dreyesbo

[yellowsubiesdance]

i just read this really good play and it’s got me in tears

[strangestcase]

For the people that are going to do Dracula Daily this year:

One of the subplots that Dracula covers, and arguably the most important subplot, is one centered around a psychiatric patient confined to an asylum- it touches upon the way he sees the world, his relationship with his doctor, and how he relates to and perceives the villain VS the heroes, since for most of the plot he believes the villain to be good and strives to serve him.

Both the patient and the doctor characters (who are part of the main cast and very important to moving the plot foward in their own ways!) are portrayed as sympathetic victims to the main villain and mostly on the side of good, but in different ways, and, of course, the way they are written is informed by the beliefs of the time.

I won't spoil anything too important about it, just warn you that this subplot depicts Victorian Era ableism, which is... pretty extreme, and forms of medical abuse (specifically, psychiatric abuse) that still exist today!

This plotline involves:

-depictions of hallucinations, delusions, and irrational thinking

-medical malpractice: delusions being encouraged, patients being dehumanized, prolonged use of dangerous restraints

-unsanitary behavior (eating live animals)

-ableist attitudes from most of the hero characters

(other Dracula fans pls tell me if I've missed something)

What do I make of this? you ask. Well...

Do not excuse medical abuse, even if it's fictional. The doctor character is, for all his medical malpractice, depicted as a complex person that has some likeable traits and he undergoes a pretty sad arc relating to loss and trauma, like most of the heroes of this novel. This doesn't make him any less of an abuser, nor makes his patient any less of a victim!

Refrain from using ableist language or rethoric. The patient character, being written for a very old horror book, is often depicted as "unsettling" and his strange behavior is sometimes played for horror. This 1) doesn't make his situation any less deplorable 2) doesn't make him any less sympethetic and most importantly 3) doesnt give you a free pass to treat him as a scary horror monster. He's a victim of both the real monster of this story and the system he lives in.

Listen to psychotic fans. Research the history of Victorian asylums. Understand the historical context. Look at this subplot from a holistic perspective instead of treating it as a horror story within a horror story (although, it is a horror story, but not for the reasons some think it is!). Just don't be a dick to disabled people.

If any part of this subplot triggers or squicks you, you are not obligated to read it, just be aware that it exists and that it is important to avoid perpetuating ableist stereotypes, be they present in the original text or not. (Hell, you are not obligated to read any part of the book if you don't want to do so. Dracula Daily is supposed to be fun. Analyzing literature is supposed to be fun. Enjoying literature is supposed to be fun!)

For the love of God, don't get angry if some fans dislike the doctor character for what he's done and take the patients' side. This was an issue during the last Dracula Daily run. He's literally the victim in this relationship. I'm not saying you can't like or dislike either character but I have to reiterate: do not erase either character's contribution to the plot, do not demonize the patient character for being mentally ill in an "ugly" way and beliveing the villain is good, and don't woobiefy the doctor character because he said a funny thing once. Both are complex adult human beings so don't expect them to be caricatures.

Do not be afraid to call out ableist behavior from other fans, but also be careful to not overstep or talk over disabled fans, especially psychotic fans.

During the Dracula Daily run, some blogs will warn about the entries in which this subplot takes place, and what triggers apply for each one of them. If you need those warnings, don't be afraid to reach out for them!

Happy reading!

[blubushie]

i think when a lot of people say male privilege what they ACTUALLY mean is cishet white male privilege

I'll raise you–

They mean wealthy white cishet perisex neurotypical male privilege.

Cuz a white man growing up in poverty, neurodivergent (say autism, or any mental illness) is NOT going to have male privilege over a wealthy cishet white neurotypical woman by society. He will be demonised. If god forbid he's being Publicly Neurodivergent (such as having, say, a schizophrenic episode) then him being male means he will likely be arrested and/or incarcerated or institutionalised. THIS GOES DOUBLE IF HE IS A MAN OF COLOUR, BECAUSE MEN OF COLOUR ARE ALWAYS SEEN AS AN AGGRESSOR/DANGER IN WHITE SOCIETY.

This is what intersectionality means. The recognition that there's more than just one factor at play. Male privilege means jack shit if society doesn't even see you as a fucking human being.

The MOST privileged people in society are wealthy white cishet perisex neurotypical old men. They make legislation. They uphold systems of injustice to benefit THEM. They're your oppressor. Not your neighbour, not your brother, not the bloke down the block.

Growing up in poverty, bisexual/gay and visibly intersex, with a million and one mental disorders, I cannot recall a SINGLE time I was afforded male privilege. Instead I was treated like an animal—smart enough to know what I've done wrong and be punished for disorders and illnesses I couldn't control, but too stupid to have agency over myself or my body. There is not a fucking thing in my life that I have what I haven't fought for. I'm not wealthy, I'm not even middle class, but I run my own business I built from the ground up because people wouldn't employ me because of how stigmatised my illnesses are. And I had no help, because I came from poverty. I built a life for myself because it was do that or starve.

Only privilege I can ever recall being afforded is white privilege, by which sometimes tourists would prefer talking to me over my adoptive brother (who is black) because they felt more comfortable with me. And that pisses me off.

But male privilege? No. Not once. I'm too visibly broken to be afforded it.

[princelylove]

Welcome back prince, I hope you feel better now ~ glad to see you again

You said that yandere wouldn't allow darling getting sick under they care but do you think there will exception for some yandere? Instead of keeping darling healthy, they will let them feel ill (physically and mentally) so their darling can realized on them more, they enjoy take care of darling in the most vulnerable time.

~ 🏵️ anon ~

Some yanderes are sadistic bastards that just want to watch you squirm.

Others just adore the idea of taking care of you sooo much that they're willing to 'forget' to remind you about taking care of yourself, sometimes. As a treat.

Risotto is pretty big on not interfering with your life, especially if he's in his "I'll watch my darling from over here" phase. He's not going to stop you when you forget a jacket and it's snowing outside, but... he'll make sure your doors are locked behind you. Interfering means you'll know him, and he can't really afford a relationship right now, so... he copes by taking care of you when you're too sick to think for yourself. There's always "leftovers" in the back of your fridge, your home is always at a decent temperature- he aims to be your guardian angel from the shadows. You'll recover in practically no time at all.

Someone like Ghiaccio might give you a cold on purpose, as a punishment, and fail to realize that, hey, you now need to be taken care of since colds don't just Go Away. He's at a total loss- what do people even do when they're sick? Have soup? Bitch and moan and get on his nerves? He shakes you by your shoulders to get your needs out of you- hey, answer him, is he making you soup or are you gonna pass out? ... Just gonna pass out? Ok, he guesses. He props you up in a comfortable spot in his room and plays a game for you- you're not getting germs on his controllers or keyboard. No he isn't playing sims or animal crossing, pick something that takes skill, or is gonna give you some enrichment.

But Melone would absolutely do it on purpose. You're so cold to him, but when you're sick, you're just soooo cuddly, it's adorable! How could he not take full advantage? He does just about everything he can get away with- not properly disinfecting what he needs to, not giving you proper clothes, etc. Melone's very attentive, he checks your temperature and gives you actual medicine- the correct kind, too- and just lets you go on full auto-pilot mode. Take a nap on the couch, he'll take care of everything.

[idkaguyorsomething]

Two personal preferences for the Jojolands: it does not end on a downer note and that the author does not play Jodio's mental illness for horror.

definitely gonna agree with you on the second one, though slight disagreement on the first one. part nine could very well be the last jojo’s we’re ever gonna get, so it makes a lot of sense that people are gonna want it to end on a happy note. and traditionally, every part has ended with the characters at least reaching some level of satisfaction and personal fulfillment, but there has ALWAYS been casualties along the way, ranging from that one side character to the entire core cast minus a literal child. the happiest ending we got was in part four, which definitely had a more relaxed slice-of-life vibe to it than part nine, which already parallels part five, a story where literally half the cast gets killed off as they brutally slaughter all their enemies. having everyone in the main cast survive to the end seems unlikely, and tbh, i do enjoy the fact that in a lot of jojo stories, anyone can die. even if i love these characters with all my heart, it is an effective narrative choice to kill them off in order to raise the stakes. nearly every death in this series feels like an emotional gut punch without sidelining the actual agency of the character being killed (rip george jr, the least important joestar). depending on what kind of story araki wants to tell, a bittersweet ending could be more effective than an unconditionally happy one. but hey, if it’s his final outing in the world he created, ¡he might actually feel like being merciful to his characters for once! and if it’s not, well, i’ll look forward to all the fix fics everyone writes where everyone lives.

as for jodio’s mental illness, this one has me a bit worried. araki has made a lot of dubious writing decisions in the past on sensitive topics like this (overuse of sa, “curing” johnny’s disability, side characters that come off as dated ethnic caricatures) but he has made a consistent effort to include a lot of demographics that don’t show up in a lot of manga, and his writing of characters from said demographics has considerably improved over time. tracking the women in his stories, from erina to lisa lisa to trish to jolyne to yasuho, and how they’re treated tells a fascinating story in and of itself. johnny has a lot of emotional depth and character beyond his disability. this series honestly has more black characters than any other manga/anime i can think of (though i haven’t watched afro samurai yet). there are absolutely problematic elements here to critique and pick apart, but i kinda prefer this flawed approach to representation than the nonexistent state of it in other similar stories. but getting back on track, araki has written a lot of shit in the past, so he could definitely fumble the ball again here. however, i personally think there’s currently more setup in the story for jodio to become more of an antihero in line with giorno or johnny. he’s on good terms with at least two of his family members, an achievement hitherto unheard of in this series, and he’s depicted as more of a goofy teen who makes bad decisions somewhat in line with the criteria for antisocial personality disorder than an irredeemable monster. it’s far too early in the story to tell where this is headed, though, so overall we just have to cross our fingers and hope that araki goes for a more sensitive, nuanced portrayal of a protagonist with aspd instead of going all “lol he’s joDIO what did you expect”

[what-in-the-cat]

i know nobody cares, but man betrayal hurts.

you can give a close friend hundreds of dollars over a few years to ensure they can be okay, be there for them, and do everything you can to understand them as a person. you can give your heart to people and think they're safe, that you can trust them.

but the moment you're in the middle of an extreme mental health crisis you've talked about multiple times, and that you have been constantly distressed and sent into a panic attack by so many little things, something just goes wrong. someone's partner who you've only actually talked to a few times disregards your boundaries about mental health, decides in your place what they think is good for you, lies to their partners about why you were upset at them, and then everyone is out for blood. and they don't even tell you to your face. they tell your extremely anxious panic attack ridden boyfriend who is supposedly who their partner is scared of that you're a piece of shit who needs to justify your actions. that you need to be the one accountable.

and now i can't even talk to my other close online friends because they're so close to these people. i can't go to someone I've known since 2019 who's always had a good head on their shoulders, i can't go to one of my funniest online friends anymore just to chat, i can't go to my writer friend and talk to them about their favorite characters anymore or their modding, god i can't even talk to the one person who seemed to vaguely understand where i was coming from when i would vent about how being mentally ill was affecting me.

and im so damn angry. how dare they assume the worst of me in my own mental health crisis despite the fact that I've gone out of my way to understand and try to accommodate their DID and befriend their alters. how dare they treat me like a rabid animal or child and talk to my boyfriend about it instead of me as if he's my keeper. how dare their partner decide that after 3 conversations that they had a right to play armchair psychologist and dig into my head and decide what was right for me. how dare their partner decide to come to talk to me about something i was never mentally equipped to handle while trying to be okay and not hurt myself. how dare their partner lie about me and what i said. how dare they take my last few close online friends away from me.

i guess it's better late than never i learn they never were my friends. i need to find a new therapist.

[willoftrees]

also tired of hearing him complain about my husband cleaning his catbox before he gets to it

he only fills it half way and does NOT clean it daily. he sleeps in as late as he can every day and then goes to work for maybe 4 hours 3 or 4 days a week, and as soon as he gets home it's back to just sitting around watching stuff and playing games and getting as close to doing litrally nothing but laying down with a screen in his face. (complains about wanting to get healthy but literally replies "why would i want to lift any weight??" when we suggest he get those simple tiny 5 to 10lb weights to just get a LITTLE stronger so he doesnt have to constsntly ask his other also disabled roommates to get stuff for him. and literally contemplating getting a new expensive af phone to be able to play a game he already has on his laptop so he can literally LAY DOWN insysad ov having to sit up ((also he can already lay down to play?? laptops.... are movile computers.... hello?????)))

husband works nights, is the only person with a car, we have property ourside of town with a garden, livestock and projects we are trying to work on but have to out on hold because our roommates need us, amd we all get fucking sick of having to smell cat piss and shit all fucking day cuz the roomie doesn't give his cat enough litter to compensate for not cleaning it daily and he literally will leave giant piles of shit with giant wetspors of pias uncovered in his box- and every time hubby finishes cleaning it. cat immediately gows and uses it cuz he didntwannanuse it while it was nasty all fucking day unless he couldn't hold it anymore.

plus the roomie talking over me, treats me like i am not a person, refuses to apologise to me directly for something he wronged me for even when other people told him he needed to, and acts like because he has a different mental illness than the rest of the house hold that he deserves extra special treatment, gets an excuse when people tell him he is being rude, and doesn't have to adjust his behavior for anyone.

and i have to deal with shithead roomie number 2 also coland owner being a giant useless sack of shit, too! wakes up, fucking fills his cup with vodka, takes a swig, either shits himself or goes to throw up, goes outside to smoke cigarettes and weed with his phone in his face and headphones in his broken truck for an hour, watching smosh, random anime with stupid long title or some other brainrot, comes inside. has another swig, notices someone making food and remembers food is nice and muscles his way into the kitchen instead of waiting for them to finish, half prepares his meal taking up all the space in the kitchen but not finishing so anyone else can use it, (cuz in the middle he will have to go smoke again) leaving his dirty dishes for others tocclean cuz there are none left or we have nonspace to prepare our own food, finishes making his food then sets it on his bed and goes outside to smoke again and has to reheat his food again when he comes back inside...

i feel like i am taking fucking crazy pills.

[mypetmycat]

CATS AND EXCESSIVE MEOWING

In terms of why cats meow, the causes change as they grow from kittens to cats. When kittens are cold, hungry, or scared, they meow to their moms. Cats, however, change their vocalizations to communicate with one another as they age, such as growling, hissing, and yowling. They exclusively converse with humans via meowing.

Of course, each breed, and even each cat, will meow in a unique way. Oriental breeds, particularly Siamese cats, are well-known for being outstanding “talkers,” therefore, anyone who dislikes meowing should avoid acquiring one.

While some cats appear to prefer hearing their own voices, others appear to prefer conversing with their humans. Try to identify the cause if your cat is talking a bit more than you’d like. Once you’ve identified the source, you may take action to lessen your cat’s meowing.

Why Is My Cat Meowing So Loudly?

Cats meow for a number of causes, ranging from severe to attention-seeking. They are made up of ailments. Your veterinarian should do a thorough examination as a starting point. A cat suffering from a variety of ailments may become ravenously hungry, thirsty, or uncomfortable.

Cats can also have kidney or an overactive thyroid, both of which can make them vocalize excessively.

Seeking attention: Cats don’t spend a lot of time alone, despite what the general public believes. Cats commonly meow when they want to play, be noticed, or start a discussion. If you want to lessen the frequency of attention-seeking meows, stop responding when they happen. Observe them just when they are silent. Continue to ignore them or walk away if they start to meow again. However, don’t ignore your pet. Spend time with them every day, engaging in play, grooming, and conversation. Animals that are exhausted are more tranquil.

Desires to eat: Some cats meow anytime someone enters the kitchen in an effort to get a bite. A lot of cats also get quite vocal when mealtimes get closer. Avoid giving your cat food while it meows if this is your problem. Avoid rewarding them while they are meowing and wait to feed them till they are silent. If this doesn’t work, get an automatic feeder that opens at set times. Instead of you, the cat will now meow at the feeder. Many cats meow as their owners come home or even when they enter the house. Consider the behavior as the cat purring in greeting, despite the fact that it might be hard to break.

They feel solitary: Hire a pet sitter to improve your pet’s quality of life if they spend too much time alone during the day. Put a bird feeder where they can see it, such as beside a window. Foraging toys with food inside should be placed outside. You should purchase them a cat condo and mix up the toys you set out for them to play with.

A worried cat: Stressed-out cats usually become louder. Your cat might start talking when there is a new pet or child, a move or other change in the house, illness, or the death of a loved one. Learn what upset your pet, and then help them adjust to the change. If that isn’t an option, give your cat extra attention to make them feel better.

Aged kittens: Like people, cats can experience cognitive decline or a state of mental confusion as they age. They frequently get disoriented and sob hopelessly, especially at night. Periodically, a nightlight could be helpful if your cat occasionally gets lost at night. Additionally, veterinarians usually offer medicine recommendations to treat these symptoms.

Cats that want to procreate: Your cat might start talking when there is a new pet or child, a move or other change in the house, illness, or the death of a loved one. Both males and females yowl when they are in heat, and males yowl when they sent a female in heat. Both can be difficult to deal with. You can avoid this by having your pet spayed or neutered.

Don’t throw anything out until ensuring sure there are no issues. Even while you shouldn’t encourage it, cats occasionally meow for valid reasons, such as when their water bowl is empty, they can’t get to the litter box, or they are trapped in a room. When they meow, investigate them to see whether the issue can be safely ignored or whether a quick solution is required.

Don’t yell at a cat because it meows: Cats seldom cease meowing by being struck, yelled at, or sprayed with water over time, but all of these actions will make your cat wary of you or perhaps dislike you.

Don’t give in: If your cat is used to utilizing its meowing to get what it wants, it will meow louder and more frequently. It probably won’t get better before it gets worse, to put it another way. Meowing should be ignored while rewarding quiet behavior, and gradually they will understand.

[tzov]

The health implications of living as female in a world designed for males are staggering. In PE class playing games made for boys and being graded based on standards designed with another type of body in mind. Having your injuries and illnesses diagnosed and treated according to a male model. Being given vitamin and dietary recommendations that do not consider your iron loss, your slower metabolism, your differing sensitivities. Mental health evaluations and advice orbiting around what a Man imagines a woman feels and wants. Having your natural gifts and abilities ignored (women's work) or looked upon with prejudice ("women's work"). I hardly need go into the physical and psychological harms done to women under patriarchy. To maintain a patriarchal society is necessarily to normalize women's pain.

In such a world women's health problems become the norm. It's no wonder female athletes compete with unexplained or hidden injuries, that psychiatry keeps reinventing hysteria, that menstrual agony is supposed to be "accepted" (but isn't an excuse to miss work), that extreme and dangerous birth control side effects go widely unaddressed, that pregnant women and new mothers are treated like zoo animals instead of vulnerable people.

Researching and discussing female health is a feminist act.

[battlekidx2]

Thoughts on Arcane

Okay the hype for this show is spot on. This show is amazing. I went in only knowing that it’s about two sisters who end up fighting on opposite sides of a conflict and I’m happy I went in with limited knowledge because it didn’t play out at all how I expected. When I first started watching the show I thought that Vi was the one who was gonna be radicalized against the topsiders but once the end of episode two hit and episode three played out it completely flipped that thought on its head and I realized I was dead wrong. 

Vi is such a fantastic character and is my favorite character in the series. That’s not a disservice to any of the other fantastic characters instead it is a testament to how well written Vi is. I think Vi’s character and arc are summed up in what Vander told her in episode three “You’ve got a good heart. Don’t lose it. No matter how the world tries to break you.”. Vi is a good person who has been hardened through hardships just like many residents from the undercity. Vi has every reason in the world to be bitter and she has every reason in the world to just give up but she keeps getting back up. Her struggle made me legitimately emotional. This show really gets oldest child syndrome. I am also the oldest child in my family and I’ve felt what Vi felt when it came to Powder and I’ve felt what she felt when she was forced to watch Powder become Jinx. I think she’s a fantastic deuteragonist of Arcane. (Also Vi is just a complete badass.)

Powder’s descent into Jinx is also masterfully done. I don’t know if I’ve seen an animated show tackle how untreated trauma and mental illness can radically change a person and lead to their descent even half as well as arcane did with Jinx. Powder is by nature a kind and caring person but the world succeeded at breaking who she was and creating a much more cruel person in her place. This is kind of a fine line to tread because you could villainize mental illness but I think arcane makes it clear that it wasn’t only the mental illness that lead to Jinx but the negative influences in her life. Silco legitimately cares for Jinx but he projects his own problems onto her however unintentionally and neglects to actually treat her by regurgitating the belief that suffering has made her a stronger person. I think this is more of a warning for these toxic lines of thought that make it so that people have trouble asking for help and stew until a breaking point is reached. It’s a very fascinating take on the character and I am so excited to see where the show takes her.

I also wasn’t expecting Ekko to be the leader of the firelights but I loved the reveal. Ekko’s fight with Jinx was also fantastic. Having the show switch between the past Ekko and Powder and the present Ekko and Jinx was a fantastic divide to draw for the audience. The excitement and innocence in the past was perfectly contrasted between the brutality and tragedy of the present. And when Ekko hesitated you understood why. Just like Vi he can’t let go of the Powder that he knew despite how much he liked to claim the contrary. (The fights in this show were fantastic. I also loved Vi vs Sevika.)

The one part I thought was iffy was Jayce’s part of the story. Too often I found he was the least interesting character in his own story. Viktor far outshone him, in my opinion, with his arc and struggles. I often found that I much prefered when Jayce was playing off of someone than when he was alone. Viktor, Caitlyn, and Mel all had more presence to them and more interesting stories. I think this is because he isn’t really his own driving force when it comes to motivation. He is manipulated or convinced by just about everyone around him about what he is going to do next. Viktor was the one who fixed his research and pushed him to continue working on the crystals which kicked off hextech, Mel was the one who made him a councilor, Heimerdinger was the one who gave him the progress day speech, Vi was the one who convinced him to go after Silco, etc. I found myself wishing that we could cut down his screen time to show more of Viktor, Mel, and Caitlyn. This is my opinion so if you liked him all the better for you. I always like when people can enjoy things that I couldn’t (media wise).

I have a lot more thoughts but these are the ones I’d like to get out for now. There is so much to this show that I am definitely going to rewatch it as soon as I can and most likely write more about it.

[nicnacsnonsense]

The more I see and think about what seems to be the prevalent fan interpretation of how Stede and Mary’s marriage fell apart — that Mary tried but Stede didn’t — the more I hate it. It’s just wrong and honestly kind of gross on multiple levels.

Firstly from a basic plot and character level this does not align with what we see of Stede as a character over all, and is just objectively not true. The first flashback we see of Stede’s previous family life is of Mary having a conversation with the kids about their farm animals and Stede attempting to join in. Plus his idea to create a ship in the first place was obviously an attempt to try to make life less miserable for them. You can say that his efforts were misguided at times and that he had a tendency to shut down and withdraw when they were ill-received, but you can’t act like he didn’t try at all.

Then there’s the ableism of looking at someone who almost certainly has some kind of CPTSD from years of being harassed and abused specifically for being soft and emotionally vulnerable and saying he just should have been more open about how he felt. And yes, I understand that mental illness is an explanation not an excuse and that Stede can’t expect people to be responsive to what he’s feeling if he doesn’t tell them about it, but I need everyone else to understand that it’s incredibly hurtful and dismissive to see someone who isn’t being as open and vulnerable as you think they should be and write them off as not trying. Not to mention I haven’t seen a single person (outside of a handful who were responding directly to things I said; love y’all) point out how Mary — due to understandable and valid frustration and possibly even trauma of her own — created a space that was very hostile toward Stede sharing his feelings.

Then for a second go round on the ableism train, there’s the fact that Stede and Mary’s marriage was clearly suffering pretty severely from communication issues, but we’re not treating this a thing that can happen and that both parties need to work together to address. Instead we’re just going to put all the blame for being bad at communicating on the autistic(-coded) character. Fantastic; a real classic that one. That’s not to say Stede doesn’t play a part; he definitely has an issue where when they miscommunicate he will passively accept blame and shut down rather than actually trying to get to the root of the issue. But Mary doesn’t try to resolve any miscommunications either, instead immediately assuming selfishness or other ill-intent on Stede’s part and lashing out at him.

And finally, thematically this ends up creating a pretty terrible message. Their marriage is clearly supposed to be emblematic of the oppressive society that the both of them live in. So when you say the problem was that Stede didn’t try in his marriage it necessarily means that the reason Stede didn’t fit into the aristocratic society is because he didn’t try hard enough. And that’s already gross on its own without following through to the implied he would have been able to fit in and make it work if he just tried hard enough. Absolutely hate that for him 💖

The problem with Mary and Stede’s marriage is that the were both shoved into a role that they didn’t want and weren’t suited for and as a result frequently showed up imperfectly. And they both tried very hard to make it work, but it didn’t and it never would have no matter how hard they tried because fuck patriarchy, fuck colonialism, fuck capitalism, fuck oppressive systems of power. Thank you for coming to my Ted talk.

[spyrothesquish-0006]

Can I ask about the brothers visiting an MC in a coma, assumedly sometime after they left their 1 year school year at Devildom? Also would it be bad to ask for a platonic/familial relationship instead of romantic?

How the brothers react to visiting GN!MC in a coma (platonic)

Warnings: None besides hospital and coma mentions, also if you're uncomfy with platonic kisses I'm sorry 😢 I see Asmo as very touchy-feely so even if it's a strictly platonic/familial relationship, it would not be rare for him to kiss your cheeks. And platonic requests are always fine! I hope you enjoy!😊

Lucifer:

• surprisingly was not the first to find out, but once he did, he was quick to be at your side

• depending on how you got to be in a coma changes his reaction

• if it's because someone hurt you, Lucifer will be on a war path to make whoever did it pay dearly for hurting someone in his family

• if it's because of an accident, his worry over you will increase, never wanting to see you in such a state again

• will take whatever measures necessary to make sure you stay safe once you wake up

• if the coma is due to an illness, Lucifer will do everything in his power to get you the best treatment possible

• only the best doctors and nurses are fit to care for his family

• if allowed, he will move you to a devildom hospital to be treated

• will not be leaving your side any time soon

• if you thought this demon didn't sleep before, it's even worse now

• he will stay by your side and hold your hand until he sees your eyes open again

• the paperwork in his office might pile up, but honestly he couldn't care less

• you become his #1 priority

• would often pet his hand over your hair and talk to you at night

• even if you can't hear him, he still tells you how important you are to him and his brothers

• "We're all worried about you, MC. You need to wake up. Please.."

Mammon:

• the minute he knows you're in the hospital he takes off, not even stopping long enough to learn why or that you're in a coma

• completely loses it when he sees you in the hospital bed

• it's a mix between fear of losing you, and anger at whatever it is that put you in that coma

• even if it was in no way his fault, he still blames himself for not being there to protect you

• still feels a bit guilty even if it's something completely out of his control, like an illness

• will be by your side any chance he gets

• definitely tries to curl up in the hospital bed with you

• if he isn't allowed to/there isn't enough space, he will curse until the entire hospital knows infernal curse words

• nothing gets between him and MC, that's his family!

• if for some reason he has to leave your side, his crows are stationed outside your window until he gets back to watch over you

• would call in any favors he has to if it means paying for the best medical care, or finding healing potions

• he remembers Satan once saying how if someone is in a coma, that they can still hear

• he often talks to you as if you're awake and responding, late night conversations lessening his worry about you, but sometimes these end in tears if he gets too carried away, knowing you're not responding and might not any time soon

• "Be a good human and wake up, won't ya? You got us all so worried, and it ain't fair."

Levi:

• once he hears the words "MC" and "Hospital" in the same sentence, he has the worst panic attack imaginable

• accidentally summons Lotan and destroys part of the HoL in his panic

• races to the hospital, not caring who he has to talk to or push past to get to you

• all he cares about is his Henry being okay!

• hospitals aren't really his favorite place, being filled with people and germs, but he will stay by your side until you wake up, no exceptions

• he basically moves into your hospital room

• brings his and yours favorite handheld games and plays them all hours of the day and night

• doesn't want to fall asleep in case you wake up

• even though it makes him a blushy mess, he sits on the edge of your hospital bed and keeps his tail firmly wrapped around your hand to "hold" it while he plays video games

• even if you aren't awake, he still watches your favorite animes with you, hoping that maybe the sound of it will make you want to open your eyes

• "Hey, MC, this is your favorite episode right? Do you think maybe you could open your eyes and watch it with me?"

Satan:

• once he knows you're in a coma he rushes to the hospital and immediately sets to work questioning every doctor and nurse that's treating you

• wants to know everything, why you're in a coma, for how long, what can he or any of his brothers do to help you?

• if the doctors treating you are not to his standards, he will throw a temper tantrum until better ones are brought in for you

• refuses to even entertain the idea that you might not wake up

• he gets very irratible with everyone and everything, but it's only because of how worried he is about you

• he may be pissy and quick to let his temper flare, but he's nothing but gentle with you

• he always holds your hand, sitting by your bedside and reading to you to calm his wrath and worry

• he picks only your favorite books, eyes flicking expectantly between the pages and you when he gets to your favorite parts, hoping that just maybe they'd excite you enough to wake up

• "MC, I brought your favorite again. We left off on chapter 6 right? I know your favorite part is coming up, so give my hand a little squeeze once we get to it, okay?"

Asmo:

• nearly faints when he hears you're in a coma

• once he's at the hospital, he demands to know everything

• Who, what, where, when, he accepts nothing but the most thorough answers possible

• is so wracked with worry that he actually forgets his own routines while he takes care of you, not bothering with his lengthy skincare routine or his beauty sleep, instead focusing on yours

• even if you're out cold, you still should be looking your best and be taken care of!

• after all, he would never leave his family helpless to take care of themselves

• he often talks to you while he brushes your hair or does your skincare for you, never wanting to let you fall behind on the gossip

• talking to you also keeps his nerves in check, often falling asleep while he fills you in on what everyone has been up to

• if he doesn't fall asleep while talking to you, he most likely ends up sleeping while scrolling through devilgram posts, curled up in your bed with you so he can still cuddle you until you wake up

• while he holds you he often peppers your face in gentle kisses, murmuring his affections for you and saying how much all of his brothers care about you

• he'd often call you sleeping beauty at night, but now that nickname leaves a bitter taste in his mouth

• "Do me a favor darling and wake up, hmm? It's so boring without you to talk to. If you wake up soon, I'll take you on a shopping spree, alright?"

Beel:

• worried sick once he knows you're in a coma, rushing to the hospital and refusing to leave your side

• he doesn't even feel hungry as he watches over you, far too worried about you being okay to think about eating for once

• seeing you so fragile looking in the hospital bed reminds him too much of losing Lilith

• plants himself by your bed and is incredible gentle while he holds your hand

• he knows how strong he is, and seeing you in a hospital bed makes him even more wary about accidentally hurting you

• he does have to eat eventually, almost snacking on things in the hospital room before a worried nurse got him some food from the cafeteria

• it may not be the best quality, but he honestly doesn't care that much

• if it means he can stay by your side, he'd eat dirt

• despite how worried he is about you, he keeps a brave face and is always smiling and laughing as he talks to you, telling you about all the things him and his brothers have done after your year at RAD ended

• he always brings your favorite snacks when he sits with you, hoping that maybe you'll be hungry enough to wake up and eat with him again

• "MC, I brought your favorite snacks again, I'm sorry I ate them last time...if you wake up before I get hungry they're all yours though! I can get you more if you're still hungry after."

Belphie:

• to everyone's surprise, he was the first to know you were in a coma

• he often visited you in your dreams after you left RAD, making sure you didn't have any nightmares and to just chat with you

• so when he went to visit you in your latest dream, you told him how you were in the hospital and couldn't wake up just yet while your body healed

• he promised to relay the information to his brothers and was quick to be at your side

• he's less worried about your condition than his brothers, only because he can still visit you while you "sleep"

• just because it's not as bad doesn't mean he has no worries though

• part of him is scared that one day he'll try to visit you and you just won't be there dreaming anymore

• because of this fear, he sleeps as often as he can

• self care isn't exactly his strong hold, so he figures his brothers will take better care of you than he can

• instead of helping you physically, Belphie helps you mentally

• he makes sure you never feel lonely in your coma

• he keeps any bad dreams or negative thoughts away, and he never lets you lose hope about waking up, no matter how long your coma lasts

• to make things more fun, he often alters your dreams so you two can go on adventures

• if you feel like flying? He's got you. Wanna be pirates for the day? There's a sword an eyepatch waiting for you

• even though he can still spend time with you in your coma, he still insists on being at your side physically too

• would bring your favorite blankets and pillows and plushies to put in bed with you so you stay comfortable

• is another brother who would curl up in the hospital bed with you, even letting you use his pillow until you wake up

• snuggles you like a koala 25/8 and sleepy mumbles into your ear are common

• "mm, MC? I know it's fun and all, but you gotta wake up at some point dummy. Don't make me go in there and drag you out."

[arvandus]

Touch (pt 9) - Amity

PAIRING: Dabi x Fem!Reader

STORY WARNINGS: 18+ only please!  Drug abuse/withdrawal, adult language/themes, heavy angst, past trauma/abuse, anxiety/panic attacks, PTSD, fluff, pining, slow burn, eventual emotional SMUT. *please pay attention to the chapter tags as these warnings will apply at different times*

CHAPTER WARNINGS: talk of killing, blood, needle/medical sewing; pining... lots of resistant pining.  Typical sensory overload due to quirk use.

CHAPTER SONG: Ocean Eyes by Billie Eilish

Part 1   Part 8

Artwork credit to @hellowon31 on Twitter (https://twitter.com/hellowon31)

Part 9: Amity

Between your second night in a row of poor sleep and waking up incredibly early, it didn’t take long for exhaustion to find you again.  By mid-day your sensory overload had subsided enough that you collapsed into your bed, dreamless sleep dragging you under instantly.  It was short-lived, however; it felt like no sooner had your head hit the pillow, that a knock on your door roused you groggily from your slumber.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you stood up and answered the door to see Toga standing in front of you, a bloodied washcloth held to her temple.

“Oh my god, what happened to you??” you exclaimed, as you let her into your room.

“I was out running some errands and a thug tried to jump me in an alleyway.” Toga replied cheerfully. She halted in her tracks.  “Oh… aren’t you still sick with the flu?”  She instantly covered her mouth and nose with her free hand, taking a step back.

“Huh? Oh!” you exclaimed. Right.  Crap. You forgot about that little white lie.  “Sorry, hang on a sec.”  You quickly went to your medical bag and pulled out a white disposable mask, placing it over your face.  “Is that better?” You asked, your voice muffled.

The tension in Toga’s shoulders instantly left, her posture easing as her hand dropped away from her face. “Yeah, thanks.  Are you feeling okay?  I could try to do this myself this time…”

You balked at the thought of Toga treating her own injuries.

“I’m fine right now, I promise.” You replied. 

The blonde shrugged and fully entered your space, although her folded hands in front of her body communicated she didn’t want to touch anything.

“So, a guy jumped you in an alley?” You asked.

“Yeah.  He was big, too.  And had a quirk that gave him extra reach on his arms.”  Toga explained.

You weren’t quite sure what sort of errands required Toga to be in alleyways, but you had a feeling none of them were good. The curiosity pulled at you - you could feel the question on your lips, but you swallowed it down.  When you had first joined the League, you and Shigaraki had discussed the importance of compartmentalizing your role from the others.  You were the only one out of the group who was defenseless after all, so as the weakest link within the League, you had both decided it would be best if you knew as little of the League’s affairs as possible, in case you ever got captured and questioned.  You were allowed to participate in general discussions regarding the League’s next moves and what areas were important to you that you wanted to focus on, but the nitty gritty details were kept separate: private meetings with other villains, locations, times, that sort of thing.  So, despite your curiosity, you knew not to pry.

Instead, you asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she replied, “but I can’t get this to stop bleeding.”

“Let’s take a look.” You gingerly removed the cloth from the wound to see a deep gash in the skin before new blood filled up. You placed the washcloth back over the wound before it could spill over.  “Hm. Better keep that on there.  You’re going to need stitches.”

“I figured.” She grinned. She took over holding the cloth to her head while you grabbed your medical bag.  You escorted her into your bathroom and had her sit on the toilet seat. Her outfit was speckled with blood, some of it from her wound, and, you suspected, some of it not.

“So…” you started, as you washed your hands in the sink. “What happened to the thug?”

“I drained him.” She replied cheerfully.  The casualness of her statement filled you with a confusing mixture of fear and pity.

“You killed him?” you asked, as you prepped your needle and thread.

Toga looked at you with her yellow feline-like eyes.  “He would have killed me if I didn’t.”

“Tilt your head back.” You instructed.  Toga did as you said, and you carefully removed the cloth before placing your fingers over her open wound. She winced slightly at the contact, but quickly relaxed as your quirk soaked in. 

Silence filled the room as you cleaned her wound with antiseptic and set to work.  The heavy quiet dragged on as your mind mulled over the girl next to you.  You had a thousand questions in your mind, but none of them seemed very appropriate to ask, not without upsetting her.  And despite your good standing with the League, you made it a careful point not to get on anyone’s bad side.  It wasn’t so much that you didn’t trust them, although a part of you was always wary around those who were willing to commit violence.  But you also understood on a personal level that the problems these villains had went far deeper than society was willing to acknowledge.  Mental illness, quirkology, environment… all of it played a role in dealing the hand that these outcast individuals had been dealt.

Minutes passed as you stitched up the cut and cleaned the blood from the sealed wound once more. You were washing your hands when Toga finally spoke, her voice soft.  “Are you mad at me?”

You paused to look down at her.  Her brow was furrowed, her mouth pulled into a sulky frown as she stared at her hands. She looked like a child waiting to be scolded, and in that moment, you could see how young she still was.  You gave a soft sigh.  “Of course not.  He attacked you, right? You had to defend yourself.”

You paused then followed up with, “I’m sorry you had to do it.”

“Don’t be…” she replied. “I liked killing him.”

Your hands faltered as you began putting away your supplies and Toga noticed. 

“You don’t like it, do you?” she asked, accusation lacing her voice. She was defensive, waiting for your judgement. 

You couldn’t blame her. No doubt her quirk was something she likely struggled with all of her life before finally giving in to it.  She had never given you her story directly, but it wasn’t hard to guess.  Everything about her – from her ramblings to her actions - spoke of a caged animal who finally got a taste of freedom and refused to be captured.

Contradicting feelings warred within you, and you struggled to wrangle them.  You had to admit, you hated the idea of her killing.  More importantly, you knew that her victims weren’t always street thugs, villains, or corrupted heroes.  But at the same time, despite this uncomfortable fact, you also understood how strongly quirks affected behavior, how it could act like a poison, messing with the mind and forcing its way into being expressed.  It wasn’t the first time you’d seen it; you understood it intimately.

You looked down at her and a familiar sense of pity unfurled in your gut, snaking into your veins, pulling at your emotions even as your core roiled at the idea of needless violence. She was just like him... a victim in her own way, despite the horrific things she did.

“You think I’m a monster.” Her words cut through your thoughts, and your attention refocused on her. She had her knees hugged up to her chest, her feet propped on the closed toilet lid that she occupied.  You mentally scolded yourself for abandoning her as you got lost in your head and crouched down next to her.

“No.  I don’t think you’re a monster.” You answered soothingly.

“Then why do you look scared of me?” Toga demanded. 

You gave her a smile that you hoped reached your eyes. She was more perceptive than you gave her credit for sometimes.  You had to choose your words carefully. 

“I’m not scared of you.” You explained.  “ But I am a healer, Toga. I see someone who’s hurt, and I want to take that pain away.  It’s what my quirk is. It’s a part of who I am and it’s what motivates me. So, I won’t deny that it’s hard for me sometimes to understand why you do what you do because it’s so opposite of how I am.”

Toga averted her eyes, her body tightening in on itself.

“But…” you continued as you placed a hand on her forearm, “I’m not scared of you.  And even though you do monstrous things, I don’t think you’re a monster.”

Toga slowly lowered her knees, letting her feet touch the floor as she stared at you.  “Why not?” she asked.

“Because,” you replied, “You still care about people.  You and Twice were the first to welcome and befriend me when I joined the League. And the way you take care of Twice… like he’s your big brother… that counts for something.  You even care about Dabi, even though he’s an ass. That was why you checked on him that night, right?  You treat each of us like family.  Now why would a monster do that?”

“But I still want to cut you guys all the time…” she confessed.

“I know.  But you don’t.  That should count for something.”

Toga smiled at you with teary eyes.  “You’re so nice, big sis.”  Her compliment made you smile. 

Toga hopped of the toilet with a nimble bounce, signaling the end of the conversation.  “Am I all done?”

You nodded.  “You’re free to go.” You announced.  Toga made her way to your bedroom door, but she halted when you called her name.  “Toga… don’t forget to change your clothes.”

Toga looked down at the bloodstains splattered across her school uniform.  “Yeah, I guess you’re right.  Thanks, big sis!”

She left your room with a jovial wave.  As soon as the door closed behind her, you slumped down onto your bed as you removed the white mask from your face and placed it on your nightstand.  Exhaustion washed over you again, deeper this time than it was before.  It wasn’t even so much due to your quirk since you didn’t have to use very much of it this time.  Instead, your mind focused on Toga, replaying the conversation.  It filled you with a swath of competing emotions; pity, anger, frustration, helplessness, fear.  The feelings swirled in you making a rank stew in your soul, old and familiar.

This was just like before.

You shoved the feelings aside, unwilling to look too closely at them. You already had enough on your plate as it was… you didn’t want to dredge up more of the past.  It would only add more stress and it wouldn’t change anything.

You laid down again in the hopes that this time, finally, your sleep would be nightmare free and uninterrupted.

 * * * * *

The withdrawal-induced restlessness Dabi felt lasted throughout the day, making sleep near impossible.  To keep himself from going crazy, he forced his energy into cleaning up his space, despite his typical disdain for chores.  He straightened up his desk, took out the trash, and most importantly, did his laundry. It was overflowing and stank of mildew, and he was in desperate need of clean towels.  His bed was no better, reeking of sweat and infection and covered in chip crumbs. But while his body appreciated the movement, the lack of mental power the activities required did little to distract from intrusive, obsessive thoughts.

He wasn’t sure which thoughts he wanted to avoid more - thoughts of his family or thoughts of you.  The memories of family were old and familiar, but the emotions in them were raw, threatening to suck him in and shred him to pieces like it’d already done so many times before.  But thoughts of you weren’t much better, at least not to Dabi. He didn’t like the warmth he felt each time he thought of you, and yet he kept going back to that feeling, like opening the fridge to stare at that last piece of cake.  He was at war with himself, and he didn’t know how to fight it.

Somehow, with all of his coming and going from his room, he somehow managed to never run into you. He wasn’t entirely sure if that was a good thing or not, but like all other uncomfortable thoughts, his forced himself not to focus on it.  It shouldn’t be important.  You shouldn’t be important.  His mouth pressed into a thin line.  The number of times he had to tell himself that were becoming too many to count, and it never did seem to make much difference.  

The cleaning only occupied him for so long.  Towards the end of it he found himself sitting in his room, waiting for his clothes to finish drying so he could retrieve them.  He had laid back on his bed just for a moment, to stare at his phone. He woke up an hour and a half later, his mind muddled with jumbled dreams and memories.  Cigarette smoke, a child’s laughter, the sound of himself screaming in agony…

He shook his head to knock the unwanted fog from his brain and grabbed a smoke to soothe the shaking in his hands.  The cigarette was gone within a minute.  The haze still lingered though as every inch of Dabi’s nerves hummed and his gut clenched in discomfort.  So, he inhaled a second cigarette for good measure and followed it up with an electrolyte drink paired with a couple of antacids.  His laundry was likely done now; no point in letting it sit there and risk another League member touching his things.

With the laundry dry and sitting on his bed in a crumpled heap, he stared at the contents, a frown on his face.  Your towels were mingled with his, and the sight of it filled him with an uneasiness that had little to do with his withdrawal.  It looked entirely alien to him, intrusive in his personal space.  His stomach gave a weird flutter before giving way to a wave of nausea.

Stupid, he thought to himself.  They’re just fucking towels.

He began folding the first towel. It was half-assed in its effort and one hundred percent intentional, as if giving careful care to your items would give away something about himself he wanted to keep secret.  But even as he did so, intrusive curiosity crept into his mind.  How did you fold your towels?

Idiot.  He caught his wandering mind and reeled it back in forcefully, but it did little good. His mind was a master escape artist, running away to explore other unwanted thoughts without his permission as soon as his mental back was turned.

As he folded your items, his hands slowed slightly in their actions, taking in the feel of cotton on his fingers. He watched as he rolled the soft material between his thumb and forefinger while memories bubbled forth, broken and vague.  Waking up in the shower, sitting on the toilet with your towel over his head, feeling of your hands working the cotton over his wet hair. He tried not to think of your face, but of course not wanting it made it appear in his mind.  He remembered your eyes, the concern in them, and the memory filled him with a warmth that he was still struggling to understand, even as he tried to deny its presence. 

It was short-lived – the memory of your tender gaze soon faded away to a terrified one, and now he was remembering your scar.  A new thought came into his mind then, dark and plaguing. The look of fear you’d given him that night - did you wear that same frightened expression on your face when you were burned, marked by whatever asshole laid their hands on you?

Dabi could feel his body temperature begin to rise.

The last towel was folded, and he swiftly grabbed the pile and shoved it on top of his dresser as if were contaminated.  Contaminated with memories, contaminated with you…

He faltered for a moment, his anger disrupted by that strange sense of guilt that gnawed at him.  The unwelcome mental picture of you cowering in fear as flames licked your skin danced in his imagination.  No wonder you had been so utterly terrified of him that night. No wonder you’d been unable to look him in the eyes the next day…

Dabi caught himself staring at your things and forced himself to turn around to finish his laundry. He folded his clothes swiftly, not caring whether or not they were done nicely before shoving them into the dresser drawer. Then, with his clean towels in his arm, he went into the bathroom to give himself that much-needed shower.

 * * * * *

You woke up feeling groggier than usual as the orange-red glow of the late afternoon haze filtered into your room. As predicted, your sleep was restless and riddled with hazy uncomfortable dreams that instantly began to fade away as soon as you opened your eyes.  You sighed in annoyance as dissatisfaction slinked across your tired skin. It was as if you had slept the entire time with your body tensed, ready to run at a moment’s notice, and now you were feeling the effects. 

You got out of bed with a stretch to ease the stiffness in your muscles.  Maybe something to eat and drink could lift your spirits and wake your body up.  You slipped on your shoes and opened the door before remembering to grab your mask off of your nightstand.  Then, you left your room to trudge downstairs.

The smell of pizza greeted you as soon as you stepped out onto the main floor, and your stomach growled in response, your mouth watering.

“Y/N!” Toga cheered. “Did you take a nap?”

You frowned as your hand self-consciously went to your messy hair. Was it really that obvious?

“Yeah, I was pretty tired.” You confessed, as you tried to fix your stray strands.

“Are you feeling any better?” Magne asked.  You could tell she was asking about the ‘flu’ you were supposed to have.

You shrugged. “Yeah, a little…”

“And how about Dabi? You were treating him too, right?” Magne continued.

You felt embarrassment bubble in you, and you scratched at your cheek as a distraction.  “He’s doing okay… I think it’s hitting him harder, though. He’s probably going to need some more time to recover.”

“He came down here yesterday without a mask and everything.” Spinner grumbled. “Then decided to take a stroll.  He couldn’t be that bad, could he?”

You shrugged. “Stomach bugs are weird and vary from person to person.”

Shigaraki’s voice surprised you from behind.  “How’s his burn?”

He knew about that…?  Maybe Dabi said something the day before.  Either way, no point in lying about it now…

“It’s doing well... but it’s not completely healed yet.”

Shigaraki grunted and grabbed a slice of pizza from the open box sitting on the bar.

“Hey, Y/N!  You want some pizza?” Twice offered.

“Yes, that’d be-“

“She can’t eat pizza when she has the flu!” Toga scolded.  “She might throw it up.  She needs something simple!”

Your heart sank.  No pizza??

“No, it’s okay…” you started, your eyes staring at the perfect slice.

“I’ll go make you something, okay big sis?” Toga chirped as she bounded lightly towards the small kitchen behind the bar.

Oh… oh no….

“Oh, um… it’s okay Toga, I’m not really hungry…” you tried to call after her, but she was already gone and out of earshot.

You fiddled with your hands nervously.  Cooking was not one of Toga’s strong suits.  Fortunately, Kurogiri was present, watching the exchange.

“I’ll make sure she doesn’t burn down the kitchen.” He commented, as he followed after her.

You stood there awkwardly, strongly contemplating grabbing the entire pizza box and running away with it. But you’d just had that personal exchange with Toga earlier, so abandoning her when she was trying to do something nice for you probably wouldn’t go over well.

Damn it.  You were too nice for your own good sometimes.

On defeated feet, you walked over to the couch and sat down next to Compress who was reading a book. He put the item down as you sat next to him and gave you a smile.  “How nice of you to grace me with your company, little flower.”

You crossed your arms and sulked into the couch cushions, wishing they would swallow you up.  “Toga is cooking for me.”

“Oh dear, so I heard.” He commented.  “However, Kurogiri is supervising her.  Perhaps this time it won’t be so bad.”

“Kurogiri doesn’t eat.” You pointed out.

“True,” he laughed. “But perhaps you set your standards too high.  I never said he’d ensure that the food is good; however, his assistance may ensure that it is edible.”

“Don’t you use logic on me, Mr.” you replied, even as you tried to suppress a smile.

“Then perhaps a magic trick then?” he offered.  “As a distraction.”

“Sure.” You grinned.

A few minutes later, Toga came out with two steaming bowls sitting on a rectangular tray.

“Oh good! You’re still here!” Toga smiled.  “I made you soup!”

You stifled a groan as you stood up and stared at the contents.  It… didn’t look bad…. It looked like it was canned soup at least, which, all things considered, were one of the simplest things to make. Still, it had that a slight burned odor to it when the steam reached your nose.

“Why are there two bowls?” you asked.

“Oh!  One’s for you and one’s for Dabi.”  Toga explained.  Behind her, Magne chuckled at the table.  “He hasn’t come down to eat yet today so he’s probably hungry.”

“It was my suggestion.” Kurogiri stated.  “You are still sick after all, so it would be in the League’s interest if you and Dabi had your meals in your rooms until you are no longer contagious.”

“Maybe it can be like a little dinner date!” Toga added.

You fought the flush of hot heat that seemed to take over your insides.  “A what?”

The last thing you needed was the League thinking you and Dabi were dating.

The blonde girl giggled as she handed you the tray.  Her hands instantly went up to her hot cheeks, her eyes glazed over with infatuation. “What I wouldn’t give to have a private dinner date with Izuku!”

“Oh geez, not this again…” Spinner grumbled.

“Hey!” Toga shot at him.  “It’s rude to tease a girl in love!”

You were grateful that Toga was easily distracted, and you took the opportunity to make your escape. “O-Okay. I guess I’ll go take this upstairs then… Thank you, Toga.” You mumbled.

You walked out of the room quickly, the soup sloshing in the bowls and threatening to spill.  But you wanted to get out of there before things got even more awkward.  Toga wasn’t even the real concern – the real concern was Magne.  Her chuckle had not gone unnoticed by you, and she was a master conversationalist when she wanted to be.  The last thing you needed was more intrusive questions or implied statements, especially with everyone there to listen in.

You took the stairs instead of the elevator, not trusting the old rust bucket to run smooth enough with bowls of hot soup in front of you.

Dinner date.  You wanted to laugh.  Dabi certainly wasn’t the type to do dinner dates.  In fact, Dabi probably didn’t even date. He probably just hooked up with random girls whenever he felt like it.

Your stomach tightened into an uncomfortable knot.

It didn’t matter.  You weren’t his type anyway.  And he shouldn’t be yours, not with all of his baggage. And boy, did he seem to have a lot of baggage.  Besides, he didn’t need the pressure of someone pining over him while he struggled to keep himself together.  He needed someone he could trust.  He needed a friend.

You felt yourself start to calm as you centered yourself on that single fact.  He needed a friend. You could do that.  You’d already committed yourself to it.

You made it to your own room and set the tray on the floor outside your door so you could go in and grab your medical bag.  If you were going to take soup to Dabi, then you might as well treat his wounds and give him his pills.  It was about time for it anyway.  With your bag slung onto your shoulder and the tray once again in your hand, you went over to his door and knocked.

It opened and you froze, eyes wide, as a warm humid air wrapped you up in the scent of shampoo and body wash.

Dabi stood before you in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants that left little to the imagination.  Shit. It hadn’t even been a full five seconds and you were already staring at his crotch.  Hot embarrassment flooded you as you averted your eyes, only to get stuck on his glistening, bare form.  You’d seen him shirtless many times, had your hands on his body, even… but something about this moment was different.  Maybe it was the shower.  Maybe it was the simple - yet absolutely sinful - sweatpants.  Or maybe it was how he seemed to be carrying himself in this moment, like he was the king of his domain.  He was a living art piece, every angle of him stunning from the slope of his shoulders to the cut of his lean waist. Even his stitches looked beautiful, the light bouncing off of them like gems.  Whatever it was, Dabi seemed to be a thousand times hotter than you remember him being, and it left your brain feeling dumb as hot desire washed over you.

You were staring.  You knew you were staring but you couldn’t break the trance he seemed to put you in. Your eyes took in the cut of his cheekbones, the slope of his nose, the shape of his lips.   Aqua blue eyes stared at you in knowing amusement, grabbing you like the tide and pulling you in.  You could feel yourself floundering beneath his intense gaze as you struggled to get a hold of yourself.

“Uh…” you stuttered.

You were still staring.

“Hey, Doll­…” He greeted, a playful grin on his lips.  His voice washed over you, and you felt lightheaded.

This was so embarrassing.  If he had any doubts that you found him attractive before, then he certainly didn’t now.

“Hi.” You said dumbly.

His eyes broke contact with yours to look down.  “Hey-” His hand shot out to quickly grab the tilting tray, soup splashing messily over the sides of the bowls.

“Shit! Sorry, sorry.” You cursed, as you adjusted your hold. You kept your eyes down, unable to stare at him any longer.  “Can I come in?”

“Yeah.” 

Was that a chuckle you heard in his voice?  How dare he.

You crossed the threshold, only to find yourself even more smothered by the clean scent of his recent shower that permeated the entire space like a fog.  Beneath it, the faint hint of cigarette smoke was present, but it was muted.  The light in the room was dimmer than you remembered and you realized why – he had put one of his shirts over his shoddy lamp, reducing its brightness.  The humid warmth in the room was paired with a strange heavy silence.  Your eyes instantly checked his window and there was no billow of the curtains this time, no street noise coming forth.  Your breath froze in your throat for a moment as you realized – he remembered.  All the things that had bothered you this morning were modified for your arrival.  A weightlessness swelled in your chest, intertwining with the attraction you were still grappling with.  You set the tray down with shaky hands before wiping your sweaty palms onto your pants.

Dabi came to stand next to you with his towel on his shoulder, the warm bare skin of his chest brushing against your arm as he stared down at the bowls.  With his proximity so close and your own emotions running amok, it took every ounce of mental fortitude not to hug him right then and there.

“Did you make that?” he asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Oh, uh.. Toga did.” You finally said, as you moved slightly away from his bare skin.

“We should have let the tray fall.”  He stated as he stared at the contents with distaste.  You couldn’t help but laugh at his comment, and it helped clear some of the brain fog.  He gave you a soft glare.  “Why did you even take this?  You should have just said no.”

“Well, not all of us can be as nice as you, Dabi.” You teased.  “Besides, she wanted to do something nice for us because she thinks we’re sick.”  You explained.

“If I eat that I probably will be.” He retorted.

“Oh, come on… it’s probably not that bad… just a little smokiness to it.  That shouldn’t bother you, right?” You put a spoon into a bowl and handed it to him.

He gave you a deadpan look as you held the bowl against his chest, his hands refusing to take it. “I’m not eating it.”

“Hey, if I have to eat this, then so do you.” You glared.

“Like hell.” He replied. “Besides, I already have food here.”

You set the bowl down and stared at the bags on his desk.  “Yes, chips, beef jerky, and cigarettes!  So healthy.”

“The three basic food groups.” He agreed with a grin. He sat down in his desk chair, his legs spread wide as he slouched back.  It took extra effort to not let your eyes wander.  “Tell ya what, doll… you try it first.  If you don’t throw up or die, then maybe I’ll consider eating mine.”

You rolled your eyes at him and grabbed your bowl.  “Fine, you big baby.” 

You filled your spoon and raised it to him in a mock toast before placing it into your mouth.  He watched the motion in silent amusement, his eyes focused on your lips as they closed around the spoon.

It was awful.  Definitely burnt.  And the parts that weren’t burnt were overcooked, making the textures all wrong in your mouth.  You swallowed forcefully, suppressing a gag.

“Mmm… You look like you enjoyed that.”  Dabi teased.

“Hey at least I’ve actually tried it.” You shot back.  “So, I guess that means only one of us is a little bitch.” 

Dabi’s eyes widened, the light in them dancing in amusement, as a grin spread across his face. “You kiss your mother with that mouth, doll?  You’ve been with the League too long.”

You pointed your spoon at him.  “Don’t try to act like you know me.  And in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not dead.  So eat up.”  You picked up his bowl again and held it under his nose. By this point, you knew the soup wasn’t really that edible, but now you were determined to have him suffer with you.

The smell wafted up and he wrinkled his nose.  He pushed the bowl away back towards you.  “I don’t think so.”

You narrowed your eyes at him.  “You said you’d try it if I did.”

“I said I’d consider it.”  He replied. “It’s been considered and denied.”

“You’re an ass.” You pouted. “It really is awful though…” you confessed.  “and she had Kurogiri with her, too.  Like… how?”

“Kurogiri doesn’t eat.” Dabi replied.

You laughed.  “That’s what I told Compress!”

Your conversation was interrupted by a loud, hungry rumble in your gut.

A low chuckle rumbled from Dabi’s chest that made your heart pound and your flesh feel warm.  “C’mon doll, don’t torture yourself.” He said. “Why don’t we just go get a bite to eat. There’s nothing keeping us locked up in here.”

Toga’s words echoed in your head.  Dinner date.  Oh geez, if she or Magne saw you two leaving the premises together, you’d never hear the end of it.  The offer was tempting though, and you were pretty sure Dabi was starting to get tired of his snacks.  Junk food could only satisfy for so long; at some point he needed a proper meal.

But something nagged at you as you stared at the man in front of you.  He seemed to be doing okay at first glance… his recent shower certainly seemed to lift his spirits.  But you had been too distracted by his attractiveness earlier that you hadn’t taken the time to really assess him.  Now, you could see the exhaustion still in his face, could see the small wiggle of his leg and the drumming of his fingers on the table.   You checked the time on your phone – no doubt your quirk and the pills were beginning to wear off.  But how far along that was, you couldn’t really say; it was hard to tell with Dabi; he didn’t show his pain very easily.

You knew your appetite would disappear once you pushed yourself into sensory overload.  But Dabi couldn’t wait, even if he might try to play it off that he could.  More importantly, you didn’t want to try to deal with a withdrawal-suffering Dabi out in public. Your heart sank slightly. Goodbye delicious dinner, for the second time that night.

“…I should probably treat you first.” Your eyes landed on his bag of goods as your stomach rumbled again. “But maybe a snack would be good.” You confessed.  You felt embarrassed for asking, especially after the big show you’d just point on… but pride had to take a back seat before your stomach ate itself.

His blue eyes stared at you for a long moment.  You could feel your skin start to prickle under the weight of them.

“Sure, doll.”  He finally said.  He rummaged through one of the bags until he found what he was looking for under a bag of spicy chips.  “Is this your style?”

He tossed you a prepackaged muffin about the size of a softball.  You couldn’t fight the smile that blossomed across your face.  “Yeah, thanks.”  You opened up the wrapping and began breaking off pieces of it.  “You want some?” you offered, holding the muffin towards him.

He shook his head. “Nah.  Don’t feel much like eating.”

You broke off half of the muffin for him anyway.  “I still need to give you your pills, so you should eat something first.  Besides, this is too big for me to finish by myself anyway.” 

Was it a lie?  Of course. You were starving.  Did Dabi know that you were lying?  Of course.  But he took the other half of the muffin anyway.  You sat on the edge of his bed while he sat in his chair as the two of you ate together in silence for a moment. As you ate, your eyes wandered around his room.

That was when you noticed it.

 “Are those my towels?” you asked. 

Dabi looked over at his dresser as he stuffed the last of the muffin into his mouth.  “Yeah.  They’re clean now.”

“Thank you…” you replied. Your eyes scanned the room, taking in the details.  “You cleaned up…”

Dabi shrugged. “Don’t sound so surprised. I’m not a complete slob.”

You stared at him as he began fidgeting with a pack of cigarettes, tapping the box on the table, flipping it over, and tapping the other end.  Over and over it somersaulted, and you wondered if he was craving one right now.  Why didn’t he just take one out and light it up?

Was Dabi… being considerate?

Then again, the action didn’t come as much of a surprise to you as it might have before.  He’d been more willing to do small acts of kindness ever since the night of his withdrawal.  Bringing ramen.  Adjusting his room for your sensory overload.

Now this.

Was it fueled by guilt? Or did he actually care?

He looked like he was waiting for something.  You watched as he rubbed at his scarred arm with his free hand, irritation flashing across his eyes.  Of course. He was waiting for you and your quirk. You ate your muffin faster.  As soon as it had disappeared into your mouth, you reached for your bag and took out the pill bottle.  His eyes were on it instantly, the shaking in his leg stilled by the sight of it, his shoulders releasing some of their tension.

“Here.” You offered, handing him his pills.  He took them and swallowed them dry before opening up a beverage and taking a swig.

Dabi eyed the bottle in your hand as you closed it.  “That’s looking awfully low there, isn’t it?”

You put the container back in your bag, enclosing it in a zippered space.  “It’ll be enough to last us through tomorrow morning.”

“That’s cutting it real close, don’tcha think?” he replied.

You looked up to see his brow furrowed in concern and offered him a reassuring smile.  “It is.  But I’ll be picking up the refills tomorrow before our evening session, so there’s nothing to worry about.  Now let’s take a look at your back real quick.”

He stood up and dragged his chair over to where you sat and straddled the seat with his back facing you. The bandage was still on, but you could tell it had gotten wet in the shower.  You’d have to be careful when changing it this time, since the bits of skin that were starting to heal might reopen.

You applied your quirk first around the bandages, then began to delicately remove the wet gauze and tape. Your fingers were cold on Dabi’s skin and a small shiver ran up his spine at the sensation of your touch.  The wound didn’t show any signs of infection or fresh damage, so you continued business as usual, applying the antiseptic followed by fresh gauze.  As you patched him up, your eyes kept drifting to your towels, thinking about what had happened that night.  There was something important you’d been meaning to ask him.  Something you had to know.

“I… have a question.” You ventured.

“Hm?” Dabi responded, his head turning slightly to the sound of your voice.

“The next day… after I helped you out that one night… was there anything… off?  About you specifically?” you asked.

There was a long pause and you could tell Dabi was thinking heavily, which only made the dread in your gut sink in deeper.

“I couldn’t feel anything.” He finally admitted. 

“I’m not talking about the pain.  I’m talking about… I don’t know.  Anything else.”

“I know.” He replied. “When I woke up, I couldn’t feel anything.”

Your brow furrowed and the dread hardened into a stone.  “…what does that mean?”

“It means I didn’t care about a thing, doll.  Everything was turned off.” He was facing away from you and in that moment, you wished he wasn’t – you desperately wanted to see the expression on his face.  Your hands felt clammy as you processed his words.

“You mean your emotions?” you clarified.  You needed to understand more.  You needed to know how bad it was.  “What… did it feel like?”

“Empty.”

You finished putting the last bandage on him but you barely noticed as your vision became unfocused, your thoughts whirling.  Holy shit. You had turned off his emotions?  You supposed in hindsight it made sense, since it was likely his memories and the emotions attached to them that were torturing him that night.  Why else would he have been blabbering incoherent apologies as if he were desperately trying to atone for something? But still… the severity of that made your blood run cold. Emotions were everything, contrary to what some people might think. They fuel how people think, how they act, how they react… entire personalities – entire identities are built around how emotions are felt and how they are dealt with.  You very well could have entirely erased Dabi as a person. In fact, you likely did, at least temporarily.

You swallowed the hard lump in your throat and tried to calm your panicked breathing.  “…How long did it last?”

He was quiet again, and the silence was worse than anything.

“Please tell me.” You begged.  “How long?”

“Hours.”

Your heart was racing and your ears ringing.  Your eyes began to sting but you fought it, focusing on a patch of scarred flesh on his back to distract yourself, memorizing its pattern.  You didn’t want to cry in front of him. Not again.  And certainly not twice in one day.  You wanted to apologize, to beg his forgiveness, but you couldn’t make the words come out, not without your emotions spilling out with them.  Instead, you forced yourself into action, treating his scars with your quirk. 

There was so much more you wanted to know. How did he get his emotions back?  What did it feel like? Was it slow, or at all at once? Did he feel relieved?

Did it hurt?

But you couldn’t bring yourself to ask those questions, no matter how badly you wanted to know, no matter how badly you wanted to understand.  They were too personal, and you could already tell by Dabi’s growing reluctance that he didn’t want to talk about it any further.

You’d apologize to him. At some point, once your emotions were under control, you’d apologize.

You finished numbing his back and shoulders, even tracing down his triceps a little.  “Turn around,” you instructed.

He did as you asked, adjusting himself in the chair so he was now facing you.  You avoided looking at him, the shame and guilt far too heavy for you to lift your eyes.  Unbeknownst to you, a frown pulled at his brow, his lips.  You wore your emotions so plainly…

You took his hand in yours and continued your quirk as your skin began to prickle and sting. The sound of the shower dripping in the bathroom was louder now. Dabi shifted slightly in his chair and the scraping sound against the floor was like nails on a chalkboard.  The odors in the room went from pleasant to offensive.

“I gotta question for ya,” Dabi suddenly ventured.  “Did you change my clothes that night?”

Your hands faltered and you glanced up at his face before you could catch yourself.  His eyes had a glint in them you couldn’t quite place in your distracted mental state.  You felt embarrassment creep across your skin.

“I did.  I had to get you into the shower before you combusted.” You replied as you continued to treat him, your hands on his collarbone. The feel of it was so familiar now…

“I was naked?”

“Only for a moment!” you replied.  “You were in your boxers for most of it, but I had to change you out of those after the shower.” God, this entire conversation was so embarrassing… why did he have to ask about this of all things?

“…did ya peek?” he asked.

Your mouth struggled like a fish out of water for a moment as you glared at him.  “NO!” You finally exclaimed.  “Of course, I didn’t!  Why would you even…”  but then you saw the grin on his face and you realized he was teasing you. 

You playfully punched his arm.  “You’re an asshole.” You fumed.

He laughed.  “That didn’t even hurt.” He mocked.

“Of course it didn’t, idiot. I already used my quirk there.” You shot back.  “Now stay still so I can get your damn face.”

“So feisty…” he murmured.

Shit.  With your senses heightened, you could almost feel the vibration in his voice, as if he were closer to you than he actually was. For the briefest moment, it distracted you from the growing pain of your scar, from the sound of the drip drip from the bathroom shower.  You wondered what it would feel like to have those words uttered against your skin, his hot breath warming your flesh, the feel of his rough lower lip brushing…

You clenched your jaw until you nearly gave yourself a headache, forcing the intrusive thoughts out of your mind.  You weren’t here for this.  You were here to treat him and get out of his space.  You weren’t his type.  You repeated it to yourself like a mantra, a prayer, a reminder to the illogical part of you that wanted to follow the lure of his voice.  Why did he have to be such a flirt?  It didn’t surprise you, but it certainly left you feeling confused when his actions and words sometimes contradicted themselves.

All it meant was that he was getting comfortable with you again. He was treating you like a friend, and friends teased all the time.  Right?

His eyes watched you closely as your hands caressed his jaw, relieving the ache there.  You seemed lost in your thoughts and while you certainly didn’t look comfortable, you also didn’t look too be too horribly in pain. You were doing better today.  Still, your fingers danced quickly across his skin, skating under his eyes which he instinctively closed, and barely touching his lower lip.  It happened far too quickly before the presence of you disappeared, and it left him feeling empty.  How badly he wanted to grab your hands right then and put them back onto his face. 

When he opened his eyes again, your own eyes were downcast as you stretched your fingers slightly.

“You okay?” he ventured. The question sounded odd coming from him, even to his own ears.

You looked up at him then, and you could see he was concerned. That’s right… he knew about your quirk and your scar now.  You clasped your hands in your lap to keep them from shaking.  Shaking from the pain you were feeling, shaking from the fear of your own thoughts and desires.

“I’m fine.” You lied. Did he know you were lying with this too?

He knew.  In fact, you’d given him the same false words he always gave you.  It was like looking into a mirror.

“You don’t gotta do the legs.” He offered.  “I’m not dressed for it anyway.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You chided.  “Of course I’m going to do your legs.  The better I treat you, the better you can rest.  And your body needs rest to heal your burn.”

He noticed that you made no comment on his withdrawal, which a part of him appreciated; it helped him avoid the discomfort of shame that was always associated with it. Still…

“It’s not like I’m going anywhere, doll.  I won’t be needing them.  Besides, the drugs help.” He replied.

You eyed him for a moment, assessing.  “How about I just do your calves then?” you bartered.

He assessed you in return before he gave a small half-smirk.  “Deal.”

By the time you’d treated his calves down to the tops of his feet, you were definitely grateful you didn’t have to do any more.

PING……..PING……

You rubbed at the bridge of your nose, feeling the onset of a headache as you skirted just shy of overload. You closed your eyes, hoping maybe the lack of visual stimulation might make the auditory more bearable.  Or at least bearable enough that you could actually move your body instead of feeling frozen.  But it only made it worse, allowing your brain to hyperfixate on it. You covered your ears against it as you struggled to find your way out of it, to regain control of yourself.

While you lost yourself in your senses, Dabi watched you in displeasure.  He’d made sure to have everything ready before you showed up.  He even made sure not to light up a cigarette, as much as that had grated on him, since he knew the smell would linger long after. But clearly, something was bothering you.  What had he missed?

He watched, waiting, giving you time to figure yourself out or ask for help while he secretly tried to decode the mystery.  Your eyes were closed, your hands over your ears.  Was it multiple sensory attacks?  You flinched again.  And again. There was a rhythm.  So, it was something you were hearing.

Curiously, Dabi closed his own eyes listening for anything that stood out.  Slowly, the quiet sound of water dripping greeted his ears like a whisper.  He opened his eyes just in time to see your flinch match with the sound.

That was it.

“It’s the shower.” He commented. 

It wasn’t a question – it was a statement.  You opened your eyes and looked at him with surprise before giving a nod, your hands still over your ears.  He knew his shower leaked for a bit after he used it, but he’d gotten so used to it that he just tuned out the sound by this point.  But for you… especially after using your quirk on him…

Why didn’t you just get up and leave?  Why stay here if it was bothering you this much?  Obviously, you wanted to get away from it…

Maybe you couldn’t.  Maybe, for some reason, you were stuck in what you were experiencing, unable to find your way out.

Dabi could relate to that.

And he didn’t like it.

He stood up and closed the bathroom door before returning to sit in the chair in front of you, waiting.

You could still hear it. But it was manageable now, muffled. Quieter.  You could feel yourself start to process the rest of what you were feeling.  The pain on your back; the feel of your clothes, your hair; the smell of Dabi’s body wash, fresh linen… cigarettes.  Slowly, your hands lowered from your ears as you focused on each sense, identifying all you recognized.  The world was still loud around you, but at least you could somewhat function again. Slowly, you opened your eyes to see him watching you through an unreadable expression.

“Better?” he asked.

“Much.” You replied. “Thank you.  Again.”

“It’s fine.”

A heavy, awkward quiet filled the space, and in that moment, despite Dabi’s kindness, all you wanted was to be back safely in your room.  Maybe it was because you were feeling overwhelmed by your own emotions, unable to properly control how your heart pounded around him, or how you couldn’t keep your eyes off him. Or maybe it was the way he kept looking at you, his expression unreadable yet his gaze intense, as if you were all that he was focused on and he was determined to discover all of your secrets.

Either way, you felt an ache grow within you, threatening to drown you. But you couldn’t focus on it, couldn’t dismantle it or bury it, not while your brain fought the senses overwhelming you. You could handle one or the other… but you couldn’t handle both.

You needed the comfort of your room; you needed your safe space.

“I’m… going to go lay down.” You said quietly, as you grabbed your bag.  It felt heavy in your hand.

If Dabi noticed the shift in your mood, he didn’t say so.  Instead, he stood from his seat and shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants.

“Yeah.  Me too.” He replied.

Despite the suddenly aloof atmosphere, he still walked you to his door.  After you left, he leaned his back against the cold wood and ran his hand down his face.

So much for not caring…

________________________________________________

Part 10 ________________________________________________

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[whitherliliesbloom]

You follow the scent trail of sweet flowers...until you bump into a mysterious bijou girl with starspun hair and lustrous lavender eyes. Mysterious girl far from home: “O-oh- I’m sorry... The way you’re looking at me as if you want to d-duel... W-well, i-if you in-insist..”

@windupnamazu​‘s Pokemon!AU Illya headcanons under the cut! It’s very long, so hang tight! Note the headcanons may be subject to change or updates in the future ;w; Drawings and designs of Illya’s outfits by @rosepinkwol​.

Illya’s personality is about similar with her ffxiv canon verse. Shy, reserved, very sweet and gentle. But she’s considerably more cheerful in her pokemon au form and less emotionally volatile / depressed. She still does have some lingering emotional and mental health issues though, which will be covered later. 

She became a pokemon trainer primarily to explore the world and meet more pokemon. Dueling and beating others isn’t a real priority for her, though she still does it to earn money. 

While Illya bets pokemon dollars in normal battles with trainers she is unfamiliar with or in official tournaments, she doesn’t like gambling real money when battling with friends. Instead, she’d often suggest that the loser has to treat the winner to a meal.

Extremely good cook. You’ll never go hungry or be unsatisfied in the tummy if you go camping with her. Just don’t mention that you like spicy foods or she’ll almost always assume that you’d be able to handle the same level of spice as she does (pro-tip: you probably can’t). 

She smells like the most gorgeous mix of flowers - no thanks to her Comfey often playing with her hair and wrapping flowers around her. 

She takes pokemon welfare very seriously due to her upbringing and background. She thus has a habit of releasing pokemon she captured that she feels would either be happier out in the wild or are showing signs of stress in her care. That seldom happens though, due to how loving and caring she is towards all her pokemon - most of them end up becoming very attached and even protective of her.

In the same way, she never forces a pokemon to battle, evolve or do anything they don’t want to, even if they are strong. 

Illya knows a lot about pokemon care and the likes / dislikes / proper way to take care of different types of pokemon. Thus, she makes friends with pokemon a lot easier than she does humans.

The very definition of ‘gotta catch em all!’..... but only if the pokemon wants to be with her. She loves all pokemon, regardless of her personal tastes and will treat any pokemon she comes across with respect and care as long as they mean no harm to her. 

Knows basic first aid for both humans and pokemon. And much like in canon, her pain tolerance is incredibly high.

She’s very particular about money. Short-change her, and she’ll be very very cross. After all, less money means less treats she can buy for her pokemon. 

In general, she’s dainty and graceful... however she is a tad more clumsy in her pokemon au form compared to canon. 

Illya is the definition of gap moe: her sweet, cute and angelic demeanor causes a lot of people to underestimate her. When they challenge her to a battle, they are later shocked by just how ferocious and skilled she is as a trainer. 

Illya has become quite famous everywhere she travels - owing to her infectiously sweet, genuine and kind nature contrasting her ferocity and skill in pokemon battles. 

She’s extremely intelligent, observant and intuitive. She often stays on the defensive for long periods of time before she works out a strategy or her opponent pokemon’s weak points before going in for the (metaphorical) kill. Reckless trainers who don’t plan accordingly are the quickest to lose to her. 

She WILL order her pokemon to use stun debuffs on your pokemon (sleep, charm etc). And she won’t apologize for it.... until the battle is over. 

As stated, since Illya doesn’t especially care about dueling or becoming known as the best pokemon trainer, she often doesn’t see the need to challenge gym leaders to duels unless her friends urge her to, or if beating a gym leader is required for her to be able to advance in her journey. 

Illya’s an extremely good sport. She’ll congratulate you wholeheartedly if you defeat her, and will also wish you ‘good fight!’ if she beats you.

Gives the best hugs - especially to her pokemon. It’s not uncommon for people to see her giving group hugs to her pokemon after a particularly tough or difficult duel.  

Illya actually has a lot of pokemon, many captured but also many that she befriended and didn’t officially ‘catch’ until they decided to follow her home. She carries a fair bunch around with her, but also left a good number of her pokemon at home to live peacefull with her father. Of course, she only enters battle with 6 pokemon at maximum, as per usual pokemon battle rules. Relationships with her main pokemon team and other notable pokemon detailed below!

While Illya is generally not one to fuss too much about her appearance or fashion, she does care about making presentable. As such, she has a more colorful and varied self-made wardrobe in her pokemon au form than she does in canon. She does however, have a favorite outfit that has become trademark to her:

A loose cloak that is fastened either with a pin or buckle, and a long flowing scarf that sways freely in the wind as she walks. Underneath her cloak, she wears a knee-length dress with a sailor collar and elbow-length sleeves and black fingerless gloves. She often switches between various hair accessories such as flower corsages, ribbons and pins. However, her brightly colored hairbands are perhaps the most well remembered to those who meet her.

Some people speculate that her scarves were sewn from the fur that was shed from her Cinccino, hence how warm and fluffy that look. Her hip length pure white hair is wrapped against her neck when she wears her scarf. 

Illya’s trademark outfit in the pokemon au has two different versions: one that she wears in the spring and summer, while the other is worn in autumn and winter. 

Her spring / summer attire is lighter- both in color and fabric. Her baby pink cloak is fastened with a flower pin atop her pink and purple dress. Intricate flower patterns adorns her skirt, and she wears ankle-length socks and purple flats. She also wears flower earrings 

Her autumn / winter attire is made of thicker, warmer material - specifically her purple cloak which has a star print and is fastened with a buckle. Her dress is a darker blue in color, with constellation and star patterning around the edge of her skirt. There are rumors that the underside of her skirt shimmers like a starry night sky... but you’d have to be out of your mind to want to look up it to confirm said rumor. Instead of socks, she wears white tights and dark blue shoes. She also wears a star hairclip and earrings to go with her blue hairband. 

Illya does not like feeling cold, and thus usually travels around wearing her cloak and scarf... however, she will on occasion take them off indoors out of respect - such as when she’s eating a meal at somebody’s house as a guest. 

Illya was born to two loving parents - Cocona, a lalafellin woman who worked as a nurse at the nearest pokemon center to their home in a small, quaint town and Lachlan, an ex-pokemon trainer who retired shortly after having his name entered into the hall of fame, now settled down to live with his wife and daughter.

Cocona’s job as a nurse gave her a lot of knowledge on how to take care of pokemon, and together with her husband set up a daycare / nursery for both young and old pokemon alike, where they spent their days taking care of many different species of pokemom. 

Born under those circumstances, Illya was exposed to pokemon since a very young age, and began playing with and interacting with pokemon as a toddler. She also quickly learned to help around the daycare, learning more about each different type of pokemon and how to best take care of each of their needs. 

At age 9, her mother fell ill with a life-threatening disease, and in order to allow his wife to see the world before she passed on, Lachlan took Cocona away on a one year journey outside their hometown, leaving Illya alone with her aunt (Cocona’s younger sister) to take care of the pokemon daycare in their absence. Unfortunately, Illya’s aunt had a somewhat sour relationship with her sister, and was neglectful towards Illya, often leaving her unattended for extended periods of time.

Illya sought refuge and comfort from the pokemon she was tasked to take of, and for a long time, they were the only ones Illya talked to. She’d take the pokemon out flower picking, stargazing. She ate with them, slept with them and vowed to take care of them to the best of her abilities for the sake of her parents.

On a particularly terrible stormy night, the land surrounding her home became flooded with rainwater and seeped into her house. While Illya scrambled to keep the water out, her pokemon were thrown into a panic, and eventually one of the baby pidoves flew out and away from her home. Illya chased after the pidove into the woods despite the rain, the wind so strong that it caused her umbrella to be carried away into the wind. 

As she ran after the pidove, she slipped and tumbled down a hill, breaking her leg. Now injured, scared and alone in the middle of the forest, the young Illya cried for help, but her voice was drowned out by the sound of the pouring rain and thunder. With nothing but the darkness of the night staring back at her and fearing that a wild animal or hostile pokemon may be lurking about and attack her, Illya attempted to crawl her way back home, but the pain from attempting to stand up only causes her to collapse once more.

It felt like the entire world had abandoned her, and just as she heard a strange noise from the shadows and feared the worse, a mimikyu approaches her from the dark and sat by her, watching over her and shielding her with its appendages, as if to reassure her that it won’t let any harm come to her. 

She was found later in the morning by the people from the nearest town, who had gone over to her house to check on her only to find she wasn’t in, her pokemon panicking and gesturing towards the forest for the townspeople to look for her. The pidove was hold safely afterwards too, trembling as it took shelter in a tree. 

The incident left Illya well traumatized, and stemmed her own growing self-hatred and anxiety which would only grow worse as she grew to become a teenager. 

She doesn’t like talking much about what happened to her as a child, and she only ever mentions the incident to people she truly cares about and trusts. And if anybody were to ever upset her by being pushy and asking her about it when she doesn’t want to share, her Mimikyu would be the first to smack the offender in the head. 

Her main pokemon team underwent a few changes over the years, but for the most part now, it’s fixed and she rarely switches members of her party out for another pokemon unless she thinks it’s really necessary.

One of the first and oldest member of her current pokemon party. Illya and her Mimikyu are inseparable. 

Mimikyu had in truth been watching her since she was but a child, enviously admiring how happy her family and her pokemon in their daycare had been together. He had, on multiple occasions, attempted to show himself in order to be part of their family, but was always too cowardly to do so. He would always scurry away whenever Illya or her parents would approach, hiding in the shadows and only ever watching from a distance. He watched her even as she was left alone, and on the fateful night of that storm where Illya would find herself lost and injured in the forest, Mimikyu folllowed her.

Watching Illya cry alone in the rain, he felt a surge of protectiveness and compelled him to finally step out of the shadow to comfort and protect her through the night. Perhaps in that instance, he saw himself in Illya, someone who was scared, alone and just wanted to be loved. He could relate to Illya’s loneliness, and loved her for the way she would love and accept any pokemon, regardless of their appearance or strength.

Since that day, Mimikyu hasn’t left Illya’s side and is one of the most protective pokemon of her. 

Mimikyu can often be found sitting on Illya’s head when he’s out of his pokeball and traveling around with her. He will extend his appendage out to grab any food that she offers him, or even to swat away anyone who gets too close to Illya.

Compared to other Mimikyu, Illya’s Mimikyu isn’t at all aggressive towards Pikachu. It is however, very shy and embarrassed and will attempt to hide if it spots one. 

As Mimikyu only really cares about what Illya thinks, he won’t attack anyone who catches a glimpse of him under his disguise. But he will be very, very grouchy.

He gets along decently well with all her other pokemon, though it is sometimes jealous of how big and strong Corviknight is.

From a distance or as a shadow, Illya’s scarf often resembles the appendage Mimikyu extends out. Once, while the pair were out in the woods and Mimikyu was sitting on Illya’s head, it extended its appendage to grab hold of a treat Illya was offering it. A distant passerby who could not see clearly in the dark of the night mistook their silhouetted figure as being a monster - or a near and frightening mythical pokemon. The myth is still circulating to this day, and Illya has no idea that it had been caused by her and her Mimikyu.  

Mimikyu doesn’t like going inside his pokeball - not that Illya would force him to. He’d of course, prefer to spend time outside with Illya. He especially never leaves her sight while she sleeps, often snuggling up to her beneath the covers or otherwise making himself comfortable in her scarf that she set aside. 

He’s surprisingly, and scarily very physically strong - able to grab hold of other pokemon and even other people several hundred times larger than itself. He uses this to his advantage by grabbing people who get too close to Illya and shoving them away - and he’s not at all gentle about it. 

Comfey shares Illya’s love and passion for flowers and it’s not uncommon to see her Comfey drifting around her, weaving flowers into her hair as she walked. The scent of the flower crowns Comfey weaves makes people who wear them feel relaxed, so she often wraps Illya in flowers whenever the girl is feeling particularly stressed or uncomfortable. 

Comfey loves decorating hotel rooms and campsites with flowers she picks from the wild, and she seems to be particularly generous when it comes to giving out her flowers to others. Friendly, sweet and kind - it’s almost as if Comfey was an extension of Illya herself sometimes. 

Comfey is the resident healer of Illya’s pokemon roster, able to not only heal the ailments of humans but also the other pokemon. She is especially active when Illya is helping out at pokemon centers or giving first aid to others. When Illya is in pain, Comfey often goes into a tearful panic. 

Corviknight’s appearance almost always gives other people a heart attack. Nobody ever expects someone as small, cute and demure as Illya to have such an intimidating looking pokemon. But she does, and she is just as affectionate to him as she is with her other pokemon. Strangely, Corviknight seems to be very uncooperative to everyone except her.

Once lacking a flying type pokemon, Illya almost fell to her death after being pushed off a cliff. Corviknight caught her in midair and hid her under his wings after he landed, guarding her with a ferocious glare even as other humans attempted to check on her. Ever since, he’s ever a watchful guardian to her, glaring from behind her back even as she smiles sweetly at others. 

Corviknight also serves as Illya’s main mode of transportation when she isn’t able to walk herself. As Illya loves taking her time to explore on her own two feet, she tries to not overly rely on Corviknight... sometimes, it can’t be helped however - such as when she needs to cross large bodies of water.

Interestingly, Corviknight bears a striking resemblance in both his aesthetic and personality to a hyuran pokemon trainer of dark skin and black hair who has secret romantic feelings for Illya. 

Bellossom met Illya while the girl was traveling through a tropical area that has been haunted by rain clouds and dark skies for the past several days. Illya was first attracted to bellossom because of the flowers on her head, and had watched as the Bellossom danced and chanted, mesmerized when the rainclouds pulled apart and sunlight began to shine through.

The two quickly bonded, with Bellossom teaching Illya her sun summoning dance before finally, she decided to join Illya together on her journey.

She wasn’t exactly meant to be a part of Illya’s team, and for a while, she was but a mere travel companion. However, Illya noticed just how active and enthusiastic Bellossom was to battle - or perhaps she saw it as an opportunity to show off her dance to more people. Regardless, bellossom hence became a new member of Illya’s pokemon team replacing Cincinno. 

If it wasn’t obvious enough, Bellossom loves to dance. She is rarely ever seen not at least swaying to its own beat while she’s outside her pokeball, and she becomes very eager when other pokemon or humans show an interest in learning her dance. 

Evolved from an eevee that Illya had taken care of since she was a child, it alongside Mimikyu are the two most senior members of her current pokemon team and also the longest to have known her. 

Sylveon is a free spirit, much like he had been when he was still a baby eevee. He enjoys roaming about a fair bit, though he takes care to not stray too far from Illya. 

He’s very attached to Illya and much like other sylveons, understands his trainer’s emotional state well by wrapping his feelers around her hand while walking with her. Whenever Illya gets sad or upset, he often likes sitting in her lap, purring and nuzzling himself against her in an attempt to make her feel better. He also wraps his feelers around her in an attempt to soothe and calm her down whenever she cries.

Despite his adorable appearance, he’s actually very daring and fearless, never once backing down from a confrontation or fight with other pokemon even if they are multiple times his size or even if they are a type that holds an advantage against him. 

Illya’s Sylveon is also very attached to Alphinaud’s Espeon, nuzzling himself to espeon whenever Alphinaud has it out. 

Gardevoir was one of the latest pokemon to have joined Illya’s team. She is an extremely elegant, regal but also stoic member of the party. 

Like other Gardevoir, she is able to read the future - and it was through her prediction that she foresaw her meeting with Illya and prematurely approached her. She is also able to distort dimensions and create black holes, though she rarely ever does the latter. 

Much like Mimikyu and Corviknight, Gardevoir is extremely protective of Illya despite not having known her for as long as the others have and would not hesitate to expand her own psychic powers to her fullest if she feels like Illya may be in any sort of danger.

Though powerful, she doesn’t tend to like roaming about much and mostly stays within her pokeball unless Illya calls her out for food or battle. 

Gardevoir’s demeanor and headstrong personality reminds Illya a lot of her late mother, and perhaps there is some deeper reason for why Gardevoir herself feels such a strong need to protect Illya as if she were her own kin. 

Some of her pokemon are carried around with her as travel companions, only occasionally taking part in battles, while others are left at home to be cared for by her father.

TRAVEL COMPANIONS [to be updated as au is expanded on]

Vulpix: A male vulpix that Illya carries around and cuddles with during the winter or when she’s traveling through locations with colder climates. Out of all her pokemon who are not part of her main party of 6, vulpix is probably one of the most active and frequently called forth in battles that aren’t official tournament leagues or competitions. Illya also calls her vulpix out whenever fire is needed. He is brave and enthusiastic and hopes to one day evolve himself into Ninetales. 

Dragonair: A gentle male dragonair that Illya caught near a lake one day during clear skies. It had dragged her into the sky and allowed her to ride on his back, soaring high into the clouds before dipping back down towards the waters. However, Illya lost her balance and fell into the water. He still feels bad about it to this day. He likes to curl around her to sleep.

Cinccino: A playful female cinccino who evolved from one of Illya’s minccino that she has been caring for as a child. She was once an active member of Illya’s party, but now is more of a travel companion who rarely ever battles now. Some people believe that Illya used the fur shed from Cinccino’s scarf to sew her own trademark scarf that she’s seen traveling around with now. 

Rowlet: Though Illya gets along with many pokemon in general, birds in particular seem to be very fond of her. This male rowlet followed Illya as she was traveling through the woods and eventually became a part of travel party. He doesn’t see very many fights but he does love to cuddle and is very affectionate towards not just Illya but other pokemon and trainers.

Alcremie: A shy female Alcremie who offers sweets to new friends she meets. Illya often has reservations about eating the cream and berries secreted from her, but after being assured that it doesn’t at all hurt her Alcremie and that it’s offering of sweets is a sign of affection, Illya has started learning to indulge more in sweet foods more and more. Illya doesn’t have the heart to tell Alcremie she prefers spicy food, though. 

Trevenant: A female trevenant that attacked a woodcutter that Illya saved while traversing through the forest. Convinced at first that Illya intended on harming the forest, it proceeded to trap her in a cage of trees until she was finally convinced to release Illya after witnessing the way Illya refused to let her vulpix burn the trees down just to escape. She follows Illya around and holds a lot of respect for the way Illya cared for nature and the environment. 

Hatterene: A reclusive Hatterene Illya met during her travel. She once hated Illya, chasing her by emiting a strong psychic aura much like she does with other strangers. Upon sensing Illya’s lack of hostility and own gentle soul however, she eventually calmed down enough to allow Illya to approach. She is very moody and temperamental.

NOTABLE POKEMONS AT HOME [not including pokemon that belong to Lachlan or pokemon that belong to other people being taken care of]. List is NOT exhaustive!

Cleffa: A female cleffa born from Cocona’s retired Clefairy. As Cocona passed away shortly before cleffa was hatched, Illya became her owner / trainer instead. Though cleffa wishes to someday be a part of Illya’s team, grow stronger and evolve herself, Illya hasn’t quite allowed herself to let go of her mother’s death, and hence prefers to keep cleffa safe at home. It’s one of the rare instances where Illya has explicitly gone against a pokemon’s wishes, even if out of a genuine love and protectiveness of it.

Musharna: A female Musharna that eats the nightmares of Lachlan and any guests who come to stay over at their house. She sleeps a lot and frankly cannot care any less about battling. 

Chimecho: A male Chimecho that Illya caught and took along with her on her journey for a while, before leaving him at home with Lachlan. He likes hanging himself to the roof of the house and swinging in the breeze. Not hearing chimecho’s wind chimes tells Lachlan and Illya that something is wrong. 

Azurill: A male baby Azurill that Illya rescued. He is very timid and lacks a lot of confidence. He wants to get better at doing battle, but still has a lot of training to do before it can get to that point. 

Beedrill: A male beedrill that was evolved from a weedle - the very first pokemon Illya ever caught in the wild on her own. She’s trained him personally as she grew up, and he saw many of her clumsy behavior and less experienced days. He’s sort of retired now, spending his days keeping the more rowdy pokemon in the daycare in check. 

Theme songs

If pokemon au illya were to have a theme / ost track, it’d be this lovely re-orchestrated track of the Lacunosa Town Theme! It’s soft, peaceful and has a touch of melancholy which suits her perfectly. This, this and this remix also fits her and may double as her battle theme?

Illyanaud track mayyyybe? 

Legendaries / Mythicals??

I didn’t include any legendaries or mythical pokemons into her roster because lore regarding those are that they’re very very rare BUT if Illya were allowed to have a legendary and a mythical pokemon, she’d probably own a Cresselia and a Celebi! 

Cresselia, the Lunar Pokémon. Shiny particles are released from its wings like a veil. It is said to represent the crescent moon. On nights around the quarter moon, the aurora from its tail extends and undulates beautifully.

Celebi, the Time Travel Pokémon. This Pokémon wanders across time. Grass and trees flourish in the forests in which it has appeared. When Celebi disappears deep in a forest, it is said to leave behind an egg it brought from the future.

Shout out to Diancie, who is a close second choice solely based on the fact it’s design looks like what Illya would be if she herself were a pokemon. 

Relationships with other OCs / NPCs

To be added!

[alwaysthinkingoutloud]

Hannibal Episode-by-Episode Meta/Analysis: Episode 1, Season 1 (Apéritif)

The series start with Will Graham in a crime scene doing what he does, which is resurrecting crime scenes for further evidence and possible insight into the criminal’s mind and motives. What is interesting about this first scene is that for a first-time viewer, for the first a few minutes, it is not clear if what we are watching is a possible reenactment or it is actually a memory. That doubt gets cleared in a minute but until then, we don’t know if he is imagining or is he remembering. Is he a guy with a powerful imagination helping FBI who literally puts himself into the killer’s shoes or is he the killer itself, hiding in plain sight? To my thinking, the very first opening to the story does say a lot about the end of it all as well.

“This is my design”

Why not say plan, but design instead? Planning is something mechanical, strategical. It is the result of motive and effort of a rational brain rather than an acted-on urge. There is no much room for subjectivity or creativity since efficiency is the ultimate goal. However, design has a more artistical ring to it. It is like, its prior aim is not to be useful, but to be beautiful. Designing is done when aesthetics is of concern. We would say, Michelangelo designed David, plan would not look right there. It would be accurate as for explaining the mathematical part of it, the disciplined and patient hours that has been put into it, but it would not do justice to the inspiration, passion, and desperate need of the artist for his creation to materialize. A planner would not adore his work, but a designer would. And Will understands the difference a bit too well.

Later, talking with Jack Crawford, we learn that Will finds the name of Evil Minds Research Museum “hammy”. I do not think there is anything hammy about the name, it’s quite literal. It is not an ennobler name but why does Will find it so though? Does creativity and originality need to be perceived as abhorrent just because it was given birth by someone evil? This all-cautious way of approaching and overthinking things is a reflection of something dark within. Afterall, what is seen has at least a little to do with the seeing eyes, if not more.

Jack exhibits a disturbingly dominant way of communication with Will. He corrects Will’s eyeglasses, the guy who he knows is not comfortable with any kind of interpersonal interaction, within the minutes of their chat and holds down his bag to slow down his moving on. He is trying to make sure that Will feels Jack is the alpha and also that deep down, Will does not have the option to not cooperate. And more Will gets convinced to help for one step, stronger Jack drags Will into it for one more.

The first time we see Will interacting with any victim-related people, it is confusing. Being an empath and claiming that he can not only relate to narcissists and sociopaths but anyone, he does not seem to empathize much with the victim’s parents, cutting into the conversation about parents’ doubts on their daughter’s likelihood of being alive with a non-emotional, case related question. It almost makes you question if his ability to emphathize is just stronger with the dark side of the force than it is with the light one. Yes, the primer focus is to catch the killer and stop whatever malice is going on but after all, Jack came to Will with the need of help, so Jack must care about the case resolving more than he does. Yet, Jack seems more understanding of the parents’ feelings than Will, although Will is an ultimate empath. We even see Jack’s disapproval when Will cuts into the conversation. It is a brow mover.

Next, we get more insight about Will as he meets Winston. He finds him on the road roaming, tries to get close to him but cannot, so he drives all the way to his home to get something to lure him with and comes back to the dog. He is willing to go lengths to add a new dog to his pack, to his ‘family’, to his ‘social circle’. Something he is not willing nor comfortable to do for a person. Will's preferring an animal's company to a person's may say more than obvious. Afterall, he chooses Hannibal over Jack too, doesn't he?

Will who has already started to get traumatized by the case, is ambushed in the bathroom by Jack with an unforgiving mobbing, forcing ideas out of Will and stirring him up in the expense of his stability. Later on in his little chat with Alana, Jack’s intentions and priorities are further put into perspective. The way he talks about Will shows that for him, Will is more of a means to an end than an actual colleague. His insistence about “putting Will out there” despite Alana’s warnings and his admission of not being absolutely capable of protecting Will’s mental health just crowns that he does not genuinely care about Will. In fact, he even knows the risk of what he is doing, and he is trying to draw Dr. Bloom in to share, if not all together blame it on, the responsibility if something may go wrong.

We finally meet Hannibal in his office in a therapy session with his patient. The look Dr. Lecter throws when Franklyn blows his nose and places the dirty napkin onto the table… Up to this scene, we were not given any clue to suggest that Hannibal Lecter is a killer but after all, we do know who he is. And him being the first actual predator in the series we meet, we do not see him acting on brute violence or inelegant butchering. His first reaction depicted is unrest against rudeness. So the audience is welcomed into the mind of Lecter with an easily apprehensible act that can be shared by almost anyone. Almost to suggest that, this act of Franklyn’s may be enough to justify a wrath that may come upon him.

Jack shows up in Hannibal’s office unannounced and mistakes Franklyn with Hannibal. Hannibal, of course slightly annoyed, tells Jack to wait in the waiting room and invites him in with his own timing. Being a bossy and dominant guy he is, this takes Jack by surprise and it also tells us that there is an even stronger alpha here. So Jack realizes he cannot dominate Hannibal into his will like he did with Will. He may have to try something else. As Jack asks questions that are getting more specific and personal as they come, we see Hannibal getting cautious. Taking his scalpel into his hand and eyes widening. He lowers his guard only when he learns that he was referred to Jack by Dr. Bloom, his eyes visibly getting smaller, which are almost the only window to his thoughts anyway. So after seeing the sophisticated aura leaking not only out of Hannibal but everything around him, Jack chooses to sweet talk him into cooperation.

When Jack, Hannibal and Will first come together in a room, it is the first time in the show where Will makes such a long, non-blinked eye contact with someone, that being Hannibal. And we see mixed emotions and thoughts on Hannibal’s face. He is amused, intrigued and curious at the same time with the way Will thinks. He makes a quick analyze of Will which results in making him fling out of the room. Being the controlled, non-impulsive, strategic guy he is; even Hannibal himself is a little surprised with the sudden blurbing of his perception of Will. So maybe this first scene having Will and Hannibal together is another kind of first as well with both men doing something not typically them.

Hannibal, telling Jack that “he may help Will see the cannibal’s face”, he copies the crime of Minnesota Shrike. At the first look, this looks like an attempt of toying with the FBI and confusing them. But considering Hannibal’s last conversation with Jack, this feels more like a tribute, a helping hand for Will. Hannibal knows that Will would know that this is not the same killer the second he sees the crime scene. As Will later says to Hannibal, this was done to show Will a negative so that he could see the positive. So, we see from this point on that Hannibal’s wit does not focus on FBI, it does on Will. We see Hannibal eating and smiling, joyous of the fact that he now has an object of interest. Will imagining of a stag right after this, as stag will be the subconscious symbol of the Chesapeake Ripper / Copycat Killer before Will knows who he is and later when he does, of Hannibal; it shows that Hannibal literally entered his life and mind in more than one way.

Hannibal shows up in Will’s house very early and obviously very impatiently. So he does not only plan to interfere Will with being the Copycat Killer but through his ‘person suit’ as well. Feeding Will the meat of the girl he killed is also exciting for Hannibal as this manipulation game he has set to play with Will gets to be sicker for a normal human perception.

The breakfast scene is also the first time where Hannibal is looking for some ill-intent or killing inclination in Will, while Will denies having so. He wonders how much being able to empathize with killers say about Will’s own potential to do so. Hannibal suggests that Jack is treating Will as he is “a fragile little teacup, only used for special guests”. And that he himself sees him as “a mongoose that he would want under the house when snakes slither by”. He suggests that Will is not a pray that should be afraid to get hurt, that he is the predator. By that Hannibal does not only encourage the destructiveness Will may be trying hard to keep buried to come alive, but also the false perception that Will’s mind is strong enough to take any challenge Jack may throw his way.

Hannibal warning Garret Jacob Hobbs is literally setting the pieces in position of his will to get Will where and how he wants. He does not know what will be waiting in Hobbs’ house for Will but in the end, it does not matter so much since he just wants to see what happens.

When they arrive at the house, seeing Hobbs leaving his wife on the threshold her throat cut, Hannibal stands still. Is it because he is so confident that Will will be too frantic to ever look back and notice that, or is it because deep down he just does not feel like putting his person suit on in front of Will? I think both. When Will shots Hobbs and tries to tend Abigail on the floor, Hannibal walks in and sees Will caring hard for the girl. Hannibal’s face looks curious about what is going on but more than that, again, his focus is on Will more than it is on anything else. He sees all these humane emotions that Hannibal himself has always been somewhat stranger too on Will, those emotions that he thought, cannot come in a package with all the destructive ones. But maybe they can. And those emotions may even look nice. Because it almost does on Will. Although how the events would turn out Hannibal did not know, it was certain that the way he pushed things, there would be blood and there would be Will doing something that will change him one way or the other. After all, they have undergone a traumatic (for Will) and exciting (for Hannibal) circumstance together and it is a known fact that people who experience a significant situation together tend to develop emotional bonds. Maybe this was the least of what Hannibal hoped for. If that was the case, he got more than he wished. Will got to kill someone even if it was for a just reason and there happened to be an orphaned girl that Will desperately bonded the moment he killed her father, who maybe a manipulative tool for Hannibal in his game. The last scene where Will finds Hannibal holding Abigail’s hand in the hospital room highlights this perfectly. Now, Hannibal and Will has a mutual asset that Hannibal may use to draw Will closer to himself despite of Will’s initial reservations to do so.

[tatttletale]

(my mind’s) fully fading | Mystery Skulls Animated

It's been five months since the gang lost Lewis. But how, exactly? Arthur can't quite remember, and from what he knows, neither can Vivi; but it couldn't have just been an accident like the investigators had ruled. There had to be something else at play. So Arthur goes on a search to recover his lost memories and bring their friend justice, but something's wrong with Vivi... and Mystery seems more on-edge than usual...

CONTENT WARNING for swearing throughout and exploring trauma-based mental illness (PTSD). TRIGGER WARNING for description of injury, trauma responses etc. TWs/CWs will be detailed at the start of relevant chapters.

CONTENT WARNING: Mention of needles, vague reference to amputation.

"So I was thinking, maybe we could set up a website," Arthur mused, fingers tapping away at his laptop. The rain outside showered against the roof in a light drone. "Flagging for key terms or something. That way it'd be much easier for Vivi to find new tip-offs."

        "Oh, she'd love that," Lewis said appreciatively, whisking whatever it was he held in the white bowl. "I'd come and help you if I didn't have my hands full."

        "Mhm," Arthur said skeptically, thinking of his too-big fingers struggling with his laptop keys. "You say that like baking for you is a treat. As if you don't do it all the time."

        "Ah well," Lewis winked, "You need a little extra, flaquito."

        They were interrupted by a knock at the door. Lewis set the bowl down, wiped his hands on his apron and started forward.

        Arthur jumped up before him. "Hands full, my ass!"

        Lewis only laughed in surprise. "I thought you were busy with the technical stuff? Are you expecting someone?"

        "More like I can't have you tarnish our good name turning up at the door with a pink Kiss the Cook apron," he teased back, turning for the door. "Even if it is in Spanish."

        "Mami gave it to me," Lewis said, defensively. "She altered it herself! You know how hard it is to find clothes in my size!"

        "Sure, sure," Arthur snickered, hastening down the hall in front of him. He opened the door to a bedraggled Vivi, standing impatiently in the rain.

        "What took you so long!" she cried, and bustled in, planting a quick kiss on his cheek. He flushed pleasantly.

        As she kicked off her shoes, dripping onto the carpet, he noticed that she was very obviously hiding something big and angular under her sweater.

        "What's that you've got?"

        She immediately perked up and pulled the thing out—a thick battered tome.

        "I was protecting it from the rain," she explained at his inquiring look. "I just found it today at the Tomb! Look at this thing!" She opened it, flipping through hundreds of yellowed pages, eyes glittering with excitement. "It's got, like, everything in here! Ciphers, spells, guides, maps. . ."

        . . . She looked beautiful like that.

        "Vee!"

        She turned around at Lewis' voice and flashed him a huge grin. "Lew-Lew! Look at this book I found today!"

        She dumped it in his capable hands and he flipped through it slowly, eyes scanning the pages. "Wow, Vivi. . . this is amazing! Where'd you get it?"

        "Tome Tomb," she replied smugly. "It came in a shipment of weird books. Duet looked through them and sent them back—said they got the wrong address—but not before I fished this out!"

        He raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that. . . stealing?"

        "Well, I mean, yeah . . . but half the stuff we do is already illegal."

        "Um, I object," Arthur cut in.

        She turned around and stuck her tongue out at him. "Well, half the time you hide behind Mystery and don't do anything, anyway."

        Arthur couldn't help feeling hurt. He scuffed his feet, eyes flicking back to the table, and then lit up when they settled on his laptop. "Oh, Vivi! I was thinking, I could rig up something for you—a website or something. It'd make it much easier for you to track down busts—"

        He turned to her but she wasn't listening. She was smiling up at Lewis with the book in her hands. "You like it, don't you?"

        "I do. Great find, Vivi," Lewis smiled, and leaned down to kiss her. She happily threw her arms around his neck and stood on tiptoes to reach.

        Arthur tore his eyes away and plodded into the kitchen to wait for them.

        Half an hour later Lewis served dinner for two, with Vivi plopping down on the couch with her takeaway noodles. Arthur was aghast.

        "You're turning down Lewis's cooking for that?"

        Lewis only laughed. "It's okay, Arthur. There's always leftovers."

        "Mhm," Vivi agreed from the couch, anchored in front of some supernatural program. Arthur understood that she had Lewis' food a lot—they both did—but he couldn't imagine for the life of him ever turning it down or, god forbid, getting sick of it.

        Shaking his head, he focussed on the plate in front of him. Picking up his fork, he prodded it curiously. "So . . . what's this?"

        "Jambalaya," Lewis answered, not touching his. Instead, he elected to prop an elbow on the table and lean his head against his hand, eyes on Arthur.

        "What's that, Cajun?" he asked, scooping some into his mouth.

        "Creole," Lewis corrected. "Thought I'd try something different, this time."

        Arthur's eyes popped as the flavour hit him. "Holy shit, Lewis, this is amazing!" He chewed for a bit, placing a familiar taste. "Are there oysters in this??"

        Lewis smiled, eyes crinkling. "Yeah . . . they're not really popular in Creole cuisine but since you like them so much, I thought I'd experiment."

        "Well, it really paid off," Arthur replied, shovelling more into his mouth and hollering at Vivi. "You haff no idea what you're mishing," he garbled through a mouth full of food.

        "I'll try it tomorrow!" she called back, waving him off as she refocussed on the program.

        Again, Arthur shook his head, giving Lewis a pointed look. "Well, I think it's delicious."

        "I'm glad," his friend said, soft eyes still fixed on him, food untouched.

○ ○ ○

"Hi Lew-Lew!"

        Vivi swung through the door to the Pepper Paradiso, barely affording Arthur a glance. Instead, she ran right past him and into his best friend's arms. Arthur tried to tune out the giggles.

        "And what's got you so excited?"

        "I found a bust! Apparently the Texas-Mexican border is a supernatural hotspot. You would not believe the stuff I've read! Ghosts, yokai, chupacabras—"

        Arthur spun around. "Vivi, no way. Not those dog things."

        She brushed him off. "Chaneques too! They pull the souls right outta peoples' bodies!"

        Lewis sighed fondly. "They scare them, Vivi. Scare the souls."

        "That's right! And there's this cave, Ojos. . . Ojos Sabi-ose?"

        "Ojos Sabios?" Lewis mulled. "That means 'wise eyes'."

        "Yeah!" she motormouthed. "It only appears for people if they're looking for it, or if it wants something from them—"

        "Can we please talk about this?" Arthur cut in. "I don't want to go disturbing ancient Mayan spirits. That sounds dangerous."

        "These will be Aztec," Vivi replied. "Not nearly as dangerous."

        "Still!" he fought. "I don't feel comfortable with—"

        "C'mon, Artie, we'll protect you." Lewis flashed him a dazzling smile. The words died in his throat.

        "We can't miss out on an opportunity like this," Vivi pushed. "It would really put us on the map! We could open commissions, earn money. . . upgrade equipment. . ." She looked back at him with puppy dog eyes. "Pleeeeeaaasee?"

        Arthur gauged her uncertainly, raising his eyes to Lewis for support.

        Instead, he was met with that heart-melting smile.

        He faltered. "O. . .Okay. But. . . please, let's just be careful."

○ ○ ○

Five hours of driving filled with chatter in the front.

        Arthur had been lumped in the back.

        "Because we know how drained you get on long road trips," Vivi had supplied, but Arthur knew it was because they had wanted to sit in the front together. And that hurt. They'd probably dump him off somewhere if they could get away with it—

        No, he couldn't think like that. They cared about him. They were his friends. And they'd listen to him if he had any problems.

        . . . Wouldn't they?

        "Well, I mean, yeah . . . but half the stuff we do is already illegal."

        "Half the time you hide behind Mystery and don't do anything, anyway."

        "Great find, Vivi."

        "These will be Aztec. Not nearly as dangerous."

        "C'mon, Artie, we'll protect you."

        "We can't miss out on an opportunity like this!"

        "Because we know you get drained on long road trips."

        His stomach sank.

        The van began to slow.

        "Alright Skulls, we're almost there," came Lewis' voice from the front. "About a mile to go."

        "And then we'll be going deep inside Ojos Sabios!" Vivi said excitedly.

        Helplessly, Arthur gazed out the window. No, they wouldn't listen to him.

        A toxic anger simmered away in his stomach. They never did.

○ ○ ○

. . . . .

        Arthur was being shaken and he didn't know why. Was it time to get up? Did he sleep in? He thought he heard his phone buzzing too—he reached out his arm lazily, feeling around for his phone, but nothing happened. He couldn't feel most of his arm, or his fingers. But he could feel sticky stuff all over him, and then he was hit with a blinding pain.

        Gasping, he reached for the burning shoulder and cried out when the touch sent daggers through his nerves. Why did they do this? He knew something bad would happen! He took a deep breath, and rolled his head to the side to survey the damage—

        His eyes popped.

        His arm. It was gone.

        His thoughts spun wildly. How had this happened? What had he done? They had been on a job, right? Looking around for a cave. They had all been together. Then why was he alone? Where was Lewis? Where was Vivi?

        "Arthur?"

         Vivi?

        "Arthur!"

        Vivi! Vivi was there, and she was going to help him!

        "Arthur! Please, we need to go! We need to get you to the hospital!"

        Hospital. Yes—painkillers, bandages, safety. Arthur cracked open his eyes, and slowly sat up, groaning. He tried to blink through the blinding headache and blurring tears. He reached up his hand to wipe them away—

        Nope. No hand. He crushed the reeling thoughts down and tried not to panic. He had to get up. He needed to get to the hospital—maybe they could reattach his arm. Where was that arm?

        "Arthur! Come on!"

        A hazy figure was waving something at him—what was that? Arthur squinted. A blue balloon? A ribbon? Oh. An arm.

        Arthur grabbed Vivi's arm and hoisted himself upwards, weaving on his feet as his vision almost whited out. His head spun—maybe he should sit back down.

        Something looped itself around his torso and under his arms—arm, keeping him steady. "Come on, Artie. We can do this. It's only a few steps to the van."

        The van? Oh, yes, they had a van! Only a few steps. . . Wait. Lewis.

        "LEWIS!" he yelled, trying to turn back. Vivi's grip was firm even as he struggled.

        "Arthur, no. We need to go."

        "Lewis—"

        "Arthur, we don't have TIME!" she cried desperately. "Us first, Lewis later! We can't go looking for him like this!"

        There was something in her voice and when he looked at her, he could see her eyes were wide and wet. "Please," she insisted, a tear dribbling down her cheek. After throwing one last glance over his shoulder he clenched his jaw and nodded.

        With Vivi holding him up and Mystery dragging them along, it was a relatively quick stagger to the car before he was flopped onto the front seat and the vehicle started humming. The agony came back and hit hard.

        Arthur cried out in pain. How much blood had he lost? Was he going to die? His breathing became loud and quick in his ears.

        "Mystery! Please, calm him down! It's only a few minutes to the hospital but we can't let him get hysterical! Jesus, he's losing so much blood . . . Oh, god, fuck, fuck, fuck. . ." The car stopped and Vivi took off her scarf and wrapped it around his bleeding stump—and only then was Arthur aware of the weight on his chest. He blinked up at the hazy figure, making out a white face, spiky hair, and yellow spectacles—

        "Mystery?" Arthur moaned. The dog whined, huddling onto his chest and licking his face. He blinked at the dog in disbelief. "Were you with. . . Did you find me. . .?" He couldn't finish his sentence before his head began spinning again.

        The next few hours were a blur. They arrived at the hospital and he was immediately shoved into a bed and rolled through white corridors and pushed through swinging doors. A doctor slid a needle into his wrist and his head grew hazy; he strained to make sense of the snippets of conversation that broke through the blur. Critical condition . . . hysteria. Blood loss . . . emergency surgery. Fluids . . . gas. Eight hours.

        When Arthur finally woke up he was questioned. Neither he nor Vivi could remember anything significant of that night. They could remember before and after, but that was it. The nurses had said it had been shock. When the first responders had come to brief them in the hospital, they had told them Lewis was dead. Arthur hadn't wanted to believe it—that meant they had left him.

        Foul play had been ruled out as there had been no evidence of anyone else entering or exiting the site. The investigators had decided the most likely cause an accident: Lewis had tripped, he had been running and hadn't seen the ledge. But that wasn't like Lewis. He was always so methodical, so careful. Things hadn't seemed right.

        Despite Arthur's pleas to go back and search, the authorities wouldn't let anyone else near the site. They told him that after removing the body they'd cordoned off the area from the public. Arthur had insisted on seeing him—he had to be alive, he had to be—but they'd held him back. The first and last time he got to see his friend after that night was at the funeral a week later, and when he did, though he looked as clean and whole as ever, he fell to his knees and threw up in shock.

        When Arthur finally completed the drug therapy and was cleared to go home, he locked himself in his room for days and didn't come out to eat. He barely got any sleep, and the sleep he did get was plagued with twisted images—images that he didn't remember, but terrified him still.

        He missed Lewis; everything about him. And he missed Vivi's lovestruck bubbliness. It hadn't been that bad, really. He had just been selfish—they had been happy together. That didn't mean they hadn't still cared about him.

        By the time he pulled himself together and came out, smiling at Vivi and putting some bread in the toaster for them, he didn't really know much, but he knew that he—and the remaining Mystery Skulls—were never going to be the same again.

        Not without Lewis. Together, they were a puzzle. And without that piece, they could never be whole. He certainly couldn't be.

(Chapter 1/6)

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