “default,” while actively oppressing people of color. People of color, by not being white, are seen as inferior. It’s a catch 22 of not being enough, and when you ARE enough, you’re not considered a person of color anymore, which is exactly what happened to the Irish.)

#2: What is Racial Oppression?

“Oppression” is a word a lot of folks throw around these days, and is commonly defined by what are called the “four Is of oppression.” These four Is are:

Internalized: This is oppression instilled in POC. Thoughts like “if I am more like my white peers, I will be more respected,” “I’m not like those people of color,” and pitting different POC against each other are all examples of internalized racism.

Interpersonal: This is oppression that is between individuals, and the most recognized form of racism. Interpersonal racism can look like calling people slurs, expecting POC to conform to stereotypes, etc.

Institutional: This is oppression built into the society and systems we live in. It can look like schools with higher percentages of POC getting less funding, differing descriptions for the same behavior (hyperactive white children being described as “outgoing” while a child of color is described as “disruptive”,) income inequality, and police brutality.

Ideological: Probably the hardest for people to recognize, ideological racism exists within our very thought processes. White people are told, directly and indirectly, that they are harder working, more deserving, more capable, more advanced, and so on. The inverse is applied to POC. A good example of this is the idea of “welfare queens,” or the idea that someone only got to where they are “by playing the race card.”

All of these interact with each other. Ideological racism is the basis of institutional racism, institutional racism is enforced by interpersonal racism, and progress towards liberation is inhibited by internalized racism, which is instilled in us by all of the above. Oftentimes, these are perpetuated in ways white folks don’t even notice or intend. Offhand comments and other microaggressions (more about those here, in a 2 minute video) can reinforce racism in ways that seem small or insignificant.

Now, onto the part folks are most likely here for:

#3: How Does This Relate to DID?

In DID, alters form for all sorts of reasons, and can look like anything. From demons to angels, fictional characters to animals or objects, the ways parts form can tell someone a lot about that parts beliefs, particularly when they differ from the body. In The Haunted Self, an example is given of a part that believes they are Superman because they cannot be hurt.

When race is involved with this, ideological biases come into play. Though you may not consciously make the decision to have an alter appear a certain way, ultimately, an alter is created by your brain and your brain alone (apart from, of course, the society that your brain/body exist in.) When you are a white person, and your brain creates an alter that appears to be of color, there is a reason. Even “positive” reasons can carry racism, such as splitting an Asian-appearing alter to help with schoolwork. Oftentimes, even without knowing, that reason is due to biases regarding race.

When an alter is created, it does not magically gain the experiences of someone who would actually live in that body. An alter that appears to be a POC has no idea what it’s actually like to be a POC, has no experience with racism, and does not experience any racism. Any racial experiences they may seem to carry with them are a white person’s perception of them, it’s a lot like claiming you know a show because you watched it through a neighbor’s window.

#4: How Can I Check Myself?

So, how do you never do anything racist ever again?

I’m sorry to say, but it just isn’t possible to be 100% non-racist. Even POC cannot be 100% non-racist or anti-racist, because we unfortunately live in a society that is constantly upholding white supremacy and white supremacist beliefs.

However, the next best step is being an anti-racist! Checking yourself for biases you’re upholding or racism you’re perpetuating is an important first step. This is an often uncomfortable and confronting process, and one that never has an end, but an important one. There are a LOT of ways you can do this, but I’ll just list a few that are relevant to DID.

Familiarize yourself with common stereotypes.

The easiest way to find where your internalized biases are with alters that appear to be a different race is familiarizing yourself with common stereotypes and ideas that our society has about POC. These are often tied to things like violence, hypersexualization, drug use, and other negative attributes, but can also be things that on the surface appear to be positive, such as being studious, people-pleasing, or frugal. Regardless of whether the stereotype seems positive or negative, either way it’s still perpetuating racism.

Ask yourself: Is my POC-appearing alter more sexual than others? Are they aggressive? Is my POC-appearing alter a monster (such as a demon or a zombie,) or otherwise less human, like an animal?

Keep an eye on your language

Obviously, if you follow my blog, I don’t support talking negatively about my parts. But in addition to this, when race is involved, it’s even more important. Words like “feral,” “aggressive,“ “sassy,” “soft,” and others can have a more racist impact when used on POC than when used on white folks. Additionally, your POC-appearing alter is not an actual person of color, so avoiding language like “my Asian alter” and replacing it with (when race is relevant,) “my alter that appears Asian” can be also a helpful change. Lastly, and I would hope this goes without saying, but language like AAVE, slurs, and “broken” English are not yours to use if you have a white body. If you wouldn’t let a white person say it, you should not let an alter in a white body say it.

Ask yourself: Would I use this word if this alter appeared white? If I saw another white person talking like this, would I be okay with that?

Avoid cultural appropriation, be aware of culture

A lot of this may seem obvious, such as not wearing native regalia if you are not native, but other aspects of cultural appropriation may not be as obvious. Asian names, for example, are both incredibly personal, important, and significant in Asian culture, and stigmatized against in white society. I don’t know of any Asian folks who do not have a white name they used in school because teachers literally refuse to try and learn our real names. The issue of cultural appropriation is, at its core, that white people are treated differently for doing the same things that POC do, even when it’s originally something that POC created.

Ask yourself: Would someone of x race be treated differently from me doing this? Is this something that POC have been told they cannot do, even though I can?

#5: Final Notes

As I say whenever I do equity workshops, learning does not end here. I encourage you, if possible, to do more research on your own about racial equity! Clicking the links I’ve included throughout my writing would be a good start, and those links may lead you to others. Getting involved with local activism groups, meeting diverse groups of people with varying ideas, and reading would also be excellent ways to further your learning at your own pace.

Reading this may have made you uncomfortable. You might’ve read something and cringed, thinking to yourself “oh no, I do/did that!” in which case, forgive yourself. Learning is always a process, and no one is ever perfect. As long as you keep in mind what you’ve learned going forward, you are not a bad person for having done something racist in the past. We live in a society that at best doesn’t punish, and at worst rewards upholding the racist beliefs we all live with. Discomfort is a part of learning, and if you were uncomfortable and kept reading, I commend you. That’s hard.

This is all written by one person, with one experience and one life story. You may at some point in time talk to someone with an entirely different experience who may say totally different things than me. Use your best judgement.

If you read all the way through and found something useful, and you can spare any change, my cashapp is $beepollen98. Money would be used to prepare for my upcoming gender surgery! Obviously no pressure, I hope you learned something and feel a little more educated, and maybe even enjoyed reading!

As always, my DMs and asks are open if you found anything confusing, and/or have suggestions/questions.

#actuallydid #actuallyosdd #did/osdd #dissociative identity disorder #other specified dissociative disorder #actuallydissociative #did #osdd #race and DID

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8fmg8 · 3 years ago

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My True Pokemon Journey

My origin is found on Kanto, oh classic and nostalgic Kanto.

I was a little girl around 10 years old when I managed to start my first pokemon journey. I had grown up hearing about the amazing adventures of different trainers, and I decided to give this supposedly great experience a try.

Apparently my ambitions weren't that high even as a child with the whole world ahead of her.

After so many years, I must confess that I remember close to nothing remarkable about my trip through Kanto. I had a fairly regular ride, with not very pronounced highs and lows, and I felt comfortable with what I was doing.

And when this comfort that I had trapped myself in was interrupted by an obstacle known as Victory Road, I was unable to deal with it.

I was mediocre and simple-minded.

I got lost in the cave's walls and puzzles, and had no means or motivation to seek outside help.

I couldn't even make it to the Pokemon League.

So, I gave up. Not only with this adventure but with all Pokemon.

For a long time my feelings towards the concept were completely disinterested and spite.

And the only thing I just did for a while was hang out with the creatures I found walking down the street and I even picked up the hobby of training jumping Magikarps for a while, but even that I ended up giving up on for one inconvenience or another.

"It's not worth it, pokemon aren't that great after all."

But one day, the same call attracted me once again.

A content creator whose videos I faithfully watched mentioned that word that I had drifted so far away from: Pokemon.

My disdain for the subject had become non-existent as the years passed, and after doing some research, I set myself the goal of fulfilling my frustrated childhood dream: Conquer a Pokémon League, this time in the ever-popular Hoenn region!

Perhaps because it's a more recent experience, or because the time has made me more connected to my emotions, but my journey through the Hoenn region is what I consider my most real pokemon experience.

I felt a genuine connection with my teammates, everything I saw fascinated me and the battles I fought filled me with pride, I could finally appreciate the true Pokemon experience!

I was even able to overcome the obstacles I encountered, not wanting to repeat my mistakes.

I witnessed epic events that I will never forget. And finally, after working my nerves and intellect in such demanding matches, I managed to beat Wallace and crown myself as the champion of Hoenn.

"Yes, I did it! I'm a real trainer!"

In my travels, I even managed to capture the legendary Regis (with the guidense of some experts I may add).

"What should I do now?! Well, I've been invited to the Battle Frontier, I hear it's quite a challenge. Though I think I'll explore a bit first-"

I was challenged to a match deep inside Meteor Falls, against a man named Steven Stone.

I lost... miserably...

"B-but, but...it wasn't my actual team! Just a handful of Pokemon I'd decided to take on the scouting!"

Yeah, that must be it.

This stranger was strong but there's no way I'll lose if I use the team I won the League with-

I lost again.

I couldn't beat him even as the champion but, am I even the champion anymore if this guy beat me fair and square?

Maybe I should have trained, and come back stronger to claim my title back but…my pride gave was weaker than my fear.

Knowing that people of such caliber existed out there shook me deeply. I thought I had reached the peak of being a trainer but now, I couldn't even process how far behind I was.

I didn't dare to set a foot in that cave...or the Battle Frontier...or the region of Hoenn...ever again.

"They deserve a better champion than me."

I disappeared from the Pokemon world again, abandoning everything I had built in the coastal region.

After a while, I traveled to some other regions, but (for one reason or another) never won a League again or even made it to the Elite Four.

Until now, I still have doubts that it can.

And even if I could, I don't think I deserve it.

I'm not like other trainers; I don't have the skills nor the passion to go as far.

Maybe battling just isn't my thing, and maybe one day I'll find a window into an aspect of the wonderful Pokemon world that I can really connect with and give my %110 to.

But until then, I'll focus on other things.

And I sincerely hope you enjoyed reading the walkthrough of this mediocre Pokemon trainer.

#pokemon #my story #my pokemon journey

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vintagedolan · 4 years ago

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mixtape | track ten

| masterlist | faceclaims | playlist |

Indiana’s mental health class was in her first semester in the pre-med program. Abnormal Psychology, PSY 249, in a stuffy room in a building on the far side of campus. She’d hated it. College was supposed to be challenging, her program was supposed to be the most rigorous, and yet the class was a breeze. They went through condition after condition - depression, PTSD, anxiety, schizophrenia. The inner workings of the brain, the chemical imbalances, the medications that would help people come back to themselves. She passed the class with a 101%, stowed the knowledge in a seperate folder in her brain for safe keeping, and moved on at the end of the course. But she kept one piece of paper out, one piece of knowledge that didn’t make sense.

Voluntary Emotional Detachment. It was a relatively new idea in the world of psychology, seeing that many of its characteristics could fall under depression. That wasn’t what confused Indy. No, that came when her professor lectured on the voluntary portion.

“Emotional Detachment is a useful tool sometimes, when it’s used purposefully. For example, if you have a toxic family member in your life, you may voluntarily emotionally detach yourself from them. It’s a defense mechanism, especially during times of trauma. You’ll find yourself numb, unable to feel even if you wanted to. It happens with loss sometimes as well, where you can’t feel the gravity of what you’re losing. Your mind knows what it can withstand, and sometimes, it pulls back. It shields you from the cruel world we live in. It protects.”

Indy had scoffed in her seat, so loud that her professor looked at her and frowned, which was enough to have her blushing red and keeping her head down as she scribbled notes for the rest of the class.

It was the one time she’d ever been reprimanded by an academic authority. Professor Upton pulled her aside before she could escape out of the lecture hall doors.

“Ms. Cross. You seem like a bright girl, but I don’t appreciate the disrespect.”

“I’m very sorry professor, it won’t happen again.” Indiana had practically stumbled over the words to get them out, her palms sweaty on her backpack strap as she held it on her shoulder.

Indy had a million explanations, but she knew that her professor didn’t care to hear them. And they were lies anyway. The true reason she’d scoffed was something she didn’t want to share.

It was because her professor had made it seem so easy, to just turn it off. Emotionally pull the plug, to sever your ties to someone.

She’d scoffed because if her brain had the capability, and it hadn’t moved to protect her when her mother died, shielded her from the aftermath of unimaginable pain that she’d endured, she wasn’t so sure that she was at all intelligent after all.

But she understood why now.

It was because her mother dying had made sense.

Not in the grand scheme of things. Not in a karma driven universe - there was no justifying losing a light as bright as Nicole Cross in a world that had checks and balances, a world that cared.

But physically, it had made sense.

Nicole’s cancer started in her pancreas. Stage III when they found it. 13.3% survival rate. And it spread like wildfire. Indiana threw herself into her books, looked for anything, some medical breakthrough that someone had missed. She looked into drug trials, she looked into synthetic pancreas research. All the while, her mother’s cancer took over cell by cell, multiplied and multiplied the way cells are built to. And when it reached her brain, it took over her brainstem.

When it got to that point, Indiana heard the four words that she would never forget.

“She’s done. We’re done.”

They had echoed out, bouncing off the bleached linoleum, making a cold room even colder. Her father’s voice had never sounded so unfamiliar, and she was glad that her mother was sedated when she broke down. There was no detachment, only raw, searing pain unlike anything she had ever experienced. She sunk to the floor, ragged sobs finally breaking free when she realized what she’d known was coming was finally happening.

The fight was over. It was time to let go.

Charlie hadn’t cried. No, Charlie stood still as stone in the corner of the room, eyes unblinking as she stared at the shell of her mother in her hospital bed and willed it to be a dream, a nightmare that she would finally wake up from.

And then, she remembered where she was. She remembered who she was. And she picked her little sister up off the floor and held her in her arms, like she always had when Indiana was hurting.

Without the vital cues from that little piece of Nicole’s brain telling them to, her heart stopped beating and her lungs stopped asking for air, and she died.

And it made sense.

This didn’t make sense. His words made no sense.

There was no one to hold Indiana Cross now, and she had a new set of four words that would haunt her.

“I can’t do this.”

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

Six days. Grayson’s thoughts ate him alive for six whole days. He lived through the odd limbo that the world seemed to find itself in on the days between Christmas and New Years. A pause in the spin on the axis, a time to reflect on everything the year had brought, and what the next one had to offer.

Even in his daze, Grayson could only remember one other December he’d tried to hold onto so hard.

His father’s face was at the forefront of his mind, but not the images that he wanted to see. All he saw was a look of disappointment in his eyes with each hour that Grayson’s lips stayed pressed together while Indiana rested, oblivious in his arms. He towed the selfish line of wanting to enjoy the last days he had with her while his guilt threatened to drown him with every breath he dared to take. He hid it well, as he always did when he really needed to. They had their date nights, with movies and postmates since he still didn’t want her out in public with him. They stayed in the tiny house again to enjoy nature, snuck into Jet’s a few times. He smiled when he was supposed to, went through the motions that were expected of him. It had worked for him before, for videos, for time with friends when all he wanted to do was sit in his room and speak to no one. The only person he could never fool was Ethan, who kept his distance, but stayed close enough to keep his eyes on him. He thought he had everyone but his twin fooled.

But Indiana noticed. Indiana always noticed.

Nicole had called it the curse of intelligence when she was younger.

“Sometimes,” she’d said. “When you know too much about how the world works, how people work, you see things you aren’t supposed to. You understand things you aren’t supposed to.”

Indiana was 12 at the time, sitting on the other side of the kitchen table.

“What do you mean mom? How can you know too much?”

“You’ll know one day. You’ll see.”

The way she’d said it made Indy sit her fork down, her stomach suddenly tight.

And now she’d seen.

On New Years Eve, Indiana Cross leaned in to kiss her boyfriend as the clock struck midnight, on her couch in her apartment, with her picture frames on the shelf over their heads and the sound of fireworks outside her window.

Grayson didn’t lean in.

He leaned back, and he spoke.

“I can’t do this.”

Indiana took a breath. In. Out. Filled her lungs and emptied them again.

She’d noticed. But she hadn’t let herself believe it. She’d pushed every little nuance she’d seen, every time that Grayson’s eyes didn’t catch the smile he tried to put on his face the last few days- she’d pushed it to the back of her mind and justified it. He was just worried about leaving, he was just stressed about Bekah like she was, he was just tired. She’d seen every sign and she’d justified it.

She swallowed air, her throat painfully dry.

“What?”

“I can’t do this, I’m sorry.”

Indiana did what she always did, what she’d always done her entire life when anything didn’t make sense, when anything went slightly off track.

She tried to understand why.

She racked her brain for everything that she’d done, every syllable she’d spoken, and every movement she’d made since that first day at Frazier outside, with him in his green pants on the bench, and her with two Jet’s coffee’s in her hands.

Her fingers were cold as she pressed her hands together. There was a finality in his tone that had her chest tight, her ribs pressed together, muscles pushing on bones and squeezing everything until she felt like she was going to suffocate. She opened her mouth.

“Oh.”

Grayson had his head in his hands, leaned over his knees on the couch. He shook in an unfamiliar way, like he was choking, and it took Indy a moment to realize that he was crying.

She felt like she was in a dream, watching what was happening to her from the outside. It was like slow motion as she watched the girl on the couch curl in on herself, her walls reconstructing at ten times speed - he’d been so gentle with each brick that she didn’t even realize they’d been taken down. He spoke after a moment of heavy silence.

“I love you, but we can’t. I can’t do this to you.”

Her brain refused to process it, refused to even try to dissect it, and she spoke the only word she seemed to be able to find.

“Oh.”

“Indy I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry, I should have said something sooner, I wanted to, I’m an asshole for waiting this long.”

She swallowed and wrung her hands together.

“When is your flight?”

His tears streamed faster somehow as he blinked.

“Tomorrow afternoon. We have meetings on the 2nd.”

In. Out.

“What time?”

Grayson looked up. Indiana was sitting straight up, head up high. The only thing moving were her hands, which she kept squeezing together over and over. It scared him, to see his once bubbly girl so still while his tears continued to fall. He couldn’t read her.

“I’m not sure, I’d have to check. Dee, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

She smiled her hospital smile, the one she used when she got bad news, and it was somehow worse than if she’d yelled at him.

“Indy.”

“It’s okay. C’mere, it’s okay.”

She opened up her arms for him, and she didn’t even seem to notice that they were shaking ever so slightly.

Grayson’s eyes were too blurry to see the quiver. He was fighting himself again, wagering whether sinking into her arms would only cause more damage in the long run. But he knew how it felt to be there, and he wagered that it would be worth whatever hellish guilt it was sure to bring later. So he leaned in, and just a single touch from her had him sobbing again. He pressed his face into her shoulder with so much force that she fell backwards a bit, and suddenly they were intertwined with him above her on the couch.

His pain was physical. She could feel it, in the way his body shook and paused when he tried to suck in a breath that his lungs desperately needed, the wet hot air soaking through her shirt with every exhale he choked out. His tears were warm, the salt already stiffening the fabric that soaked them up. Her hands found his back, and she lifted a finger to his skin before she paused.

She didn’t know what to write anymore.

Instead, she moved her hand to his hair, scratching at his scalp, holding him steady. He was heavy against her and she closed her eyes, felt him there with her, took in the weight of him.

“Shhhh. It’s okay.” We’re okay. “You’re okay.”

Her words only made Grayson cry harder when he realized what she was doing. He came back to himself for a moment when he realized that all the shaking wasn’t him. He could feel the way she held onto him and shook, so subtle that he could tell she was fighting it. His stomach churned at the thought of how bad her pain must be if it was causing a reaction in her body, and he moved to push himself up.

“Indy.”

She clung to him, panic breaking through the protective numbness that had taken hold so quickly. If it was the last time she was going to get to hold him, she’d hoped it would have lasted just a bit longer.

But she took a deep breath and she let him go, forced her arms to release him.

It hurt worse to see his face again, see the pain in his puffy eyes. She reached back out for him, swiped her thumb across his cheek to catch a tear. Her fingers got distracted in the feeling of his scruff, and she scratched over it for a moment, indulging herself, willing herself to remember the way it felt on her fingertips.

“It’s okay.” It was a reflex to her, and she couldn’t stop herself from saying it.

“It’s not though. Indy, it’s not okay. I’m hurting you.”

She didn’t have a response to that. Her eyes fell to her lap, picking at her fingernails.

“I’ll be okay.” It was a lie, but she would have said anything to bring some of the light back to his eyes. Her pain she could manage, but his was her breaking point.

“Please don’t do that. Please don’t pretend on this.” He brought in a shaky breath, blowing it out quickly.

In. Out.

“What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to scream. I want you to be pissed at me, I want you to be mad that I waited this long to tell you! You haven’t even asked why,” he cried. Indy wondered for a moment why it always hurt more to see boys cry. It seemed to be more painful for them somehow - heavier.

“I think I know why.”

He sat up a bit more at her words. Waiting.

“It was a chance thing, you being here. Us meeting. Your life is entirely different than mine, and you have your people in LA. There’s… I mean there’s plenty of girls there who don’t have the stuff I have. Class, work -” Her voice cracked at the end, Grayson’s outline blurring just a bit as she looked up.

“No. No no no, hey,” he stopped her, hands hovering over her for a moment before he gave in and rested them on her arms, holding her without fully pulling her in. “It’s not that. I promise you, it has nothing to do with anyone else. I want you, I don’t want anyone else. But I know you, and your dreams are here, and I’m not gonna take that away from you.”

Indiana’s confusion only grew. She’d only heard one thing he’d said.

“You want me?” Her voice sounded pitiful, even to own ears.

“Of course I do.” He spoke it like it was the only possible truth, and a flicker of hope rose in her gut, fighting it’s way up. “Indy of course I do.”

“Then… why?”

“Remember when we went to LA?”

His words brought back a flood of memories. The two of them kissing in the ocean, the secret beach, sleeping in his bed with his green wall, piggyback rides around the house, the late night Cudi drives.

“Yeah.”

“You remember how much you hated it there? How bad you wanted to come back home? And what did I promise you?”

Indy couldn’t find her voice. Her brain was otherwise occupied, watching her memories being drug through dark ink, staining them.

“I promised you I would never ask you to leave New York.” He finished it for her. “And I meant it. But I can’t stay here Indiana, no matter how bad I want to.”

“Your life is in LA.” She repeated her words from earlier, monotone and unattached. Her heart fought with her, begged her to tell him everything. Tell him that she was going to start working at Jets and start therapy so she could fly out to see him. Tell him that she was halfway through her UCLA application essay that she’d been working on on nights he fell asleep before her. Tell him that she’d drop everything and follow him anywhere.

“You’re the most giving person I’ve ever met. You give so much to everyone but yourself. But I’m not letting you give up your life for anyone, especially not me.”

She wanted to be mad that he assumed that she would. But there was an understanding, a sadness in his eyes that reminded her that he knew her better than she had ever realized.

“We could make it work.”

He looked like he wanted to believe her.

“You deserve someone who is here for you.”

“You’re here for me.” Her mouth was starting to outrun her mind, a dangerous game that she usually couldn’t stop once it had begun.

“You deserve someone who is here to celebrate your accomplishments every day, not someone in a different time zone on the other side of the country.”

“We could make it work.” It was more of a plea that time, and she saw it register across his face, the pain it caused him.

“Indy.”

“People do long distance all the time, we could do it.”

“We aren’t long distance people,” he said, but Indy’s mind was already running.

“We could set up a facetime schedule, and you wouldn’t have to visit that much, I’ll be busy with school anyways. And if we hate it, then we can stop. We just have to try, we’re never gonna know unless we try it.”

Grayson was silent for a minute, which was enough of an answer. He’d known this was coming. Ethan had warned him that it would happen, that Indiana would try to reason her way through it. He’d told his brother that he had to be confident in his choice or he’d get swayed off course.

Grayson wasn’t sure he’d even be confident in his choice to remove himself from the best person he’d ever known. But knowing that in the long run it would be better for her was the only thing that let him cling to the last bit of resolve he had.

“Indy.”

Her lip quivered, and he felt his heart crack.

“Please,” she said.

“C’mere. Just c’mere.”

It wasn’t a surrender, but an offering of comfort. Indy knew it would hurt her later, but she didn’t have the willpower to resist it. She crawled into his lap, and the last of the numbness that had started faded away. In his familiar arms, she lost her last semblance of control.

She crumpled into his shoulder, broken sobs shaking her frame as she clung to him, let him hold her as she wrapped herself around him, as if it would somehow make him stay.

He rocked her as she sobbed, accidentally pressing a kiss to her shoulder before he realized what he was doing. It was torture in the rawest form, worse than he could have expected to be the cause of her pain.

“I’m so sorry Indy, I’m so sorry,” he whispered to her over and over, hoping she believed him. She pressed her face against his neck to keep her eyes closed, pretending for a moment that everything was fine.

“I love you.”

The tears returned to his eyes, and in a moment of weakness he turned and pressed a kiss to her hair, her temple. His lips had missed her.

“I love you too Indiana Cross.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again.

Her finger traced against his back. F-O-R-E-V-E-R. She wished she could erase it somehow when his breath caught in his throat again.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and he shook his head.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” His voice was muffled by her skin, seeing that he was unwilling to lean back from her.

“I know this is hurting you too,” she said, and was met with the feeling of more of his tears on her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“The only thing you did was make me love you too much. Don’t be sorry for that.”

The way her heart squeezed wasn’t natural, and though she knew the phenomenon wasn’t as everyone said, she was sure it skipped a beat in her chest. She squeezed him tighter to her, like she had so many times. She synced her breathing to his, laid her head on his shoulder, committed the sound of his heartbeat to memory.

Their tears dried out over the next hour, the numbness of acceptance starting to blanket over them. Neither of them dared to move a muscle, Grayson especially. All he did was rub his hand over her back, up and down the same as he had been since she climbed into his lap. They both knew that moving would mean having to figure out what to do next.

It could have been minutes, it could have been hours. Indy wasn’t sure, and she was scared to look at a clock, to see her fleeting time left with him wasting away.

“Did you pack your bag already?” Her voice was too loud even though it was barely above a whisper, pulling them back into the reality they wanted to avoid.

“Yeah. It’s at home.”

Indy could see it in her head, his Jersey room, quiet and waiting for him with his orange duffle on the bed. But her stomach filled with a wave of nausea as she realized what it meant.

“So you have to go home.”

Grayson’s hand paused on her back. She was holding her breath.

“I… I didn’t know if you would want me to stay.” It was the first time he could remember not knowing what to say to her.

Her arms tightened around him, her breathing getting a little bit more ragged. He ran his hands over her back quickly, desperate to soothe her.

“Shh, shh hey, I’m staying. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yet.” She whispered, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he flinched. “Sorry, that was harsh.”

“Not undeserved,” he said, turning and resting his cheek against her shoulder. “I don’t want to hurt you any more than I already have. So whatever you need, I’ll give it to you.”

Indy sat up. Her eyes had settled a bit, her tears washing the jellyfish blue into a shade of navy that Grayson didn’t recognize. It made his breath catch in his chest.

“Whatever I need?”

“Whatever you need.”

She looked at him, and her head tilted to the side just slightly. A small smile tried to make its way to her face, but her lips quivered.

“Could you kiss me?”

He paused, watching her fight off her tears with a deep breath.

“Is that what you need?”

“Just… just one. I didn’t know, you know. That the last one was gonna be the last one. And we’re here, and I just thought, that maybe - ”

He kissed her. For the first time, he was hesitant. He kept his hands to his sides, not wanting to push anything too far, not wanting to make anything worse somehow. Indy barely reacted either, too nervous to do something wrong.

They pulled back from each other, breathing shallow, nerves taking over as they tried to figure out what to do.

“Thank you,” Indiana said.

Grayson swallowed hard, watched her eyes as they flickered between his own.

And then they were kissing. Really kissing, chasing the taste of each other like air at the end of a sprint. His hands went to her face, holding her to him as her hands went to his torso, bunched up his shirt and tried to pull him into her, closer somehow despite the fact that they were already touching everywhere that they could be. The desperation was palpable, in the way their hands roamed and fell back into their familiar patterns. Indy sucked in the first real breath she’d taken in since the clock had struck midnight, breathed him in as best she could, trying to lose herself in him like she always had. But her mind wouldn’t shut off, reminding her that it could really be the last time she had him like this.

He felt her tears, first on his thumb that was holding her cheek, and then against his own skin. It took all his willpower to pull back from her lips. She let him, her breathing shaky as she tucked her face back down into his neck.

He picked her up effortlessly, standing up from the couch and moving them to her room. The Cudi vinyls seemed to mock him, especially when he laid down and stared up at them on their small shelves. Indy didn’t move an inch, staying wrapped around him, laying on top of him when he rested back against the pillows.

Time moved quickly, and Indy still avoided the clocks, scared to see what had already passed.

Grayson wanted to hear her voice. Wanted her to talk to him, wanted to commit every single thing she said to memory, but he wouldn’t ask. She had given him enough.

He closed his eyes, focused on the feeling of her fingers over his shirt, tried to make out what shapes she was drawing like he always did. He felt her hands travel up higher, up his neck to his skin, scratching over his beard.

Her fingertips were gentle as they moved up, over his lips, around his cheek to his eyelids, down over his nose, then to the other side of his face. She traced the pattern a few times, and Grayson waited until she was on his nose to speak.

“What’re you drawing?”

“You,” she said. “Memorizing.”

He didn’t know how he still had more tears to make, but they started to fall anyways, down the side of his face over his temples.

“I’m sorry,” was all he could say.

“I know. I wish you could stay just a little bit longer.”

“Me too.”

He traced a heart on the back of her arm.

“I love you too.”

The truth of it was, she didn’t know how to not love him, and that was the scary part of it all. She couldn’t imagine a world where she didn’t love him with everything she had in her.

She didn’t know who she was without it anymore.

“If you ever change your mind, I’ll be here you know,” she said. He took in a deep breath, pressing a kiss to her hair.

“I’m not gonna do that.”

Her heart sank.

“That’s not fair,” he said. “I can’t ask you to do that, to wait for me. I’m not going to string you along, that’s cruel. Once I’m back in LA, I want you to move on.”

Indy shook her head against him, burying her face in his chest.

“No.”

“Indy.”

“No.” Her brain refused to process it, to imagine a single scenario where she felt anything good without Grayson by her side. She knew it wasn’t healthy, and she vowed to never tell anyone but in that moment, she reserved herself to be miserable every minute that she wasn’t with him.

“I know it’s not gonna be easy, but you deserve to be happy. And I’m sorry that I’m gonna make that harder, but you’ll find somebody who can love you better than I do.”

“Does that mean you’re going to just move on when you get back to LA? Just forget about me?” There was a spite in her voice that she didn’t like hearing in her own voice. But Grayson didn’t flinch. It was almost reliving to him. He was getting what he deserved, what he’d earned for breaking her heart.

Her anger meant she cared.

“Indiana I’m never going to forget you. If you think I could, I was an even worse boyfriend than I thought.”

“No, don’t do that.” She pushed off his chest and sat up. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to make me think that the last three months were bad. That’s the last thing I have to hold onto. Those were the best months of my life, you don’t get to take that.”

Grayson didn’t have an answer.

“Okay.”

“You made this decision for the both of us, I don’t get a say in it. So I’ll hold onto it as long as I fucking want to. You don’t get to tell me I have to move on.”

“Okay.”

“Okay then,” Indy said, reaching up to wipe a tear away. She sucked in a breath and pushed it out through shaky lips, trying to hold herself together.

“Sorry.”

Grayson shook his head. “Indiana you can be mad at me. You should be mad at me.”

“I am mad at you.”

She knew it wasn’t in the way that he meant. Because she wasn’t mad that he’d broken up with her. Because deep down, under all the pain and all the love and all the worry, she knew he was doing it for her. He was doing what she would never have the guts to do, even if it was the right thing.

No, she was mad at him for infiltrating every single part of her. Every thought, every muscle, every cell of her body contained him. Every hope she had for her future was molded around him. He was there in everything. His curls were in the dreams she had about her future children. His smile in the back of her mind every time she closed her eyes. His eyes, bright and green, always there.

“Do you want me to leave?” There was no malice in his tone, only genuine concern.

She pondered it for a moment. Thought about what it would look like, for him to actually walk out the door and never come back through it.

“No.”

“Okay. Then I’ll stay.”

“I can drive you to the airport. So Ethan doesn’t have to come into the city.”

“Okay. I’ll tell him.”

“Okay.”

They stared at each other for a moment, staying very still, waiting for one of them to make a decision.

“We should probably sleep.” Grayson checked his watch. “It’s 4am.”

“Okay.”

Another pause. Another moment of uncertainty that they’d never had to navigate.

“Do you want me to take the couch?”

She shook her head, and with a sigh, she gave in. Grayson could finally breathe again when she settled against him, pushing her hand up under his shirt, running her fingers over his ribs. He wrapped her up in his arms tightly, focused on the feeling of the weight of her on him.

And he closed his eyes.

His alarm went off at 9:45. As soon as it sounded, Indy turned her face into his chest, a new wave of tears coming forward as the realization hit her

It was time to let go.

He just held her and kissed her head for as long as he could. She didn’t know if she’d slept. If she had, it was only for a few moments. She’d kept waking up, reminding herself that he was still there.

They barely spoke. No one ate breakfast. He hadn’t brought a change of clothes, and parts of his shirt were stiff from the saltwater of both their tears. It took all the strength he had to keep it together when he closed the apartment door behind him for the last time.

She took his hand in the elevator, and his tears fell, making his cheeks even colder when they walked outside. It felt odd, for him to climb into the passenger seat with her in the driver’s as they continued down the road. His mind was flooded with memories, with doubts. He couldn’t stop picturing the smile that would spread across her face if he told her that he’d changed his mind, that they could try.

He fought it, kept his mouth shut, reminded himself that this was his decision and he had to deal with the repercussion of it.

Indy was quiet too, evidence of her earlier decision to not hurt him anymore than she already had. She didn’t want to make it any harder on either of them. No matter what, she still loved him, and she didn’t like to see him hurting. She kept herself superficially distracted, focused on the colors of the cars that passed, and the number of the exits on the highway.

The airport had never come quicker.

Grayson’s chest tightened when they pulled off. He couldn’t ignore it anymore, couldn’t push it down and stay strong like his dad had always told him to. An image of him hugging her goodbye over her console came to his mind, and he panicked.

“Would you want to come in? Like park and come in? I know you hate airports, and you can say no. But… I’d like to give you one last good hug before I go.”

She merged into the lane that led to the parking as her tears began to fall. He ran his thumb over her hand until they got out. They found each other again behind the car, Indy linking her arm around his and holding on as tight as she could as they walked. She was ten times more anxious than the last time she had walked into an airport, her usual pertifying fear of Grayson being on a plane the least painful part.

It was hard to keep her sobs quiet but she bit them back as best she could. Grayson heard them, shifted so he had his arms wrapped around her as they walked. Her eyes were blurry with tears but she noticed the bright yellow and orange bags before she spotted Ethan. He gave her a sad smile that she did her best to return. From the look of pity in his eyes, it was even worse than she thought.

Her vision was obscured by Grayson, who moved in front of her. She clung to the front of his jacket with both hands, unable to look him in the eyes. She didn’t know if she could handle it.

“I don’t want you to go,” she whispered, tears so full that they dripped off her chin and onto her shirt.

“I’m so sorry.” His own eyes burned as he watched her. But her next words caused the worst pain he’d felt in a long time.

“Can we have a redo?” As her voice shook, his last barrier fell, and he was sobbing - the kind you try to choke back and keep quiet as he crushed her against him, burying his face in her hair.

“Not this time baby. Not this time.”

They weren’t sure how they could cry harder, but they did. He swayed as he held her, tight and warm. Ethan wiped his own tears away with his jacket sleeve as he checked the boarding time on the tickets.

“I love you. So much,” she said.

“I love you too. I’m so sorry. If you ever need me... “ he trailed off, unsure if his offer would only hurt them both more down the road. She understood what he meant, and she took a deep breath. In. Out.

“Right now, I need you to turn around, and I need you to walk away, or I’m never going to be able to let you go.”

“Okay.”

He didn’t move. She finally looked up at him and held herself together, determined to look at his face in person for the last time without the distortion of tears.

“Take care of yourself, okay? Be safe. Be happy. I’m always gonna love you.” Her voice was as steady as she could make it, and that somehow hurt him worse.

“Forever,” he whispered, and then he was kissing her. He wrapped her up in his arms as tightly as he could, held her to him until he forced himself away, only keeping a hold of her hand.

Ethan, always in tune with his brother, seemed to recognize his cue.

Indy nodded and squeezed his hand one more time, and then she let him go, their fingers tracing over one anothers until they fell away, the distance too much.

A numbness spread over her body as soon as he let her go, and she watched from her spot as he disappeared down the hallway and into the security line.

She didn’t remember getting back to her car. But somehow, she managed to crawl inside and lock the doors before she crumpled forward onto her steering wheel.

#mixtape #this one is a doozy #love you guys #can't believe it's already track ten #wild wild wild #grayson dolan #grayson dolan fanfiction

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angelicamerlinbarnes · 3 years ago

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TUA DISNEY AUs: Big Hero 6 (Pt. XVIII)

(please understand that by AU, I mean they share an incredibly small amount of things in common with the original source material which I barely remember BUT the “story” takes place in the setting of the film) (not to be misleading or anything :p)

(BEWARE: abuse, murder, corruption, mental health issues, unhealthy coping mechanisms, suicidal ideation, death, grief, violence, basically i took the sad montage after Tadashi dies and just kept going with that except without the whole "getting better" thing, sorry, my bad, enjoy anyway i guess i don't know, bye, etc.)

(If you can handle watching Umbrella Academy, this will be fine for you.)

(Hiro) Vanya hasn’t much of a head for science - not since a gas explosion in her childhood apartment killed her parents and exposed her to radiation, leaving her brittle-boned and sickly. She spends most of her days holed up in her room, reading and writing about every little thing she sees and hears and feels. There’s this cat in the alleyway she feeds sometimes, and her friend Ben who comes by to see how she is every few days. The only time she goes out is for school, or bot fights down in the bad neighborhoods. At those she gets to see Ben, and his partner Klaus and his friend Diego. Oh, and Sissy - the beautiful, shy punk girl who spins the records in the corner store. Vanya lives what she considers a pretty average life - until Ben dies, she screams, and all the windows around her shatter from nothing.

(Tadashi) Ben has been a science nerd for years, spending hours in the libraries and labs researching every little thing that catches his fancy. His partner, Klaus, has no such interest, having more of a head for poetry, but Ben loves him more than life itself - especially since Klaus was the only person who stuck with him when one of his experiments went wrong a few years ago, resulting in tentacles that are prone to ripping out of his chest when he’s angry. And since he loves Klaus so much, he spares not a second thought to running back into a burning building to get him back, even when it means certain death. And Ben knows you can’t bring back the dead - he tried when Klaus’ beloved boyfriend Dave died in a gunfight a few years back. Once you’re gone, you’re gone - or so he thinks until he wakes up and Klaus starts crying and muttering, You’re here, you’re here, you’re here, I did it, I did it, I did it - and Ben reaches out and thinks, Oh, no, sweetheart. You didn’t.

(Honey Lemon) Allison was engaged to Ray before he disappeared, but even after that failed experiment lost her the love of her life, she continued to work for the forward movement of science and kept her vow of love to Ray. Using her research, she managed to create a pill that allowed her to bend reality, hoping to bring back Ray. Though she couldn’t raise the dead - no amount of I heard a rumor Ray was alive again worked - she won herself other advantages with her newfound powers, including sponsors, knowledge, opportunities, and protection. Klaus, Diego, Five, and Ben are her only true friends in this world - and she nearly loses all of them when Ben dies, drowning in their grief. When Luther, one of Five and Ben’s passion projects starts hanging around to monitor their mental health, Allison finds a new kind of love - deep, ever-lasting friendship that she’ll never give up. Even when they have to leave him behind on the moon after they save Ray, she doesn’t let him go - she finally knows how to speak up for what she wants, and speak up she does: I heard a rumor that Luther came back to me.

(Fred (actually a mash-up of Honey Lemon and Hiro though to be honest)) Klaus is a starving artist and poet, and he's covered in tattoos of his own words and drawings. Diego is too, because Diego loves him, and Klaus wants to love him back and probably does already, if he’s really honest with himself, but he’s not ready yet. Dave happened too soon ago. And then there was a fire, and Klaus was running around outside, looking for Ben, looking for the platonic love and light of his life, and he saw him run inside screaming Klaus’ name and never come back out. And he lives with that guilt every day, smoking and drinking all the bad shit again in an effort to just forget, forget, anything goddamn anything to forget, and he goes crazy. People forget, because he’s not a student at their nerd school and because he acts like a dumbass, that Klaus is actually just as much a genius as the rest of them, and whatever he wants, he can get without much trouble. So what if he can’t bring back the dead? He won’t live without Ben, he won’t, and he won’t leave Diego - which leaves only one option, really: find a way to make himself see ghosts.

(Wasabi) Diego lives a charmed life. Truly. He’s almost been assassinated fifteen fucking billion times, his two best friends are robots, and he’s in love with a person too sad to love him back. See, Diego’s skills brought him to the military’s special attention - he found a way to make weaponry that doesn’t obey the laws of physics. He keeps it as secret as he can, and will sell it to nobody, but millions of people are still after it. It’s not until one of the assassins almost nails Klaus with a bullet and Diego kills her with a store-bought kitchen knife without moving that he realizes the weaponry he created isn’t special, but Diego is. From then on it’s nothing but trouble - because Klaus likes to dumb himself down, but he can’t fool Diego, and so when he starts screaming at empty air and calling it Ben, Diego isn’t surprised in the least, though maybe he should be. Instead he just sighs, opens his arms, and lets a sobbing Klaus fall into him, loving him more than he did yesterday and less than he will tomorrow. Diego has his home, and he has his people, and he has his powers - and he will defend them to the fucking death.

(Gogo) Five is bitter and grumpy, living off coffee and perpetually crazy. He’s brilliant enough to have done surgery on himself, implanting an AI pacemaker in his heart named Dolores from an accident that nearly stripped him of everything, his life included. He was born with special powers, both of which fuelled his fascination with science, but he keeps that secret close to his chest - he’s seen what people do to Diego and Allison, and he has no interest in that. He’s close with the others, somewhat, though his impassable genius makes it difficult for people to understand him - Diego gives him piggy back rides and he often falls asleep curled into Klaus’ side, and Allison gives him rides home and Ben builds robots with him. But as hard as he finds it to connect with them, it’s even harder to lose them - so when he realizes he can use his time travel powers to save Ben, he doesn’t hesitate. And then he’s dying in Klaus’ arms, and he’s watching as his favorite person in the world chooses to lose the love of his life all over again to save Five, and something deep inside him changes.

(Baymax) Luther is a medical robot, built by Five and Ben in their spare time. There are some videos in him, mostly of Ben talking to Klaus because Luther was meant to be a gift for Klaus to help him with his depression, anxiety, PTSD, anorexia, and addiction, etc.. Five adds grief counseling to his programming and gives him to Klaus on his first birthday after Ben’s death, making Klaus dissolve into tears. While Luther clashes with Diego, who hates him for surviving where Lila didn’t, they get along well enough to appease Klaus, because Luther knows Klaus loves Diego and Diego knows Luther helps Klaus. When they travel to the moon to get Ray, Luther winds up stuck there, unable to get the others home if he doesn’t stay behind. Klaus and Allison both have trouble letting him go, but Klaus forces Allison to come home with him, crying as he leaves Ben for the third and final time. When Allison brings Luther back, his videos still intact, Klaus touches Ben’s face on his chest and cries, cries, cries.

Lila is a malfunctioning masterpiece, and Diego’s best friend. He made her as a help robot, but she’s a prototype, and was rejected for her proneness to violent outbursts and catatonic episodes. She’s easy to manipulate, as Diego never bothered to fix her security protocols, but it’s not like there’s anyone else who talks to her - except Five, and he’d never touch her programming without Diego’s explicit permission. She sleeps at Diego’s house, in her charging station next to Eudora’s. Lila knows robots can’t feel love, so that isn’t what she’s feeling - but her wires are tied to Eudora’s in some way, she just knows it. They’re two halves of the same code. But she never gets to explore that link - she burns away to nothing in the fire that destroys the Handler’s minions, using the last of her strength to save Five from the flames. She hopes, when Diego finds his baby brother curled in her charred corpse, that he’ll bury her in the rain, and keep on living without her well enough.

Eudora is a suicide-prevention robot. Seriously. That’s all she’s here for. Ben and Diego built her together for Klaus specifically, programming her with some of his favorite jokes and references so she’d have an easier time talking him down from the edge when one of them can’t be there. She’s programmed to instantly call Ben, Diego, Five, or Allison immediately if she finds him doing dangerous things, like playing with Diego’s knives naked. (It happened one time. Seriously. True story.) She’s calm and gentle, unruffled and kind, and Diego often spends hours talking to her, because she may be programmed for Klaus but she can still help anyone who needs it. He nearly looses her to Cha-Cha, but Klaus saves her just in time, beating Cha-Cha to a steaming hunk of scrap metal with a baseball bat for trying to hurt his best (robot) friend. She’s not saddened by Lila’s death, per say, she can’t be… but when she’s downloading databases on panic and anxiety attacks for Diego and Klaus, she makes sure to save some on insomnia for herself, too.

Sissy is a botfighter, one who dresses in a black and magenta punk aesthetic to fend off strangers, too shy for the world. She messes around with Vanya, the two of them often dancing in the rain and finding joy in the small moments, but happily ever after was never in the cards for them. Sissy lives with her abusive boyfriend Carl and has their son to take care of, an accident from too many beers - when Carl murders her in a drunken rage, it’s less of a surprise and more of a solemn inevitably. Her son, Harlan, is placed in Vanya’s care, and Vanya travels the world with him, telling him everything about his mother she knows. It’s a bittersweet ending, but a hopeful one too.

Ray was a student at the nerd school before he became a therapist, using his incredible mind-healing technology to help people all over the world. Allison fell in love with him quickly, easily, and the two were engaged before the year was up, planning for a spring wedding in which Klaus would, obviously, be the flower girl. But when he was offered the chance to go to space as a therapist for the other nine people on the mission, he jumped at the chance, bidding Allison goodbye and heading to the moon. But something went wrong and he was lost to the world, along with the other nine astronauts, all of whom died when the ship crash-landed. Ray has been in a coma for years there, having been knocked out in the explosion, and remains that way until Luther brings him home, Allison having come for him at last. (When he’s well enough to, he takes care of Five, Klaus, and Diego, whose mental states have been steadily declining for years. Their robots are brilliant, of course, but there are some things you just need a human for.)

Reginald is the dean of the nerd school and also an asshole. He has a habit of killing students when they get in his way, or to steal their inventions as his own - and he gets away with it too, because he’s at the forefront of memory technology and quite literally erases these people from existence so nobody comes asking questions. Plus he’s got connections in the government that destory any records he needs destroyed. He had a couple of kids he wanted to get rid of the night of the showcase, and started the fire to make it seem like an accident - well, Ben actually was an accident, he wasn’t on Reginald’s hitlist, not yet, but whatever. It is what it is. What Reginald doesn’t anticipate is Klaus - because nobody ever anticipates Klaus - and so he thinks nothing of it when he confesses to Ben’s murder in his monologue in front of all his former students. He can just erase their memories later. Or so he thinks, until Klaus lets out a savage war cry and lunges forward to strangle him, killing him in cold blood without a second thought, and so is the end of Reginald Hargreeves. (Five takes the fall for his murder - not that it matters. Diego and Klaus break him out and the three of them disappear, never to be seen again - at least, not until Allison’s done manipulating every single person in the world into forgetting it ever happened on live TV.)

The Handler is Reginald’s finest invention: a flawless AI in a perfect human body. Problem is, she became bored of being his servant years ago and took over his life, blackmailing him into doing whatever she wants. Most of the killings are still his idea, and Ben certainly wasn’t her fault, but it’s the Handler who wants Five dead, and it’s the Handler who sends her reject minions after him. She wants Eudora dead and she wants Klaus deader, but she gets neither - Five finds her and hacks her into little tiny pieces, putting all of them in a fire and then shoving those ashes into an Iron Maiden, dropping the Handler to an inescapable grave. Fuck her “life”.

Hazel is a teddy bear with a security camera in his stomach. He sits on Agnes’ counter in her donut shop, just watching the goings-on even though nobody ever steals anything there. Mostly he’s held in the lap of Five, who comes into Agnes’ whenever he doesn’t want his friends to see him cry - over a failed invention, Klaus’ most recent suicide attempt, Lila’s death - whatever, you name it. Agnes takes care of him, making him milkshakes when he asks for coffee, and eventually sends Hazel home with him, asking him to take care of Five for her. He doesn’t know it’ll be the last time he ever sees her - two weeks later Agnes is killed by Reginald and her donut shop is ransacked by looters. Her memory lives on in Hazel and Five, who rebuilds and reopens the shop with Klaus and Diego and Allison after a couple years, renaming it for Ben and living on despite his grief, and Hazel sits on the counter again, watching the sunset through the glowing windows.

Cha-Cha was supposed to be one of those “oh-hey-we’re-not-racist-anymore-we-make-black-dolls-too-see?” Barbies. She ended up with a rather experimental kid who enjoyed robotics and horror films, resulting in Cha-Cha: an AI in a Barbie with chainsaw arms. She kidnaps Klaus under the Handler’s orders, as he’s a connection to Five (who the Handler wants to kill) and Ben (who’s the only connection to Reginald and the Handler’s murders). This backfires spectacularly, of course, when Eudora and Diego come for him: Cha-Cha goes for Eudora’s throat and Klaus breaks himself free of his binds and beats her to smithereens with a baseball bat.

Leonard used to hang around Vanya, just generally assaulting her and being a creep, until suddenly he disappeared one rainy Monday never to be seen again. His body was found rotting in a lake a couple years later. It was revealed later on that he had decided to and succeeded in making real-life replicas of the Five Nights at Freddie’s characters, and they hadn’t been too fond of him trying to boss them around. The Handler recruited the replicas later on for her own schemes, and they followed Reginald rather well, their appetite for people satisfied well enough. But Leonard remains the school legend, and a striking reminder to be careful what monsters you let live.

Grace is the queen of the Land of the Remembered, and you may be wondering what she’s doing in this story. Well, to put it simply - Reginald’s little games have been messing with her shit. There are perfectly kind and memorable people who have come down to her only to be erased in the Land of the Living within the week, leaving her no choice but to take them in as refugees, working out a deal with the Land of the Forgotten since they weren’t given a fair shot at their deserved afterlife. She takes care of Ben when he dies for the second and final time, appearing to assure Klaus he’ll be alright when he crosses over. This is when Diego finally learns the truth about his mom, who has always been home in time to make dinner and never missed a single milestone, and who is apparently also an all-powerful goddess. She gives him a hug and tells him his boyfriend is cute (He’s not my boyfriend.) (You’re holding hands, darling. You may be an oblivious idiot, but I’m not.) and then she heads off, though she’s always back with Ben for the holidays. (Not Lila, unfortunately. She has no jurisdiction over robots.)

And Hiro is ace-aro and he and Miguel are QPPs, and Honey Lemon and Wasabi are QPPs, and Fred and Wasabi are dating, and Gogo is an bisexual aro queen with a girl she likes to kiss in the back alleyways, and Hiro has two sisters named Violet and Boo and Tip is his ace-aro lab partner. You’re welcome.

#tua #the umbrella academy #big hero 6 #disney #the hargreeves & friends #kliego #ralluther #eudorla #vanya x sissy #five &x dolores #klaus &x ben #hazel x agnes #hazel & cha cha #i don't know this is really sad and really dark #whatever #my bad #have a nice day y'all #bye

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cyhyr · 3 years ago

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Summer of Whump Day 24: Stitches

Fandom: Naruto

Rating: T

Pairing: Hatake Kakashi & Umino Iruka; Uzumaki Naruto & Umino Iruka

WC: ~2530

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Notes: Stitches, performed without anesthetic. Dissociation. PTSD. References to past non/dub-con between Mizuki and Iruka.

A/N: Heyyy I did a tiny bit of research, watched a video on how to perform these kinds of emergency stitches, and Have Never gotten stitches before in my life, anesthetic or no. I just wanna hurt the man, is that so bad lol

Two days after Mizuki puts a fūma shuriken in his back, showing his true colors and betraying the village, Iruka leaves the hospital because he is sick of laying on his stomach. The medinins refuse to heal him any further, saying that his body needs to help put itself back together without the use of chakra; still, though, they want him to stay for at least a week, so they can keep an eye on his stitches. Iruka knows how to care for stitches. And so, with minimal pain medication and Naruto’s begrudging assistance, Iruka signs his discharge forms and goes home.

The next day he goes back to work at the Mission Desk, as the Academy is on break for another two weeks before the next term starts. The work is physically simple, if stressful in other ways. There really should be refresher courses for shinobi with terrible handwriting.

The problem happens on his way home. And it’s really the dumbest thing.

A stray cat gets underfoot. Iruka stumbles. He twists just enough to catch himself before he falls, and feels some of the threads holding his back together rip.

He’s proud of the fact that he holds back any outward expression of pain. He’s also proud that he makes it the rest of the way home without attracting any attention or getting any odd looks.

Iruka heads straight to the bathroom once he’s home, and is able to shrug off his flak vest easily enough. There’s a spot of blood on the inside, soon to set into a stain. Iruka can’t be bothered. He tries pulling his shirt over his head and grits his teeth at the flash of pain—nope, that’s not happening. Instead, he pulls a pair of scissors from the vanity drawer, sighs for the hopelessness of needing to replace this shirt later, and cuts the fabric off of himself.

Once his shirt is in pieces on the floor, he turns around and looks over his shoulder as best he can to observe the damage. He’s bleeding sluggishly through the ripped threads, and the skin has split again. He should go to the hospital.

He really doesn’t want to go back to the hospital. It’s only been a day.

But he can’t fix this himself; if it were on his arm, or leg, or hell even his chest or stomach, he could do it. In the middle of his back, however? That’s just—

“Iruka-sensei, I’m home! And I brought Kakashi-sensei! He said he was going to have soup for dinner so I invited him! Who has just soup for dinner???”

Oh, shit. He forgot about Naruto coming over. He forgot about giving Naruto a key and teaching him the wards. And of course, Naruto invited his jōnin-sensei—which normally wouldn’t be a problem! But he can’t go out there like this.

Fuck.

Naruto knocks on the door. “Iru-nii?” He’s quiet, which is how Iruka knows that Naruto is worried about him. “Is everything okay?”

His instinct is to say yes, of course I’ll be right there but he doesn’t want to lie to Naruto. He’s not okay, and he won’t be okay if he can’t get his back—

Wait.

Kakashi.

He’s not considering this. He barely knows the man! But then, wouldn’t that make it easier to ask for a clinical, clean, stitch me up please with no weird feelings?

Naruto knocks again. “Iru-nii?” The handle jiggles like he’s about to open it.

“I’m… I—Actually, could you. Um.” He braces his hands against the vanity. He can do this. He gets it all out in one large exhale: “Can you send Kakashi-sensei in here, please?”

Naruto seems to pause—maybe even thoughtfully—outside the door before he runs back to the living room. Iruka whines through his teeth as his back continues to bleed sluggishly. He can hear the two of them talking in the apartment, Naruto’s voice getting louder as he comes back to the bathroom.

“Please, can you just—?”

A soft knock. “Iruka-sensei?” Kakashi’s voice is just as soft.

“Come in, please,” Iruka groans. “Don’t let Naruto in,” he adds quickly.

Kakashi steps through the door and shuts it behind himself. He crosses the bathroom in two steps and stands behind Iruka, examining the wound. He lets out a low hum. “I thought you’d be on bedrest for at least another week, sensei,” Kakashi comments. “I heard this was serious.”

Iruka ignores him. “There’s a suture kit in the cabinet above the toilet,” he says instead. “Is there any chance I can have you—?”

“Why not just go back to the hospital?”

“I… Gods, Kakashi-sensei, I hate it there. It smells wrong and everyone looks at me with either distrust or pity and I. I can’t. Please.”

Kakashi doesn’t respond verbally, but does go to the cabinet and remove the suture kit. He pushes his hands around Iruka, into the sink, and washes up; then he finds a washcloth, wets it, and carefully drags it along the skin around the wound.

“You still may have lost a significant amount of blood, sensei. You should—”

“I’ll take an iron supplement,” Iruka shakes his head. “Just. Close it back up, please.”

“There’s no anesthetic in here.”

“I know,” Iruka says sheepishly. “I used it up last time Mizu—well, I never got around to replenishing it.”

“I don’t know the medical ninjutsu to numb the nerves,” Kakashi warns. “This is going to hurt.”

“I’m aware. Just. Do it.”

He can feel Kakashi prodding softly at his back with the forceps, the metal cool against his skin. He prepares himself for the worst.

It’s been at least a year and a half since Kakashi has had to give someone else stitches. He sets the forceps aside, back in the kit, and selects a pair of gloves.

“No latex allergy?” he asks, to confirm.

“I wouldn’t keep them in the house if I had one,” Iruka grumbles.

Kakashi hums and pulls his own gloves off, replacing them with the latex. “Five stitches in total, sensei,” he says, assessing the length of the exposed injury. “You popped four, but I learned a different method of stitching; I’ll need to make five to cover the same distance.”

Iruka nods. “Whatever you need to do.”

“Do you have something to bite?”

Iruka nods, reaches up and pulls his hitai-ate down his face, and back to his mouth. Kakashi notes that he doesn’t put the metal plate in his mouth—either he’s had this done before, or he’s not stupid.

Kakashi loads the needle, picks it up with the driver, and presses the tip of the needle against Iruka’s skin. “Last chance to go to the hospital,” he says.

Iruka groans through his makeshift gag and shakes his head. Once he’s still again, Kakashi drives the needle into his skin, turns his wrist, and pulls the first half of the stitch out of the right side of the wound. Iruka’s curse is muffled, but what Kakashi can determine sounds… creative?

He’s careful in pulling at the wound with the forceps, placing the needle precisely and piercing the flesh. Another turn of his wrist has the needle point rising up through the skin. He shifts the grip and pulls the needle through, letting the suture thread follow.

Iruka is statue-still, but whimpering behind his gag. It’s… gods it’s impressive, how still he holds himself through such biting pain. Then again, he is a shinobi—even if he’s a teacher now, Kakashi remembers pulling field work with Sandaime’s newest pet. Pain is just part of the job.

That doesn’t mean they can turn their nerves off.

Kakashi loops the thread and ties it off, settling the knot on the left. Twice more he knots the thread to keep it from coming loose again. He might not be a medic, but his stitches don’t pop. ANBU was good for something.

“That’s one,” he mutters and readies the driver again on the right. Iruka nods, and he continues the stitching.

As he’s tying off the second stitch, he notices that Iruka’s shoulders are, perhaps, too still. He glances around Iruka’s body (he thought the man would be slight and yes, he’s smaller than Kakashi, but they’re built similarly and that’s not important right now damnit) and notices that Iruka is barely breathing.

He sets his tools down and puts one hand on Iruka’s abdomen. “Breathe,” he orders. Iruka immediately sucks in a breath, pushing on Kakashi’s hand. He nods, saying, “Very good. Keep breathing through it. You’re doing very well.”

He picks back up the forceps and driver, not realizing the effect his words have on Iruka.

The needle bites into his back for the third stitch and Iruka breathes deeply through his nose. The pain is sharp and intense and combined with the ache of the rest of the shuriken wound and how recent Mizuki’s betrayal is on his mind… Iruka’s worried that he’s going to slip away like he used to in the last few months of his and Mizuki’s relationship. Before he had threatened Naruto one too many times and Iruka asked him to leave and not come back unless he can respect both of them.

(Mizuki hadn’t come back. He, instead, had gone and gotten engaged. Turns out Asuma-nii-san was right when he’d said that Mizuki was using him.)

(That was over a year ago. He doesn’t cry himself to sleep anymore.)

The needle comes up the other side and Iruka braces for the oddity of thread sliding through his flesh. Then the discomfort of the wound being pulled back together.

Kakashi is good at this, though. He uses even pressure the whole time, so Iruka can be sure exactly how much it’s going to hurt.

“Three done,” he says. “It’ll be over soon. You can take it.”

Mizuki used to say stuff like that.

Just a little more, baby. I know it hurts, but you can take it.

Iruka fights to stay present. The needle goes in, and in, and out and out; thread slides along the way it’s guided.

Aww, ‘Ruka, you gonna cry from a few stitches? I thought you were stronger than that.

He whimpers. He can’t have an episode in front of Naruto’s jōnin-sensei. But this was an unfortunate perfect storm of pain and soft words and harsh action but gentle hands and. And. And.

He breathes in. And out.

“There we go, that’s it,” Kakashi murmurs behind him.

His eyes lose focus. He needs to stay still because Mizu—Kaka—because… The pain is dull compared to the ringing in his head and the throbbing in his teeth. He can feel his heartbeat in his neck.

He tries to get out a warning. That he’s about to slip. He’s dissociating. He’s—

“One more knot,” he mutters. “You’ve done very well.”

Kakashi finishes the final knot and snips the thread to size. There are surgical dressings and tape in the box alongside the suture kit; he tapes a large dressing into place over the whole wound, not just the new stitches. The latex gloves come off and fall into the garbage beside the sink.

Iruka hasn’t moved.

He puts his hands on Iruka’s shoulders and turns him around; takes the hitai-ate out of his mouth and lets it rest around his neck. Iruka is… dazed? His breaths are shaky, uneven; what the hell…?

“Are you okay?”

Iruka nods slowly. Maybe the pain made him non-verbal. Kakashi’s known shinobi for whom it’s happened before.

“You took that well. I don’t know many shinobi who would get that many stitches without anesthetic outside of a field situation.”

“Thank you,” Iruka says drowsily.

That wasn’t exactly the answer he was hoping for. Umino Iruka is known for having a smart mouth and a quick wit; this is something else. “You should eat something.”

“Not hungry.”

“Something light, then.” Kakashi tugs him along by his elbows, says, “Your bedroom, out and to the right?” Iruka freezes, for less than a second. It’s enough for Kakashi to notice; he hastens to explain, “You need a fresh shirt, yes?”

Maybe a sense of normalcy will bring him back. Should he treat Iruka differently in this…

Fuck, the man’s not even looking at him. He’s looking at their feet. He’s trembling.

Trauma response, his ANBU training supplies. Fuck.

He takes Iruka’s hands, over-projecting his movements, and says, “Let’s get you dressed, and then you can sit with Naruto for a bit?”

Iruka’s like a doll as he follows along into his room, and sits primly on the edge of the bed. Like he’s ready to slip off at any moment—shit.

Kakashi ducks his head out of the room and yells down the hall. “Naruto? Come over here.”

The door next to his hand opens up and Naruto stands in the doorway, clearly stressed and worried. “Is Iruka-sensei okay? What happened? You guys were in the bathroom forever!”

Kakashi holds up a hand to stop the rambling. “He’s alright, I think. He’s—well, something unrelated to what I—”

Naruto pushes by him and into Iruka’s room. He clearly takes in Iruka’s shirtlessness and position on the bed to mean something else, because he crosses to Iruka and pulls the man into a hug. Then, he glares at Kakashi.

The Fox glares at Kakashi.

“You! I trusted you! How dare you touch him like that—!”

The fury is rising fast, and Kakashi needs to do damage control before real damage becomes a problem. He raises both hands and tries to placate Naruto, explaining, “Iruka asked me to fix his stitches. The trauma response is unrelated to me, I swear. Naruto, I didn’t touch him without his consent.”

The heat in the room settles a little, as it looks like Iruka leans into Naruto and maybe even mutters his name. Naruto looks away from Kakashi, his eyes still exposing the Fox, and he grits, “Second drawer down,” while pointing at a chest of drawers against the wall.

Kakashi moves carefully—he’s not sure yet how much of the Fox is out of the seal’s control and he doesn’t want to risk it. The second drawer has a selection of uniform shirts and also casual tees. Kakashi picks the topmost civvie tee and brings it to Naruto.

“That’s close enough,” Naruto growls when he gets to the end of the bed. He’s three paces away. He’s not positive that it’s far enough to make a clean retreat should Naruto determine him to be a threat. He tosses the shirt the rest of the way, and watches while Naruto helps Iruka into it.

“I’m going to go and find him something light to eat. Stay with him?”

“Of course,” Naruto growls. “You don’t need to ask.”

“Naruto…” he hesitates, not sure he wants to know, but is too curious to not try and ask. “What happened? Who—?”

“You can ask Iruka-sensei when he’s back,” Naruto says.

It’s telling enough that Naruto understands what’s going on, that Iruka is dissociated and not present. Kakashi heads out of the room with a nod. Someone who inspires this much rage from the Fox, and who Naruto is comfortable enough with to call “brother”?

Kakashi absolutely intends to find out everything he can about this man.

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump24 #stitches #fanfic #hatake kakashi #umino iruka #my writing

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anti-porn-unicorn · 4 years ago

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I just realized I never uploaded that social psychology paper I mentioned months ago! Here it is, I wrote it in one day so it may not be polished. Rather than addressing the direct impact of violent pornography, this essay goes over the social forces that keep it normalized and socially acceptable.

The Social Psychology of Violent Pornography

In today’s digital age, it is impossible to deny the impact of violent pornography on people’s minds. Countless studies have proven that it can cause harm. There is a correlation between pornography and sexual violence. One study, mentioned in the class textbook, exposed men to a film, porn, or violent porn. They then were asked to apply an electric shock to a woman who angered them. The men who viewed the violent pornography applied significantly higher shocks than those who hadn’t. Additionally, violent pornography is extremely easy to find. In a study called “Aggression and Sexual Behavior in Best-Selling Pornography Videos: A Content Analysis Update,” researchers found that 80% of popular videos contained violence. This does not even take into account the violence within the industry itself- actors are coerced into contracts and fired for not performing extreme acts and many websites refuse to verify that actors are adults, making human trafficking and child abuse visible within a few clicks. Despite all the negatives, violent pornography remains extremely common and socially acceptable in society. This essay will examine five major forces allowing this to continue.

The first is pluralistic ignorance. Pluralistic ignorance is when a person believes that everyone else is interpreting something a certain way, when in fact the people are not. It can be a belief or an action in a certain situation. Because the person is trying to fit in, he or she never actually expresses his or her true opinion. This gets dangerous when everyone has pluralistic ignorance because that means no change will happen. A person faced with a dangerous situation or a dangerous belief will look around to see how other people react. Those other people are also looking around to see how other people react. No one is actually reacting, so everyone thinks that it must be ok. An example of this was done by Latane and Darley (1970). They had people fill in a questionnaire either by themselves or in a group. Everyone else in the group was an actor. Suddenly, smoke began to come out of the door. The actors were instructed to not react. Those in the group took much longer to report the smoke than those who were alone. This is because they looked around and saw no one else reacting, so they assumed it was fine. Applying this to violent pornography, it is usually socially accepted. This leads people to assume that it must be ok, and they blindly accept it.

The next factor is social cognitive learning theory. Social cognitive learning theory is how humans learn social behavior by observing and imitating others. It begins in childhood and spans one’s entire life. By observing others, a person learns what is acceptable and what is rewarded. The most famous example of this is the Bobo Doll Study (Bandura, Ross, and Ross, 1961). The psychologists separated children into two groups. One group watched adults beat a doll, and the other group saw no aggression. The children who watched the violence imitated the violence, and the other children were not violent at all. The children became violent simply by watching another person. This applies to violent pornography because many people learn about it through others. Students talk about it in school, popular media glorifies it, and phones are right there to find it. Social learning works spectacularly for the pornography industry- Bitdefender, a technology security company, found that kids under 10 years of age account for 22% of porn views under the age of 18. Since their brains are so malleable, this exposes kids to a potentially lifelong addiction. This then teaches kids that violent pornography is okay. If a few minutes of violence can make children violent, what can hours and hours of pornography exposure do to a child?

The third idea is the belief in catharsis. Catharsis is the belief that letting out one’s aggression will make that person less aggressive. Freud came up with this idea, theorizing that aggression built up slowly and would explode if a person did not take care of it. The modern idea is that catharsis means one can express their anger (punching a wall, yelling, swearing) and it will make them less angry. Unfortunately, it is not that simple. Cikara, Botvinick, and Fiske (2011) measured brain activity in an fMRI of baseball fans watching baseball games. The more their team won, the more the fans’ reward centers were activated, and the angrier they felt. Ultimately, there is no solid evidence that catharsis really works. Yet people still believe it does. A common argument in favor of violent pornography is that violent criminals should be allowed to watch it, so they’ll get their aggression out by viewing the acts instead of actually hurting people. This ignores the most obvious fact that someone has to be hurt to create violent pornography in the first place, but it is an unconvincing argument when looking at catharsis theory. Because so many people believe in catharsis, they are more likely to support and indulge in violent pornography.

Next is the idea of numbing or desensitizing. When faced with repeated stimuli, our bodies gradually are less aroused by it. This is why people may seek more violent porn the longer they watch it, and why they may genuinely not understand why it is bad. This is concerning because it has real world effects. Greitemeyer and McLatchie (2011) found that people playing video games where they had to dehumanize the enemy had an easier time dehumanizing immigrants. If violent video games can lead to desensitizing violence, violent pornography can do the same.

The final aspect is cognitive dissonance. Cognitive dissonance happens when one’s behavior and attitudes conflict or when one holds two opposing cognitions. There are three options to reducing one’s dissonance: changing behavior, changing cognition, or adding a new cognition. Most people do not want to stop watching violent pornography, but they also do not want to admit it is harmful and face that they are addicted. They have a need to protect their self-esteem, so they choose the third option and add a new cognition. Some people do this is by simply ignoring the facts. They may deny the research that makes them uncomfortable, claiming it was made up. Denial of facts has also been seen in smokers who have cognitive dissonance. Gibbons, Eggleston, and Benthin (1997) as well as Naughton, Eborall, and Sutton (2012) found that smokers convinced themselves that smoking wasn’t as harmful as the science said it was, that the studies were inconclusive, or that they’d be fine if they just reduced their consumption. What does not exist cannot hurt, and this is what many people tell themselves about harmful behaviors.

Overall, the effects of violent porn are undeniable, but so is the fact that it is engrained in our culture with some basic principles of social psychology. It is a public health crisis that is traumatizing kids, creating lifelong addictions, and exploiting people on screen The culture of violence may seem daunting at times, but now we know some of its causes. This means that, eventually, we can make change.

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touchmycoat · 4 years ago

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I LOVE YOUR PORN AU!!!!! LIKE SO MUCH - and i'm just. if you don't mind me asking, how - the way you flesh out the characters, their motivations, and feelings in every scene in such an eloquent way, and just little things here and there, a habit or an activity that adds dimension to who they are, and - your prose is wonderful. you achieve this addictive, engrossing narrative space that readers just absolutely melt into, and i have to ask - how did you develop your writing style? 1/2

what books did you read that formatively shaped the way you write? or you know, what did you do to improve your writing? i'm so in awe of how you world-built and established the porn au - like lqg & hc being national taolu champions?? how do you come up with that stuff? i cannot comprehend the amount of research and effort that must've gone into porn au, and i'm just so deeply thankful that you decided to share that with us. i apologize if i'm coming on too strong, but wow. thank you 2/2

oh my god please don't apologize, when i saw your ask i rolled on the floor giggling hysterically for a solid 15 min, bless your heart

part of the answer to your question—i've taken like, 8 years' worth of creative writing classes/workshops! there was also a transnational literary component to my degree so whenever possible, i took literature classes fksjdfksd so whatever you see and like is definitely the result of a lot of work. My writing from not even 10 years ago but like, 5? horrid, ridiculous, wild, cringe. The Porn AU itself is the second draft of a MUCH more lackluster piece.

about my writing style. gosh, you really know how to make a writer blush. "I like your writing style" is literally an instant kill LMFAO okay okay, the useful answer: my primary criteria for choosing what to write is, don't be obvious, be interesting. Fiction tells us to show, not tell, right? Poetry is about concretizing the abstract. Screenwriting says cut all useless lines. A lot of writing rules and advice—never start with the weather, avoid detailed descriptions of the characters, don't use adverbs, etc.—are all really about this exact sentiment.

I once took a seminar on writing for horror movies. The golden rule of the horror genre is Never Show the Monster, because whatever the audience is imagining is always going to be scarier than what you actually show them. There are obviously exceptions to this (to all writing rules), but in my mind, it's all the same principle.

LONG answer under the cut

So you start with building a scene. I approach it like essay-writing—I state my thesis for the motivations/main propulsion of the plot. "In this scene, LQG and SY are motivated to save Cang Qiong's porn production, so they have sex on camera." Then you build the sub-motivations: "LQG is also doing this because he's pining after SY."

I learned this "thesis-writing" from theater, specifically from writing 10-min plays. Theater is all about characters being driven by their wants and needs, and the reason I say 10-min plays in particular is because longer forms of writing will give you more leeway, but in 10-min, you pretty much need your character motivations established from their very first line. That's why you need that very clear thesis for yourself—if you don't even know what the character wants from the get-go, then you can't establish who they are, what they want, and where they're going to go in a dynamic and interesting way.

So this thesis drives EVERYTHING that happens in your scene, just like an actual thesis for an essay, just like topic sentences for your paragraphs. Once I do this, I have the emotional direction & narrative scope of how much this scene will cover, I have a sense of where it begins and ends. "Begin with the dynamics of their sex. LQG starts showing signs of his feelings. Reveal LQG backstory for exactly what those feelings are and why he isn't telling SY. The rest of the scene implies that LQG's feelings may not be so unrequited, but also sets up the fundamental problem at the heart of the whole fic—SY's inability to comprehend his own feelings." This is kind of my new thesis now. They're having sex; LQG pines; SY doesn't know he himself is pining.

Now it's time to manifest. This is the "storytelling" part, and the hardest lmfao.

Personally, my approach is largely shaped by my very cool screenwriting teacher, who hammered into us: don't fucking waste lines. The Golden Rule of screenwriting is that every line should reveal something new. I found my old writing kind of repetitive, especially on the emotional front, so this is kind of my editing mantra now—is this line either propelling the story or revealing character? If it's revealing character, is it a revelation that has to happen right now, or is it slowing the momentum of the scene?

But these aren't rhetorical questions! "Momentum" doesn't just mean tumble forward as fast as you can, it also means taking the time to draw the bowstring back further, so your next move has even more propulsion. That's why you get the little "LQG has been in love with SY..." cut scene in the middle of the fucking (at least, that's my reasoning for putting it there). Every line has to bring a fresh revelation that "proves" your thesis further.

That brings me to the details. You said you like the details I inject into the world-building, and honestly that's so gratifying to hear, because that means I'm successfully manifesting my intentions, y'know? "Every line has to bring new info" kind of sounds like a tall order, but the most effective way I've seen it done in books and onstage/onscreen is with these hyper-specific details. If you're writing a scene in which someone feels dirty, never have them just say that—have them say they want to take a shower. Show them running out of bleach again as they scrub down the stall after they wash. Begin the scene like "Steve always washes his throat first now." Then pack the scene with even more revelatory details: "Soap in hand, he heard the pipes above his head groan for a half note on adagio, and readied himself for the blast of icy water that always followed." Shitty shower, probably not rich, is likely a classical musician.

By the same token, I want to build LQG's character. The "Liu Qingge has been in love with Shen Yuan" section is the first insight we get into his background and perspective, right, so: I need to establish LQG's emotional context for filming this scene -> I can characterize him as a nut for martial arts in the same stroke -> so this takes place at a gym, beating up sandbags is a classic way of showing manly emotional distress -> so give me more details on this gym -> Puqi Gym, XL the martial god is obviously the owner -> how do I have XL & LQG a relationship beyond gym owner & client? They spar together -> I want XL & HC's position in this AU to mirror their god/ghost king statuses in TGCF canon -> how can I concretize their fighting prowesses in real-world details? -> they're martial arts champions -> what's an actual competitive martial art form that involves weaponry? -> wushu -> wikipedia Wushu, find taolu weapons sparring

(I just realized that in my songxiao daycare AU, Hualian are Olympic gold medalists by the same narrative logic laksjdnflaksjdnflsd)

So, that's the flow of logic behind my world-building lmao. It's all in the details. Leverage is one of my all-time favorite TV shows and the way they build their stories is super inspiring. If their thesis is "the rich and powerful take what they want, we steal it back for you," they manifest it in the most specific and concrete narratives: mine workers who like the work but are fighting for workplace safety vs. the money-grubbing mine owner who will blow up their livelihoods if it means a bigger payday; the little girl from Iraq with refugee status forced to be an accomplice to antique smuggling vs. international smuggler with a fetish for British royalty.

Last pieces of writing advice I've gotten: pay attention to the real world. A writing exercise we did was just sit in a public spot and make concrete observations on our surroundings. There are stories in everything!!! I learned to observe things like weird holes in the concrete (earthquake? drilling accident? bullet mark?), odd patches of moss or bird shit (look overheard: it's an AC unit dripping water for the former and nesting swallows for the latter), ladies in flipflops walking alongside ladies in high heels (excited mother walking her antsy daughter to the bus for the daughter's first job interview—the daughter's shirt collar is unfashionable and she's taking the bus, so there's a good chance the shoes were passed down, maybe from an office lady aunt. Maybe she's even overdressed for the interview, so will her outfit be an unintended source of tension once she gets to the interview? Is it a group interview, to make the comparison more stark?).

Also, write what you know. You know why SY is a video editor in porn AU? Because I'm a video editor. One of my more popular MDZS fics is set in a plant shop 'cause I worked in a plant shop. SL was First AD in Bachelor!AU 'cause I was First AD on a set once. Concrete details like the editing software having a split-screen, always answering questions about how often to water plants, and being up until 3AM editing call-sheets are the ones that will fully immerse your readers.

And if you can't do the actual things, just watch someone who is, listen to them talk, pick up lingo, and fake it. I watched like a 15-min vox video on fencing for the fencing!AU and a 45-min music theory video on the hospital pianist!AU (also I started learning piano sklfjnlsdjlfkjsd). Of course, I just finished reading a wangxian fic that had me going, "holy fucking shit, the author is literally getting their masters in a music program" so my 45-min youtube video ain't shit, but if you just need a little bit of character establishment, then it's enough to do the trick.

Anyways, tl;dr. Find the details, find the tension. Never tell outright what the tension is supposed to be, manifest it instead. Make the manifestation as interesting as possible, and if it's meant to be funny, make it funnier.

Sorry this turned into a fucking lecture lskjnflskdjnflskd but last thing, someone asked me before if I had formative authors, and this was the list I wrote at the time:

Angels in America (play) by Tony Kushner

The God of Small Things (novel) by Arundhati Roy

The Penelopiad (novel) by Margaret Atwood

“Litany in Which Certain Things are Crossed Out” (poem) by Richard Siken

Night Sky with Exit Wounds (poetry) by Ocean Vuong

Giovanni’s Room (novel) by James Baldwin (and then Go Tell it on the Mountain and then his essays)

Franny and Zooey by J.D. Salinger

And, ooh, now that I have this list I think I can even roughly sort it as such: Kushner, Atwood, Siken, and Salinger I really latched onto for their dialogue and very present narrator voice—same is true for Go Tell it on the Mountain. Roy, Vuong, and Giovanni’s Room, I think, are texts more representative of the kind of saturated figurative language I like, and emulate. Of course they all do imagery and voice and overall structure amazingly, but that’s the rough dividing line I’d draw.

But yeah James Baldwin is my fucking hero.

#long post #about me #writing #jesus sorry i spent way too long on this laksjdnflaskjdnflaskjndflas #but anyways i'm super grateful you gave me the chance to introspect and articulate all this #i'm exceedingly grateful too to all the writing mentors i've gotten to have #personal #these are the principles and rules i've learned and #i still definitely screw the pooch #on them #so you know this is just what's on my mind #this is how i school myself

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undefined5posts · 4 years ago

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Credit: Jordan J. Lloyd

I've been trying to dive deeper into politics, discover the genuine roots of our society, the origins of our beliefs, and the consequences of our economic system. It's a big, long, wide journey and through multiple sources such as articles, images, videos and multiple social media platforms, I've been trying to educate myself more on important subjects.

Communism, capitalism, libertarian, conservative, the left, the right, the history, the impact. It is scary to commit to everything because once you start, you simply cannot stop, once you start waking up your conscience about the horrible reality, the lies, the truths, you cannot put it back to sleep. You can't just ignore prejudice, especially when you're extremely conscious of it's omnipresence. I have continually tried to build my own opinions all while actively creating bullet point arguments in my mind because I just know that at some point I will have to defend my thinking, and I want to do it right.

Now, I am so far from being enlightened, I am a beginner and an amateur in all of those themes, but I am trying, which is the only way to start and grow.

So to tell you about my beliefs, I am a militant human rights activist, I believe in equal opportunities regardless of gender identity, sex, religion, sexual orientation, ethnicity, race and disability. This is a fact, not a belief, but the system was obviously not built to protect all people, its wasn't created to serve everyone equally but to grant a privilege to some and harm others. The current state of the world is not a slip, an accident or a misfunction of our brilliant system but a testament of it operating remarkably well. I believe that equity leads to equality, and I believe that we cannot "fix" methodologies that were immorally created with absolutely no honor whatsoever. I believe in reproductive rights, in legal, safe abortions for anybody who needs one. I believe in the decriminalization of marijuana. I believe that the death penalty is a despicable punition that should be banned as soon as possible. I believe in defunding the police and the military. I believe that it is a shame that I even have to talk about police brutality, I don't want to have to say that it is one of the most horrible things our world has originated, I feel extremely dense when I do because it seems like the most obvious certitude and I refuse to believe that this is a controversial statement. I believe that everything I have just stated, along with many more, isn't anything grand but the bare minimum, the bar is low, and yet, we still have the fight for basic human decency.

Humanity has become an option. We have normalized supporting people that represent everything wrong in this world under the name of tolerance. The left has never claimed to be tolerant towards hateful beings, We have never accepted homophobia, transphobia, racism, ableism and sexism. We cannot, for exemple, accept nazis, as too much tolerance inevitably leads to intolerance. This picture explains it perfectly:

I consider myself a communist/ socialist. The two terms still confuse me a little, some say they are the same, some say they differ quite a bit. What I know is that socialism is the transitional period between capitalism and communism. At the end of the day, the final result and goal is a stateless, moneyless and clasless society that will provide to each his need.

Our capitalistic society has brainwashed us way more than you may think. It is the root of so many of our issues, the underground demon of our problems. Every idea, thought, belief, and misconception of ours were all affected by our current economic system. It has sold us the billionnaire dream which is one of the most toxic things capitalism has offered. We have looked up to billionaires for way too long, why are they so idolized? Most of them come from high upper class families that can easily afford to invest in their inventions and creations. After starting up their companies and occasionnaly stealing other's people ideas to ultimately get undeserved merit, they then can start to properly exploit their hardworking employees's labour. And for unlimited hours and a minimum wage which probably won't even suffice you to survive, you will have to either pick up more shifts or a second or even third job, especially if you have a family to support. All while the CEO barely does any of the work and gets all the praise and money. So no, they don't all come from really poor families and have built everything for nothing.

The worst thing is that we've been so gaslit and brainwashed that we're proud of our own exploitation, we are wired to think that to be successful we have to suffer, work 10 jobs we all hate, constantly pick up extra hours, have 2 hours of sleep, have no free time to do anything we love, waste our entire youth, be depressed our entire adulthood, to finally have a few pennies to spend when we're eighty. We so strongly believe that this is the only right way to be successful that I don't think many of us have dared to question it's authority, and even if we do, we quickly accept that this a truth, a fact we cannot change and this is just the way things are.

We have capitalized water, food, land, forests, oceans, space, and everything in betweeen. Money is social construct and we have deliberately let it take over our lives. To think about the wasted opportunities and the misery that we have to endure so others can enjoy life truly angers me.

Also, communism is not an ideology that has every actually taken place. Despite what they say, there was never actually a communist country. However, every nation that has attempted a socialist system, for exemple Burkina Faso, has thrived. But of course, once capitalist countries noticed that, they decided to murder it's leader. So in conclusion, the only reason socialism failed is because of capitalism and it's interventions.

"As President (1983-1987), Sankara initiated economic reforms that shifted his country away from dependence on foreign aid and reduced the privileges of government officials; he cut salaries, including his own, decreed that there would be no more flying in first class or driving Mercedes as standard issue vehicles for Ministers and other government workers. He led a modest lifestyle and did not personally amass material wealth. President Sankara encouraged self-sufficiency, including the use of local resources to build clinics, schools and other needed infrastructure. [...] President Sankara promoted land reform, childhood vaccination, tree planting, communal school building, and nation-wide literacy campaigns. He was committed to gender equity and women’s rights and was the first African leader to publicly recognize the AIDS pandemic as a threat to African countries. Although Sankara became somewhat more authoritarian during his Presidency, his ideas, and the possibility that they could spread, were viewed by many as posing the greatest threat. President Sankara was assassinated during a coup led by a French-backed politician, Blaise Compaoré, in October 1987. Compaoré served as the President of Burkina Faso from October 1987 through October 2014, when he himself was overthrown."

Via:https://africandevelopmentsuccesses.wordpress.com/2015/02/28/success-story-from-burkina-faso-thomas-sankaras-legacy/

I have been reading and watching some amazing human rights activists, notably Angela Davis, Malcolm X and James Baldwin. The people that were villainized, labeled as violent and radical, when every single word that came out of their mouhs were pure facts. They are probably some of the most eloquent people I have had the pleasure of hearing. Every sentence, every argument, every single detail made so much sense and opened my mind to so many new realizations. This is the perfect exemple of how the media tarnishes the reputation of wise black women and men. I would strongly advise you to research more about them.

"Socialism & communism are demonized in the west to the point of erasing influential individuals' socialist advocacy. Heres a short list of people you may not have known were socialists/ communists:

MLK

Albert Einstein

Nelson Mandela

Frida Kahlo

Tupac Shakur

Mark Twain

Malcom X

Oscar Wilde

Bertrand Russell

Hellen Keller

Pablo Picasso

George Orwell

Shia LaBeouf

John Lennon

Woody Guthrie

Socialism & communism are not dirty words. Some of the most brilliant minds of our history were socialists and communists. Embrace it." Via @sleepisocialist on twitter

So what else can I say, capitalism has ruined our society and the way we act and think. I know a lot of people refuse to support communism because they think it's too much of a perfect ideal utopian world for it to ever actually exist. And to that I say, first of all, so you agree, it is a wonderful theory, and second of all, a world without racism, sexism, homophobia or any kind or discrimination could also be perceived as "too ideal to actually exist", but does that mean I'm giving up on talking, educating myself and others, protesting and trying to build a better future? Absolutely not. This is the objective, it would be so dumb to think that we just couldn't achieve that so let's not even try.

I want to talk more in detail about communism, theory, human rights, etc... but I don't want to make this post any longer. I will however be posting more about it soon enough.

I know this is a little different than what I usually post, but I want to speak, tell you all my own opinions, I don't want to just repost activism related stuff. I'll continue to do that, but not exclusively. I know it won't get as many interactions as my other posts, but this is what I needed at some point in my life, and if I could make understanding some basic informations easier to some people, it'll already be a great accomplishment.

Thank you for reading.

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nikibogwater · 4 years ago

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The Norse Chaos Chronicles: Chapter Four--In which by some Easter miracle, the Incompetent Vikings defeat the Elder

Been a few days since my last update in regards to Team Bogwater’s exploits in the world of Valheim. This is mostly because we actually had a couple of play sessions that were relatively calm.

We actually did manage to expand to the Black Forest across the sea and set up a functioning base there, where we lived in somewhat cramped quarters for a while until we had gathered enough minerals to enter the Bronze Age (and by cramped, I mean all three of us were crammed into what was basically a single king-sized bed because we failed to make the house big enough to accommodate a reasonable amount of space between each of our beds--clearly some home renovations are in order).

I, being a very kind and responsible sister, spent some time on the server by myself making our base more secure with Stake Walls, setting up a sufficient space for storage, and gathering food, all tasks that the others didn’t seem too excited to take care of. I was expecting the boys to notice and at least tell me that my additions were helpful.

I know for a fact that they at least noticed, because when I joined them for this most recent play session, Gustav had decided that what our base needed now was a spike pit around the front gate, which I know wouldn’t have occurred to him if I hadn’t put up the spiky walls. I was never told that my additions were helpful or appreciated, but considering that there were far fewer deaths happening close to our base, I suspect they were nonetheless.

Niki: ...Is....Do we really need the spike trap? Like, is it necessary? Gustav: How could you even ask something like that?! I have never been more upset in my life. Niki: It’s just...like, there’s a bridge that goes right over it. Gustav: Yeah. So we can get across it. Niki: Right but so could the Greydwarves. Gustav: Greydwarves aren’t that smart. (20 minutes later) Gustav, trying and failing to shove a Greydwarf into the pit: You guys, I may have overestimated how unintelligent Greydwarves are.

Gustav got exactly one (1) Greydwarf to fall into the pit and die. The only other thing he caught was Tripe.

Okay, well, he did manage to get a Troll to walk into the spikes, but then it just smashed them all to pieces. It was at this point that Gustav finally accepted the reality of the fact that a spike pit was completely useless to us in this particular area.

Gustav, filling in the pit with rocks: Man, why didn’t one of you guys warn me that the spike trap was a dumb idea? Niki and Tripe: Yeah, that was our bad. 🙄 (10 minutes later) Niki, just peacefully mining copper in the forest: Wait, so where did the Troll go- *gets slammed by the Troll before I can even finish voicing the question* GUSTAV, WHY DIDN’T YOU KILL IT?!

Tripe and Gustav upgraded to Bronze Gear and Troll Hide (I brought mine over from my single player world to save time and resources). I was still trying to gather up enough Bronze to make a Cultivator so we could eat something other than Cooked Meat and Queen’s Jam, when suddenly I was informed that we were getting into a boat (we upgraded from the raft, finally) and going to kill the Elder.

Tripe: Get in losers, we’re going to kill the next boss. Gustav: *jumps in without any hesitation* Niki: Wait what?! That’s a terrible idea! (5 minutes later) Niki, sulking in the front of the boat: Did I mention this is a really bad idea? Gustav and Tripe: It’s fine. How bad can it possibly be?

Horrible. Absolutely horrible. That’s how bad it was.

We had rather unlucky RNG with our world generation, and the Elder’s altar was a good 1,000 miles away from us. Which meant a significant portion of this play session was actually just sitting in the boat and watching the scenery pass.

It sounds like a pleasant time, but I was absolutely terrified the whole way there.

Gustav: ...Oh hey, we discovered the ocean. Niki, who has seen videos of Sea Serpents absolutely wrecking well-equipped players: BACK TO THE SHORE. GO BACK. DO NOT MOVE INTO OPEN WATERS. GUSTAV, FOR THE LOVE, GO BACK TO THE SHORELINE! (Passing a Plains biome) Niki: ...Did you guys know there are one-hit death bugs in the Plains Gustav and Tripe: Will you please calm down

We happened to run across Haldur the merchant shortly before reaching our destination. Since Valheim doesn’t tie your inventory to individual worlds, I went ahead and bought a few things to bring back to my single-player world (namely the fishing gear). I hopped off the server for a minute to transfer the items, and while I was in my world, I grabbed some extra food (the boys are terrible about keeping food in their inventories) and, since I figured we’d need all the help we could get, grabbed a few jugs of mead without really paying attention to what effects they gave.

When I came back into the server, Tripe and Gustav were setting up our temporary base so we could reset our spawn points. Right. Smack. Dab. Next to the altar. As in, when the Elder spawned, he was going to basically be standing directly on top of it.

Niki: ...You guys that seems like a poorly-conceived plan. Gustav and Tripe: No, it’s fine. Stop worrying.

At this point, I was pretty resigned to the disaster that was inevitably going to unfold, so I just grabbed some wood and set up my own shack a decent ways away without making any further attempts to convince the other two.

Gustav: Niki, where are you? We’re all ready. Niki: I just...I’ll be there in a minute, hold on. Tripe: What are you doing? Niki: ...I’m building a house. Gustav: YOU ARE BUILDING YOUR OWN HOUSE WHEN WE HAVE A PERFECTLY GOOD ONE RIGHT HERE?! RUDE! Niki: I DON’T WANNA RESPAWN AND THEN JUST IMMEDIATELY BE SQUISHED AGAIN, ALRIGHT?!

Houses built and weapons readied, we all gathered at the altar. I chucked the Ancient Seeds into the flame and immediately booked it out of the vicinity as fast as my meaty Vikings legs could carry me, frantically downing a jug of mead as I went. The Elder spawned in and within seconds, absolute carnage reigned supreme.

Gustav died within the first two minutes and spent the next ten trying to make it back to his grave. Which he couldn’t really do because his respawn point was right next to the Elder, and emerging from the house naked of all armor and gear was basically an instant death sentence.

Gustav: I’ve died six times trying to get my gear back. We really shouldn’t have built the house this close to the altar. Niki, why didn’t you warn us? Niki, fleeing from the massive thorny vines that the Elder is trying to impale her on: I hate you guys so much right now.

I was hanging back as much as I could, dealing damage with my Finewood Bow, but the Elder has a huge range of attack, and it had me down to single digits in health within less than a minute. And it was at this point that I realized I had majorly screwed up.

The mead that I had been frantically chugging in hopes of gaining better health regen? It was actually slowing my health regen and only increasing my stamina.

Niki: YOU GUYS THE MEAD WAS A MISTAKE. OH MY GOSH, IT’S MINUS FIFTY HEALTH REGEN, NOT PLUS! OH CRAP CRAP CRAP--I’M LITERALLY SLOSHED OVER HERE! Gustav: WAIT, NIKI CAME INTO THIS FIGHT DRUNK?! Niki: I DIDN’T NOTICE THE MINUS SIGN!!!! *yeets the rest of the mead into the ocean before meeting my first demise at the hands of the Elder*

Miraculously, I only died twice during the fight (again, mostly because my respawn point was away from the altar, meaning I had a clearer path back to my graves when I respawned). I have no idea how many times the other two died. Towards the end we were also being bombarded by hoards of Greydwarves, which only made things ten times worse.

Gustav: Have either of you seen my corpse? I mean, I have several lying around here at this point.

I don’t even know how we managed it, but we did finally take out the Elder and received our Swamp Keys. We all stood around the scene of destruction for a minute, just kind of collecting ourselves.

Tripe: ...I feel like that could’ve gone better. Gustav: Yeah. It’s just, Niki goes and does all this research and watches videos and then she doesn’t bother to tell us not to put our house so close to the- Niki: *punches him*

The trip home was blessedly uneventful. Tripe did decide to cut across the ocean instead of following the shoreline in order to save time. I was 90% certain we were all going to be eaten by a Serpent, but we were fine.

We made it back to our camp only to find a Greydwarf Shaman mucking around in our front yard.

Gustav: What is he--is he barfing on our house...? NO, HE’S SMASHING THE CART! OH YOU SON OF A-- *takes a flying leap out of the boat and tears through the shallows, furiously waving his spear*

The Shaman poisoned Tripe, who had a mild panic attack because his respawn point was still back at the Elder’s Altar, and if he died now he would have to walk all the way back here.

Tripe, with 1 HP left: NO I’M NOT DYING LIKE THIS! *dives headfirst into the nearest bed*

So yes. That is what I was doing this weekend, in case any of you were wondering where I disappeared to. I am hoping to spend some time working on ToA stuff today, but I again, I think it is important to record these events for posterity...and perhaps as a cautionary tale for others.

#niki rambles #gaming #valheim

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dreaming-gamer · 4 years ago

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Eyy! Now, I have a proper V HC request, hihi!😍😍😍❤❤❤🙈🙈🙈 The gang ( include anyone you want ) introducing V to his very first cosplay convention!😍😍😍❤❤❤ I'll patiently wait, my dear. I love your V HCs so much😍😍😍❤❤❤

Hello dear! <3<3<3 Thank you so much for liking my headcanons and the request! :D :D :D I’m sorry this one took so long, I should have posted this one much earlier but better late than never? *sweats*

In any case, here we go! <3<3<3

Random headcanon: Cosplay convention

Nico:

Nico is the first one to jump at the idea when she finds out V has never been to a cosplay convention. She loves those because people just let their creativity flow and she is among them. Creating an impressive cosplay that lets her display her genius, oh that’s right up her alley.

Of course the work on the van and Nero’s Devil Breakers go first, but the Queen of Machines can juggle that and more if needs be. If she’s going to a convention, you can bet she’s going to show off something that’s flashy and functional.

She’s all for helping the others find something they want to dress up in as well, they don’t even have to take something as spectacular as she does, if they don’t want to. If they do, she’s all for helping them with something on the more mechanical style as sewing and fabrics aren’t her thing.

Honestly, she just wants her friends to come along, try the event out. If someone really doesn’t want to dress up, she won’t push the suggestion too much but if she can work on them for a bit, they might open up to it. She’s the one to convince V to come along, claiming she can find just the right character for him.

Though Nico is able and considered fixing a workable Gundam costume (complete with rockets and guns, could it get better?!), she ultimately chose Mei Hatsume from My Hero Academia as her own cosplay character because let’s face it, it would let her show off more of her creations.

The costume itself she found online, cheap and the inventions are the important part, so that’s all good for her. A prototype is customized to function as a flying skateboard for anyone who wants to try, an Overture is remodeled to set off (harmless) fireworks rather than demon-killing sparks, a Dr Faust replica with built-in video and audio to teach you Michael Jackson moves on the go, she brings an array of different inventions and many are a success with younger audiences.

Nero (& Kyrie):

Nero’s never been to a cosplay convention, he’s just as new to them as V is. As a kid, he wanted to dress up and go to gatherings like that because it looked fun and hopefully no one would look at him funny, as they did in the Order.

Now that he feels more secure in his own skin, having come to terms with his heritage and how he can use it to protect his family, Nero doesn’t feel the immediate need to dress up for the convention but when Kyrie mentions it might be fun, he falls for the suggestion.

Whenever the orphans’ clothes get holes, Kyrie fixes them with her sewing but she is uncertain she has the skills and the time to fix herself and Nero matching outfits in time for the convention, when they have both decided they’ll go. And Nico has convinced them that they’ll have the most fun if they dress up.

Nero is supportive, he’s fine with whichever costume Kyrie wants to do, he doesn’t push and he’s fine with just going as they are as well if it spares Kyrie some trouble, but the kids are very insistent. And Kyrie sometimes has a hard time saying no to them.

Knowing it’s one of Kyrie’s favorite Disney movies, Nero suggests Beauty and the Beast for the two of them. Kyrie wants Nero to have fun and get the whole experience by dressing up, but at first, she is a little bit hesitant about his suggestion. She never wants Nero to feel like she doubts him or his humanity ever again.

They have been through a lot and so, they just talk it out, ending the discussion with soft whispers of love and care and in agreement over their choice.

As for their costumes, they don’t buy anything new. They check their closets for anything unused or something that can just be adjusted. In their eyes, the details don’t have to be perfect as long as they are both having fun. Kyrie also has a field day trying to put make-up on Nero’s face for the Beast look. Honestly, she does a good job. And the clothes she adjusted for Nero’s blue Beast attire, as well as her own blue and white dress for Belle, look great and she feels proud over her work.

At the convention, Nero will make sure to keep an eye on her, make sure she won’t be dehydrated or stay on her feet for too long in queues. It’s mostly unexplored ground for both of them, but they have a lot of fun just people-watching and following the three orphans under their care around, as the boys point out characters that they know everywhere. If the boys don’t recognize someone, they’ll run right up and ask.

Their camera roll is full of pictures of other cosplayers and the kids posing at the end of the day. And Nico snuck in a few pictures of Nero and Kyrie as well.

Dante:

It’s a party, Dante’s interested, enough said. He doesn’t mind grabbing the most ridiculous outfits if it gives him the love of the crowd. At a convention, people of all ages gather so it will be some simple, awesome fun.

As for him choosing a cosplay, the Dr. Faust hat has made him realize he rocks wearing a hat so he initially thought of cosplaying Alucard from Hellsing but after realizing V would cosplay another Alucard, he switched gears. Actually, Dante might just prefer cosplaying a character that likes having fun, just like he does.

By coincidence, he found Vash the Stampede from Trigun and though there is no hat involved, hey, the guy rocks red just as well as Dante does and he uses guns. Does Dante know anything about the character? Not really but that doesn’t stop him from rocking it. Plus, Dante already has red clothes, it’s just a matter of going into character because adjusting those clothes, he knows not how to do.

At said convention, he instantly clicks with a Deadpool cosplayer and they dance to Michael Jackson songs. They also photobomb some cosplay shoots, all in good fun. He lives for the spirit of people just having fun and humans just being humans, gathering thanks to a common interest.

Dante is the type who comes to a convention with several outfits. Or at least he would, if he had enough money for it. Since most of his paycheck goes to keeping the gas, water and electricity at Devil May Cry running, he resorts to simple, but effective ways to show off character, both his own and from other series.

When the idea of going to a cosplay convention is first introduced to him, along with what it actually entails, he’s a bit skeptical. Nico telling him that there will be a ton of people doesn’t really sell him on it as he’s not that fond of crowds. But hearing that many will dress up as characters from stories they enjoy catches his attention. If he agrees to go, maybe he should be sure to make the most of it. And when Nico notices that shift in his demeanor, she keeps pushing him to join, juuust a bit.

For V, cosplay sounds like a way to show appreciation for characters and the stories they star in. Being the big fan of literature and poetry that he is, this aspect of the event does trigger his interest but when Nico gives him the idea to try out cosplay himself, she suggests that he shouldn’t go with cosplaying William Blake. Griffon laughs out loud at the mere idea but his suggestion of V cosplaying as a Disney princess (the orphans under Nero’s and Kyrie’s care have tried to show the avian various Disney movies, further adding to his arsenal of nicknames for V), is equally shot down.

V does want to put some thought and care into who to cosplay, but he also acknowledges his lack of sewing skills and is not too into the thought of buying a costume for himself with his limited funds. Kyrie offers to help but he is hesitant to accept it, seeing how she is trying to make something wearable for both herself, Nero and three little boys.

Ultimately, Nico and surprisingly, Dante become his greatest helpers. The childhood home of the sons of Spardas might have mostly fallen apart, but there are still some of their father’s old black robes in one of the rooms. It needs some adjustments, being too big on V’s lean frame, but the length is pretty spot on.

Nico demonstrates an automatic multi-tool that includes both measuring and sewing capabilities, as well as a laser pointer and a demon alarm that accidentally trips when Griffon is present. V doesn’t ask why she saw the necessity to put all of those functions together, but in the end, two of them are helpful for their situation. And she will show it off at the convention, as part of her genius.

How Dante does it, V doesn’t know, but one day, a long blonde wig is delivered to Devil May Cry, perfect for his decided cosplay. Turns out Dante’s flirt with the lady at the costume shop was helpful.

Ultimately, V feels very satisfied with his appearance as Alucard from Castlevania. The black robes are a different material from his regular leather vest but it’s still in black and thus, he feels right at home in it rather quickly. The long blonde wig takes some more time to adjust to.

What he had not anticipated were people asking to photograph him in this getup but thankfully, V took his time to research his character’s lines and mannerisms. Alucard is a gentleman, so V doesn’t find it very hard at all.

During the convention, Nero and Kyrie have enough on their plate, keeping an eye on the boys, so Nico usually stays close to V. Their chosen media are not anything alike, but that hardly matters. Nico is easily swept up in the excitement of the convention and seeing her makes V think that letting loose once in a while isn’t so bad.

Griffon stars in V’s cosplay as well, dressed up as a bat.

The next day, V will be a bit socially exhausted. Expect him to keep to himself with his book and tea for a good remainder of the day.

#dmc headcanons #my writing #dmc v #dmc nero #dmc kyrie #dmc nico #dmc dante #thedyingmoon

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