#and despite trying/wanting to be active on here I am just a bit emotionally exhausted and drained ))

[soraeia]

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[hyperionswrath-a]

𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐍𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐓 𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐄𝐑. ⸻   ( REPOST DO NOT REBLOG. )

⸻ NAME: Jetsam / Jet for short

⸻ PRONOUNS:  He / Him

⸻ PREFERENCE OF COMMUNICATION:  Tumblr  IM. My discord is not freely being given away anymore unless I know someone very well.

⸻ NAME OF MUSE(S):   On here - Seifer Almasy. I also run blogs for Albert Wesker & H.U.N.K from Resident Evil,  Dante Sparda from the Devil may Cry Reboot, and Sora from Kingdom Hearts (and a lot of others that are currently shelved because I have no muse for them)

⸻ EXPERIENCE / HOW LONG (MONTHS / YEARS?):   Altogether about twenty years now. ⸻ PLATFORMS YOU’VE USED:    Back when I started it was forums and Legend of the Green Dragon servers (good times, man), sometimes ye olde chat rooms. I took a break from roleplaying actively for many years and eventually ended up here on tumblr back in 2019, where I picked up Seifer as a muse. That was the first time I started writing and roleplaying in english, too. I also sometimes use Discord, but not much anymore.

⸻ BEST EXPERIENCE:    Some of the people I met during roleplaying, and the stories written together. At a certain point I become emotionally invested, and that’s when the real fun begins, hahah. I love that writing here lets me glimpse how other people view my favorite franchises, how they interprete characters therein and just rubbing our brain-bits together to create amazing stories of all varieties is just something I adore so much.

⸻ RP PET PEEVES / DEALBREAKERS:    Expectations that are hard or impossible for me to live up to, I’d say. Meaning expecting me to be always and constantly available (whether I am online or not), expecting me to be able to reply fast or have muse for all things all the time, etc. My muses can be finnicky, sometimes one snatches my brain cell for months, and I can’t really control this - don’t want to, either. I go where my inspiration flows to offer a good roleplay experience and sometimes that doesn’t match with what my partners might wish to see from me. Additionally I know it’s easy to brush off my fatigue issues with “just get more sleep/eat better/excercise more” and while I agree that these things may help, it’s still something I cannot control and sometimes I will be very exhausted despite really wanting to write, be it something IC or OOC. Also some people do drain my batteries quicker than others, and that, too is nothing personal at all and nothing I can control.

⸻ FLUFF, ANGST OR SMUT:    I like all the same, as long as it’s well balanced. Admittedly, my Seifer used to be a smut fiend, but sadly it also opened the door for people to just want to rp that with me without anything else ever. And while I am an absolute sucker for smut that drives plot, I do also crave other things. Fluff is something most of my muses don’t get often for the sole reason they are... well, not fluff characters. If they ever get enought interactions with one other muse to build up to some possible softness, it will usually be short-lived. It’s why I picked up Sora, honestly, because sometimes mun craves to just be soft and not having to front a harsh muse. As for angst - I live for it. It’s amazing to make your characters go through hell and have them develop through it. The reward at the end is so worth it.

⸻ LONG OR SHORT REPLIES:    Long to medium. I definitely can do crack posts but for something substantial I need some more lines of text. As a general rule of thumb, it’s always a matter of how much you give me to work with in my own reply that matters most, but I am definitely not afraid of long replies - if they go somewhere. Just repeating what I wrote or repeating yourself for the sake of adding paragraphs is something that I don’t like much °^^

⸻ BEST TIME TO WRITE:     God I wish I knew anymore. Lately I try to write something in the morning before work when I have my first two cups of coffee, and often I will be able to write some more in the evening after work (and after napping ahah). But it fluctuates, sadly, so I always have to seize the opportunity when it arrives.

⸻  ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S):     Some more than others! I think a little bit of me is in all my muses, and that that’s why I pick them up. As for Seifer... I probably have more in common with him at times than I like to admit, I can be rather spiteful, if provoked into it I definitely can be arrogant and standoffish and I do relate with him struggling throughout his life with never being good enough (or not having the chance to prove that I am, for that matter). Also in some ways I often say I need to channel my inner Seifer more so I can put my foot down better when it comes to establishing boundaries or telling people off on their bullshit. :D

got tagged by @burntchild​ and am tagging anyone who’d like to do this!

[dzpenumbra]

12/14/22

All my frustrations and anxieties about getting my cat's blood drawn... well... I got the results today. She doesn't have hyperthyroidism anymore. She has hypothyroidism. And kidney disease. The med was too high a dosage, or she didn't reaaaally need it or something... I'm still kinda emotionally processing the news. I don't really know how serious it is. So, despite freaking out about this medication and paying a premium to get it airmailed to me, and spending the entire day pacing around trying to track the shipment and kept getting error messages, and checking the package room over and over... despite all that... now she is 100% off the hyperthyroid meds. Done-so.

Here's the catch. Now she's going on a prescription diet. And she can eat only that food. I feel for her. No more treats. No more variety to her diet. We just started spicing up her diet the past few months, she was so happy about it, it was a fun thing for us. Now... that's gone. So tomorrow I'm going to go pick up the prescription food from the vet and get her started. And no meds tonight. Or... likely ever again. And some day later this week I'm going to pick up a package from the mailroom of hyperthyroid med cream that will never be opened.

After the call, I talked to my mom. For 4 hours. Not kidding. I just kept talking, I feel bad. I mean, she was engaged, but by the end... she seemed completely exhausted. I feel guilty. But like... what else am I going to do? And I really can't help it. The first bit was once again about work and career shit, and how pissed I am that no one is like... talking about how people can actively support my work, or helping me connect with people who can. You know, the shit that I always get super upset about. I need to start saying "I don't want to talk about that, it makes me really upset to talk about it." But I feel like I have no choice, because, you know... it's my career.

We got past that, got dinner and talked about ADHD stuff. And she helped me get my impostor syndrome inner skeptic to chill a bit. She helped me replay the story so far, the diagnosis in highschool, the 504 plan, the diagnosis in college, the brain scan confirmation. Like... I have gotten maybe... one therapist saying "yeah, you have PTSD" and I made a nice little seat on the bench for it. But... something that's like... a genetic condition? I feel like... if I go around saying I have ADHD and I don't actually have it, it does real damage to people who do have it. I feel like it's on par (obviously not the same, but on par) with saying you're autistic, but don't have an official diagnosis. I'm just... yeah. I've said this like 20 billion times, I don't need to do it again. This is the impostor syndrome inner skeptic, by the way, hi.

My mom seemed much more understanding of how hellish my life is, how... different my perception of life as a whole is. Like, she described coming over to my house with a pizza for my birthday and getting to my old place and I didn't even have a place for her to sit. Like the tornado of thoughts in my brain is so constantly rampaging that any thought of even remotely preparing for that just... didn't show up on the radar. It just... doesn't occur to me. And I never would have even thought of that example because, again... it just... doesn't occur to me. I just don't notice stuff like that, it's just... normal life. That's just my day-to-day.

So the theme I tried to stress again was that I really really really really just want to stop fighting myself. I feel like the only support I get is "hey, go do this thing that completely changes your life overnight and gives you a shit ton more responsibilities and accountability that affect other people." Instead of... trying to get what I'm already doing to work better. To generate income. To be more... orderly, more streamlined. In ways that work for me. To optimize, not to complicate or reset. I do not want a new life. I do not want a new career. I just want to make what I've been doing for years... work better. Function better. Produce better results.

I want my music arrangements that I make to actually turn into finished and released products, that are available for the public. I want my art projects to have a home where they are publicly available for people to see, purchase and where people can follow the journey. Here's the path I jumped on in January 2020. I wanted to do livestreams and videos that documented my artistic processes. Whether it's narrating an unfolding story in Rimworld, or recording music, or carving wood, or doing nature illustration in colored pencil (my profile picture on here was drawn entirely on livestream, over 40 hours). I wanted to share the process of my art's creation, so you could see how it goes from blank page to final product, see the progression and growth. I'm all about growth, obsessed with it. It's what life's all about, isn't it? I mean, if you're not growing... what the fuck are you doing? Stagnating? Rotting? Fuck that, growing is awesome. Whether that's learning something new or polishing something refined, keep trying new shit, keep improving, keep innovating. That's creation, right? Rather than just, repetition?

So... why am I not still doing that? I couldn't build a following. Social media, I'm too emotionally charged for it. I sink into it for hours and then I inevitably read shit that makes me lose hope for humanity and that shit just puts a giant thundercloud over my whole day. Every time. So I really struggle to keep up with it. And it just stresses me out, and I absolutely hate ads and social media is just polluted with them. Streams... no one would show up. Those that did didn't really give a fuck about what I was doing, they'd use it like an AIM or Discord chatroom or something. Most of the time it was people talking about shit that had nothing to do with my narration, which just kinda makes new people feel really out of the loop, and is hard for me to like... riff off of. It makes me feel like... why am I live? They're not even reacting to what's on their screen, why am I presenting this in live form? I could just record it offline, watch whatever the fuck I want while I'm playing (aka listen to copyrighted music), then voiceover in post and just put it on YouTube. And probably hit a bigger audience. It was just... yeah. Plus, live performance is incredibly emotionally demanding, and focus-demanding, just demanding in general. So if I had a fight with my family earlier that day? Like most days had been back then... The stream was... likely to be called off. I just didn't have the emotional stamina to entertain teens after being yelled at for 2 hours, and I was afraid one day I would just start telling people off or banning a few of my like... 6 viewers. And all that shit is being recorded so... yeah. Didn't take the chance.

So you take a few days off to recover. The fights keep going. A few days turns into a few weeks, then you realize you haven't streamed since... late summer. And it's almost Christmas. And you just go... "remember when I was a streamer?"

So... maybe I need a mentor or something. Or maybe I just need to stick to YouTube videos and Patreon? Just cut the whole live shit out of the picture. The only reason I did it was because... I felt like I could do like an... open-studio kinda thing. Like you can just drop by the studio and see what I'm working on real-time. And it makes my studio time more social, which is always super welcome, I love social studio time, I miss it dearly. But yeah... I don't know. I need to think about it, I guess. The consistency is the problem, with the emotional and psychological turbulence that comes with my life, the waves of inspiration and hard work vs. recovery.

Am I overthinking this? Probably. I should probably just start streaming again. I'm just nervous. And I can't really put my finger on why. Maybe it's having to face the music with people from the past, having to explain where I've been. To teens who don't actually care. Who aren't even paying customers, who have never subbed, never donated, never bought a piece, never asked for a lesson, just got free entertainment for months... years, even, now.

Ugh. Talking about work shit is so draining. I really just need someone to bounce ideas off of, who has some fucking idea what this business is like and what my emotional and psychological limitations can be at times. How my overwhelm works, and how that conflicts with these bullshit algorithms that are literally programmed to reward and promote people who do inhuman amounts of labor for extended periods of time with no breaks.

Spring 2020 I was doing 2x 10-15 minute YouTube videos a week, curated and edited from 3-4 hour livestreams every day. It consumed so much of my life that I barely had daylight to walk my dog. If I'm in the zone, that's doable. If I'm not, and I'm not inspired, and I'm just doing it to "keep an audience"? That's how I go down a dark path.

I don't want to talk about this anymore. I need a mentor or something, who is familiar with how all this works, and what it's like to... be me. I think that would be life changing. I have no idea where to even start looking.

So yeah. Big day. Lots of huge concepts. And I'm reluctantly accepting my ADHD again. Kinda. Me and Skeptic Me are kinda... in a Mexican Standoff of sorts. Baby steps, I guess.

I'm exhausted, going to bed.

Oh yeah, fun addition. I didn't do my sleep ritual last night. No smoking, nothing, just essential oil diffuser, brushed teeth and went to bed. I slept fine. The world didn't end. So it's good to know that, while it brings me comfort and structure... it's not a dependency, that shit is in my head. That means the structure is mutable, and I can adjust it freely to make it more fitting for my current life. And structure is in dire need right now. So, with all the chaos and difficult news, there's some good in there.

[vtforpedro]

health - TWs in tags please read them

I wish I could say I'm doing better. I was, actually, for a while after I got on this new med. finally felt a good bit of relief from the severity and was working on art like crazy, even tho I am noticeably going downhill in other areas? about two weeks ago the severity came back with a vengeance and I feel like my body is slowly giving up. not just me, but my body. I feel extremely unwell and off and like something is deeply wrong, which is how I felt at the beginning of all of this. scares me my symptoms are getting worse and I have new ones. living in actual hell right now and just want it to stop I finally got my 'urgent' MRIs done a couple of days ago and the reports came in last night. pm everything looks the same except one thing and that's 'minimal CSF flow [medical jargon for the back of my brain] decreased significantly and more conspicuous on this exam' in comparison to april 2021. when you have minimal spinal fluid flow in an area of your brain, you're typically symptomatic and I am. very. symptomatic lol scares me even more got an appt with the big specialist at the neuro hospital in 5 weeks but genuinely don't feel like I'm going to make it. I keep telling my mom I'm going to end up in the ER soon because of how bad it's getting I can barely walk without losing my balance, I'm losing muscle mass, having trouble swallowing, thinking clearly about anything at all, typoing and mixing up words constantly, mixing up my meds despite my pill box, not having much of a memory anymore. scared to take a shower, scared I'm going to fall or pass out daily so I try to carry my phone everywhere like idk falling apart physically and emotionally and still waiting to be taken more seriously. my neuro just wants to wipe his hands clean of me and send me off to the specialist but it's like my guy that's far away and I am suffering. I didn't think I would make it yesterday emotionally or physically lol I don't know how to keep doing this. I truly don't. I don't want to, I don't want to suffer and feel like I'm going to fall and die in pain and agony soon. I go to sleep afraid I won't wake up but lately I've been hoping that's the case because at least I won't be afraid or in pain. I feel alone. I feel like only my mom would care if I was gone. I feel like no one cares to hear about this anymore and would rather I just stop talking about it when I need support now more than ever I'm sorry to talk like this but it's how I feel. wondering if you are actively dying, going to die, should call the paramedics, go to the er, end things for yourself, all day long, every single day, is not only exhausting but it's not living I saw my pcp and she said I looked miserable, unwell, unhappy. she said it like three times and said she was sorry I felt so unwell. but because my labs were not off the charts abnormal it's just 'eh drink a little more water' and idk. I feel like I am telling these doctors serious, serious things about what's happening to me and none of them will ever care. none of them will ever lift a finger if it means they have to research or ask for help because it hurts their egos and people suffer for it I suffer. I wanted so badly to work on medical trauma with my therapist but the only thing we talk about is how severely my body has deteriorated each week and how I can barely handle it lol I obvs can't go to a hospital, the lights and sounds and meds and my health conditions would do me in lmao so she asks me what we can do to keep me here and I don't know anymore I'm sorry. I am in a lot of pain right now

[haleigh-sloth]

Some people are missing the point of the word “redemption”.

I took a nap at 8pm and now at 1am I am suffering the consequences of said nap. 

I wanted to touch on a take/topic I’ve seen lately about how the LOV could have been a villain group who only targeted other villains in order to make it easier to redeem them. I wanted to touch on why I personally don’t see how that would have: A. made it better, and B. made any sense for their characters.

I understand this POV to an extent. Like yeah, if they just killed other “bad people” then it’s easy to redeem and save them. But...that misses the entire point of their existence in the story. I’ve seen this post going around and I want to just go on a bit of a ramble here to address why I don’t see how that particular POV really applies to the villains in BNHA. Like, the linked post makes a valid point in that people often write off the villain characters’ moral code because of their crimes. But like...that’s the point. And now there’s the floating take that the LOV is being shown in this way, to make us view radicals as problematic, and that Horikoshi should have made them vigilante type people to make their redemption easier, and I just don’t see it that way. 

I mean, first of all, the villains’ complaints ARE being shown as valid and are somewhat starting to be addressed. Maybe not perfectly, but I think it’s going to get there in the writing....one of these days.

Making them vigilante-esque doesn’t make sense for their characters and doesn’t address what actually happened to them.

If the villains went around and only killed other “bad people”, I mean at that point they’re not villains, they’re just vigilantes. At that point their role in the narrative is completely changed. The problem with Horikoshi making them that type of villain group is that it wasn’t “bad people”, or people who’ve done worse than them, that did them wrong. It was the average everyday people that wronged them, ignored them, pretended they didn’t exist. The society as a whole. Imo it wouldn’t make sense for their goals to only try to kill other types of “bad people”. (I put "bad people” in quotes because I don’t like that phrasing but you get my point.)

Making them Vigilantes Doesn’t Make Them “Better” or Right

The reason they’re considered “villains” is because they’re killing people, period. It doesn’t matter who they kill, or why. Killing is wrong all around. That’s the whole premise behind them being in the wrong. Their killing is not supposed to help them reach their goal. In fact in the story it never actually gets them anywhere. Their goal is the destruction of society and the people in it, which is wrong. (Although I’d argue that the villains could totally destroy society and I’d be cool with it, just not the innocent people in it!) The LOV are out for justice and revenge. And in many stories, not just BNHA, revenge often leads you down a dark path. BNHA and the LOV are no exception. In my opinion, the villains are 100% right about hero society, but they’re not right about killing. 

To say that they should have been vigilante type villains in order to make it easier to redeem them is just...it doesn’t make sense. It also doesn’t make it better at all. Hawks is a perfect example of that. Hawks killed Twice. Twice killed many other people, but despite that, the narrative still views his death as wrongful (still waiting on those consequences Hori). To say it’s easier to redeem them by only having them target other villains completely negates the fact that Hawks killing Twice was horrible and wrong. 

I mean if we’re going to view this ^^^ as bad, which I do, how is making the villains only target other villains any better? It’s not, truly. It doesn’t change the fact that they are redeemable now just as they are. 

The Whole Point of a Redemption Arc is to Atone for a Crime

I understand being exhausted waiting for the villains to get saved, to get justice, and see a change in the main character’s POV toward heroes and the other heroes change their POVs as well. I do get it because I’m emotionally exhausted too. Why I continue to follow a series that exhausts me idk. (It’s the escape from the numbing existence of everyday life that keeps me invested) But it doesn’t mean that the story would have been any better if the impact of the villains’ crimes were lessened by changing their targets to only other bad apples. 

The villains are getting a path to redemption. Redemption means something bad HAD to happen at the hand of somebody. Maybe even several bad things, at the hands of several somebodies. But now they get to redeem themselves by making up for it somehow. That’s the whole point of a redemption. If you make it to where their crimes are more understandable, “justified”, it’s not really viewed as a redemption....just a change of ways. No real internal change. The LOV needs that internal change. They need to be shown that they have the option of changing internally, and viewing the world around them as redeemable, despite what it’s put them through. 

That internal change is what makes a redemption arc so interesting. It’s what makes it interesting to read and fun to root for. The villains are radical in their beliefs. Those beliefs are being held up to be valid in the story. But they are villains, still. And that’s why they’re getting that path to redemption. To address those complaints that are indeed, valid. 

On another note:

Not that it matters really, but the villains actually were shown taking out more bad apples than innocents tbh. Before the war arc the only mass murders I can remember happening on screen were these fine folk:

And then during this scene, these people were actively trying to kill the LOV..so

And anybody Shigaraki murdered as a child I straight up just don’t even hold him responsible for, at all.

Nope.

Not even a little.

I mean...the LOV has done some vigilante work. Give em credit where credit is due. Lol. End of rant.

[prof-peach]

Hello professor, I have a pretty heavy question I’m afraid, but I’m running out of people to ask, so I’ll try my best to keep it PG13.

It’s my Mienshao, Daisy. Up until recently, she and I were members of a police task force tasked with rooting out illegal Pokemon smuggling rings and underground high stakes tournaments. We’ve been partners for a long time, me and Daisy, we grew up together, and I dare say we made a great team. But then things went wrong.

For the sake of security I can’t go into too much detail, but we were participating in a raid when we got ambushed. Someone must have tipped the smugglers off, because they were waiting for us when we got there. During the firefight, there was an explosion, a gas tank got set on fire by a charizard, I believe, and Daisy and I happened to be close. She got out with a few minor burns and scrapes, I... Did not.

I’ll spare you the gory details, but I have been confined to a wheel chair ever since, and I am due to be fitted for a prosthetic leg next week.

I won’t lie, the transition has been hard for everybody, me, my friends, my family. My other Pokémon have been hovering around me like over protective nannies for weeks. But I think out of all of us, Daisy has been taking it the hardest. Half of the day she spends locked to my side like a bodyguard, threatening to punch anyone that gets too close into oblivion. And the other half, well...

She’s started putting herself through some kind of hellish self training routine. Doing katas until she all but collapses from exhaustion, running laps for hours, fighting every Pokemon she can convince to fight, wild or trained. Daisy’s always been tough, and she’s always loved training, but this... This isn’t training, it’s a death march. I’m getting extremely worried, and that’s not even everything!

She’s stopped eating her favorite foods, deliberately choosing ones I know she hates, she won’t let me pet her anymore, she just steps out of reach, trying not to look at me. But most worryingly, she’s started cutting off her whiskers. She’s always been so proud of her whiskers, she groomed them every day, always got grumpy when I teased her for having a big ol’ mustache. Now anytime they get longer than an inch, she slices them off with her claws and throws them in fireplace, like some kind ceromony.

I’m almost certain Daisy feels guilty for coming out mostly unscathed, when I didn’t. She’s always been a bit protective, even before we joined the police, and she’s saved my life multiple times out in the field, but now she feels like she’s failed me, I think. I’ve tried to convince her that it wasn’t her fault, but that only seems to redouble her efforts. I’m terrified she’s going to burn herself out if she keeps going like this, and I don’t know what to do.

I know this is a pretty heavy question, but I I’m not sure who else to ask. Is there anything I can do to convince her that she doesn’t need to hurt herself like this? Or, something? Just anything to help! Losing my leg was jarring, but losing Daisy would be unbearable!... I just... I just want my best friend to be okay.

I am sorry for what you’ve been through, I cannot begin to understand what it’s like to be in your shoes, but like all recovery, physical or mental, this will take a fair bit of time to get past, you both may never fully return to how things were, but it can get better and you can both return to a full life together with work and dedication.

I’ve certainly seen Pokemon go to extreme lengths after dangerous incidents to protect their loved ones or themselves, in this case it would be wise to assume your pokemons suffering with a hefty bill of PTSD, and needs some actual therapy to handle the feelings and thoughts they’re having. We have facilities to accommodate that if you’re local to Johto, but most Pokemon centres will be able to put you in contact with reliable and certified practices to begin unravelling the issues that now plague Daisy.

That she considers herself to have come away reasonably unscathed is not true, yes your life has physically changed, but she needs to step back and take a look at her life too. Everything’s different now, and more specifically how she’s treating herself and handling her feelings. If that’s not trauma and injury, I don’t know what else it could be. You both came away with damage that day, physical or not. The first step is to help her see that, and to begin to understand that despite this all, you can both continue to move forward together if you can overcome the injury together, it is an event you shared, and you two can aid each others recovery with time and care.

There’s some seriously gifted therapists out there, those who study for years and can help far more than me, they’ll take time to break down the events, and start to really get into the feelings that your partner is going through. The cycle for Daisy right now comes around to self-punishment, and seems to be stuck on a loop. She needs time and space to process her feelings of guilt, grief, fear and loss, facing them instead of burying herself in her rigorous training. While it is difficult to discuss, you two have a strong bond that means you could talk with her. Try to remind her who’s truly responsible, she may be blaming herself, which is pretty common in these situations, but at the root of it, you were doing your routine job, and the bad guys, the Pokemon smugglers and goons are to blame. THEY caused the issue, not her, and while it may not sink in right away it’s worth saying, and sticking to. You said you told her that it wasn’t her fault, which is the gut reaction, perhaps giving her a logical target instead of herself will work better for now. Reiterating the true issue, and taking the heat off of her may help with other tasks such as self care, later down the recovery road.

Her guilt will feel terrible, but it kind of works as a protector, keeping her distanced from the worse, more overwhelming feelings of helplessness and powerlessness. In fact the guilt that masks this all will slowly make things worse over time. That underlying intense emotion below the guilt is what you both need to work through, but more than anything, she needs to face it, in her own time, come to terms with it, and eventually (hopefully) come to an understanding that life is an endless cycle of events, things will happen, but you have to pick yourself up and turn the lemons into lemonade. She could have lost you that day, that you came away with your life is a miracle, and now you two get more time together because of that. Luck isn’t something that runs out, it’s not like there’s only so much of it to go around, it is like wining the lottery. Sometimes 20 people win, other times no one does. It’s hard to accept, but there’s no greater order to stuff that happens, but when we can come to this conclusion, it’s oddly freeing. I’ve seen a fair few Pokemon in a symilar state who can move on when they realise there’s an odd randomness to the world and everything that goes on.

This is a job for someone with far greater skills than I, but you must help her by also looking after yourself, laugh when you can, show her that your life is still very full, and that you have loved ones, and joy to share with others. You mentioned that you’re due a prosthetic, and though the transition will be long and no doubt a little difficult at first, getting yourself back on two feet (kind of) will show her, and your other Pokemon that you’re willing to move forward. I think there’s a lot to be said about talking during this all. She wants to fight, to be strong, if this is how she’s going to cope, fine. If she’s out training, sit with her, spend whatever time you can by her side, as she’s taking this the hardest. You don’t have to say a thing, just try to do your best, without putting yourself in too much discomfort or pain. Reminding her who would be devastated if it had been her who got hurt, if she was not around, may help ground her back in reality a bit. You both got granted a gift that day, you came away alive, if she works so hard she burns out, that gift was wasted. She can use her kindness, and strength to help you, she can pass her knowledge and skill forward, but it’s hard to help others, and do your best if you’re exhausted beyond reason. Kind of like trying to give people bread from a basket but the damn basket is empty yknow? You got to take time to refill so you can help those around you again, so you have some bread to give. I know, probably sounds a little dumb but it’s always been the way I remember it.

Another very useful thing I’ve found with trauma survivors would be meeting others who have been in the same position. There’s plenty of support groups for both people and Pokemon who have been through events that left them in a difficult situation, emotionally and physically. Even here at the lab we have many species who have been left without limbs, with life changing damage, and a lot of them also have the emotional trauma too. She would probably do well to spend time with them, you can send her to a resort to retreat and recoup erase, mix with others who were just as angry as she is now, or you can take time to go with her to groups to interact with others. It’s one thing to have humans help, but it’s a whole other level of connection when Pokemon can help their own. They bond quicker, trust faster, and generally are more open to listening when it’s coming from a place of mutual experience. If she had time to talk to pokemon who actually lost their trainers, or parts of themselves, she may find some peace, even if only temporarily.

Don’t mention the whiskers, and where possible don’t offer her foods she actively likes, but also not ones she actively dislikes. Just for now. Start the ball rolling with just plain simple things that are neither good or bad. Indifferent is better than bad right now, the punishment she’s inflicting on herself will need addressing further, so contact a therapist, they use Rotom or porygon to translate from poke-speech to human language, and the repair can begin with a registered professional. My advice is not sound proof, I certainly feel like I have missed something important, it’s a big response, but it’s a start in the right direction, and should you come up to any further issues, message back and update us with what’s going on. With work you two will be on track to recover. Remember, patience is the biggest thing here, you two have history, and a therapist will no doubt take the sessions as a pair, and work with you to help Daisy feel less guilty over time. I hope you both find peace, and that both of you repair in due time. Good luck with the new leg, a step towards recovery for sure.

[backtothestart02]

Just Best Friends - 9/? | westallen fanfiction

A/N: “It’s been 84 years...” lolz. I hope you enjoy this! I don’t know when the next chap will come, but as soon as I can write it, I will!

...

Chapter 9 -

A week passed. During that week, Iris made herself completely unreachable – not just to Barry but to Eddie as well. She worked through lunch, so Barry couldn’t take her out, and she worked late hours, so that by the time she returned to hers and Eddie’s apartment, she was so exhausted, she could only heat up some leftovers and collapse onto their bed when she was finished with them.

That also meant no sex, no cuddling, and hardly any talking that wasn’t an incredibly brief apology before passing out or running out the door. And for Barry, it was just one excuse after another, though they always sounded very similar.

Sorry, I have so much work to do. Or… Maybe another time? I just got a new story, and I have a hot lead on it.

He always understood in words, but she could see the disappointment on his face every time. As well as her failure to respond to the fresh bouquet of flowers he set on her desk daily.

They weren’t just excuses though. They were legitimate…most of the time. Were they unnecessary? Probably. She didn’t have to go out of her way to beg her boss for more stories, or to work so far ahead of schedule that she felt she was on the verge of a burn out or collapse.

But she didn’t know how to act now that Eddie was back. She knew she needed to break up with him. She knew that. But she didn’t want to break his heart, and she wasn’t 100% sure Barry would just agree to date her after the hell she’d put him through emotionally. So avoiding both of them seemed to be the only way out.

She’d also come to the conclusion that while irritating, her dad going out of his way to forbid Barry to tell her he was the Flash had come from a place of love, and that she couldn’t stay mad at him any more than she could with Barry. The only problem was she found having that conversation with him was almost impossible because either Eddie or Barry or both seemed to be in his vicinity at all times.

Little did she know though that there was one other person who was taking a keen interest in the situation developing over the past week, and it was the one person she’d been paranoid about for a while before Eddie came back, and who she’d entirely forgotten about as the weight of the three men in her life came barreling down on her.

And that person had apparently had enough of what she was doing and had decided to seek her out for a confrontation of sorts shortly after Barry left during his lunch break for the fifth time that week.

With a slow yet determined saunter, Linda approached Iris’ desk just as soon as Mason disappeared for his daily lunch walk.

“Iris.”

The familiar voice made her freeze. She recovered quickly, but she had a feeling Linda had caught her red-handed and completely unprepared for where this particular conversation would lead. After all, the last time they’d “talked”, Linda had completely brushed her off, and the time before that Linda had told her to her face that she knew Iris had feelings for Barry, even when she’d still been in denial of that fact herself.

“Linda.” She shuffled her papers around on her desk to somehow fill the awkwardness of the moment. “What, uh…what can I do for you?”

Linda folded her arms and sat on the corner of Iris’ desk.

“Was that Barry that just left?”

“Hmm?” She decided to play dumb. “Oh, yeah, it was. He uh, wanted to go to lunch. I told him I had work to do, which I did – do. So, if you don’t mind?”

Linda’s jaw actually dropped.

“Dismissing me so quickly? If I recall correctly, the last time we talked, you were only too eager to get my attention.”

Iris bit her tongue to keep from responding with something she’d regret.

“Let me guess. You’re giving me a taste of my own medicine?” Linda raised her eyebrows.

Iris cleared her throat.

“Not at all. I just…I have work to do. A lot of it.”

“You’ve had a lot of work to do for the past five days, haven’t you?”

Iris’ eyes squinted.

“Have you been…spying on me?”

“Please.” Iris waited. “I’ve been talking to Barry. He’s needed someone to vent to, you know, since before Eddie came back you were practically climbing on top of him every day at lunch and after work and sometimes before work, according to him.”

“That’s not how it was,” Iris said under her breath.

“No? You better clear that up with your supposed best friend then, because that’s how he saw it. He’s crushed that you’re avoiding him again.” She leaned forward. “Which you are doing, right? Neither of us is buying that you suddenly have so much work to do.”

“I do!” Iris snapped. “I…I asked for it.”

Linda’s eyes widened and her mouth formed an ‘o’.

“And why would you do that?”

She started shuffling her papers again.

“That’s none of your business.”

“You made it my business when you made out with my boyfriend after sticking your finger in his mouth and sitting on his lap on our date.”

Iris sighed testily.

“I thought you two broke up.”

“We did.”

“Do you wish you hadn’t? I know it wasn’t your idea.”

“I’m not stupid, Iris. I’m not going to blindly fight for a relationship with someone who clearly wants to be with someone else.”

Iris bit her lip, avoiding eye contact.

“He does?” she asked quietly.

“He’s in love with you!” She lowered her voice when she got a few looks. “He’d take you in a heartbeat,” she paused. “If that’s what you want.”

Iris swallowed.

“But you don’t know what you want, do you?”

“Yes, I…I do.”

“Then what do you want? Please, tell me at least.”

“Why?” She met her eyes again and glared. “So you can run off and tell Barry? Or Eddie?”

Linda rolled her eyes.

“I have no reason to tell your boyfriend anything. Barry, however, I do still care about. And we’re friends now. He deserves to know the truth, even if it isn’t from you. He’s going crazy with all your…mixed signals.”

Iris nibbled on her lip again, guilt weighing her down.

“Iris, hey, there’s something I wanted to…” Mason approached, then came to an abrupt halt, sensing the tension between the two women immediately. “Am I interrupting something?” He looked between the two.

“Not at all.” Linda smiled serenely before looking down at Iris one last time. “You know where to find me, Iris.”

Iris gulped, not looking at her but nodded just before Linda retreated – finally – to her desk across the room.

“What was that about?”

Iris closed her eyes and shook her head before swiveling in her chair toward him.

“Nothing. What was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

His eyes were full of suspicion, but it was clear his need to discuss something with her was greater.

“I want to show you something.” He took the seat Linda had vacated, then pulled out a folder, revealing to her a familiar face she’d nearly forgotten. “Simon Stagg. Remember him?”

…

Well, there was no longer any way of avoiding it. She had to seek out Barry. Mason’s suspicions about Harrison Wells stirred her insides too deeply, and honestly, made her worried about her best friend, since she knew how much he adored who had become to be his mentor. There was Caitlin and Cisco to consider too, who had known Dr. Wells even longer, but right now all she cared about was Barry.

So, she marched over to CCPD shortly after her conversation with Mason, using the excuse of pursuing a story – which, more or less, she was – to explain her absence at her work site and sought out Barry as soon as she stepped out of the elevator.

Unfortunately, her dad’s eyes locked with hers first. She swallowed, remembering how things were between them. She considered then abandoning a much-needed talk with Barry to finally hash things out with her dad. That course of action was dashed however, when within seconds he had looked away from her and gestured instead in her direction to whoever was standing across from him.

She should’ve known then who it would be, but it didn’t occur to her until he was walking toward her, a grin on his face, no doubt thinking she was there to see him.

“Iris, hey.” He kissed her before she could even think to turn her cheek to him. “Did you have a late lunch today? I have some time now. We cou-”

“Oh, actually, I’m here to see, Barry. Is he upstairs?”

“Huh?”

“In his lab?”

Eddie blinked.

“Um, yeah, as far as I know. There are no active crime scenes where he’d be at otherwise.”

“Great. Thanks. I’ll see you tonight.”

She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and headed towards the staircase before he could so much as pull her in for an explanation or something more.

Feeling confused and honestly a little hurt, Eddie returned to his desk, Joe sitting now at his, ignoring Eddie’s state as best as he could.

“Should I be worried?” he finally asked.

Joe pretended not to have heard him.

“Joe.”

“Hmm?” he asked, not looking up from the files he was pretending to look over in front of him.

“Should I be worried?”

“About what?”

“About Iris,” he said, as if it should be obvious.

Despite how he felt about the man dating his daughter, Joe looked up to address him. He was also his partner, after all.

“Why are you worried about her?”

Eddie let out a cough of relief, eager to unload his troubles onto somebody – anybody – who would listen.

“She’s made herself busy ever since I got back.”

“She has a job. So do you.”

“More so than usual though,” he pushed on. “She leaves earlier than she used to, and she comes home really late. When she does, she eats some leftovers and crawls into bed without so much as a ‘hey, how was your day’ or ‘I love you, too, Eddie’.” He frowned. “It worries me.”

Now Joe frowned.

“She’s been avoiding Barry too.”

Eddie’s frown deepened.

“When had Barry been trying to meet up with her?”

“On her lunch breaks,” he blurted without thinking, then met his eyes, trying to play it off. “She always says she’s too busy working on a story.”

Eddie leaned back in his seat.

“I haven’t tried to meet up with her for lunch at all this week. I guess I’m so used to her coming here, and if she didn’t, that she had a good reason. I guess she did.”

“Well, there you go.”

Joe started to stand, eager to escape the awkwardness of the conversation.

“But I mean, we haven’t had sex all week.”

Joe finished straightening, then shot him a glare. Eddie’s face fell.

“You didn’t want to hear that.”

“Not particularly, no,” Joe said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

He turned and headed for the bathroom. Any place was better than this.

…

About a step and a half before the entryway to Barry’s lap, Iris stalled, nibbling on her bottom lip. Barry had been as pleasant during her intended lunch break as he’d been all week, but she still wondered how accepting he’d be of her, especially when he found out this was a working meeting. She definitely needed to apologize first. How and when was the question, though. It was still beyond her how he hadn’t lashed out at her yet. She’d been treating him so unfairly, and yet time and time again, he kept crawling back to her, as if he was a glutton for punishment.

Well, no more of that. She couldn’t guarantee when she would break up with Eddie, but maybe Linda was right and she could at least explain her behavior this week and tell him she planned to break up with Eddie. Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe…eventually.

“Is someone there?” Barry called out, and Iris realized she’d started tapping her shoe against the floor in time with the rapid rhythm of her mind.

She stopped abruptly, then cleared her throat and peeked her head into the doorway.

“Hey.”

She gave an awkward hand wave.

“Iris?”

His brows furrowed, but he started to smile. Lord, help her, it made her heart do a flip.

“What are you doing out there?” He got up out of his seat and headed towards her. “And why didn’t you just come in?”

“S-sorry,” she stuttered, shocked by it as much as he was, then forced herself to walk through the door.

He came to a stop as soon as she was inside and waited for her explanation.

“I guess I didn’t know if you’d want to see me.”

He gawked.

“Iris, I’ve been trying to see you all week.”

“No, I know. Of course. Right. But uh…I thought my rejecting you today might’ve been your breaking point, and that you wouldn’t want to see me now. Without an apology. Which I am totally willing to make, by the way.” Her chuckle was strained, and she couldn’t meet his eyes.

“What’s there to apologize for?” he asked. “You had work to do. That isn’t your fault. I’m sure you’ve been working hard to catch up.”

“Actually…” She took another step toward him. “I haven’t.”

His brows furrowed, and he sat back down.

“I don’t follow.”

She sighed and sat on the corner of his desk, the only spot where there wasn’t files or a conglomeration of office supplies.

“I asked for extra work.” She swallowed. “On Monday.”

He tilted his head, confused.

“I was trying to be busy. On purpose.” She licked her lips. “So I’d be too busy if you came to see me.”

He froze, his heart thudding away inside his chest. He didn’t know how to take that bit of information, and honestly, he was crushed.

“I don’t understand…you didn’t want to see me?”

The hurt in his voice was palpable. Iris hated that she was doing this to him again. He shouldn’t even want to be her friend after this, no matter how apologetic she was.

“Not just you,” she said, hoping that would soften the blow. “Eddie too. And my dad.”

He was mystified by that. He understood Joe, what with the Flash business and all that, but Eddie?

“What have you got against Eddie?”

“Nothing!” she burst, then got up and started to pace. “I just…” She licked her lips, unable to stop walking and unable to form words either, it seemed. She couldn’t stop though. Not to leave, not to make eye contact. Her hard was pounding, and her breath was coming in short bursts. She felt everything closing in around her and wondered if she was having a panic attack.

Suddenly, she stopped and forced herself to look at him.

“Do you want me to go?”

“No,” he said instantly, standing too. “I want an explanation.”

She swallowed.

“I thought you and I were good last week.”

“We were,” she said. “We are.”

“Yet you purposely didn’t want me near you this week?”

Her knees locked, and she tensed up.

“And Eddie…what in the world did he do except home to you? I would’ve thought you’d be happy about that.”

Tears welled in her eyes. Her fingers were sweaty and tingled. She didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

“Iris.”

Answer.

“I don’t love him anymore!”

She covered her mouth at the same moment his eyes bulged, and he nearly stumbled backward.

“What?” he finally managed.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair as she started to pace again.

“I realized it last week. Or rather, I’ve been slowly realizing it for the past several weeks. I’ve just been…in denial.”

Barry’s pulse started racing. He approached her moving form with one determined step after another.

“What have you been in denial about, Iris?”

She stopped.

“What I just said!” She licked her lips again. “I don’t love him. I’m not in love with him anymore. But I don’t…I don’t know how to tell him. I don’t want to break his heart. Especially after I went out of my way to make him feel bad about thinking there was anything between us, when really-”

“Wait, wait, wait, us? As in, you and I, us?”

She looked up at him reluctantly and nodded.

“Yeah.”

“He doesn’t know I told you how I felt, does he? At Christmas?”

“No!” Her eyes widened. “No, I didn’t tell him that. He’d probably have punched you by now if I had.”

Barry paled, then squeaked, “Really?”

“Uh-huh,” she confirmed.

“W-Why?” He wrapped his arm around the back of his head.

“Isn’t it obvious?” He gave her a blank look. “You were trying to get his girlfriend to break up with him. To be with you.”

Barry thought about it for a few seconds, then realized that yeah, he kind of had been. He shook his head after he got past that thought.

“I still don’t understand though. If you didn’t tell him about that…” He locked eyes with her. “Did you tell him you…find me attractive?”

“Oh, God, no.” She pressed her face into her hands. “That would’ve been even worse.”

“Worse than a love confession? How?”

“Because it’s coming from me! And I…”

“What?”

She power-walked to right in front of him and prepared herself for the blow of all blows.

“I don’t just find you attractive, Barry. I have…I have feelings for you.”

I’m in love with you – But she couldn’t admit to that yet. Not while she was still dating Eddie.

He swallowed, fighting with the smile that wanted to take over his face.

“What kind of feelings?”

“Barry.” Her voice softened. “You know what kind.”

“Tell me,” he said. “Just so I know for sure.”

He was holding his breath, and she couldn’t blame him. Honestly, she was on the brink of holding hers too.

“You make my heart race, Barry.”

“Iris.”

He started to lean in, and it took all of her willpower to step back out of reach.

“No, we can’t. I can’t. It’s bad enough I cheated once. This can’t go any farther until it’s over.” She met his eyes. “Until Eddie and I are over.”

Barry swallowed.

“And when will that be?”

Her shoulders slumped, and her bottom lip quivered.

“I don’t know.”

His shoulders caved in as well. He forced himself not to get mad, but he couldn’t help feeling disappointed. So, the love of his life finally felt the same way, but she wouldn’t let herself act on it? And she wouldn’t do the one thing that would allow them to be together.

“Is that the only thing you came to tell me?” he asked, unable to keep some chill out of his words.

Iris supposed she couldn’t blame him.

“No…” she admitted, deciding not to mention how she hadn’t meant to tell him as much as she had.

“What else?”

She pursed her lips, hating that she had to turn this conversation into a business one before she could give him the answer that he wanted.

“What else, Iris?” he asked, sounding exhausted when she didn’t answer for too long.

“It’s about, Dr. Wells,” she finally said.

That caught him off guard.

“Dr. Wells? What does he have to do with anything?”

“I hope nothing, but just in case…can we go somewhere else? To talk?”

He wanted to ask her what was wrong with his lab, but he supposed the fresh air would do them both good. Give them a clear head and put everything she’d already said to rest for the time being. After all, she sounded awfully serious about whatever else she wanted to talk about.

“Sure,” he said. “Just let me grab my jacket.”

“Barry,” she called after him as he walked by her.

He stopped when he reached his garment.

“I’m sorry about…everything.”

“Don’t worry about it, Iris,” he said, as he slid his arms through the sleeves. “It’s fine.”

…

Hours later, and on a whim, Eddie found himself at a jewelry store – diamonds, to be more specific. In the back of his mind, he knew his intentions probably weren’t smart. Especially not right now, not with the way things were between him and Iris, especially this week. But there was another part of him that thought this might be just the thing to jolt their relationship back into what it had once been and the potential of what it could be, the future he’d seen from almost the minute he started dating her.

He pointed out a ring nestled in velvet that caught his eye in the display case below him. An employee walked up, inspired by his curiosity and tried to catch his attention.

“Sir?”

“Can I see that one, please?”

The man smiled.

“Of course.”

He reached for the key and unlocked the case. Just as he was pulling the velvet block out with the specified ring upon it, Eddie’s phone started to vibrate.

“Oh, excuse me.”

He turned partially away and glanced at the screen on his phone. He answered immediately, a smile on his face.

“Hey, Iris, what’s up?”

“I’m home,” she said, and he could hear the frown in her voice.

“So early?”

“Yeah, I felt bad for coming home so late every night this week…I thought we could have dinner together.”

“That sounds great.”

“Yeah?” She sounded relieved.

“Definitely. I’m uh…just running a last-minute errand. I’ll be home soon.”

“Okay. See you then.”

“See you.”

He turned back to the jeweler as he slid the phone back in his pocket, and his eyes widened with enthusiasm as the ring was presented to him.

“Oh, yeah. This is the one.”

[obsessive-ego]

Bath time = nap time

Beetlejuice x fem reader

Beetlejuice saves reader from drowning

Then it gets soft

Slight nsft cuz nudity and mention of masturbation

"You seem to be in a mood"

He was right, you just got home from a long shit day at work, customers screamed at you, your boss left early and made you cover the full store alone, again, you were exhausted and more then a little annoyed, hell, you've been holding back tears the whole bus ride home, and sure as fuck you weren't gonna start balling you eyes out infront of beetlejuice, the man had no idea how to deal with emotions and you really didnt want to deal with all that awkwardness.

Walking in the door, Beetlejuice could feel the angry engery you were giving off, hell, he knew exactly how you were when you were angry, after pushing the envelope one too many times and really pissing you off.

When you two make eye contact with each other you sigh.

"Its just- work sucks" you sigh pinching the bridge of your nose, you flop down on the couch next to the ghoul, you felt like you were let the flood gates break and cry at this point.

"Bring me to work with ya sometime dollface, I'll sort 'em out nice and quick for ya" he cackles, you only give a small smile and a sniffle in return, he frowns, you were no fun when you were like this. Your boss and coworkers constantly took advantage of your kind nature and willing to please to the point that it fucked you up emotionally and physically, but more importantly ruining HIS alone time with you.

"I'm sorry, I just need to cool down" your voice cracks, trying really hard not to cry

"Alright sugar, I can see you need some alone time, I'll make myself scarce so you can do whatever you need to yeah?"

You give the demon a soft smile, it wasnt often Beetlejuice was considerate to your feelings, but was greatly appreciated when he was.

He tussles your hair "see ya in a few, and you better be better to ACTUALLY hang out" he laughs, and with that he was gone, no smoke, no fan fair, just simple pop, gone.

...

You start your quiet time with a bath, a nice hot bubble bath, it's been awhile since you did that, you were more of a shower person solely for how fast it was, as you waited for the tub to fill you begin to strip down. Unknown to you beetlejuice didnt exactly leave, he just vanished, invisible to your eyes, you stopped at you shirt, the demon groaned at this tease, yes he loved your ass and legs, but he wants the FULL picture.

The demon was banking on his sweet breather blowing off some steam the good old fashioned way, going to town on that cute pussy of yours, but jerking off in the bath? That was new, not that he was complaining, a change of scenery was always nice, keeping things nice and fresh for him? Such a considerate breather you were. hell the ghoul was already buzzing with excitement, electric pink tips already showing in his hair, it's been awhile since he had quite the show, yes he spied on your private times, can you blame him? Hes a demon straight from hell, that may or may not be head over heels for you, his sweet little breather, and watching you take care of business was an excellent way from him to see what you like for future reference~.

Beetlejuice's attention was brought back to reality when he herd the rushing water stop, his gaze leaves your legs and follows the hem of your shirt, drooling at the new exposed skin, when you dropped the bra the ghoul gave you a very lewd motion, an over exaggerated jerk off motion and a wolf whistle, not that you knew it.

Stepping into the tub you let out a soft whine, like always it was boiling hot, the noises you made as you sunk your tired body into the water were practically pornographic, well at least to the ghoul in the room who already had his cock out, just waiting on you to start, but you didnt.

You just layed there in the water, most of your goods covered by bubbles, it felt like an eternity before it clicked with Beej you weren't gonna start playing with yourself.

He huffs, pretty disappointed with the result, floating out of the bathroom and into you bedroom to deal with his sour mood the best way he knew how, digging through your underwear drawer, as occupied as the demon was in this activity, his ears did perk up at the sound of a knock at the front door, tending to his meat would be fun, BUT scaring the piss out of someone would be better.

The ghoul took no time disguising himself as you and quickly making his way to the door. Quickly swinging the door open to reveal the mailman.

"Package for l/n, sign here please"

Beetlejuice took the package eagerly, and scribbling down a mess on the clipboard handed to him, the ghoul responds with a cheerful "thanks" in your voice before grabbing the bottom of his jaw and pulling it down to his chest, as swarm of various bugs fly out, the delivery man screams and makes a quick escape from the premises. Beetlejuice cackles, and returns to his old self, placing the box down he heads to the bathroom where you were to gloat about his recent scare, he adored how your eyes lit up when he bragged about his work to you, a fun little retelling would get you out of your mood and back to being fun.

The ghoul knocks on the bathroom door

"Knock knock" he shouts matching the knock on the door

No response, he knocks again

"Sugar?"

...

"Babes?"

...

"Y/n?" Concerned in your silence, he takes a deep breath and hollers "y/n if you dont respond by the time I count to 3 I'm coming in"

"3!" He shouts phasing his head through the door, what he saw made his hair turn white, a colour that rarely graced him, your legs hung over the sides of the tub, while your head was completely submerged, how long where you like this?!

Beetlejuice quickly lunges into the tub without a second thought, as much as he hated water, it didn't matter now, it didn't matter that his suit was soaked, it didnt matter that you were going to be upset that he was straddling your naked body, what mattered was not letting you drown, the demon quickly pulled your head out of the water.

"Come on sweets, a dead guy cant give ya CPR" he utters trying to gently shake you awake

With a hard cough, spitting out a bit of water you were awake.

Moving the wet hair from your face you rub your eyes, before you could yell at beetlejuice for invading your privacy, you're pulled into a tight wet hug.

The first thing that came to mind was the smell, to the point where you felt dizzy, Your head was spinning on what was going on, you were completely naked and enjoying a nice bath, but here beetlejuice was, fully clothed, in the tub straddling you, and now hugging you, as embarrassment and anger fill your chest, but despite all the confusion was the biggest feeling you had now, but before you could say his name once the ghoul speaks.

"The fuck were you doing?" He utters into your ear

"I-"

"Trying to scare the fuck out of me?" He squeezes you tighter

It clicks

"I fell asleep in the bath again huh" you mumble

Beetlejuice pulls away and stares at you with a quizzical look,

"I used to doze off in the bathtub when I was younger, ya know, it's so warm and peaceful" you trail off while nervously laughing, refusing to meet his eyes

"What am I going to do with you?" Beetlejuice sighs

The two of you remain in the position, sitting in silence for what feels like an eternity.

Finally glancing back to the demon, you realize the position you're in. Naked with a born dead demon, you had more then a little crush on, leaning over you, you couldnt really scream at him after him saving your life huh, but this was a little much.

"Beej? Can you leave?" You stutter out finally crossing your arms over your exposed chest, not that it mattered, the demon probably got an eyeful already.

"Oh! Sure, but uh, you gonna be okay? Or do you need a lifegard babes?~" his voice drops to that seductive gravel that always made your knees weak, the ghoul leans in close, water sloshing over the side of the tub. "Cant have you stop breathing sugar, I've grown accustomed to that warm body of yours~" he whispers as a hand travels up your thigh.

Beetlejuice was always a handsy guy, you knew that, and didnt mind it, but now, being completely exposed like this? It was a little too much too soon.

"If you get out of the tub, clean up the water you splashed on the floor, and keep your hands to youself, you can stay" you mumble out.

"I'll take it" the ghoul jumps out of the tub, and with the snap of his fingers the bathroom was just as it was before he jumped in the tub with you, and with another snap beej was back to being as dry as his humor.

The ghoul hops up on the sink, his eyes glued to your naked form.

"Oh, almost forgot" the demon snaps his fingers again, the room fills with a harsh green smoke, and once it disperses, beetlejuice was no longer wearing his trademark suit, instead he sported a pair of swim trunks, black and white striped, a whistle around his neck, a pair of sunglasses, and a pair of white flip flops.

"Lifeguard is on duty sweet thing"

You couldnt help but laugh

"I'm CPR certified doll, but you dont gotta be drowning if all you wanted was a smooch~" he cackles you laugh along with him.

Yes it was a little embarrassing finishing you bath routine with an audience, but the unexpected happened, beetlejuice was polite, at least for his standards, no lewd jokes, no gross comments, nothing, and here you were completely naked and consenting to his presence and he was on his best behavior. The odd joke was given, but it was much more tame then what you've grown to know, while you washed your body the ghoul chattered on about scaring the mailman and how he really didnt get why breathers were so eager to stay clean.

With the bubbles finally gone that was a good indication to get out and dry off, your muscles now relaxed and you yourself were in a more better mood, albeit alittle drowsy.

Pulling the plug in the tub was a good signal to the demon to turn away from you, you raised an eyebrow at this

"What are you doing?"

"Babes I am a gentleman, I couldn't possibly gaze-"

"You literally just sat there for like a half an hour watching my naked ass like a hawk" you were quick to interrupt. The ghoul visibly flinches at your words still facing away from you

"Humor me babes" he says with a shrug

You sigh, finally standing up and wrapping a towel around your chest, and another towel around your hair. You continue your routine with the ghoul facing away from you. Reaching for a bottle of lotion, you squirt some out and begin rubbing it into your skin, throughout the process you could see the undead demon visibly shiver and wobble a tad, you try not to think about it.

With the thud of the bottle being put away you raise to your feet and leave the room with beetlejuice trailing behind.

You sit down of your bed removing the towel around your hair, the ghoul sits down next to you, once again dressed in his suit. The two of you make eye contact for a brief moment before you look away, remembering how the born dead demon, moments earlier, on top of your naked body, let alone watched you take a bath, the whole thing finally caught up to you and all you could hear was your heart hammering away, so you didnt hear Beetlejuice the first time he tried to get your attention.

You nearly jump out of your skin when his icy cold hand gripped your shoulder, you turn back to the ghoul, realizing he was a bizzar mix of purple and pink.

"Are you okay?" You mumble out

The ghoul snorts a small laugh "I was about to ask you the same thing doll, you almost died" his gaze was scary serious something you weren't really used to seeing from him.

"I'm fine, dont worry about it-"

You were cut off by beetlejuice pulling you into a tight embrace

"Dont worry about it? Are you stupid or something? Jesus y/n I cant have you dying on me, I need ya, your my-" he stops himself, you push away quirking a brow staring back at the ghoul

"I'm your what?"

"You're my... breather, ya know, cuz I'm haunting ya" he shrugs with a forced laugh

"Right, thanks again for your help" you trail off sounding a tad disappoint with the ghoul's response.

Beetlejuice picks up on your ton and quickly grabs your wrist

"Doll I, no y/n, this isnt easy for me to say okay, but fuck, ya mean alot to me, and I dont want ya to stop breathing before you live your little breather life, and yeah, you're my breather, youre mine, my-" the ghoul's grip looses up on you, you gently grab his hand and give him a soft smile

"Thank you" you whisper before pulling the demon into a hug

It's alright that you're both cowards with how you feel, but this was a nice start

Bonus

This was as close to heaven as beetlejuice was ever gonna get, here you were his favourite little breather, hugging him, out of your own free will wearing nothing but a towel, and right after he tried his damndest to confess to you, yeah it didnt come out clear, but you were happy, he'll try again another time and really spell it out that he loves you

[itrvlr]

AN AMAZING STORY...

Here is an amazing story from a flight attendant on Delta Flight 15, written following 9-11

On the morning of Tuesday, September 11, we were about 5 hours out of Frankfurt, flying over the North Atlantic .

All of a sudden the curtains parted and I was told to go to the cockpit, immediately, to see the captain. As soon as I got there I noticed that the crew had that "All Business" look on their faces. The captain handed me a printed message. It was from Delta's main office in Atlanta and simply read, "All airways over the Continental United States are closed to commercial air traffic. Land ASAP at the nearest airport. Advise your destination."

No one said a word about what this could mean. We knew it was a serious situation and we needed to find terra firma quickly. The captain determined that the nearest airport was 400 miles behind us in Gander, New Foundland.

He requested approval for a route change from the Canadian traffic controller and approval was granted immediately -- no questions asked. We found out later, of course, why there was no hesitation in approving our request.

While the flight crew prepared the airplane for landing, another message arrived from Atlanta telling us about some terrorist activity in the New York area. A few minutes later word came in about the hijackings.

We decided to LIE to the passengers while we were still in the air. We told them the plane had a simple instrument problem and that we needed to land at the nearest airport in Gander , New Foundland, to have it checked out.

We promised to give more information after landing in Gander .. There was much grumbling among the passengers, but that's nothing new! Forty minutes later, we landed in Gander. Local time at Gander was 12:30 PM .... that's 11:00 AM EST.

There were already about 20 other airplanes on the ground from all over the world that had taken this detour on their way to the US.

After we parked on the ramp, the captain made the following announcement: "Ladies and gentlemen, you must be wondering if all these airplanes around us have the same instrument problem as we have. The reality is that we are here for another reason."

Then he went on to explain the little bit we knew about the situation in the US. There were loud gasps and stares of disbelief. The captain informed passengers that Ground control in Gander told us to stay put.

The Canadian Government was in charge of our situation and no one was allowed to get off the aircraft. No one on the ground was allowed to come near any of the air crafts. Only airport police would come around periodically, look us over and go on to the next airplane.

In the next hour or so more planes landed and Gander ended up with 53 airplanes from all over the world, 27 of which were US commercial jets.

Meanwhile, bits of news started to come in over the aircraft radio and for the first time we learned that airplanes were flown into the World Trade Center in New York and into the Pentagon in DC.

People were trying to use their cell phones, but were unable to connect due to a different cell system in Canada . Some did get through, but were only able to get to the Canadian operator who would tell them that the lines to the U.S. were either blocked or jammed.

Sometime in the evening the news filtered to us that the World Trade Center buildings had collapsed and that a fourth hijacking had resulted in a crash. By now the passengers were emotionally and physically exhausted, not to mention frightened, but everyone stayed amazingly calm.

We had only to look out the window at the 52 other stranded aircraft to realize that we were not the only ones in this predicament.

We had been told earlier that they would be allowing people off the planes one plane at a time. At 6 PM, Gander airport told us that our turn to deplane would be 11 am the next morning.

Passengers were not happy, but they simply resigned themselves to this news without much noise and started to prepare themselves to spend the night on the airplane.

Gander had promised us medical attention, if needed, water, and lavatory servicing.

And they were true to their word.

Fortunately we had no medical situations to worry about. We did have a young lady who was 33 weeks into her pregnancy. We took REALLY good care of her. The night passed without incident despite the uncomfortable sleeping arrangements.

About 10:30 on the morning of the 12th a convoy of school buses showed up. We got off the plane and were taken to the terminal where we went through Immigration and Customs and then had to register with the Red Cross.

After that we (the crew) were separated from the passengers and were taken in vans to a small hotel. We had no idea where our passengers were going. We learned from the Red Cross that the town of Gander has a population of 10,400 people and they had about 10,500 passengers to take care of from all the airplanes that were forced into Gander!

We were told to just relax at the hotel and we would be contacted when the US airports opened again, but not to expect that call for a while.

We found out the total scope of the terror back home only after getting to our hotel and turning on the TV, 24 hours after it all started.

Meanwhile, we had lots of time on our hands and found that the people of Gander were extremely friendly. They started calling us the "plane people." We enjoyed their hospitality, explored the town of Gander and ended up having a pretty good time.

Two days later, we got that call and were taken back to the Gander airport. Back on the plane, we were reunited with the passengers and found out what they had been doing for the past two days.

What we found out was incredible.....

Gander and all the surrounding communities (within about a 75 Kilometer radius) had closed all high schools, meeting halls, lodges, and any other large gathering places. They converted all these facilities to mass lodging areas for all the stranded travelers.

Some had cots set up, some had mats with sleeping bags and pillows set up.

ALL the high school students were required to volunteer theirtime to take care of the "guests."

Our 218 passengers ended up in a town called Lewisporte, about 45 kilometers from Gander where they were put up in a high school. If any women wanted to be in a women-only facility, that was arranged.

Families were kept together. All the elderly passengers were taken to private homes.

Remember that young pregnant lady? She was put up in a private home right across the street from a 24-hour Urgent Care facility.There was a dentist on call and both male and female nurses remained with the crowd for the duration.

Phone calls and e-mails to the U.S. and around the world were available to everyone once a day. During the day, passengers were offered "Excursion" trips.

Some people went on boat cruises of the lakes and harbors. Some went for hikes in the local forests.

Local bakeries stayed open to make fresh bread for the guests.

Food was prepared by all the residents and brought to the schools. People were driven to restaurants of their choice and offered wonderful meals. Everyone was given tokens for local laundry mats to wash their clothes, since luggage was still on the aircraft.

In other words, every single need was met for those stranded travelers.

Passengers were crying while telling us these stories. Finally, when they were told that U.S. airports had reopened, they were delivered to the airport right on time and without a single passenger missing or late. The local Red Cross had all the information about thewhereabouts of each and every passenger and knew

which plane they needed to be on and when all the planes were leaving. They coordinated everything beautifully.

It was absolutely incredible.

When passengers came on board, it was like they had been on a cruise. Everyone knew each other by name. They were swapping stories of their stay, impressing each other with who had the better time. Our flight back to Atlanta looked like a chartered party flight. The crew just stayed out of their way. It was mind-boggling.

Passengers had totally bonded and were calling each other by their first names, exchanging phone numbers, addresses, and email addresses.

And then a very unusual thing happened.

One of our passengers approached me and asked if he could make an announcement over the PA system. We never, ever allow that. But this time was different. I said "of course" and handed him the mike. He picked up the PA and reminded everyone about what they had just gone through in the last few days.

He reminded them of the hospitality they had received at the hands of total strangers.

He continued by saying that he would like to do something in return for the good folks of Lewisporte.

"He said he was going to set up a Trust Fund under the name of DELTA 15 (our flight number). The purpose of the trust fund is to provide college scholarships for the high school students of Lewisporte.

He asked for donations of any amount from his fellow travelers. When the paper with donations got back to us with the amounts, names, phone numbers and addresses, the total was for more than $14,000!

"The gentleman, a MD from Virginia , promised to match the donations and to start the administrative work on the scholarship. He also said that he would forward this proposal to Delta Corporate and ask them to donate as well.

As I write this account, the trust fund is at more than $1.5 million and has assisted 134 students in college education.

"I just wanted to share this story because we need good stories right now. It gives me a little bit of hope to know that some people in a faraway place were kind to some strangers who literally dropped in on them.

It reminds me how much good there is in the world."

"In spite of all the rotten things we see going on in today's world this story confirms that there are still a lot of good people in the world and when things get bad, they will come forward.

*This is one of those stories that need to be shared. Please do so...*

[panelshowsource]

please understand...i’m absolutely obsessed...

i’m a mockumentary nut, i have to admit. the thick of it is my favourite thing in the world, and i also love tangential styles of filmmaking like peep show. what makes meet the richardsons all the better is the fact it’s about britcom? LMAO i know that sounds so obvious, but it’s like the epitome genre of filmmaking about the epitome genre of tv? to me ≧◡≦ because we get a lot of the nuance of the insider jokes, in a way, and i also feel like we’re learning more about how jon and lucy function as comedians, as well. for example, jon’s personal philosophy re: not wanting to work with lucy to the degree they’re considered a double act as well as wanting to pursue what he considers artistically engaging modes of comedy and even drama, so turning down shit game shows and brand deals. like, he has a very specific definition of artistic and celebrity integrity that really isn’t wavering. i can’t say, based on what we already knew about him, that that’s surprising! it was very interesting and ofc entertaining how that was explored in the series through his relationship with his agent and other comedians, for example. and i love all of the personal references in the series — like, the fast and subtle reference to hannah hauxwell, for example, which reinforces both jon’s active interest and pride in northern english culture as well as his engagement with finer arts beyond dishwasher jokes and panel shows. i felt, interestingly, despite these characters surely being characters, i did form somewhat more of a rounded impression of the real jon! i think o_o hehe~

i'm also really impressed by the way it transitions between scripted and improv, and while they might not be stretches of characters just how good they both are at acting (especially jon, because he has the more emotionally laborious side-stories)! when they make each other break and crack up my heart skghkjdfgsjdf i loved the outtakes s02e09 episode more than anything in the world i was so giddy watching that. do i need to make a little compilation? because 💓

i just blasted my way through the series so i’m going back now for a rewatch and will make notes for gifs~ please expect some! i’ll also upload it all to drive soon!

ANON I CACKLED no — other than it’s just strikingly untrue! susie is so kind and gentle, she seems the last person who would be a cock-gobbling dogging enthusiast, so they joke about it. also, jimmy is just a naughty boy. the entire gloryhold episode is one of my favourites, honestly!

juhMAHleeeeeeeeeee

i refuse to google this is this fucking true.....................

anon... first of all, i appreciate how much time you have on your hands. i don’t mean this in a mocking way. i also sit around and dream up different television series i want to see my faves in. second of all YEP SIGN ME UP

i feel bad for some of my followers who think i only really care about victoria in the show and won’t gif the others — that’s not true! i looooove alan, have never not laughed at a moment of guz, and am absolutely here for the girlies!!! i am obsessed with the fact we have an “older” panel, because they’re none that competitive and are full confidence and wit. i am honestly lowkey devastated there’s no audience and they can’t be all seated together... i would give anything for this to have been the lineup for s13 (studio audience confirmed!). i’d actually pay the editing team to go a little more heavy handed with the laugh track tbh... ANYWAYS i’m try not to moan about what ifs...

anyways VICTORIAAAAAAAA i’m just cackling we so specifically predicted how she’d be on the show — mocking the format, but really trying, and giving up on many of the tasks while also being a liiiiiittle bit butthurt when she doesn’t score well. the epitome of caring but not caring but caring. and i love how she wavers between these incredibly convincing, confident explanations and giggle-laden heavy sighs lgrhdkfjs she is so cute

unpopular opinion but i actually believe the 10-episode series are a little too long? not that i’m complaining about taskmaster content, per say, but i sometimes think 6–8 episodes would be just right to not exhaust the format and only present the best tasks the writing team (i love you tim key) come up with? but for once i’m SO happy about 10 eps because that’s 10 weeks of victoria ┗(＾0＾) ┓

god i hope i get a million victoria messages every week

it’s already up, anon! go check the masterlist 👀

(i’ll make some gifs tonight...)

btw it’s not what you know was added to the masterlist and outsiders was added to the non-panel shows masterpost!

—

F.A.Q. // Tags // Ask

[woman-of-culture]

The traitor 2/2

Dabi x reader

I really needed to finish this bc I couldn't focus on literally anything but Dabis dick. 🥵

Warnings: 18+, smut, Dabis identity

Part One

Words: 7,864

What’s one word to describe this trip you ask? Nerve-racking, from the moment you left your apartment to the moment you entered the bus. Everything seemed like a blur at this point as you walked through the bus to find the only empty seat next to your target, Bakugou. It’s not exactly guilt you felt, you knew this was inevitable, but you did contemplate the outcome of this.

The League could fail, although that was unlikely from the plan Dabi told you, he could refuse or he could possibly join by some miracle. You haven’t the slightest clue but you were damn sure on one thing, you were gonna do everything in your power to ensure the Leagues success from the shadows. Sitting next to Bakugou you made sure to give him a curt nod as a sort of greeting.

“Haah? What makes you think you can sit there you damn extra?” “What do you want me to do? Stand for how many hours this trip takes? No thanks, if you don’t want to sit next to me then get up and leave.”

That seemed to pop a nerve in the boy, making him shout for a few seconds but ultimately falling silent when Aizawa told him to be quiet. ‘Thank God’ you thought to yourself as you laid back, thinking of ways to get the schedule for the next few days.

You put your headphones on, not wanting to be distracted by any unnecessary noise as your mind slowly drifts off to this morning.

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

You woke up to the annoying sound of your alarm clock bursting to life just to make your life a little more miserable. “For fucks sake, who schedules a trip for 6 AM...” You thought, silently groaning at the stiffness in your body. You got up, stretched, did your morning routine of brushing your teeth, combing and styling your hair etc.

Ready to go make yourself breakfast, you certainly didn’t expect Dabi to still be here, let alone fully awake and shirtless in the middle of your kitchen. You discreetly admired his physique from the entrance of the kitchen, gawking at the muscles on his back, flexing every time he reached for something.

‘Holy shit’ you knew Dabi was an attractive and physically fit man, despite his kinda lanky built, but this wasn’t what you were expecting at all. His shoulders and 1/3 of his back are the same charred skin covering his face and chest but what you weren’t expecting was he smooth, pale skin of the rest of his back. The contrast extremely attractive in your eyes as you do nothing but stare and wonder what the front view is like.

As if hearing your thoughts, he turns slightly exposing the well defined muscles of his abdomen. Your eyes drawn immediately to the harsh skin of his collarbone, down the valley of his abs to the exposed, very prominent and very attractive v-line dipping to his most private area.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying the view but it’s not exactly nice to stare so hard for so long unless you’re planning on doing something about it.” Visibly flinching, you turn around, (poorly) hiding your more than flushed cheeks. “Get over y-yourself! I was just wondering why you were still here since you usually leave b-before I wake up.” “Aaw, dollface is so flustered she can’t even look me in the eyes. Don’t be so embarrassed, it’s normal to feel excited after that. You know, I could help with that in no time flat-...”

“OK, OK I GET IT! Shut up and answer my question, what are you still doing here?” You turn to face him, metaphorical steam coming out of your ears at his daring comments. He returns to what he was previously doing, which you now notice is making coffee and a sandwich. “Well I...don’t need to answer that.” He avoids the question completely, taking the 2 cups of coffee and sandwich to the living room table.

“That’s not fair Dabi! My house, my rules. Now answer the question.” Thinking he made a sandwich just for himself, you go to the fridge but stop once he called out to you “It’s your sandwich dumbass, I can’t eat in the mornings...” The last part being whispered as if it’s some secret.

You whipped your head so fast in his direction you’re surprised your neck didn’t snap. “What!? You? Dabi? The leach in my life who comes here just for the food, made something for me?“ You walked to the living room as you looked at him dead in the eyes. You leaned in far too close for his liking with narrowed eyes asking “What did you do to Dabi? Am I still sleeping? Toga, is that you?”

The proximity and teasing enough to slightly fluster him. He pushed at your face with his hand, blocking your view of him as he told you to shut up and eat like a normal person in silence.

You grabbed his hand, giggling as you removed it and agreed to eat while watching TV.

“...I won’t be able to come so often...” He mumbled into the coffee after a few minutes of silence. “Won’t be able to come? What are you talking about?”

“Well, you’re going to be at the camp in a few hours so I won’t be able to see you while you’re there...not to mention if this mission is a success and we get the explosive kid, that means I’ll have to be at the base more to keep watch and whatever. So I stayed today to be with you just a little more...” He said, not lifting his gaze from the TV during that whole monologue.

It now dawns on you, Dabi won’t be able to come in the evenings to spend the nights with you. “Oh” was the only word that left your mouth, unable to comprehend just how much this moment truly proved your feelings towards Dabi.

With a gentle smile on your lips, the slightest pink dusting the corners of your cheeks, you replayed his words over and over like a broken record. The smile on your face growing little by little as you thought of your own parents, who seemingly didn’t want you, just to then have Dabis words replay again and again assuring you there was someone who wanted ‘to be with you just a little more...’

The thought making you leap into his chest for a hug neither of you expected yet both enjoyed. “Uh, you okay Y/N?” He asked, patting you on the head. “Yeah! Can we - Can we just stay like this for a few minutes...please?”

“Sure, doll”

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

That was your final interaction with Dabi this morning, shortly after getting up and leaving to go to UA. The moment you closed your door you hoped wholeheartedly you could see him in a few days, unscathed and exactly as you left him.

“Yo, dumbass! Move so I can get off the damn bus.” “Ah Bakugou...always one to ruin the peaceful atmosphere.” You mumble as you grabbed your stuff and got off the bus.

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

“No more...” you mumble to yourself after the 8 hour trail down the mountain accompanied by some sort of clay beasts. While no one was paying attention, you quickly shot a text to Tomura with your current location. Your mentors for the duration of the camp, the Pussycats, praise you for the job well done and tell everyone to go to the dining hall for dinner and afterwards, take a bath and relax. The bath was a close call thanks to a certain pervert trying to scale the wall but thanks to the Kota he fell flat in the bath with a most endearing cry of pain, making the sadistic side of you giggle.

The next day was all about quirk training. Aizawa explained that everyone has grown emotionally but now was the time to focus on physical growth. Everyone got set up with personalized training, such as Bakugou dunking his hands in boiling water or Sero producing tape nonstop. You got set up with your own training regime and solely focused on that till about 4 PM - with the exception of a few breaks where you decided to snoop around a bit and ask one of the Pussycats if there were going to be more teachers here later on and the next days activities.

After the excruciating training, everyone was given the task of making dinner for the night, that being curry.

You smiled to yourself as you reminisced on the last time you made curry.

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

You made your way home, exhausted and sore from the sparing session you just had with Dabi. He was merciless but you couldn’t deny the immeasurable help he provided, pushing himself and you past your limits after such a tiring day.

You opened the door to your apartment and set what little ingredients you got on the way back. “So Dabi, what do you want to eat?” You asked, expecting him to ramble on and on about some complicated meals, forcing you to make a whole feast.

“Curry.” The one word response had you looking at him with an eyebrow raised. “That’s it? Just curry?” “Yeah, got a problem with it or something?” He questioned, sitting on the couch with you following shortly. “No, not at all. I was just expecting something...more?” “You want me to name more? Ok, let’s start with-...”

“No, no. Too late now, I’m gonna go make the best damn curry you’ve ever had in your life.” You jump up before he can get a word in and head straight for the kitchen.

He looked at the direction you ran off to, a small smile making it’s way on his face as he thought of the enthusiasm you displayed just to cook some food. He’d never tell you, but the only reason he asked for just curry is because it was easier to make, filling and took less time. He knew you were exhausted, mentally (from the meeting with HandMan) and physically (from your intense training session), so he wanted to lessen the burden. This is when he truly began to care for someone again, to care for their well-being. The thought putting an even bigger smile on his face.

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

Somewhere in the distance, on a cliff overlooking the whole forest lay 4 villains. 2 who you were very familiar with, that being Dabi and Toga. The last 2 you’ve never met before (thanks to your decrease in bar visits). One stood tall with a mask covering his face and a cloak covering his whole body from head to toe while the other had some sort of gasmask. 

“Throbbing, it’s throbbing. Let’s hurry up already” The one with a mask covering his face said, antsy to start a fight. “Need I remind you Muscular of the one person you can’t fight?” Dabi asked, turning with a glare towards the said villain. 

“Some (hair color and length) haired bitch with (eye color) eyes, riiight? What does it matter if I fight her? If I just passed her wouldn’t it seem suspicious? How about I break a few bones for good measure?” He taunted with a shit eating grin adorning his face. “Do that and I burn you till there's nothing left, not even ashes...” Dabi answered with full confidence, knowing he could easily cremate him - even with his quirk. 

He scoffed, side-eyeing him. “What’s even the deal with her? Is she your personal slut or something? If she’s here, that means she’s a hero or student right? And I came here to fuck up every hero, present or future.” 

Dabi, just about having enough of his ‘colorful’ language towards you turns but gets cut of by Toga. “Oh don’t be silly, how do you think we know the location of the camp? She’s the traitor amongst them.” 

“Exactly, so we are currently here waiting for her to send a message about tomorrows activities and the attack plan.” Dabi monotonously to everyone he was already forming a plan to keep him as far away from you as possible.

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

A new morning dawns and a new day of quirk training begins. Everyone resumed their training like normal except you who was more than visibly nervous thanks to the attack happening this evening at the test of courage. 

By some miracle, you were able to locate a schedule left behind by one of the Pussycats detailing how after dinner there was going to be a test where Class B will try to scare Class A to prove their courage and creatively use their quirks. It seemed like the perfect opportunity given that Bakugou will be with one person in the middle of the woods without any teachers nearby.

When the time came you were paired up with Midoriya to be the last pair to enter the woods.

‘Perfect’ There was no better scenario, you will be able to go to the cabin in no time once the students will be inevitably forbidden to fight unless there was a need for it.

The fifth team, Uraraka and Tsuyu, have just left into the forest leaving you, Midoriya, Ojiro, Mineta, Iida, Koji and the Pussycats.

You’ve sort of isolated yourself from the group because you couldn’t act like everything's fine while in reality you were practically shaking with nerves. The problem was, you weren’t afraid for your well being, you were terrified for Dabis. You knew he was a more than capable fighter since you have sparred with him on more than one occasion but that still did little to ease your nerves.

Just as you were about to question what’s taking them so long you felt a harsh scent of black smoke in the air.

‘Ah, only Dabi can create such a fire to the point of instantly calming my nerves with the warmth it spreads.’ you thought as your attention was brought back by Pixie-bob’s head being smashed into the ground thanks to Magne, and Spinners instantaneous voice breaking the silence.

Game on...

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

As instructed by the Pussycats you, Iida, Mineta, Koji and Ojiro ran towards the camp where you would have no other part in this attack. Your nerves for Dabi were hidden by the fact everyone thought it was because of the villains. You no longer needed to hide the fact you were shaking, eyes wide as saucers and slowly tearing up as you ran full speed trying to get away from the situation behind you.

Just a little more

Just a little...

“SENSEI!” The boys yelled for Aizawa the moment they saw the villain he pinned down...the same villain you hopped was far, far away from here...

“D-dabi...” You muttered, way behind anyone to hear as you stopped the moment the clearing came into view. ‘It can’t be...’ The thought of can and can’t leaving your mind the moment his head turned in your direction, making direct eye contact for just a second. In that second you clearly saw Dabis gorgeous teal eyes looking at you as if he didn’t expect you to be here.

You started heaving, chest rising up and down rapidly as you processed the scene in front of you. What was he doing here? You specifically warned him about Aizawa and that he couldn’t possibly fight him one on one. Dabi wasn’t the physical type, he relied on his quirk too much making him unable to fight someone like Aizawa for he would lose fast and hard.

You gulped feeling bile rise to your throat as you thought of your next move. No way...no way were you letting Dabi get caught. It would cost you your cover but you didn’t care. Taking a step closer, you decided to use the element of surprise to shock Aizawa with a simple attack, enough to distract him so you and Dabi could escape.

Before that could happen, Dabi used Aizawas shock at your arrival to get out of his hold and stand up. “This is as much damage as I can take, huh?” What did he mean by...that?

“Hey hero...” The capturing weapon gets tighter around him until it goes right threw him, revealing that the Dabi Aizawa was fighting was nothing more than a clone. “Are your students important?” He asked whilst looking at him straight in the eyes and disappearing into nothing but some brown sludge on the ground.

You couldn’t believe it...you almost blew your cover for a fucking clone...

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

“Ah, dollface what took you so long?” Dabi asks as you enter the bar in full disguise - a hood covering your hair and a mask covering 3/4 of your face. It’s a pretty simple porcelain mask covering the top half of your face and half of your mouth with a complex pattern around the eyes. You even bought a voice-changer for this specific ‘guest’ of yours so he wouldn’t recognize you.

“Had some trouble after the mission” You answered, your voice (deeper/higher) than normal and a bit more mature-sounding. You walked up to Bakugou, chained to the chair like some sort of animal, examining for any injuries received during the attack. He lowly growled his disapproval for your proximity and told you to back off, which you complied to. Stepping to the farthest corner of the room away from everyone else you sat there while Tomura had a chat with him.

After a while it got extremely boring just hearing constant ‘join us’ and ‘no’-s. “What’s got you so moody doll? You haven’t even said hi.” Dabi whispered as he leaned on the wall close to you.

“Nothing Dabi, I’m just not in the mood to talk.” Was your only response as you got up and made your way to the back of the bar. “Say, Bakugou-kun. Do you want anything to eat? Drink? You haven’t had anything in a while now, and the situation surely can’t be helping that”

“I don’t want anything your shitty ass makes, it would probably taste like crap anyways.” As if on cue, his stomack faintly growls signaling his obvious hunger. You rolled your eyes taking the simple sandwich you made to stand in front of him.

“Look Bakugou-kun. You can either eat this sandwich you watched me make so you could be assured I didn’t spike it, or you can sit there hungry until you starve. Your choice.” “And how am I supposed to eat with my hand completely restrained dumbass?”

“Aaw, does the baby want me to feed him then?” “FUCK NO YOU CUNT!” You giggled to yourself, amused at how Bakugou could be in this situation yet be so feisty at the same time.

During the whole conversation Dabi looked at you and him spitefully. So you didn’t want to talk to him yet you can joke with the brat like it’s second nature? He fumed on the inside yet kept quite as Shigaraki had something to say.

“That’s enough out of you (villain name). Leave it at the table and sit down.” You huffed yet complied as you sat in your previous position near Dabi. “So what was that about?” He tried to ask, emotionless as ever. “What was what about?” You ask, avoiding his burning gaze at the side of your face.

“That? You refuse to speak to me and immediately after hang around the brat as if he were your boyfriend. Mind telling me what I did so wrong for this sort of treatment?” It was subtle, but you could detect a hint of annoyance in his voice. This made you angrier and more annoyed than you previously were. What right did he have to be upset with you?

“Oh, I don’t know Dabi.” You sarcastically said as his name dripped like poison from your lips. “Maybe it was the fact you didn’t bother to tell me you had Twice make clones to distract Eraser. Or the fact I almost blew my cover trying to rescue a goddamn clone!” You whisper shouted, making sure no one but him caught the last part.

Meanwhile Tomura was giving Bakugou some speech about how corrupt hero society really is. You didn’t really pay attention thanks to the anger slowly boiling in your veins towards the man in front of you.

“Is that all? Really? You’re an idiot if you planned to do something as stupid as try to help ‘me’ escape, even if that wasn’t a clone.” His jealousy and anger ranting before the logical side of his brain could speak as he glared at you with anger, confusion and a hint of sadness. “I didn’t know you were going to retreat back to the camp. For all I knew, you were around the explosive kid over there. Was that why you were so apposed to this mission, you didn’t want us kidnapping your little boyfriend and him finding out the truth?”

Taken aback you do nothing but look at him as Tomura says to let Bakugou go (his order not reaching your ears because of your own conversation). He ignored him and simply told Twice to do it as he was still expecting an answer from you.

“I can’t believe it...you know full well why I rejected this plan and it was NOT for something so - so implausible.” You shake your head as your voice cracks at the end of the sentence.

“And what do you mean that’s all? I was scared for you, I actually believed you went to fight Eraser on your own. I wanted to help you because I care for you, I couldn’t possibly see you behind bars knowing I could’ve prevented it!”

“I never asked for you to care for me!” He didn’t even let you finish your little rant, slowly loosing what little patience he had, his calm-ish charade cracking. “There is no reason why you would waste your time with that and risk all the time you put into...infiltrating them.” He whispered the last part as he noticed several eyes drawn to the conversation.

“No...reason?” You looked at him in disbelief “Of course there’s a reason! I could never NOT care for you” Your voice, along with you agitation, slowly went higher as the sentence continued. “WHY? Why would you care enough to risk everything?!” He followed your lead, voice getting louder.

“BECAUSE I THINK I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU, YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!”

...

You could literally hear a pin drop at the end of your outburst. Everyone looked at you two. Even Shigaraki, who was now in front of an unrestrained Bakugou - who took advantage of the moment and set off an explosion right in his face, causing ‘father’ to be knocked off.

Everyone looked mortified, you most of all for both your outburst and the new development in Bakugous case, knowing that he was most likely going to get killed now.

“My bad for ruining the moment but I’ve listened to his endless talking long enough. Idiots can’t get to the point so they’re always talking for a long time. Basically you mean ‘We wanna harass people, so please join us,’ right?”

Oh he was soo fucked.

But what surprised you the most was the fact Shigaraki didn’t attack. No, he even ordered to not even touch him. Was this really Shigaraki? In any other situation he would instantly decay any person that dares touch ‘father’ let alone knock him off his face. He just calmly picked up ‘father’, placed it on his face and continued to talk. Has he...matured?

You though in complete disbelief, forgetting your outburst from a minute ago. But the person beside you refused to look away from your side profile, even to see Shigarakis next actions.

‘In love’ being the only phrase in his mind.

While there was a stare down happening between Shigaraki and Bakugou, a knock sounded from the door.

“Hello, this is Pizza-La, Camino store.”

You raised an eyebrow in suspicion as you looked around the room. “The fuck? Who ordered piz-...”

You weren’t even able to finish you question when a loud and obnoxious “SMAAASH!” was heard throughout the bar as, low and behold, All Might comes crashing threw the wall, throwing debris in every which direction making it impossible to see for a few seconds due to the dust that came along with it.

Those few seconds proved incredibly important as you weren’t able to see a piece of brick flying straight for your face, cracking your mask almost down the middle, barely keeping itself up at that point. The breeze that accompanied almost threw your hood down but thankfully Dabi was there to secure it into place. You looked at him, being reminded of your earlier mistake but quickly focused on the battle as Kamui Woods came next and captured everyone.

As Dabi was focusing on setting the trees on fire he didn’t notice Gran Torino who instantly knocked him out with a single kick. You screamed out his name, your voice-changer not functioning as your scream cracked in the middle, revealing your real voice for a second.

When Kurohiri tried to summon the Nomu waiting in the secret location, he was unable to teleport them as they seemed to be missing from their usual spot. Next he tried to teleport everyone out but was promptly knocked out by Edgeshot who seemed prepared for his next move.

‘No’...You were surrounded, unable to lift a finger and your mask slowly cracking and sliding down your face. ‘What now..think Y/N, think...’

“Didn’t I tell you earlier that it’d be in your best interest to stay put?” Gran Torino said as he began calling out every villain in the bar.

...Kenji Hikiiski

...Atsuhiro Sako

...Shuicki Iguchi

...Himiko Toga

...Jin Bubaigawara

You waited with bated breath...waited for your own name to be called out, maybe even Dabis but that’s where the list ended. ‘That’s it? That means they don’t know who I am just yet.’ The ray of hope diminishing the moment you realized the condition of your mask, as soon as it falls off every single person in the room will know your identity. Your heartbeat began to pick up it’s pace, panic setting in.

You looked around the room, trying to think of something...anything! that could possibly help in this situation. Your focus breaking the moment Tomura shouted ‘I hate you’ towards the no.1 hero.

Grayish-black liquid encompassed everyone in the bar, including yourself. ‘The Hell?! What is this?’ You thought panicking even more until Tomura mumbled on word.

‘Master?’ You questioned...MASTER, OF COURSE!

Relief set in at the thought of master saving you, looking over at Dabi you couldn’t help the serene close of your eyes the moment you saw him getting teleported as well. Thank God.

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

You fell to the ground with a thud as you looked at your surroundings. Everyone was here, including Bakugou, with master standing in the front speaking to Tomura. You quickly looked around spotting Dabi on the ground, laying still unconscious.

Quickly picking yourself of the ground you made your way to Dabi, picking his head up and laying it on your thighs so he could be somewhat comfortable, even if he wasn’t awake yet. However, you felt your mask cracking completely and falling to the ground. You quickly set your gaze downwards before Bakugou could get a look at your face, thankfully he seemed to be preoccupation with starring at master, a quite intimidating man who, by the looks of it, defeated 3 pro’s by himself, including the no.4 hero Best Jeanist.

Discreetly, you tugged on Mr. Compresses pant leg. “Atsuhiro, I know this isn’t the best time to ask, but could you give me your mask?” You ask whilst taking a peak at him to show him your mask completely broke.

“Of course, Y/N. Here.” He whispered back, handing you his mask. You mumbled your thanks as you looked at master who was having his own monologue.

“You’re here, after all, aren’t you?” ‘Oh for fucks sake, it isn’t over yet?’

Like an instant headache, All Might comes swooping in from the sky, attacking master instantly. Toga comes to you, protecting you since you couldn’t use your quirk with All Might and Bakugou here...plus the few uninvited guests behind a wall of debris. This just got a whole lot more interesting.

You let Atsuhiro use his quirk on Dabi whilst you took the pearl, securing it in your small weapons carrier you had for these types of situations. As instructed, everyone began attacking Bakugou hopping to recapture him.

While you were in the air thanks to some attack strategies you planned out with the rest a while back, you noticed Midoriya, Kirishima, Iida and Todoroki getting ready to execute some sort of plan to get to Bakugou. You landed just in time to see them propell themselves using Midoriyas quirk and then using Iidas boosters on Todorokis ice to fly high and fast. Kirishima yelled for Bakugou to come to them - which he did.

Ah, a truly brilliant strategy to save Bakugou whilst not engaging in head to head battle. You noticed Todoroki and Yaoyorozu making a quick escape but only smirked as you watched them leave. A sort of apology from you to them.

Since there was no longer a reason to stay, master urged us to leave, forcing Magnes unconscious body to propel every male towards you and Himiko, who were conveniently placed in front of the portal he forced Kurogiri to make a few minutes prior.

‘Well, this is gonna hurt’ You thought as 3 guys came crashing into you full force.

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

Dabi suddenly awoke with a searing headache, he couldn’t focus on his surroundings let alone remember what happened the moment prior to him pacing out.

“Good morning, here are some painmeds if the headache gets worse and the water is next to the bed on the table. I’ll be coming back every hour to check up on you, so don’t worry, get some rest and sleep it off.” You quickly mumbled as you noticed Dabi was finally awake after a few hours of taking care of him and non-stop worrying. Before he could make sense of the situation, you quickly left the room to go God knows where.

As he was left alone for a few seconds he finally remembered what happened a few hours prior, the old geezer of a hero knocked him out when he was about to burn the restraints off everyone. He looked around the room, noticing he was in a unfamiliar surrounding. A black blanket covering his form, a small work desk not even 2 meters away from him and a wardrobe on the opposite end of the room.

After analyzing his surrounding he remembered your brief words to him before your departure, everything slowly falling into place. He got injured so you took him to your apartment and cared for him until he awoke.

He also remembered your last conversation, or rather confession. He knew he needed to go to you and make sense of the whole situation but he was unable to get off the bed as he felt something restraining his left arm.

Handcuffs - kinky, but currently not appreciated.

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

For the past 2 hours you’ve been in the kitchen making all sorts of dishes just to pass the time and make up excuses not to go to your room. It’s been fun while it lasted but you couldn’t avoid this any more, what ere you going to do? Starve him to avoid him?

You made your way to the room, a millimeter away from the doorknob, second-guessing this whole thing. You turned around to leave and buy yourself another hour but a voice was heard on the other side of the door.

“You know, it’s quite rude to say you’ll be back in an hour and then leave for 2.”

‘Fuck’ was your sole thought as you entered the room, completely unaware of his expression as you looked to the foot of the bed, avoiding his gaze as much as possible.

“Sorry...the food took a bit more time to prepare than I thought” You mumbled as you made your way to the table near his bed, placing everything neatly and getting ready to leave.

As you turned around he grabbed you with his left arm, stopping you in your tracks. “You know we need to talk dollface.” He said as he pulled you a little closer to the bed.

“What’s there to talk about Dabi? I made a fool of myself in front of the whole League and practically yelled something neither of us was ready to hear... - wait” You exclaimed as soon as you noticed something was off. “Didn’t I cuff your left hand to the bed-?”

As soon as the thought left you he yanked you completely onto the bed, trapping you between himself and the mattress. Comfortably straddling your legs and cuffing both of your arms, in record time, to the bed frame so you couldn't struggle.

“ThE Hell are you DOing?” Your voice comes out as a shriek due to the immense surprise you felt in that predicament.

“Dabi, gEt off! You’re heavy and this is NOT the time to tease me” Tears formed in your eyes and your cheeks felt as if they were on fire, your struggling coming to an end once you realized he wasn’t budging. You gazed at his face, biting your tongue in anticipation for his next move.

He moved even closer if that was possible, looking at you straight in the eyes as your breath caught in your throat.

“What do you mean ‘you think’ you’re in love with me?”

Being caught off guard by the unexpected question, you just dumbly hummed a quiet ‘huh?’

“You said it earlier loud and clear, ‘I think I’m in love with you’, are you not sure Y/N?” The moment he used your real name instead of doll or dollface, you knew he was completely serious, no hint of sarcasm or malice laced in his voice as he kept on starring at your wide eyes.

His eyes encouraged you, silently begging for an answer as you moved your gaze away from him - a distraught look on your face.

“I...don’t know...” He slowly backed off, ready to get off you at your short response. “I get it...” But you continued before he could uncuff you and leave.

“I don’t know what it’s like to love someone! I- I have never had parental love, no friends and I certainly don’t know what it’s like to have romantic feelings since no one ever knew me and fully accepted me for me!” You quickly responded with your eyes closed, fearing his expression.

“Every time someone tried to talk to me I immediately thought ‘What if they find out I’m a villain, what if they don’t listen to my reasoning and stab me in the back the moment I turn around?’ I’m afraid of people abandoning me as soon as it gets dangerous! I can’t go threw that, not again!“ You quietly sob as one of your eyes opened, unable to see Dabi clearly threw the tears.

“But not you, you protected me and cared for me. I don’t want you to leave, I don’t want you to hate me. I love it when you break into my apartment, I love it when you eat with me, I love it when you train with me, I love it when you accidentally fall asleep on me, I love your perverted comments and even your complaints,

I love YOU Dabi!”

You finished, finally looking at him straight in the eyes to make your point clear.

“That’s stupid” was his only response as he leaned backwards, sitting upright with a look you couldn’t describe. Baffled, you were unable to respond, feeling empty. You wish you could cry but you stared at him unblinkingly, asking why he thought it was ‘stupid’.

“You say I know everything important in your life, your past, your present. And you’re right. I care for you deeply, more than I’d like to admit, I want for you to succeed, I want you to be happy because of all I know about you. But that doesn’t go both ways.” You could only stare at him as he continued his monologue.

“ I have a lot more baggage than you’re ready for, doll. You claim to love me when you know nothing about me, not even my name.”

“So let me get to know you.” Was your simple answer. “You’re right, I don’t know your past but I do know you now. You’re a firm believer in Stains ideology, you prefer spicy over sweet and you snore when you sleep.” You giggle at the end, remembering the first time you were there when he slept.

“I know there’s a lot I don’t know about you, but I’m willing to put in the effort to try. I want to get to know you Dabi and I want to help carry that baggage you so desperately need help with, that is, if you’re willing to give me a chance?”

“I was hoping you’d say something so cheesy.”  Without missing a beat, his lips smashed ageings yours with fervor and a clear goal in mind to show you just how much he cares.

The different texture creating an almost intoxicating feeling, but of course, a simple peck was no good in his book. He tugged at your bottom lip as you complied almost instantly. His tongue invaded your mouth, creating incredible friction with his tongue piercing you didn’t know he had.

The longer the kiss lasted the faster his hands started roaming your body, every dip and every curve being explored with his abnormally warm hands. You wanted nothing more than to return the favor but unfortunately your hands were tied to the bed and no matter how much you struggled you couldn’t get free.

“D-Dabi...” You said in between impossibly short breaks he took for air. “Uncuff me, hah, I want- I want to touch you too.” You pleaded with a fog in your eyes, not being able to focus on anything other than the man in front of you - who situated himself between your legs during your little request.

“Not a chance doll, do you know what you did to me every time you teased me, even as a joke? Well now it’s payback time.” He finished whilst simultaneously sliding your shirt up to your hands, revealing your chest clad in nothing but a deep purple bra.

He went straight for your neck with a goal to leave the biggest and darkest mark humanly possible. He bit down, sucked and licked every surface your neck had to offer, leaving a few dark bruises in his wake. He bit down particularly hard on a spot just bellow your collarbone, breaking your silence as you let out a barely audible gasp and mewl.

He thrived on the thought that you didn’t mind some pain with your pleasure, smirking sadistically as you tried to ignore the hard-on that was pressing against your thigh. But the more you wiggled and squirmed the more prominent the bulge got, pressing higher and higher.

His hands move stealthily, agonizingly slowly against your chest and over to the back where he proceeded to remove it by burning the straps off. His knuckles barely brush against your now bare nipples as he eased his way down, truly a tease. He took a moment to look at your eyes, piercing blue staring at crystal (eye color). His eyes displayed nothing but dominance and a need for pure, white hot pleasure, you’d shiver if it wasn’t for the overbearing heat coming from his body and actions.

He smiles lazily, his hands withdrawing completely and to your sides where he leans a bit over you to look at you straight in the eyes.

“Tell me princess, what do you want next?” He husks right into your ear as you put no thought in your answer. “Anything, I don’t care what you do just as long as you make me come.”

“That’s not very specific doll, use your words and pick one - tongue or fingers” He situated himself back between your legs, taking off your shorts and (not so subtly) stares at your matching lingerie, taking in the dark spot with an ever growing smirk. “How about both?”

“Now that’s an answer I like.” His palms slowly drag up your calves as he places kisses along your thighs, getting closer and closer to the spot you wanted, needed the most. His fingers inch up higher and higher, under your lingerie, kneading the flesh of your ass. His tongue trails along your lower lips, getting only a taste of what’s to come.

You roll your hips to meet the sway of his tongue, feeling his fingers slide between the straps of your underwear, dragging it down in one quick movement. “Dabi...” You try to distract him from his starring as he lowers his head, immediately lapping up the slick that accumulated during his previous ministrations. You moan his name again, albeit louder than you previously thought you could.

He pokes his tongue against your entrance, slowly entering you with the mission to taste as much as his tongue would allow him. You’re moans increasing in volume once his tongue left your entrance and decided to tease your swollen bundle of nerves just above it.

What you weren’t prepared for was a singe digit making it’s way to your entrance, going in knuckle deep on the first go. “Fuck” You half moaned, half whined. You weren’t used to such an intrusion, his fingers being much larger and much longer than your own. You couldn’t deny the pleasure that started accumulating the more he moved his finger at an unforgiving pace and lapped up your clit as if it was the last time he could.

As time passed he added more fingers until he finally got to 3. By that time, the coil slowly building up was ready to burst and make for an unimaginable orgasm. You were moaning his name as if it was the only word you knew which, for the moment, wasn’t incorrect.

The moment he felt your walls constricting he quickly got up, leaving you empty and needy. He was even cruel enough to hold your legs apart so you wouldn’t even be able to rub your thighs together, he only watched as your walls tightened around nothing.

“Dabi, you jackass!” was your only reply, along with whines of protest as he got up and undressed himself completely - making a little show of his last piece of garment. Your whines and complaints instantly getting caught in your throat as you looked at the picture-perfect image in front of you. His scars perfectly contrasting his healthy skin. Your eyes wondering lower and lower until you got to the godly sight of his fully erect and weeping with precum cock. Drool practically pooling at the back of your throat as you looked at the image before you. His cock wasn’t really anything special when it came to length, but the part that got you wide eyed was the sheer girth of it and the Jacob’s ladder running from the base to the tip accompanied with a prince albert piercing at the very tip of his manhood.

“Aren’t you glad you waited Y/N? Would you have rather came around my fingers or around my cock?” He teased, fully aware of your sole concentration on his girth. “Say, I’m getting a little dizzy doll, how ‘bout you take the lead?” You  fervently nodded your head, eager to have him fully sheathed inside you, not carrying about the position as long as you could get off. “Good girl” was his only response as he took the handcuffs off you.

Without missing a beat you grabbed him by the shoulders, flipping your positions and setting his back against the headboard so you could comfortably straddle his lap. He tried to tease you about your neediness but ultimately failed as you ground your hips against him, making you both sigh in a short lived relief. It felt like an explosion behind your eyes, getting all the confidence you needed just from his faint growls.

His chest is pressed against yours, nipples rubbing on rough skin creating friction almost too much to bare. Fuck, you really needed more.Your heart pounds against your ribcage, creating an almost painful sensation as you start another lewd kiss, teeth clashing and tongues meeting in the middle.

His hand lands on your hip, the other teasing your folds apart as you get ready for the main event. The tip presses against your entrance, piercing creating an indescribable feeling as you slowly descent. You can feel yourself heavily breathing, pussy throbbing at the stretch of his girth.

Obviously he had a hard time keeping still as he almost breaks the skin of his lips. ‘No more waiting’ was your single though as you began a faster pace, bouncing on his cock, feeling stretched beyond belief. At the first sign of your pleasure, he began slamming upwards, matching the descent of your hips. You were sure the vice like grip he had on your hips would leave pretty noticeable marks but that was currently the last of your problems.

The feeling of his piercings rubbing against your velvety walls accompanied by the undeniable pleasure you felt as he hit the deepest spots inside of you was enough to make you moan akin to a pornstar. The look on your face, the sounds you made and the feeling of your iron tight grip had him slamming you faster, harder.

“FucK, Dabi! I-I want to come! So, sO badly” you’re moaning, mumbling words of praise to the man beneath you. He doesn’t react much except for quite, deep groans. But you didn’t mind at all, attaching your lips once more for a short kiss as you continued moaning his name like a broken record.

Your mouth doesn’t stop trembling as you scream out a final ‘Dabi’, collapsing into his chest as he continues chasing his own high. He pulls out, finishing in his hand and a little bit of it ending on your lower back, neither of you minding as he quickly cleans it and lays on his side with you comfortably in his arms, facing away from him.

“I love you Dabi, I truly do.” were your final words as you closed your eyes. What you didn’t expect was for him to continue.

“Touya...call me Touya”

You were confused for a second until you realized ‘Ah, that must be his real name.’ You wished to continue the conversation, but the exhaustion finally hit you all at once so you were only able to mumble a quite ‘Allright, I love you Touya...’

He wasn’t sure if you heard him when he said ‘I love you too Y/N’ but that didn’t matter now. He could say it all he wants from now on.

[ofdragonsdeep]

22: Fluster

Haurchefant was never one to keep his feelings close to his chest.

(m!WoLxHaurchefant)

The sound of footsteps on the solid stone of Camp Dragonhead’s keep accompanied Ar’telan on his late-night walk. He rubbed the arms of his robes as he went, the chill seeping through his simple healer’s garb despite the frenzy of activity that he had just left.

A surprise assault by the Dravanians, easily repelled by the knights stationed at the camp but not without its casualties. No deaths tonight, for a mercy, but Ar’telan had spent every bell since before the sun had set in the infirmary with the other chirurgeons, intent on preserving that statistic. If he had not already been intending to stay the night, the sheer exhaustion that seemed determined to seep into the marrow of his very bones would have made the decision for him.

“Ar’telan! I was hoping I would catch you. Have you a moment?”

Haurchefant’s voice startled him, and he all but tripped over his robe to stop himself dead, nodding as quickly as his wearied muscles would allow. Haurchefant, too, looked tired, but his was the tiredness of a man who did not sleep enough rather than that of someone who had just exhausted most of their aether on healing magicks. Both problems were unfortunately incurable, if the quiet grumblings of Haurchefant’s closest subordinates had taught Ar’telan anything.

“I am sure I can find a moment,” he said, cutting himself off before he could add for you, as if he would not have forcibly uprooted time for anyone who came asking, to the detriment of his own health.

“Good. There was something I had wanted to speak to you about, but in the chaos it quite slipped my mind.” Haurchefant had the easy smile on his face that he always wore, save for when he was reviewing news of recent deaths or accusations of heresy, but there was an awkwardness to the way he was holding himself, Ar’telan thought. He was far too tired to process that, though. “You have been given use of a room nearby, yes? That shall do for a venue, if you will forgive the late-night impropriety.” Ar’telan blinked.

“I- yes, I have, we… if you like,” he managed, fingers tangled up on themselves as he tried to process. Haurchefant was not much one for privacy - to his detriment, at times. It was the only thing that Brigie, the Camp’s resident Inquisitor, had to say against him - he would hold tactical meetings out in the snow if not pushed indoors, for any heretic and their mother to hear.

“Excellent! By your leave, then, my friend,” he said, all but herding Ar’telan the rest of the way to his door. Ar’telan was not entirely certain he would not simply pass out as soon as they got inside, but he would at least endeavour to stay awake for whatever late-night secret Haurchefant was seeking to involve him in.

---

The room, much like the one that served as Ar’telan’s back at the Rising Stones, was a simple affair. It was not like the barracks reserved for the soldiers, at least - there was but one bed, and he did not have to share it - but it was small, tucked into the side of the keep, and possessed little more than a bed, a side table, and a stool for the latter. Ar’telan, stifling a yawn, sat himself upon the edge of the bed, tail curling up around his legs, and watched as Haurchefant stared at the empty table instead of at him.

“I confess it is a little embarrassing,” the elezen said, gaze fixed on his reflection in the mirror. “I am sure that by now you have become familiar with the gossip among the knights?” Ar’telan raised his hands, then pulled them back in towards his chest, momentarily taken aback.

“I have heard rumours,” he confirmed, dancing around the subject carefully. Truth be told it was impossible to not hear the rumours, if Haurchefant was not in the keep when Ar’telan arrived Yaelle and Corentiaux were taking it in turns to ask if their commander had professed his affection yet. Embarrassing was certainly an appropriate word. Ar’telan thought that the only person at this point who did not know was Alphinaud, whose head was always firmly rooted in whatever task he was currently focused on. Haurchefant’s eyes lingered on him for a few moments, as if to be sure he would say nothing more, before the elezen sighed and awkwardly folded himself onto a stool not sized for someone of his height or spindliness.

“My apologies if it has caused you undue distress,” he said, and Ar’telan blinked at him in tired confusion. “In truth, there… there is weight to them. I confess I am quite fond of you.” He took a breath, averting his gaze so Ar’telan could not answer before he was done. “But I would not tell you this without context. My father… is Count Edmont de Fortemps.” He looked back at Ar’telan then, who made a pitiful attempt to collect himself. There is weight to them. All the teasing he had endured, all the feelings he had buried…

“The head of your house is your father?” Ar’telan said, trying to piece things together. “Does that… matter?” Haurchefant let out a soft laugh.

“My mother was not the Countess, so yes, it does,” he said. Ar’telan considered the information. He had not, it had to be said, paid all that much attention to the rituals and expectations of Eorzea’s other races, but he understood the theory of marriage, even if it had never applied in the culture he had grown up in.

“I- I’m sorry, I don’t…” he began, shaking his head and collecting himself, “You wish - what is it you are asking of me?” Haurchefant gave him that soft smile he was so fond of, even if Ar’telan could see the lines of nerves in every muscle of his face. How long had he been holding on to this thought, these feelings? And worrying about problems that Ar’telan did not even understand?

“I would ask to court you, if such a thing is your desire,” Haurchefant said, crossing the distance between them to kneel beside the bed and gently take one of Ar’telan’s hands in both of his. “But also to tell you that it is not… as easy as I make it sound.” Ar’telan swallowed down his nerves. “I am a bastard child, though my father yet acknowledges me. It has cost him greatly, both socially and emotionally, to do so, but I love him with all my heart.” Haurchefant shook his head slightly, taking another breath to steady himself. “For the son of a High House to have a relationship with an outsider… Well, it would perhaps be the one time that many of Ishgard’s nobility sought to label me thus.” Though the terms were foreign, the situation seemed clear to Ar’telan now. Ishgard despises foreigners, this he knew from their fateful attempts to locate Cid’s airship. Some of the knights, though not those here, had come close to equating all of those not of Ishgard born with the heretics. If they knew…

“I… I understand,” he said, gently pulling his hand from Haurchefant’s own to shape his reply with his fingers. “At least, I think I do. You would wish me to keep a secret.” Haurchefant nodded.

“Far less simple than cornering you in the training yard, which I will admit was my first choice,” he agreed, and Ar’telan choked at the mental image. “I know it is not a kind ask, my friend. I will not hold it against you if you turn away - and I pray that you will not think less of me for asking.” Slowly, Ar’telan shook his head.

“No. I- Your words make sense, though I have much to learn of Ishgard yet, I think.” He bit his lip nervously, feeling the sharp teeth of his canines catch against the scar that rested there. “I will not refuse you. I do not think I have it in me to do so. I hope that- that I am worth this trouble, this…” The look of delight on Haurchefant’s face quickly clouded to concern, and he placed a finger on Ar’telan’s lips, though he did not take his hands to stop his words outright.

“I will hear none of this self-doubt from you, my friend,” he said. “You are bright, and kind, and brilliant. All who know you are blessed to have done so, and I am honoured to count myself among them.” He ran his fingers down Ar’telan’s chin to tilt up his head, pausing for a few precious moments in case Ar’telan wished to voice his disapproval. When none came - Ar’telan could barely move his hands for all they trembled, much less form words with them - he leaned down and placed a chaste kiss upon his lips.

“Haurchefant…” Ar’telan managed, watching as the elezen moved back and flashed another cheerful smile at him.

“Worry not, my dear,” he said, and the moniker sent Ar’telan’s heart fluttering. “The winter is long, and there will be many more nights where I can find you before you have spent your all on saving lives, as is your wont.” He offered a bow, a wicked look upon his face as he straightened. “Rest well. I shall see you on the morrow.” Ar’telan nodded helplessly, watching as Haurchefant left, closing the door behind him with the quietest of clicks of the latch. It didn’t feel real. Gods preserve him, he would have been content to simply watch with longing, but there was too much strange complication to dismiss it as a dream.

It was lucky he was exhausted, else he might never have slept.

[damienthepious]

time 2 be emotionally fraught baybeeeeee happy LKT!

Going Through Changes, Ripping Out Pages (chapter 10)

[ch 1] [ch 2] [ch 3] [ch 4] [ch 5] [ch 6] [ch 7] [ch 8] [ch 9] [ao3] [???]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Lord Arum, Sir Damien, Rilla, The Keep

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Established Relationship, (uhhhhh sorta), Amnesia, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, (WE WILL GET THERE…… EVENTUALLY)

Summary: Lord Arum wakes to discover that some things have changed while he slept. Namely, there is a human in his bed.

Chapter Summary: Damien tests his theory.

Chapter Notes: inconsistent chapter length be damned!!! i do what i want! [kicks desk] anyway happy LKT, i love youu

~

They make poor progress with their research, that morning. Arum is-

He is clearly acting grumpier than he feels, a defensive layer of prickliness that Rilla really isn't surprised by, but she suspects that the lizard slept far less than he implied, too. He looks shadowed and tense in a way that reminds her distinctly and unpleasantly of how he looked the first time she stayed here in the Keep, and she doesn't think that's just because that's basically the mindset that he's in. She knows how his tail coils when he's far too tired, by now.

A lot of the problem with their research is that monsters seem to keep their methods of creating curses pretty damn close to the chest, and Arum himself isn't really in the business. His creations have always been a lot more physical. "Practical," in his words, though Rilla quietly disagrees that a decent chunk of his nonsense projects are practical.

Arum knows a few ways to get rid of hexes and jinxes- ritual words, ceremonies of cleansing, magic potions, the sorts of things that usually frustrate Rilla out of her mind with their inconsistency. Rilla's frustration doesn't much matter, though, because Arum is convinced that none of the above would be effective against a curse like this anyway. A magical-herb-infused bath might knock out some minor blight, but this? It's too deep.

... They do test a few smaller ideas anyway, if only to see if they might weaken whatever it is that's locking Arum's memories away (none of them say, out loud, the possibility that the memories are gone, not just inaccessible), but after each minor test Arum only sags further and shakes his head.

By midday they're all... disheartened, to use a Damien word. Arum more than her and Damien, if Rilla's read is correct. Again- it really doesn't help that he's so obviously exhausted. Damien meets Rilla's eyes over the small lunch the Keep brings for them (it's been picking out meals that it knows are each of their favorites, Rilla is sure that it's deliberate- she thinks she oughta take an aside with the Keep later today, thank it a bit more directly, check in to make sure it's doing alright, considering-), and Rilla knows he's thinking of their conversation this morning. Rilla still isn't enthusiastic about the idea, it seems dangerous, for a number of reasons, but-

Arum pulled Damien back to them with a duel, didn't he?

And, frankly, it's not like Rilla has any better ideas. None that don't involve a near-impossible infiltration and- well. Murder, theoretically.

She catches Damien's eye again as they clean up their bowls, and she gives him a nod, and as much of a smile as she can manage.

Damien nods in return, his expression nervous but steady, and then he takes a deep breath.

"I may have an idea," Damien says, and Rilla's heart thuds at the way Arum's face flashes with hope before he buries it in a frown. "Would you mind," he continues, "if we were to retreat to the greenhouse, to discuss it?"

Arum's frown deepens, clearly unhappy not to just out with it right now, but he turns and gestures with a hand for the Keep to open the way.

~

"A duel," Arum drawls, and the little knight does a poor job of hiding the way Arum's tone makes him wince. Or, perhaps he did not intend to hide it at all. "So you wish to do precisely what the Senate wanted us to, then?"

"By no means," the knight says, jerking his head sharply. "It may be a foolish idea-"

"The reasoning is sound," Amaryllis interrupts, firm, and the knight glances towards her with a grateful smile.

"Well- I hope so. I thought, perhaps- we duel often, you see, to keep our skills sharp, to settle inconsequential matters, to-" he cuts himself off, his cheeks darkening, and then he shakes his head. "So- so I thought, perhaps, that if we cannot strike upon a magical means of weakening this affliction, then maybe there could be a more physical method. If your body remembers- remembers warmth enough to trouble your sleep when you are lacking, then... perhaps your body may remember the strain of our physical activities together as well."

Arum frowns, both grateful and furious with the poet for avoiding the mention of what precise heat his body remembers. It is embarrassing in the extreme, of course, but it is almost more embarrassing that Damien seems to know to avoid specificity in the matter. "So you believe that we may... knock some sense into me, as it were."

Amaryllis chokes a laugh, which is oddly gratifying. Damien, for his part, looks mournful again, wide-eyed and worried.

"I have no desire to hurt you," he insists.

"And yet you wish to fight."

"To duel," Damien says. "To spar, if that phrasing is more... acceptable."

"We do this often?" Arum says, doing nothing to hide his skepticism, and then he eyes Damien, unarmed as he is. Arum, on the other hand, is armed. Excepting his time in their room the night before, his knives have been carefully strapped to his person since the Keep allowed Damien to leave, the first morning they woke together. He... believes that they are earnest, now, yes, but he is not so foolish as to leave himself without defense.

"Like, kind of annoyingly often," Amaryllis says, leaning against a thick tree trunk and crossing her arms over her chest, and the poet's lips press together in something of a pout. "I don't really get it, but yeah."

"It-" Damien furrows his brow, and then he sighs. "If you think the idea ridiculous, or if- if you do not trust that I will not hurt you- if you do not agree, Arum, then obviously we will not try it. We can find another thread to pull, for the afternoon. I only thought-"

"I am unconcerned that you will harm me, little poet," Arum says, halfway to a snarl, and Damien stills, his lips pressing together in an expression that Arum cannot quite read. "And I do think the idea is ridiculous. However..." he growls, looking away for a moment. However. The story they and the Keep have told him piecemeal over the last day-and-half still spins uncertainly in Arum's mind, the idea that he and this slight, soft-eyed little human have clashed steel before and matched evenly-

Arum still cannot quite accept it. He believes them, trusts the pain in their eyes if nothing else, but the idea that he would have lost to so gentle a creature- it simply does not make sense. A duel, a contest of skill, now- Arum cannot say if he is at all convinced it may do anything to loosen the grip of this curse, but nevertheless Arum is tempted. If only, he thinks, for the chance to prove himself.

"However?" Sir Damien echoes, softly, and Arum snaps back to himself.

"If the both of you think it may have a chance..." he shrugs, feigning nonchalance. "It is worth exploring, I suppose."

"Again," Amaryllis says, lifting a pointed hand, "it makes sense, but I don't think we should-"

"Get our hopes up," Arum finishes. "Obviously."

Amaryllis' lip curls up, not quite a smile, and then she shoots a look towards Damien. "Be careful, remember," she says sternly, and the poet presses a hand over his heart.

"I swear," he says. "Always."

The look on Amaryllis' face at that leads Arum to suspect that the poet is not, in fact, always careful. Arum frowns.

"How shall we begin, then? I imagine you suggested that we come to the greenhouse because it will give us ample space, correct?"

"Yes." Damien gives a small sort of smile. "The game is to try to pin each other. Despite Rilla's- frequent suggestions, we have... not yet transitioned to sparring with practice weaponry. Bladed combat is your preferred, and I am rather flexible, so typically we duel with knives." He pauses. "Yours, if you would be willing to allow me the use of one. Otherwise- well, I could ask the Keep to allow me to step into Rilla's hut for a moment to retrieve-"

"We may as well do this properly," Arum says, shrugging, and then he draws one of his knives and, on a strange sort of whim, whips it out to sink into the bark of the tree beside Damien's head. The knight does not flinch, surprisingly, though he does blink as the Keep warbles a chastising note. "Oh be quiet," Arum mutters. "The bark is thick, it will be fine."

Damien turns, carefully pulling the blade back out, his fingers curling around the hilt with a reverent sort of delicacy.

Arum unstraps one set of hilts, hanging them from another tree nearby, then draws his remaining blade, holding it unthreateningly at his side as he spares a look towards Amaryllis.

"Your priorities fascinate me, just so you are aware," he mutters. "Though you did not deign to ask, I will assure you as well that I will exercise caution. I will not cause the poet any undue harm."

Amaryllis presses her lips together, nearly smiling. "Appreciate that," she says after a moment, her tone very strange, and then she shoots Damien a look.

The poet shakes his head. "Keep, if you would?"

Arum blinks, but the Keep sings a note of acknowledgment and shutters the skylights slightly, dimming the greenhouse to a more muted palette.

"So no one may claim that the sun were in his eyes," Damien explains with a wry smile, and Arum wonders briefly which of them that particular amendment were made in deference to. "Is there anything else you need? A moment to collect yourself, or-"

"I am fully prepared to best you," Arum snaps, unsettled by the gentle concern in the poet's voice. "Are you ready?"

The poet inhales very slowly, exhales tranquility, my Saint in a breath, and then his lips tilt into a crooked smile.

"I am," he says.

"You are remarkably amenable to the situation," Arum says slowly, stalking closer, "considering that I did, in fact, nearly kill you yesterday morning. I feel I should give you another guarantee, for the sake of your comfort. I will not hurt you beyond what is necessary to beat you. You need not fear for your life."

"You sound so utterly certain," Damien says, a grin flashing across his face despite the pain in his eyes. "So confident that you will be the one of us who needs show mercy."

"I've never lost, little poet," Arum growls, stiff, and Damien glances for half a moment towards Rilla, and then he laughs.

"Ah, I am terribly sorry to disabuse you of that notion," he says, and Arum's scales prickle at the indulgent tone in his voice, "but that is no longer quite true, I should say."

Arum pauses, stewing in that assertion for a moment before he retorts. "He may have," he rumbles, attempting to smooth over his discomfort with cool, patient anger. "I have not."

"Hm," Damien says. "Yes, not to your memory, I suppose. I am sorry as well that we shall be so unevenly matched in this endeavor, friend monster."

"I will not tie two hands behind my back if you think that will make us more even, littl-"

"Oh," Damien laughs, "no, rather the opposite, in fact. It might be rather more fair if we gave you all the rest of your knives to match my one, I think, but I imagine that may injure your pride rather more than you would allow."

Arum pulls his head back, his lip curling over his teeth in a shocked sort of fury. "What?"

"I've a rather distinct advantage, I'm afraid."

Arum's eyes scrape down Damien's body, his lithe frame, his loose, unprepared stance, the knife held so casually in one delicate hand, and then raise up again to his smug smile. Arrogant thing, he thinks, hissing disdainfully. In need of a lesson. Arum should end this foolish little duel before it begins.

Arum darts forward, faster than a human should be able to see, but-

But Damien moves, a breath before Arum does, backstepping around Arum's lunge without even raising his knife.

"Ah," he says calmly as Arum exhales in shock. "So, we have begun, then? Very well, Lord Arum."

In the heartbeat it takes for Arum to regain his senses, the knight shifts his stance and raises his arm, scraping the length of his blade along Arum's own in a fluid motion, and as Arum flinches back Damien takes a calmer step away and assumes a stance-

A stance that tickles familiar in the back of Arum's mind.

A distraction, whether intentional or not, and Arum raises his blade again just in time to block Damien's first quick, testing strike. Arum growls instinctively, and the knight's mouth curves into a small, strange smile as he swings his knife again, an elegant practiced arc, and Arum blocks, catching the blades together.

"I've had quite a bit of practice," Damien says evenly, over the light scraping of metal on metal, "dueling with you, friend lizard." He angles his body, moving his wrist in such a way that he uses their clashing blades to draw Arum's face closer to his own, a molten heat in his eyes that Arum cannot seem to look away from. "Perhaps I should go easy on you, let you warm up a little."

Damien disengages, spinning as he steps away again, his footwork light as the wind, and it is not until he is no longer so close, until he is no longer invading Arum's space with his heat and his musical voice, it is not until he is out of reach that Arum realizes what the poet actually said. He snarls, sputtering as he brandishes his knife between them.

"Go easy on me? Arrogant- absurd, I do not need such practice to simply skewer such a foolish creature-"

"Go on and prove it, then," Damien says, his voice warm and unbothered.

Arum snarls again, crouching lower and watching the human step carefully, edging in an arc around Arum, and then Arum spins, whipping with his tail-

Sir Damien jumps over the tail with ample time, and he does not pause in the descent, swinging his arm down, the blade flashing, and Arum barely deflects the blow, and he needs to roll away to avoid Damien's next two quick strikes.

"Ah, yes," Damien grins wide as he continues to flash his wrist out, relentless as Arum blocks and parries and skips back, trying to get out of range. "It took some time to learn to anticipate that one, I will admit. You've certainly put me on my back more than once with that trick- though you've since needed to find means a bit more clever-"

"Must you-" Arum hisses, ducking, spinning, this little knight is quick, not as fast as Arum in technicality but with each movement Arum makes, Damien aims a blow towards whatever new opening Arum makes. "Must you chatter so, even-" another gasp, and then Arum leaps aside, putting enough space between Sir Damien and himself that he can catch his breath, can manage a sneer. "Not even in this do you cease prattling?"

"If I have breath enough to speak," Damien says, twirling Arum's knife absently between his fingers, "why should I not? I'm quite enjoying my time."

The knight's cheeks are flushed, just barely dark, but his aforementioned breath is even and easy and Arum hisses to hide his own gasping. "Are you?" Arum growls, and something in his stomach twists at Damien's warm smile.

"I always do," he says with a shrug, and then he darts forward, his next set of strikes less swift, but more forceful, more precise. "The exhilaration, the adrenaline of combat, but with the assurance of safety, the knowledge that it will end in laughter, rather than blood- oh, yes, I always take a rather great deal of pleasure in our time together, Lord Arum."

Arum tries to focus on his movements, on holding his ground enough that Damien cannot begin to crowd him backwards again. His words are- distracting, however.

"Is this- your tactic, then? Chattering away, sapping focus-"

"If you cannot focus on your blade and my words at the same time, Lord Arum-"

Arum swings his knife out viciously at that, and Damien grins hard as he spins out of the way. "Ah, there you are-"

His words are distracting- Arum steps back, steps back again, knows that he is losing ground. Damien lashes out, a strike Arum realizes he will not be able to counter, and the lizard throws himself backwards instead, unaware enough of his surroundings that he does not notice the tree behind him until his shoulder collides with it painfully.

"Ah-"

"Oh," Damien pauses, his eyes widening in concern, "oh- are you alright? I didn't mean-"

"Don't patronize me," Arum snaps, ignoring the bruising sting and darting forward. He swings his arm, their blades ringing against each other once, twice, and then on the third blow Damien pushes back enough that they are pressed close, their metal meeting between them with the edges of their blades scraping in a discordant song.

Damien twists his blade oddly against Arum's own, catching the hilts together and wrenching Arum's wrist at an odd enough angle that the lizard needs to lean his body forward to avoid dropping the hilt in pain.

Damien is too close, suddenly, pressing forward at the same time that Arum does, and then he maneuvers his leg just as Arum tries to step away, hooking his ankle behind Arum's and simply allowing Arum's own attempted movement to unsteady him, making his tail swing in a wild arc as he raises his arms to attempt to rebalance, but then-

Damien places his free hand, palm open, directly over Arum's heart, and pushes.

Arum's back hits the dirt before he fully knows what happened, breath escaping in a rush and his knife flying aside with a dull bouncing thud against the ground, and then Damien drops over him, knees on either side of his waist, pinning his lower arms against him as the knight presses his free arm over Arum's sternum like the trunk of a tree, holding him down.

Arum can hardly breathe, not from the pressure but from the surprise, from the rush, from the heat of Sir Damien crowding so exquisitely close, and the knight's eyes are bright and focused and intense. Then, Sir Damien raises his other hand.

The one with which he holds Lord Arum's knife.

Damien swings the blade down, and Arum remembers with self-loathing viciousness the burnt letter from the Senate, remembers the hateful whispery certainty of the hand which wrote the human infection will destroy you-

Arum closes his eyes.

He feels the rush of air on the scales of his face, hears a dull thunk, but-

No pain. No bloom of heat, no pulse of awareness of the blade plunging into his shoulder, his chest, his neck, and his eyes flutter back open in confusion to see how in the name of the Universe the human managed to miss-

The knife is planted in the dirt beside Arum's head; he can see the reflection of his own wide eye in the sheen of the blade. Damien is much closer now- necessary, of course, considering his grip on the hilt, but- but Arum can feel the way his chest moves with his panting breaths, can taste the adrenaline and sweat on the air, can hear Damien's heart, pounding steady, a sturdier beat than the frantic race of his own. The poet stares down at him, his eyes hot and hypnotic, and whatever biting comment Arum intended to make about Damien's aim dies on his tongue before he manages to open his mouth.

"Well, well," the poet says, and his voice is a low, sonorous, strange drawl as he leans heavy over Arum, one hand planted palm-flat to the dirt next to his face, the other (the hand that planted the knife on the other side) trailing up his shoulder, towards his neck. "It looks like the smallest trap is the one you finally fell for."

"I-" Arum blinks. "What?"

"And now," Damien continues, his sharp eyes flicking between Arum's own, "here you are, pinned beneath my claws..."

Damien's hand trails up his neck, his expression far more focused, now, than it had been during the fight, and then he grips Arum's throat, firm and possessive but not hard, not impeding his breath, and Arum- Arum's heart rushes prey-quick even as he understands what Damien is doing.

The words- the nonsense words, not nonsense at all- they must be what Arum himself had said, during one of their duels. Coming from this fierce, surprisingly skillful little creature, they make Arum feel flushed with heat that seems to pulse out from every single inch of his body where Damien touches him.

"A-ah," Arum manages, but not much besides. He cannot even convince himself to struggle against Damien's weight, Damien's hands.

Damien's expression shifts when he realizes that Arum has caught on. He leans closer, his grip on Arum's throat pressing gently to tilt his head to the side, letting him lean closer to murmur in Arum's ear.

"I love to make you panic," he breathes, and Arum flexes all his claws at once. "The sound of your pounding heart makes my stomach growl."

Arum-

Laughs. He cannot quite help himself, despite the fact that his heart is, in fact, pounding, and Damien blinks in surprise.

"Did I- did I really- I said that to you?" he manages, still feeling too hot, too crowded. Sir Damien is... very close.

The poet manages something like a smile, then, though he does not look happy. Arum imagines that he had been hoping... well, hoping that his words would trigger what the physicality of their duel did not. "You did," he says quietly, and his grip on Arum's neck softens, his thumb brushing along Arum's jaw in a way that makes his scales tingle with electricity. "Before you decided not to kill me."

Arum... is not quite certain, about that. Arum knows himself- likes to think he knows himself, at the very least, knows the layers of his lies, and if Damien's words are truly an echo of Arum's in the past, then Arum does not think he could have more obviously begged the knight to acknowledge him, to banter back, if he had outright said so. Could not have said that he preferred Damien alive more blatantly if he had presented his own neck for the blade instead. Perhaps he had not admitted it even to himself, yet, but-

"Ridiculous," he mutters, low and less biting than he would prefer.

Damien leans back, just slightly, his tawny eyes flicking between Arum's own, and his expression softens from his strained smile, going earnest and mournful and strange. He hesitates, biting his lip, and then he lifts his hand from Arum's jaw, drifting his fingers up the scales of Arum's cheek. His touch still feels- hot, sparking, as if the contact were prompting a small fissure of magic at the point they meet, and Arum holds his breath so that he does not gasp, instead.

Damien swallows, his heart beating a little faster, and then his lips part.

"Do you want... to try this?" Damien murmurs, his voice thick with sorrow and desire. "To try... us?"

Arum's breath catches in his throat, and he cannot seem to tear his eyes from Damien's-

He realizes, after a heartbeat, that he does not want to.

"I..." Arum swallows, tries to feel anything besides desperate and wanting. He tries, but- but their eyes, their voices and their tears and their hands- the sound of their hearts- the way the keep reaching for him- "I- I do. I do, Damien, I-"

Arum leans up. He feels- cracked through, his defenses tattered beyond salvage, if they want him- if they truly want him- Arum wants to try, to see if he is capable of earning the loyalty and affection these creatures continue to offer, again and again despite how viciously Arum pushes their hands aside. He wants to. He leans up, because he wants Damien to lean down.

Damien's eyes widen, his breath hitching, his muscles tensing, and Arum realizes with a sensation akin to his stomach falling through the floor that Damien's words were not the true question he assumed they were, not now, not in this moment, they were only-

Another echo. Another attempt to trigger a memory that Arum simply does not have. He was not asking- he does not want-

He does not want me, Arum thinks. He wants back only what he once had.

Arum drops his head, his horns pressing indents into the dirt beneath him, and he closes his eyes. Foolishness- foolishness he cannot even deny, now, and for what? For Damien to flinch away from him, to furrow his brow and pull back-

"Off," Arum manages through his teeth. "You've won."

"Arum, I'm-"

"Get off," he snarls, and when he feels Damien flinch above him he adds, quietly, "please."

The knight pulls away. Arum feels cold, and he hears Damien's feet scuffing in the dirt as he moves to stand again, and Arum forces himself to open his eyes again. He curls up, rolling to sit so he can rub at his shoulder for a moment, pretending to test the bruise to give himself a moment to breathe. His eyes flick up despite himself, just as Amaryllis reaches to grip Damien's wrist, squeezing with her lip twitching in a small, comforting smile, and some of the churning despair on Damien's face eases, and then they both look towards him, and Arum drops his eyes back to the dirt with his insides burning, and he hates-

He wants-

He digs his claws into the dirt and then shoves himself to stand. He brushes off his cape, and reaches down to retrieve his blades to slip back into their sheaths.

"Well," Arum says. "I suppose we should be grateful that none of us got our hopes up."

~

[End Notes: I really don't know very much about How Fighting Works, forgive me <3 ]

[mairi-mia1]

AN AMAZING STORY...

Here is an amazing story from a flight attendant on Delta Flight 15, written following 9-11

On the morning of Tuesday, September 11, we were about 5 hours out of Frankfurt, flying over the North Atlantic .

All of a sudden the curtains parted and I was told to go to the cockpit, immediately, to see the captain. As soon as I got there I noticed that the crew had that "All Business" look on their faces. The captain handed me a printed message. It was from Delta's main office in Atlanta and simply read, "All airways over the Continental United States are closed to commercial air traffic. Land ASAP at the nearest airport. Advise your destination."

No one said a word about what this could mean. We knew it was a serious situation and we needed to find terra firma quickly. The captain determined that the nearest airport was 400 miles behind us in Gander, New Foundland.

He requested approval for a route change from the Canadian traffic controller and approval was granted immediately -- no questions asked. We found out later, of course, why there was no hesitation in approving our request.

While the flight crew prepared the airplane for landing, another message arrived from Atlanta telling us about some terrorist activity in the New York area. A few minutes later word came in about the hijackings.

We decided to LIE to the passengers while we were still in the air. We told them the plane had a simple instrument problem and that we needed to land at the nearest airport in Gander , New Foundland, to have it checked out.

We promised to give more information after landing in Gander .. There was much grumbling among the passengers, but that's nothing new! Forty minutes later, we landed in Gander. Local time at Gander was 12:30 PM .... that's 11:00 AM EST.

There were already about 20 other airplanes on the ground from all over the world that had taken this detour on their way to the US.

After we parked on the ramp, the captain made the following announcement: "Ladies and gentlemen, you must be wondering if all these airplanes around us have the same instrument problem as we have. The reality is that we are here for another reason."

Then he went on to explain the little bit we knew about the situation in the US. There were loud gasps and stares of disbelief. The captain informed passengers that Ground control in Gander told us to stay put.

The Canadian Government was in charge of our situation and no one was allowed to get off the aircraft. No one on the ground was allowed to come near any of the air crafts. Only airport police would come around periodically, look us over and go on to the next airplane.

In the next hour or so more planes landed and Gander ended up with 53 airplanes from all over the world, 27 of which were US commercial jets.

Meanwhile, bits of news started to come in over the aircraft radio and for the first time we learned that airplanes were flown into the World Trade Center in New York and into the Pentagon in DC.

People were trying to use their cell phones, but were unable to connect due to a different cell system in Canada . Some did get through, but were only able to get to the Canadian operator who would tell them that the lines to the U.S. were either blocked or jammed.

Sometime in the evening the news filtered to us that the World Trade Center buildings had collapsed and that a fourth hijacking had resulted in a crash. By now the passengers were emotionally and physically exhausted, not to mention frightened, but everyone stayed amazingly calm.

We had only to look out the window at the 52 other stranded aircraft to realize that we were not the only ones in this predicament.

We had been told earlier that they would be allowing people off the planes one plane at a time. At 6 PM, Gander airport told us that our turn to deplane would be 11 am the next morning.

Passengers were not happy, but they simply resigned themselves to this news without much noise and started to prepare themselves to spend the night on the airplane.

Gander had promised us medical attention, if needed, water, and lavatory servicing.

And they were true to their word.

Fortunately we had no medical situations to worry about. We did have a young lady who was 33 weeks into her pregnancy. We took REALLY good care of her. The night passed without incident despite the uncomfortable sleeping arrangements.

About 10:30 on the morning of the 12th a convoy of school buses showed up. We got off the plane and were taken to the terminal where we went through Immigration and Customs and then had to register with the Red Cross.

After that we (the crew) were separated from the passengers and were taken in vans to a small hotel. We had no idea where our passengers were going. We learned from the Red Cross that the town of Gander has a population of 10,400 people and they had about 10,500 passengers to take care of from all the airplanes that were forced into Gander!

We were told to just relax at the hotel and we would be contacted when the US airports opened again, but not to expect that call for a while.

We found out the total scope of the terror back home only after getting to our hotel and turning on the TV, 24 hours after it all started.

Meanwhile, we had lots of time on our hands and found that the people of Gander were extremely friendly. They started calling us the "plane people." We enjoyed their hospitality, explored the town of Gander and ended up having a pretty good time.

Two days later, we got that call and were taken back to the Gander airport. Back on the plane, we were reunited with the passengers and found out what they had been doing for the past two days.

What we found out was incredible.....

Gander and all the surrounding communities (within about a 75 Kilometer radius) had closed all high schools, meeting halls, lodges, and any other large gathering places. They converted all these facilities to mass lodging areas for all the stranded travelers.

Some had cots set up, some had mats with sleeping bags and pillows set up.

ALL the high school students were required to volunteer theirtime to take care of the "guests."

Our 218 passengers ended up in a town called Lewisporte, about 45 kilometers from Gander where they were put up in a high school. If any women wanted to be in a women-only facility, that was arranged.

Families were kept together. All the elderly passengers were taken to private homes.

Remember that young pregnant lady? She was put up in a private home right across the street from a 24-hour Urgent Care facility.There was a dentist on call and both male and female nurses remained with the crowd for the duration.

Phone calls and e-mails to the U.S. and around the world were available to everyone once a day. During the day, passengers were offered "Excursion" trips.

Some people went on boat cruises of the lakes and harbors. Some went for hikes in the local forests.

Local bakeries stayed open to make fresh bread for the guests.

Food was prepared by all the residents and brought to the schools. People were driven to restaurants of their choice and offered wonderful meals. Everyone was given tokens for local laundry mats to wash their clothes, since luggage was still on the aircraft.

In other words, every single need was met for those stranded travelers.

Passengers were crying while telling us these stories. Finally, when they were told that U.S. airports had reopened, they were delivered to the airport right on time and without a single passenger missing or late. The local Red Cross had all the information about thewhereabouts of each and every passenger and knew

which plane they needed to be on and when all the planes were leaving. They coordinated everything beautifully.

It was absolutely incredible.

When passengers came on board, it was like they had been on a cruise. Everyone knew each other by name. They were swapping stories of their stay, impressing each other with who had the better time. Our flight back to Atlanta looked like a chartered party flight. The crew just stayed out of their way. It was mind-boggling.

Passengers had totally bonded and were calling each other by their first names, exchanging phone numbers, addresses, and email addresses.

And then a very unusual thing happened.

One of our passengers approached me and asked if he could make an announcement over the PA system. We never, ever allow that. But this time was different. I said "of course" and handed him the mike. He picked up the PA and reminded everyone about what they had just gone through in the last few days.

He reminded them of the hospitality they had received at the hands of total strangers.

He continued by saying that he would like to do something in return for the good folks of Lewisporte.

"He said he was going to set up a Trust Fund under the name of DELTA 15 (our flight number). The purpose of the trust fund is to provide college scholarships for the high school students of Lewisporte.

He asked for donations of any amount from his fellow travelers. When the paper with donations got back to us with the amounts, names, phone numbers and addresses, the total was for more than $14,000!

"The gentleman, a MD from Virginia , promised to match the donations and to start the administrative work on the scholarship. He also said that he would forward this proposal to Delta Corporate and ask them to donate as well.

As I write this account, the trust fund is at more than $1.5 million and has assisted 134 students in college education.

"I just wanted to share this story because we need good stories right now. It gives me a little bit of hope to know that some people in a faraway place were kind to some strangers who literally dropped in on them.

It reminds me how much good there is in the world."

"In spite of all the rotten things we see going on in today's world this story confirms that there are still a lot of good people in the world and when things get bad, they will come forward.

*This is one of those stories that need to be shared. Please do so...*

[t100ficrecsblog]

an interview with @that-english-nerd (she/hers)

what are you working on right now? Three things!

My next chapter for my witch!AU where Bellamy is the son of a witch, and Clarke enlists his help to find out what happened to her father and his sister.

And a prompt for @bellarkefic-for-blm  with princess!Clarke and knight!Bellamy. It's a little outside of my comfort zone but I enjoy writing it. I currently have stumbled upon some technical difficulties where I lost everything I wrote for it so now I'm back to square one.

I’m also looking for the next chapter of a Voltron fic I’ve been working on. It’s super silly but it’s ridiculous amounts of fun, I want to write so much for it.

what’s something you’d like to write one day? I think it's been a pipe dream of mine to write a novel that captures the spirit of the YA books I grew up on but that people of all ages can enjoy. I want it to be my ultimate self-indulgent fantasy where I combine all the things I loved as a reader. A fantasy/sci-fi, action, a good satisfying romance, complex emotions.

It's also important to me that the main character is brown-skinned like I am, and that the book discusses different philosophies and cultures without ever saying one is right. Growing up as the child of immigrants, I've always struggled with clashing cultures and it took me a while to learn that neither culture is more right than the other, and that our differences in how we think are what makes being human meaningful. I want something that acknowledges those parts of the human experience without villainizing or glorifying its existence.

what is the fanwork you’re most proud of? Honestly? It's this moodboard I made for my Winx Club!AU. I really like how it came out aesthetically speaking, and I'm fond of the story. I do have some things I'd change about the story stemming from the fact I wrote it one sitting but I don't know if I'll ever make the changes. Still. It was a fun piece to write.

why did you first start writing fic? I really, really just wanted to write some more scenes for my favorite couples who I felt were robbed in books. I just wanted to write some cute shit, man. Since then I’ve written for 39 Clues, Maximum Ride, Demashitaa! Powerpuff Girls Z, Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Powerpuff Girls, Hush, Hush, Danny Phantom, Giver, Legend of Korra, Jimmy Neutron, Code Lyoko, 100, Voltron: Legendary Defender, Lucifer, and Penryn & the End of Days.

what frustrates you most about fic writing? plot. specifically, non-emotional plot. like what even is that. If the plot is driven by emotional development, it’s still hard to come up with specific structures for moments but like if things need to happen outside of their emotions, oh whee boy do I struggle. For me, emotions tend to naturally evolve from one thing into the next and it’s easy for the characters to lead me where their emotions take them. It’s harder when things need to develop outside of that.

Other than that, motivation is a big roadblock. Struggling with depression, anxiety and my other responsibilities, I can go without touching a piece of writing for months. I feel the itch very often but it’s one that goes unindulged.

what are your top five songs right now? - Experience by Victoria Monét with Kahlid, SG Lewis  - BALI by Rich Brian with Guapdad 100 - Etch by RILEY THE MUSICIAN with Iker - Culver by Mac Wetha

what are your inspirations? Usually pictures or stories! My witch!AU was inspired by an aesthetic picture I saw on tumblr and most of my other stuff has been inspired by other stuff I read. It’s not necessarily specific plot points—though, sometimes some plot threads are too good to give up—but rather the emotional journey the characters go through. Poems and other media also feed the old noggin.

what first attracted you to Bellarke? what attracts you now? It turns out I have a thing for reluctant partners turned lovers. I really liked how the two shouldered responsibilities that no one else really had, and that despite their differences, they had the capacity to understand and empathize with each other when no one else would. It would've been so easy for Bellamy and Clarke to fall into an endless cycle of blaming each other for their decisions. We see it in the other characters, in other TV shows--a constant battle where only one person's philosophy can prevail. But with Bellamy and Clarke, they have always shown empathy and accepted each other. It might not have been right, maybe they themselves would've done something different, but at the end of the day, Bellamy and Clarke try to understand and accept each other for who they are. Present tense. I think that kind of, frankly mature, love is something we don't see in media all too often.

BESIDES Bellarke, what character or pairing do you like best on t100? hmmmm

I do enjoy memori, they make me happy. I also have a soft spot for Raven and Roan. Anything with Wells is gold bc I really want to see how he could've changed the show. Oh, and Minty. This wonderful idea will always be a favorite of mine.

why did you decide to start writing for bellarkefic-for-blm? I’ve been wanting to do more for a bit because I, personally, avoid social media activism. @bellarkefic-for-blm  is an amazing way to leverage whatever platform I have to incite awareness and action by using my strengths. I can do this really cool thing that I enjoy to help something critically important.

what’s your writing process like (esp for prompts, chopped!, etc)? it’s a hot diggity dog mess. I kind of do whatever I feel like. If I want to write a scene, I’ll write a scene. If I want to write dialogue, I’ll write dialogue. If I want to write an outline, I’ll write an outline. Chronological order is not guaranteed. Because writing tends to be an extremely emotionally exhaustive task for me, it’s easier for me to write more if I let go and follow whatever whims I have so that I don’t compromise my urge to write. My guarantee is that I try to milk the whim for whatever it’s worth. If I start an outline, I’ll finish it. I’ll have music in usually but I’ll pause it often to think about whatever it is I need to say.

what are some things you’d like to recommend? Some bellarke fics that’ll make you chuckle: So put your hands down my pants and I bet you’ll feel nuts by Chash You know you drive me up the wall by coffee_grounders The (Bullet Pointed) Life and Times of Bellamy Blake by crystalkei, dirtytrix

Other than that:

-       Albums: Ungodly Hour by Chloe x Halle, SAWAYAMA by Rina Sawayama, Punisher by Phoebe Bridgers -       Musicians: Matt Nathanson, Mat Kearney -       TV Shows: Nikita, Code Lyoko -       Books: Strange the Dreamer by Laini Taylor

You can find her on here on Tumblr @that-english-nerd, or on her AO3 here. Request a fic written by her via @bellarkefic-for-blm.

[mssapphire]

The personal is political, and the political is personal

One of the reasons why Choice Feminism (which is the bases for current Pop Feminism) is so persistent, is because it is so difficult to understand how the political and the personal coexist.

Choice Feminism will tell you that any choice a woman makes is a feminist choice, and an empowering one, just by sake of being a woman’s choice. The problem with that, as we see in today’s culture, is that it allows space for internalized misogyny to be washed clean and legitimized. Most importantly, it keeps us from actually looking at and pointing at the power structures at play - and we end up falling deeper into patriarchy’s clutch, all the while thinking we are breaking free.

But the real question we need to ask is: why do we feel the need to do that? why don’t we, when faced with arguments that point towards our own harmful behavior just stop? why do we insist in perpetuating oppression towards ourselves and others? 

Because it’s not that easy. The cliché answer is to say: because we live in a society - but that doesn’t really explain away why we fall into this dynamic.

And I think the reason why is deeply personal and emotional. It’s because facing ourselves with our own (self)harmful behavior is, simply put, painful and uncomfortable. So we immediately get defensive. We immediately try to justify it. We quickly jump to say: ‘my life, my choice!’ and leave it at that.

Because we also like to think that we’re deeply rational beings. But we’re not. We’re emotional - we just don’t want to admit our contradictions and we want to save face and find a way to make it right through our words, just so we don’t have to acknowledge to ourselves that we, in all our human imperfection, are, and will continue to be, some way or another, problematic. And we end up justifying the craziest shit.

Let me explain with a personal example.

I have studied Feminism actively for about a decade. I understand the patriarchal structures of power. I understand why the objectification of women is oppressive. I understand why the beauty industry creates and preys on women’s insecurities and operates under the patriarchal values that a woman’s job is to be beautiful - and a woman who isn’t, is somehow ‘less than’. I understand our cultural constructions of taste and how we have a rigid knowledge of what is beautiful and what isn’t, and how that is harshly applied to women.

But at the same time, I have struggled with my self-image and my self-esteem. I have struggled with weight and eating disorders, and I still battle excoriation - which coexists with having very sensitive skin which flares up over the slightest change in conditions. And I know that, beyond this compulsion, women tend to suffer from anxiety a lot more than men, and also struggle a lot more with body image because of the context we live in, which places female beauty at an impossible standard.

Understanding the power dynamics at play has been something that has helped me immensely in my healing. It has allowed me to say to myself: my body is mine, and it doesn’t belong to the Patriarchy, and I’m allowed to be and exist even if I’m not a perfect beauty and I am also worthy of love beyond how desirable I am. And I think internalizing this is profoundly important and empowering to everyone (and it’s all of us) who has to struggle with this anxiety of having to perform femininity under the threat of having our entire existence questioned.

But, at the same time, I can’t help to feel soothed, content, and even happy, when my skin is clear. When I try my clothes on and they still fit me fine. When I decide to go out and then do my hair and put some make up on, and think I look nice when I look in the mirror.

And these two are not incompatible. Understanding why we do things is the real work we have to do. I understand that putting on make up is not particularly feminist, and I know that it is playing to patriarchal standards. But beating myself up over being a ‘Bad Feminist” wouldn’t do me any good. It wouldn’t do anyone any good. But making ridiculous leaps of logic as to explain why that is empowering and not playing under Patriarchal rules would be a disservice to women everywhere too.

We don’t exist in a vacuum. The way we perpetuate or change values is through inheritance - you learn what you see and what you grow up with. You can unlearn a lot, but not everything. You can’t change your visceral feelings just because you understand things logically (ask anyone who’s gone through trauma and is having a panic attack). Internalizing that learning process is a life long process.

And yes, we will catch ourselves doing things that are not holier than thou and problem free. And that’s ok... as long as we catch ourselves doing it and require ourselves to do just a little bit better next time. Because, here’s the trap: the minute we convince ourselves that we are non-oppressive (and this includes internalized oppression), we start missing the ways that we are and we miss the opportunities to learn and grow.

This also applies to our behaviors with others. I have been thinking about writing about the use of the word ‘toxic’ (edit: here it is), and also about how we can be nice people and still be assholes. I haven’t decided if I’ll write the posts separately or together. 

Instead of having that knee jerk reaction and saying: but I’m a Feminist! but I’m not racist! I’m not transphobic! I’m not homophobic! etc, etc., we need to stop for a moment and think.

Sometimes it’s better to tell ourselves: ‘I am not, or I don’t want to be, (oppressive), but these actions/words/thoughts were. Let me go ahead and learn why that was, and how I can improve on this’. Because that is infinitely more productive than shutting down completely and failing to see why our behaviors are problematic.

I follow Your Fat Friend on Insta, an account dedicated to educating about fatphobia and celebrating fat bodies. And I remember she once posted some stories explaining how she didn’t care what people thought about her but, instead, she definitely cared about how people treated her. I hope to be paraphrasing correctly (and I’m doing all of this from memory), but she then went on to explain how she’s aware about how difficult it is to actually change people’s minds and instinctual gut reaction - but that she definitely could address how people acted and treated her because or despite those gut reactions.

And I think it’s a way more realistic approach. Oppressive behavior is something deeply ingrained in all of us. It takes up a lot of active education and engaging and messy work for us to change it - and expecting people to do a 180 the second you point out shit to them is a bit unrealistic.

This doesn’t mean we don’t have to call out people when we see them engaging in oppressive behavior, because we absolutely do. But just as we understand that our own learning journey is complex, we must understand that other people’s are too.

Speaking of which - burn out is real. We can’t expect people to be engaged activists and teachers all the time. We’re allowed not to educate others. We are allowed to take ourselves away from a situation that is exhausting us. Believe it or not, we’re allowed to say: ‘I’m not responsible for this person’s learning’. We’re allowed to do things that are not 100% for the cause (like being Feminists and wearing make up and heels). And that doesn’t make us any less politically conscious. It just makes us humans with feelings, who get tired and emotionally drained.

We need to give ourselves space to be problematic, space to learn how we’re being problematic, and space to learn how not to be problematic. And accept that we all must find a balance between our mental health and our activism because we can’t simply drop off of the face of the earth and live in a parallel, unproblematic dimension.

None of us is perfect. But the least we can do is try to be a little better tomorrow than we were today.