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arvandus · 2 years ago

Text

Touch Pt. 13 - Relapse

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

**18+ ONLY - MINORS DNI**

OVERALL FIC WARNINGS: Soft!Dabi, F!Reader with a fictional backstory, fanon version of past events (I started this before the canon stuff dropped), manga spoilers, canon deviation, drug abuse/withdrawal (with inaccuracies since it’s outside of my experience and relies on research and imagination), violence, heavy angst, past trauma/abuse, anxiety/panic attacks, PTSD, hurt/comfort, pining, slow burn, eventual emotionally charged SMUT, all characters will be written with complexity (i.e., no one-dimensional/hateful representations). *please pay attention to specific warning tags within each chapter!*

CHAPTER WARNINGS: Explicit 18+ themes, drug use (opioids, weed, alcohol, smoking), drug dealing, drug withdrawal, chronic pain. Primarily a Dabi POV chapter, Reader is minimally present.

Chapter Song: Go Easy On Me (Stripped) by Matt Maeson

Part 1 Part 12

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

Chapter 13: Relapse

He was dreaming. He knew he was dreaming, but he didn’t care. It was the only way he could have you, the only way he could satisfy that deep, devouring desire that threatened to consume him and shred him to pieces.

Your soft lips locked over his, your hands on his jaw as he opened his mouth hungrily to welcome your wet tongue. Your body was pressed against his as you straddled his lap, your soft thighs framing him. His hands roamed your sweaty skin, deft fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt to pull it over your head, exposing your cotton-clad breasts to his gaze. The bra you wore was strangely familiar, its simplicity echoing like a forgotten memory in his mind, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was you, the feel of you, the heat of you, the taste of you... he buried his face between your breasts, his tongue flicking out to lick the sweat there, and you moaned against him, your fingers tangling in his hair as your hips ground down into his lap, desperate to feel his firmness.

This. This was all he wanted. He wanted to bury himself in this place, bury himself in you until he forgot who he was. He wanted to freeze himself into this moment and let the rest of the world fall away.

But he knew any minute now it would change. This moment would vanish, this wanton picture of you bursting into an explosion of blue flames beneath his sweating palms only to be replaced by nightmares.

His grip on your hips tightened, fingers digging into flesh as if it had the power to change fate, to change the inevitable rising of the sun.

Any minute now.

You whispered his name desperately against his lips, the heat of your breath like warm honey, before trapping his lips with your own again, your body moving against him.

He wanted to close his dreaming eyes, to let himself sink into the feeling of you, and yet he couldn’t – if he did, then you’d be ripped away from him, taken hostage by the monsters in his mind.

‘Not yet.’ He thought. ‘Don’t go.’

But you didn’t go. Not this time. Your skin still felt warm against him, the touch of your flesh soft and familiar. So familiar, and yet... something was different this time.

It felt real. Too real...

Dabi’s eyes shot open, and the first thing he saw was the back of your head. His breath stopped in his throat while his chest pounded, bewilderment locking his body in a frozen panic. His eyes darted around the room, taking in what he could see as he slowly began to make sense of what his eyes were showing him.

He was in your room. The early grey light of morning seeped in through a crack in the curtains, stretching across the lower half of your bed to end at the closed bathroom door. It wasn’t as bright as his room in the morning, your bedroom facing west instead of east. But it was enough to allow him to see the details of your space draped in a monotone hue.

The memories of the previous night bubbled forth like flotsam. Compress, you, your sensory overload, Dabi fighting to carry you, the waiting, the darkness, the conversations, your hand on his shoulder...

Dabi’s pulse slowed, and he once again took in where he was and what he was feeling, his gaze shifting around slightly.

He felt warm, and he realized he was pressed up against your back with his right arm trapped under your head. His left hand was resting on your hip, his thumb tucked beneath your shirt where it rested against your bare skin.

No wonder it felt so real...

You were so warm. The scent of your hair tickled his nose, and he fought the urge to inhale, his muscles tensing against the instinct to pull you even tighter against him and bury his face into your neck.

Instead, he watched you silently, taking in the steady rise and fall of your breathing. You were still asleep – that much he was grateful for. He wasn’t sure how you’d react to waking up with him wrapped around you the way he was. To make matters worse, the dream he’d been having was still very much present in the forefront of his mind, and his pants felt uncomfortably tight against the pressure that had made itself at home within his black jeans.

You shifted slightly in your sleep, your rear rubbing against his groin, and his fingers tensed on your skin. A part of him wanted to push you away, the other part wanted to pull you closer and-

You shifted again, blissfully deep in dreamland, unaware of your actions, as you pressed further against him. This time, Dabi’s entire body stiffened as he clenched his jaw.

God damn it. You weren’t even awake and you were torturing him.

He wondered what you were dreaming about but before his imagination could go too far, your head moved slightly, a soft, innocent moan coming from your dreaming lips. The sound alone sent an electric jolt through his body right down to his jeans and ignited a war in his brain between his arousal and his common sense. How quickly his body wanted to respond on instinct, to see if he could pull that sound from your lips again, this time with more... intention.

But the fantasy of that thought was in stark contrast to the reality of the situation, and the deep thrumming of his pulse shifted like a pendulum from arousal to panic. If you woke up right now, to the touch of his hand on your side and his hard-on pressed against your ass through no fault of his own... Dabi imagined the slap you would deliver to his face. Maybe even take a couple more staples out of his cheek while you were at it.

Dabi removed his hand from your body and rolled to his back before he did something incredibly stupid. You were still pressed against his side, his right arm still trapped beneath your neck. The touch of you felt like fire against his skin, every undamaged nerve on high alert, but at least it was manageable. And most importantly, you stopped moving. Deep sleep had claimed you once again, and Dabi was mentally thanking whatever deities granted his silent plea.

Silence stretched, long and painful as he laid there, still as a stone, forcing steady breaths in and out of his lungs. His dream of you still had its grip on him, and Dabi struggled to think of things that weren’t you in an effort to cool the hot desire that still coursed through his blood. But it was in vain. You were everywhere – your scent, your warmth, the weight of your neck on his arm, your ass nestled into the crook of his hip and looking awfully cute in your pajama pants that he’d personally selected for you last night. His blue eyes caught the shape of your bra on the floor, abandoned and forgotten, and it immediately brought forth the dream he’d been having, with your legs straddled across his lap, and your breasts-

Shit.

This obviously wasn’t working, and now the binding pressure in his pants was beginning to get uncomfortable. He adjusted himself outside of his jeans in an effort to relieve some of the discomfort, to find a position within the dark denim that didn’t feel like being bound in a torture device, but all it did it was make it worse.

Dabi needed to get out of here. He needed the privacy of his own room so he could handle the problem in his pants and finally have his first rational thought of the day.

He began scanning for his things. His shoes were on. His wallet was in his back pocket. His phone- where the fuck was his phone? He was holding it last night when he fell asleep...

His free hand tried to search the covers, his head tilting slightly to look over the edge of the bed. Finally, he spotted it, on your nightstand next to your own. You’d plugged it in for him, your own phone left uncharged.

His chest constricted slightly.

Dabi carefully reached over your sleeping form and grabbed it, making every effort to not touch you more than he had to as he deftly unplugged it with one hand. He paused when his face was mere inches from your cheek thanks to the angle of his reach, hesitating for just a fraction of a moment to drink in your features.

Fuck, you were pretty.

Then the moment passed, and he averted his gaze and retreated carefully back to his side of the bed. The device was safely in his fingers, and he laid back down before finally releasing the breath that he’d been holding.

Time froze as Dabi noticed a text message notification from Giran. His pulse spiked as he unlocked his phone and opened the message.

Hey, kid. I found someone who has what you need. Lemme know if you’re still interested, and I’ll give you their contact info. It’ll cost ya, though. Prices are up right now. This guy ain’t cheap, but his stock is legit. Lemme know if ya need a loan.

Dabi’s eyes widened, and instantly, everything shifted. What had started as an awkward morning of silent suffering now shifted to a single-minded focus.

He could get his drugs. Today.

A wave of relief washed over Dabi, transforming into giddy excitement. He could almost remember the feel of them, the low hum of constant peace. It was so very different from what you gave him. Your pills and your quirk helped, but it wasn’t the same. The pain was always too quick to return every time they wore off, and mentally, well...

Something was always missing, something important. Something vital. Something he needed more than anything.

Silence.

His life had been so much simpler with his own pills. They kept the pain within his heart buried deep under a constant stream of artificial chemicals, and hid away the old, dusty memories, the ones that used to make him smile when he was young. In its place it left an empty space, a residual footprint of old things lost, those rooms of his mind abandoned and locked. Joy was a figment of the imagination, a secondhand experience lived by a stranger. Sorrow was a small footnote, the undertone that set the tempo for his rage to thrum against, transforming tears into spiteful laughter. With everything else buried deep, it’d allowed him to focus on his anger, his bitter need for justice, giving him the strength to pursue his mission with single-minded focus at the cost of everything else.

His drugs were the double-edged sword that would bring him both victory and destruction. They were a necessity that allowed him to transcend his limits so that he could see his work done. Then he could vanish like the ghost he was, let his quirk take him like it was meant to. Maybe then it’d finally be over, and he’d finally have the peace in death that he’d never been able to find in life.

That was what he always believed, at least.

��Promise.’

The word echoed in his mind like a faint whisper, a reminder of something that should have never been said, hastily spoken from an immature, inexperienced heart. Dabi pushed the thought away swiftly before it could worm its way deeper into his mind.

Still, he couldn’t help but look at you. You looked so peaceful right now, content, even. The steady rise and fall of your breaths, every muscle of your body relaxed and loose in perfect comfort. The corners of Dabi’s lips pulled down in a frown, his brows drawing together slightly.

You wouldn’t like it. Dabi knew that. You’d try to talk him out of it, telling him that he didn’t need to do this. You’d say that you were already working on it, that his pills would be ready for pick up any day now. That if he’d just hold out a little longer...

Dabi rubbed at the bridge of his nose as he began to feel the dull throbbing of a headache. Irritation simmered and he stared at the text message again.

He didn’t want to wait any longer. He didn’t want to be held back from getting what he needed. Even if you did manage to get his pills for him, you’d want to control his access, out of concern for his safety. Your intentions were pure, but the thought soured his mind. He didn’t need a babysitter. And he didn’t want to delay what he was owed. He respected you, and valued his growing bond with you, but he’d be damned if he let anything get in the way of his purpose, even you. He’d already wasted enough time. Endeavor was ripe for the picking now that he was the number one hero, and Dabi was on borrowed time.

And yet, even so, in this moment with his phone hot in his hand and the thin black line blinking in the text message box, he hesitated. It left him feeling bewildered and frustrated at his own inaction; he’d never hesitated, not once. Not for this. But now, here he was, deliberating as if one wrong move would cost him more than he was willing to pay.

Discomfort tightened in his chest like a coiled snake.

If this had happened before last night, he would have left the instant he got the message without a second thought. But now...

Now it felt like he was being ripped in two, pulled in different directions.

Something was different, a shift in his world that had happened right beneath his feet. Dabi couldn’t quite put words to it and what it meant and that irritated him more than anything. Yes, he felt closer to you. Yes, he could finally admit to himself that he cared about you, although to what extent, he couldn’t quite say; there were things he felt that he didn’t yet have words for, and he wasn’t ready to define them. But his goals hadn’t changed. His focus hadn’t changed. No matter how he felt about you, taking down his father took priority.

And yet, all he could picture in this moment was the disappointment on your face and the hurt in your eyes once you’d learn what he’d done. Because you would find out. As soon as you woke up and he was gone without receiving your help, you’d know.

Dabi stared at you again, long and hard in the silence of the morning as he absently tongued at the wound in his cheek from where you’d ripped out his staple the night before. He could feel the pain there now that your quirk was starting to wear off, throbbing in tandem with his growing migraine as last night’s pills burned from his system. The ache made his jaw stiff and his teeth felt like they had needles shoved into them.

It was a pain you’d given him, the consequence of your generosity. The crying, the screaming, the agony you’d suffered as your quirk turned on you because of him... And before that, it was the bruises on your arms, the fear in your eyes, the constant state of exhaustion that hung on you like a shroud...

So, this was probably for the best, right? He’d be back on his own pills, with his own supply, and you’d be free of him, free of his constant need of you. No more sensory overload. No more late nights dealing with his bullshit.

But even with that obvious fact, Dabi felt a resistance within himself, a selfish stubbornness. He knew that doing this would drive a wedge between you that could not be undone. It’d be the highest betrayal, undoing everything you’d sacrificed for him, everything you’d worked for. There would be no forgiveness after this. It would erase every heartfelt conversation, tarnish every vulnerable moment.

The thought tasted bitter on his tongue. He’d just finally allowed himself to tear down the wall he’d built against you, for the first time allowing himself to connect with another person. That act alone had cost him more than he’d expected, opening up a vulnerability within himself that he was still grappling with. And you’d met his vulnerability with grace and kindness, which was far more than he deserved. He didn’t want to give you up. He didn’t want to lose you over this. He’d grown accustomed to having you around, always there when he needed you. Always being checked on, always being seen. He liked it. The way you made him feel... your smile, your touch, your quirk-

Your quirk...?

Something intangible tightened around Dabi’s throat, cold and hard. It took him a long moment to be able to put a name to it.

Fear.

Because the fear of losing your quirk and how it made him feel had nothing to do with feelings. It had everything to do with addiction. And he knew better than most how addiction preyed on the mind, warping and twisting lies and illusions into false truth.

Maybe all of this... whatever this was... these feelings he felt, this attraction that consumed him... maybe it was just because of your quirk and your pills. Was he really attached to you? Or was he attached to his addiction of you? Did he just trade one drug for another?

Was none of this real?

You. You were real. Your words and your hand on his shoulder last night were real. Your kindness and friendship towards him were real.

But that didn’t mean that his feelings were real. It could just be his addiction, a monster in sheep’s clothing, a leech looking to attach itself to whatever will feed it. Dabi was familiar with it, had watched with dulled, detached interest as it had drained liquor bottles and gone through opioid medication like they were candy. But this time was different. Because this wasn’t alcohol or pills. This was you, a person. A person that, for better or worse, Dabi gave a shit about.

Dabi rubbed his hand down his face, stopping over his mouth as his fingers tightened around his clenched jaw. He stared at the message again. The chasm of conflicting desires sewed shut, two roads coalescing into only one option.

He was going to get his drugs. Today.

It was the only option that made any sense. You’d stop suffering because of him, and he’d get back to his mission of taking down Endeavor. And then maybe he’d finally be able to figure out what was real and what wasn’t.

Dabi slowly slipped his arm out from under your neck. You shifted slightly but stayed deep in slumber. His body ached all over, a combination of lingering exhaustion and the downward spiral of his withdrawal beginning to sink its teeth into his bones. As he stood up, a fiery zap shot up his leg, and he nearly buckled back down onto the mattress. His teeth bared as he sucked air into his lungs.

Shit, shit, shit. That desperate need filled him again, and he immediately felt the pull of you and all you offered. He needed your pills, your quirk. Anything to take away the pain.

He loathed it. He loathed his dependency and the way it controlled him and sapped him of his strength. How the hell was he supposed to meet up with Giran’s source when he could barely even make it to his room?

He’d have to wake you. You hid your pills from him, after all. It wasn’t like he could just help himself to your bag and leave you a note.

An idea lit up his pain-addled mind. If he woke you up now, then you wouldn’t suspect anything once he left. He could get his drugs and you’d be none the wiser. Maybe he could get away with it... maybe he could keep it secret... maybe things wouldn’t have to change...

All he had to do was wake you up. Ask for your pills. Let you use your quirk.

Dabi looked at you again. The wound in his cheek throbbed, a warning. The night before flashed again in his mind. His hands clenched into tight fists as he stood rooted to the floor.

He couldn’t.

He refused.

He’d have to figure it out on his own. He had cigarettes, he had alcohol, and he had weed. All of them were poor substitutes for what he really needed. But a deep hit of a joint and a couple of quick shots of cheap whiskey would be better than nothing, and he could keep a pack of cigarettes on him to help with the jitters until he met up with the dealer. Besides, once he got his pills, the problem would fix itself.

He just had to survive long enough. He could do that; he’d done it before when his bottles had run dry. Only before, the drought he’d experienced had been mere hours instead of days.

With a final glance at your sleeping form, Dabi left, careful to make as little noise as possible as he opened and closed the old door.

Once he’d crossed the hall and made it safely into his own room without being seen, Dabi took a deep breath of relief. Another arrow of fire laced between his shoulder blades, and he buckled, crouching down to sit on his heels against his closed door. A second wave came soon after, this time igniting up his neck, blending into the ache of his wound on his cheek. It made his vision blur, and he shut his eyes against it, letting it wash over him, helpless.

Once the pain subsided, he settled down and leaned his head against the cold wood, his breathing ragged. He could already feel his body begin to sweat.

Shower. He needed a shower.

Dabi pulled himself up and made his way into the bathroom where he turned on the shower faucet. As the water ran, he pulled out his phone and texted his response to Giran. He declined the offer for the loan; he knew better. A loan from Giran was a loan that never got paid back. He��d have to find his cash in other ways.

Then, he stripped down and entered.

Dabi cursed as soon as the cold water hit his body and he leaned forward to prop his forehead on his fist against the cold tile as the icy tendrils ran rivers down his skin.

For minutes he stayed that way, letting the cold compete with the frayed nerves and aching muscles. As he stood there, he kept glancing at his phone resting on the counter, waiting to see it light up, to hear the buzz. Panic began to fill him as he waited, staring, silently begging for Giran to respond.

What if he missed his chance? Did he wait too long? What if you wake up before he can leave?

But then he saw it – the familiar screen of a new text message, the phone vibrating on the countertop. Dabi snatched it immediately, careful not to get the phone too wet from the stray shower drops. He quickly opened up the message, and there it was...

An address. A time.

And a note of urgency – the seller had another buy lined up but was willing to meet Dabi first to see what he offered at the behest of Giran, thanks to Giran’s good reputation.

Dabi frowned at the information. The meetup time meant he had to leave. Now. Which didn’t give him much time to put together enough funds for what he was about to do.

Still, he had to try. Dabi shot back a quick confirmation text.

Then he finished his shower and dressed himself. He threw on his hoodie, sunglasses, and stuffed his face mask in his pocket. Where he was going, he wasn’t anticipating being seen by any heroes who might know his description, but with his current weak condition, it was better safe than sorry.

Also, his hoodie made it easier to hide stolen wallets.

Dabi downed whiskey straight from the bottle and found an old joint inside one of his jacket pockets. He lit it with his finger, taking a long drag of it into his lungs. As he waited for the effects to kick in, he began scrounging his drawers and his pockets for every single wad of cash in his possession. It didn’t take long until he’d overturned nearly every pants pocket, every cubby and hidey hole. He frowned at the pitiful amount crumpled into the palm of his hand. His gap in his medication had left him unable to find work doing seedy jobs for hire, or even just simple pickpocketing or robbery. Between the two weeks of no work and the money he’d spent on ramen and junk food, his savings was severely dwindled.

Would it be enough?

Maybe he could borrow some cash from the other League members. After all, they were able to go out and steal whenever they needed to. Surely they had something they could give him...

But the longer he lingered here, the smaller his chances of leaving before you woke up. Not to mention there’d be questions, and prodding, and each conversation would steal precious minutes from an already tight schedule. He could end up missing his appointment entirely.

Well, that obviously wasn’t an option. He’d just have to find ways to line his pockets during his commute.

Dabi took another long drag of his joint, the smoke swirling out of his nostrils on the exhale.

He'd have to be careful about it, nothing too showy or noticeable. No flames. No dead bodies. He didn’t want to make himself noticeable to heroes. In his current state, there was no guarantee he’d be able to fight or escape if he got caught.

Pain curled itself along his neck and a wave of nausea followed soon after, twisting his gut. Dabi sucked air through his teeth before forcing a few quick breaths through his nostrils, fighting back the impending sickness watering his mouth. His vision blurred. His entire body tensed, waiting for it to pass. After a moment of intense focus, it subsided, vanishing back to blend into the dull hum of suffering that was beginning to shroud him like an invisible cloak. His vision refocused and he stared at the crumpled joint that was now clutched tight into his fist, its ashes littering the floor.

Fuck. He didn’t even get to finish it.

His pain was getting more unbearable, the withdrawal creeping up like a swiftly rolling fog.

Borrowed time...

Decision made, Dabi stuffed the cash into his pockets. He grabbed the whiskey bottle one more time and took a quick swig from the neck. Then he grabbed his dented pack of cigarettes and stuffed them in his jacket pocket as he headed downstairs, careful not to make too much noise past your door. He could only hope the stench of his self-medication didn’t wake you.

He left quickly, forcing himself out in the bright daylight before any of the league members could ask about his whereabouts. Once he’d put sufficient distance between himself and the hideout, he pulled out his phone and entered the address into the navigation.

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

You were unpleasantly woken up by the all-too-familiar skunky smell that seeped beneath your door, invading your space. Your senses were still a little on edge from last night, and the odor assaulted you, causing you to scrunch up your nose and pull your covers over the lower half of your face.

You stirred and rolled to your back, your hand reaching out next to you to meet only empty space and cold sheets. He was gone.

You sat up quickly, your brain swiftly putting the pieces together. The stench of weed, his absence, and the very obvious fact that it was morning and you hadn’t treated him yet.

Maybe he was self-medicating in his room, biding his time as much as he could to let you rest. Maybe he was just having a smoke and nursing a bottle of whiskey until you showed up.

‘That idiot, why didn’t he just wake me?’

You threw the covers off and slipped your feet into your shoes before leaving your room. You crossed the hall and knocked on Dabi’s door, and you held your breath as you fidgeted and bounced nervously.

Surely, he’s in there. Any minute now, he’ll answer the door, giving you one of his half smirks as a wall of smoke hits your face.

But nothing but silence greeted you.

You knocked again, banging harder this time. Maybe he was really fucking high and napping, or in the shower...

He had to be here. He had to be.

He wouldn’t leave, right? Not in his condition, not without receiving your help. You had everything he needed here. You had a system, a plan in place. It wasn’t ideal, but it was enough. It was working.

Unless...

Unless he found something better.

You pounded on his door again, this time letting out your frustration, panic rising from your chest to your throat.

“He’s not there.” Grumbled Shigaraki’s voice. You spun to face him as he stood a few feet away, drying his hair with a towel.

You swallowed. “Where did he go?”

“Dunno. I heard him leave a few minutes ago. It’s not my job to keep tabs on you guys.” Then his red eyes narrowed. “Is there a problem?”

You hesitated. “No.”

Then another entirely different thought came into your mind just as Shigaraki turned to leave.

“Wait!”

Shigaraki paused and half-turned to face you, the towel now draped over his shoulders.

“What happened to Compress?” you asked. “Is he okay?”

“He’ll live.” Shigaraki replied. “He’s still recovering with Giraki.”

Elation filled you as you inhaled and released a deep breath in relief. “Thank God...”

“God had nothing to do with it.” Shigaraki replied casually. “ Garaki said your quick thinking probably saved his life.”

You felt your skin flush at the praise. “Thank you.”

Shigaraki stared at you a brief moment before turning and retreating to his room. Once you felt free of his scrutinizing ruby eyes, you turned and hurried towards the stairs.

You stumbled into the common area to see Toga, Spinner, and Twice playing cards.

“Have you guys seen Dabi?” you asked.

“He left.” Toga answered.

“When?”

“I dunno, like five minutes ago?”

“Did he say where he was going?”

“No? He never tells us anything,” Toga pouted. “He stunk to high heavens, though.”

Spinner scoffed. “That’s nothing new. He always seems to be on something one way or another.” You froze at Spinner’s casually astute observation, but kept silent.

“He’s probably back to recruiting members for the League. It’s all he cares about.” Twice said. “Guy’s gotta get a life.”

You ran for the door. Five minutes. Surely, he couldn’t have gotten far in five minutes...

You stumbled outside, your eyes squinting hard against the daylight as you covered your brow with your hand. You scanned up and down the street, looking for his familiar form, his dark sweater or swirling jacket.

But there was nothing. Dabi was gone.

“Shit.” You muttered.

You went back into the hideout before too many people started to notice you standing out in your pajamas.

Three sets of eyes stared at you as you closed the door behind you. “Does anyone have Dabi’s phone number?”

----------

The bus was fuller than Dabi thought it would be, and it was working in his favor. He’d already managed to snatch two wallets, one from when he stood waiting for people to step off the bus, and another as everyone shuffled in to find their seats. All of the seats were taken now, with a few people forced to stand. Dabi stood as well, positioning himself to be conveniently in the way of anyone who opted to leave before he reached his designated stop.

An old woman stood next to him, her metal rolling cart in front of her, its handle held in her gnarled fingers. She was short, barely coming up to his chest thanks to the hunch in her back. He stared down at her through his dark sunglasses, taking in the look of her clothes, her belongings. She’d gone to the market evidenced by the bok choy sticking out of the bag in her cart. Its green leaves drooped in the heat of the bus, surrounded by all of the warm bodies and closed windows. Her other hand held the vertical bar, and she swayed like a leave on the wind with each bump and jolt. It was obvious that she didn’t have much of value on her. Nothing but a simple gold band on her finger, its surface scuffed and worn as if it had sat there for decades.

Still, the elderly were more likely to carry cash on them then the younger generations, who relied more on credit cards. With her purse bag zipper already open, it had taken just a quick dip of his fingers to snatch the worn leather wallet and tuck it up his sleeve.

Dabi’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He didn’t have to look at it to know it was you, but he did anyway. He stared at the number with no name attached, a strange awareness leaking through his muddled, inebriated mind. Now he had your number. You’d offered it to him before, and he’d declined. What a shitty way to finally get it.

“Someone special?” the old lady asked.

Dabi turned the phone to silent and shoved it back into his pocket. “No,” he replied.

Just then the bus hit an especially deep pothole. The old woman to stumbled, tripping over her cart and landing on the man sitting in front of her. His coffee spilled all over his cheap suit, and he cursed.

“What the hell!” he shouted. He shoved the old woman off of him, and Dabi subtly positioned himself to catch her body against his to keep her from falling back.

Others stared at the man in reproach, but no one spoke up as the old lady stammered an apology, pulling out her kerchief to wipe away at the stains on his clothes. He batted her hands away from him. “Don’t fucking touch me,” he demanded.

The man pulled the string above the window and grabbed his things in a huff as he made his way to leave. “Clumsy old hag...” he muttered under his breath.

Dabi’s eyes narrowed behind his sunglasses.

The man made his way to leave, and Dabi blocked him just enough to bump shoulders with him, which earned him a glare. “Outta my way, jackass,” the man huffed.

As the man exited the bus, Dabi felt the weight of the new wallet now held snuggly in his hand within the sleeve of his hoodie. He wasn’t sure if it had much in it, but even so, a twisted sense of pride lit up his veins just the slightest. Dabi wasn’t very picky on who he stole from, but this one felt especially good.

Once the man was gone, the old woman wiped away the remnants of coffee from the now open seat and sat down. On the next stop, the seat next to her opened up and Dabi gladly took it, his head swimming from the constant motion. His headache was worsening again, the numbing fog he’d induced earlier through alcohol and weed starting to dissipate. He was grateful for the sunglasses, but the heat of the bus was stifling. He forced open the window latch and inhaled as soon as the crisp air hit his lungs.

“Thank you,” said the old woman.

It took Dabi a moment to realize she was talking to him. “For what?”

“Opening the window. It’s gets so hot on these buses sometimes, and my old hands can’t open the latches anymore.”

Dabi grunted. He hunched himself over as his stomach twisted uncomfortably and his leg began to bob up and down. His phone buzzed again, and once again, he pulled it out and stared at the number. Again, he silenced the call, sending it directly to voicemail.

A sharp jagged pain cut across his back and his muscles tensed as he braced himself against it until it passed, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Whoever it is must be worried about you.” She commented, her voice cutting through his haze.

Dabi kept his eyes closed and didn’t respond, hoping she would stop talking to him. He didn’t like when strangers started talking to him, especially nice old ladies that he’d just stolen from.

He heard a panicked gasp, and he opened one eye to see the old woman desperately rummaging through the contents of her purse.

“Where is it?” she asked herself. She looked at Dabi, her wrinkled eyes desperate. “Have you seen a wallet? It’s brown leather, torn on the edge...” she returned to rummaging through her things. “I know I had it, I paid my bus fare, and...” her expression fell with each passing moment, and she looked on the verge of tears. “Oh, no no no...”

Dabi sighed inwardly and snuck the wallet from his sleeve before pulling it out from behind him as if he’d sat on it.

“Is this it?”

Her face lit up instantly as she took it from his hand. “Oh, bless you! Thank you, I don’t know what I would have done if I’d lost it... It must have fallen out of my purse earlier...”

Before Dabi could close his eyes again to wallow in his failure, she’d opened the worn leather to show him a picture of an old man with glasses. “This is my late husband. It’s my favorite picture of him and it’s the only copy I have.”

Dabi stared longingly at the yen notes that were poking out of the top edge, his eyes barely registering the photograph she was showing him. He gave another brief grunt and went back to closing his eyes.

She continued talking. “I take it with me everywhere I go. Makes me feel like he’s still with me.”

Dabi shifted uncomfortably, leaning his head back against the window as his leg continued to bob.

Silence fell again and he listened to the sound of her once again rummaging through her purse.

Then Dabi felt a small nudge against his shoulder and he opened his eyes to see a folded 1000 yen note.

“For your help,” she explained.

Dabi hesitated for a moment before taking the cash and pocketing it.

“Thanks,” he mumbled. He stared ahead of himself at the person across from him reading the newspaper, Endeavor’s face plastered across the front. His hands balled into fists and he felt his temperature rise slightly. If he could just go one day without seeing his damn face...

The old woman’s voice cut in again. “...You look like you’re having a rough day,” she commented.

“Not for long,” he replied curtly.

She took out a bottle of aspirin and opened it, popping a couple of the contents into her wrinkled, frail palm. She held them out to him in offering.

Dabi let out an exasperated sigh. “Look, lady, I’m fine.”

“Hm... maybe something stronger...” she muttered. She put the pills away back into the bottle and began to rummage through her purse again. Dabi leaned his head back and contemplated getting off the bus early. He just wanted some damn peace and quiet while he suffered on his commute...

Another tap on his shoulder got Dabi’s attention, and he turned to see an open tin canister with a single rolled joint inside as the old woman gave him a knowing smile. It took him by surprise, and he stared at the offer dumbly.

“What’s that?”

“You know what it is,” she chided. “Just take it. I can see you need it.”

Dabi took it. “You’re not what I expected...” he replied.

“I use it for my joints. Arthritis, you know,” she explained.

“What if you get caught?”

The old lady laughed. “What’re they gonna do? Throw me in jail?” she laughed again. “No, they’re too busy catching real villains to deal with an old lady like me. Besides, on this side of town, no one cares. You could light that right now and the bus driver won’t say a thing.”

Dabi was tempted as he stared at the joint now resting between his fingers.

He glanced at her purse. “Why not get a prescription for pain meds? It’s legal and stronger.”

“Ah, no.” she replied. “Nasty stuff, those opioids... seen one too many old friends get lost to it. This works just fine for me.”

Dabi’s gut sank in disappointment.

He stared at the joint in his hand then back at the empty canister. He handed it back to her.

“I’m fine.” He replied.

“I have more at home, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I don’t need it,” he said.

He’d had enough charity and pity from others to last him a lifetime.

The old lady gave a small laugh. “I’ve been around a long time. I know withdrawal when I see it.”

Dabi’s mouth pulled into a frown behind his mask and he took the joint back begrudgingly. He put it in his pocket, to save for when he reached his stop.

“Are you trying to get clean?” she asked.

Dabi glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, his blue eye locking with hers behind his sunglasses. “Not really.”

“Hm, you should.” She replied.

Dabi’s mood soured at the unwelcome critique.

“Not really an option,” he replied. To make his point, Dabi pulled up the sleeve of his hoodie just enough to give her a glimpse of his scars. Her wrinkled eyes widened slightly.

“I see,” she replied. “That’s unfortunate luck.”

“Yeah.” Dabi replied. The next stop was his, so he stood and pulled the string by the window. “Thanks for the joint.”

“You’re welcome.” She replied.

He turned to leave but she called to him one more time.

“Call her. Don’t let her worry.”

It was just a lucky guess on her part, but when Dabi looked back at her, he could see a hint of pain in her eyes. For the first time since she came onto the bus, he wondered about her, about her life and her experiences. Did she lose someone close? A child? A friend? A spouse? He glanced at the old wedding band on her finger and he tried for a moment to recall the face in the photo she’d shown. It cut through Dabi’s sickness enough for him to hesitate.

Call you... he couldn’t do that. Not now. If he heard your voice, he might...

Pain danced along his sweaty skin causing a wave of nausea and he forced himself forward. Without answering, he looked away and stepped off the bus.

----------

He was screening your calls. You knew it. It would ring a couple times then go straight to voicemail.

‘ Leave a message.’ *BEEP*

“Dabi... please call me back. Please. This is important,” you said as you struggled to keep your voice from shaking.

Please don’t do this...

Mental images of Dabi passed out, overdosed in an unknown alleyway flitted through your mind.

Please come back to me...

----------

A short walk and one joint later, Dabi found himself within eyesight of an uneventful building in a poverty-stricken neighborhood without a hero in sight. He looked at the address number on the map, and identified it as an old hole-in-the-wall eatery. Its windows were frosted over in yellowish tones from years of sun damage to its laminated surface and it was marred by so much graffiti that he couldn’t even see inside.

He ducked into an alleyway a couple of shops down and pulled the stolen wallets from his pockets and sleeves. One by one he checked each of them for cash, pulling what value he could out of them before incinerating them in his hands.

Once all the cash was gathered, including the yen note the old woman had given him and what he’d started off with before he’d set out this morning, Dabi’s total cash amount was around 10,000 yen. While that amount would have fetched him a half a bottle of pills before, he had a sinking feeling that it wouldn’t be nearly enough this time around.

Dabi slipped a couple of the coins in his back pocket, enough for the bus fare home. The small bit of change wouldn’t make much difference in the deal anyway, and he didn’t want to get stranded so far from the hideout.

The joint the old lady gave him helped a little, but it wasn’t nearly enough. His booze had worn off, leaving his headache worse than before, the weed making him foggier than ever. And the pain... the pain hummed along, unforgiving and relentless. His gut felt twisted and on fire, his legs ached miserably.

He knew it was going to be a rough meeting. Offer too little to start, and the dealer would laugh in his face. Offer everything up front, and the dealer would take advantage and inflate the price, banking on his desperation.

There was nothing else he could do about it. He’d just have to try to get whatever he could. Maybe he’d be able to get just enough to last him until your source pulled through. Either way, he needed this.

Dabi left the alleyway, the cash stuffed deep into his pockets.

Dabi stared at the door handle, his hands clutching the hidden bills and coins in a death grip. That uncharacteristic hesitation took hold again and your face flashed in his mind again. His phone felt hot and heavy in his pocket. He wondered how many messages you’d left. He wondered what they said. Were you angry? Crying? Telling him to go fuck himself and that you hated his guts?

Dabi clenched his sore jaw. You wouldn’t understand.

He was doing this for you.

It was what he wanted to believe at least, even as his fingers twitched, dreaming of the feeling of the yellow bottle in his hands, of the weight of the pills resting on his tongue.

He opened the door.

The smell of food hit his nose, making his burning stomach churn. He hadn’t eaten anything all day, but he knew in this state, nothing would stay down anyway. To his right sat the only other person in the small food joint. He didn’t look up when Dabi entered, his eyes busy with the folded newspaper in his hand, but Dabi knew it was the man he was looking for. A magazine sat next to his half-eaten plate, a picture of All Might across the cover.

Without so much as a word, Dabi sat down at his table. The man didn’t bother to look up, his eyes still on the paper.

“Not even gonna order something to eat?” he chided.

Dabi stared at the untouchable spread of food in front of him as the man took a bite. Dabi’s lips pressed into a thin line.

“Not hungry,” he replied.

Already, Dabi was being put at a disadvantage, cornered into showing some of his own hand by the simple choice of eating or not eating. He was either too poor to afford food, or too far into withdrawal to want to eat. Either way, his choice communicated desperation.

The man finally looked over his paper, his dark green eyes locking with Dabi’s through salt and pepper bangs. This guy was good, and had likely been doing this for years, maybe decades. The man returned to his meal without a word.

Dabi hated men like this, men who got cocky on their ability to lord their goods over the needy, the poor, the desperate. And Dabi hated being all of those things. It was a cold reminder of how far he’d fallen from grace, from how far he’d landed from his birthright.

If they had met in an alleyway, Dabi could have taught him a lesson about arrogance. It was his favorite lesson to teach, after all...

But the man was smart, and now doubt was experienced in dealing with men like Dabi. There was a reason he chose an eatery rather than a more secluded meeting place. And there was no telling what sort of quirk this man may have in retaliation.

So, Dabi resigned himself to waiting, each minute ticking by slower than the last. The migraine tightened its chokehold on his senses, making the daylight coming into the establishment brighten, dark spots starting to float in his vision. The itchy irritation of his healing burn began to grate on him, and he fought the urge to move his body within his hoodie to provide some semblance of relief, knowing you’d scold him if he reopened the healing tissue.

“Are we gonna wait here all day?” Dabi finally snipped. “I got shit to do. If you’re just here to waste my damn time-“

“I’m here as a courtesy to Giran.” The man wiped his mouth and put down the newspaper. He eyed Dabi up and down, his eyes narrowed in judgement. “Hm. Look at you. Let me guess. Fire quirk? You look like you’re already on death’s door, probably be dead in a year. I don’t know what he sees in you that makes you think you’re worth my time or my resources.”

“I have money.” Dabi replied.

“Not very much, apparently.” The man replied, his eyes on Dabi’s clothes. “And for how high in demand my resources are, I’m afraid you may be below my price range. I have to maintain a respectable business, and if word gets out that I’m giving handouts to street rats, then every rat will come knocking.”

“Then why bother meeting?” Dabi’s limited patience fraying. He did not run out here, risking everything, just to be told no. “Why waste my fuckin’ time?”

“You misunderstand me. I’m not wasting your time. You’re wasting mine.” The man picked up his newspaper again, but Dabi’s hand stopped it from blocking his view of his face.

“Giran said you were willing to make a deal,” he hissed. The paper beneath his hand started to smoke.

“HEY!” interrupted a deep voice. Dabi turned to see the store owner glaring at him. “No fucking quirks in here, got it? Take it outside if you have to.”

Dabi suppressed his rage and crumpled the burning paper in his palm, snuffing out the fresh embers before they could cause more damage.

The store owner held his glare a moment longer, his mustache bristling, then turned away to return to cleaning his grill, muttering, “Fire quirks. I fucking hate fire quirks...”

The man stared at his ruined newspaper for a moment before setting it on his now empty plate. “Giran gave you false information. I said I was willing to meet. The deal depended on this meeting, and I must say, it’s not going well for you.”

Dabi’s jaw clenched tight and the pain from his torn staple blossomed. It flooded his brain, sweeping away the rage only to replace it the fresh memories of how he’d gotten the wound. It helped him refocus his temper... barely.

Besides, killing the dealer certainly wouldn’t look good for Giran’s image. Impact Giran’s reputation, and you lose Giran’s support. And Dabi couldn’t afford to lose that, even as a member of the League.

The pain throbbed, and Dabi forced his wounded ego aside.

“I’m willing to pay,” he grumbled.

“How much?” the man asked.

Dabi pulled out the cash he had in his pocket and put it on table, papers laid out and yen coins ringing. It didn’t matter that the owner was there, able to see it. He was sure this wasn’t the first deal to go down under his roof.

The man stared at the money before he began to pick them up one by one and straighten them as he counted. Dabi watched silently. When the man was done counting, he set the money back down onto the table and pursed his lips.

“Is this some kind of joke?” the man finally asked.

“The hell you talking about? This would get me at least half a bottle.”

“Not in this economy it won’t. Did you hear about the shipment that got intercepted? Feds and heroes were all over it. They’re still following leads and plucking up users, dealers and cartel throughout the city. Half the dealers aren’t even selling right now, waiting for this whole thing to blow over.”

“It’s all I got.” Dabi muttered.

The man eyed him for a long moment, before finally speaking. “It’s not enough.”

Dabi scowled and reached for his cash, but the dealer’s hand got to it first, sliding the bills and coins back towards himself.

“However... I am willing to be generous today.” He replied. “It’s not enough for the whole bottle, but it can cover some of the pills.”

“How many?”

“Five.”

Dabi’s jaw dropped. “Five??” he shouted angrily.

The owner slammed down a clear plastic bin filled with vegetables and gave Dabi a hard glare. Dabi clenched his teeth and his fists and lowered his voice.

“Five??” he repeated. “That’s extortion and you fucking know it.”

“It’s business. Supply and demand and all that,” the man replied with a casual wave of his hand. “And if you can’t play by the rules, then maybe you shouldn’t be in the game.”

Dabi pursed his lips again as he struggled to hide another sharp snake of pain that laced along his arm. “What’s the dosage?”

The man pulled the bottle out of the inner pocket of his jacket and showed it to him before hiding the bottle away again.

“That’s it?? That’s half than what I was getting before.”

“Like I said... hard times. You should feel lucky that there’s any still on the market at all.”

Dabi’s leg began bouncing vigorously under the table as he weighed his options, but his options were limited. He had no more money, and he had nothing else to barter with.

“Let me see one.” Dabi ordered.

The man’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“To make sure it’s legit. You can’t just raise the price that high and not expect me to check.”

The man silently pulled out the bottle again and showed Dabi the pill between his thumb and forefinger. Dabi leaned forward and stared at it with narrow eyes. It had the right color, and there… the stamp of authenticity, proof that it was made in a pharmaceutical lab.

Still....

Dabi held out his hand. “Let me hold it.”

The man pulled the pill back out of his reach, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. Then he slowly handed it over. “Don’t try to take it.”

“I’m not a fucking idiot.”

Dabi held the pill in his hand, checking the weight, the shine of it, and once again looking over the details of the number stamped on the side. It was legit. Dabi felt the loss of it as soon as he handed it back to the dealer.

“Fine.”

“What was that?”

This fucking asshole...

“I said fine. I’ll take the five pills.”

The man grinned, and Dabi fantasized about knocking out his perfect teeth before setting his face on fire.

“A wise choice.” The man took a small dime bag out of his coat pocket. Then he opened up a clean napkin and counted out the pills in front of Dabi. Once Dabi nodded his approval of the five pills, the man put them into the small baggy and handed it over, pocketing Dabi’s cash with his other hand.

Dabi took the bag and carefully put it in his hoodie pocket.

“Don’t lose them.” The man commented sardonically. Then he stood up and went over to the owner, slipping him some of the cash Dabi had paid him. The man gave a curt nod and pocketed the bills. The dealer turned around and winked. “Cost of doing business, am I right? Pleasure doing business, kid.” And with that, he left.

Dabi sat for a few minutes, staring at the half empty plate and burned newspaper. The magazine was gone, to be used as a way to discretely hand over the rest of that bottle to someone with more money.

A wave of self-loathing and hatred washed over Dabi, but he stuffed it down before he let it consume him. If he dwelled on it much longer, he’d burn this whole building to the ground.

With a stubborn set of his jaw, Dabi grabbed what remained of the food on the plate and ate it quickly, the taste like ash on his tongue. Then he pulled out the small bag and grabbed a pill, downing it with what remained of the dealer’s water glass.

He had to eat something if he wanted to keep the medication down, and there was no point in letting food go to waste. Especially when his own pockets were now empty.

Dabi stared at the rest of the pills, debated swallowing another, but decided against it. He had to make it last. He had to make it worth it. The guilt crept up again, unwelcome and intrusive. He forced it down again and pocketed the little bag back into his jacket.

Then he stood up and left.

Dabi eyed the street up and down for the dealer, but he was already long gone, no trace of him anywhere. Dabi kicked an empty soda can in frustration. How he would have loved to have cornered him...

Probably a teleportation quirk... Dabi thought. It was the only possibility that made any sense, why he’d be willing to meet in broad daylight with the risk being as high as he made it out to be.

Begrudgingly, Dabi made his way toward the bus stop, his hands in his pockets.

The bus back was less packed than the one he came in on; he found a seat towards the back where he could watch people come and go in solitude. He knew he should stand again, wait for opportunities to pick more pockets in order to line his own empty ones. But at this point, the combination of sleep deprivation, withdrawal, dehydration, and starvation were all beginning to take a toll on his weak body. All he wanted was to sit and wait for the opioid to take effect, to feel that high that he’d missed for so long. All he wanted was a reprieve from life.

Ten minutes in and it hit him like a wave, washing over him, cleansing of him of his discomforts. A part of him wanted to cry at how good it felt. The blissful blanket of pleasure surrounded him, cradling him like an infant as the beast of addiction purred contently in his veins. Euphoria warmed his blood until he was floating, protected and safe from the harsh pain of his body and the world around him. It hit harder than he’d expected, but then he realized he’d been without them for two weeks, even with your pills to offset his withdrawal. His body had already started to forget, resetting years of carefully laid out neural synapses.

Either way, he didn’t mind. If anything, he was glad it was working as well as it was; he’d been afraid the pills would be useless at their lower dose. But now he was grateful – so, so grateful – that he’d managed to negotiate for at least some of them. He’d forgotten how good it really felt, and he let himself soak in the bliss as he sat on the bus. People came and left in a hazy blur. Dabi stared out the window, the motion of the bus lulling him into a half sleep as he finally began to surrender to the exhaustion of his broken body.

But the smaller dosage had its own small consequences, its effectiveness wearing off faster than he’d hoped. It seemed like he’d barely closed his eyes before being woken up again by the throbbing pain in his head and aching limbs. What had it been? A few minutes? His eyes noted the shift in the shadows and daylight within the bus, the rays now coming through the opposite side. No, hours had passed. How many? The nausea was awakening in his gut. His awareness began to sharpen, jagged and cutting, unwanted emotions beginning to bubble to the surface like black tar. Not enough. He needed this, for just a little bit longer. He pulled the small bag out of his pocket and swallowed another pill. His phone buzzed in his pocket but he didn’t feel it.

A few minutes later, he sank back under, safely nestled in the pill’s effects. Time lost its meaning. Business signs and streetlights lit up, one by one in the late afternoon that steadily faded to twilight. They blurred as they passed, like watercolor across a page that made the faces on the billboards blur and fade into a sunset palette of oranges and blues.

Dabi missed his bus stop. And the one after that, and the one after that. It wasn’t until he saw the harbor spread out before him that he realized he’d reached the end of the bus route. The sight of the water called to him, and he quietly he got off, his feet never quite touching the ground.

He walked to the edge and stared out into the water as stars began to awaken and twinkle. Storm clouds hugged the horizon, and the cold, damp gust of wind across the water brought the promise of night-time rain. The bridge crossing the bay was lit up in white lights, the low distant hum of traffic floating over the lapping waters at the base of the wall.

Dabi felt content. For the first time, his world was quiet, the struggles he’d been grappling with faded and disconnected. The memories of his troubles were softened around the edges, blurring into the hazy background until nothing was left. Nothing left but you. Your voice, your gentle laugh, your soft touch. Memories of happy moments drifted forth. You throwing a napkin at him. Eating ramen in your room. Laying on your bed as you treated him in the late hours. Your feet stretched out across his lap as you slept.

Holding you in his arms after he’d caught you.

Waking up next to you.

He stood there as time passed, and all that kept coming up in his mind was you. You, you, you. He felt warm despite the cold, and he knew it wasn’t because of his quirk.

So maybe it wasn’t just addiction after all.

A sinking feeling began to grow in his chest, its weight an ache that he couldn’t quite name.

‘Promise.’

His own word echoed in his head, the hazy memory drifting up like a leaf caught in a gentle breeze. The weight of it stifled his lingering high, pulling his thoughts back closer to the present.

What did he promise again...?

He struggled to remember, but the details were slippery, fading in and out of his mind. All he could remember was your face in the dark, the feel of your chin between his fingers. You were sad about something...

BZZ BZZ BZZ

Dabi pulled his phone from his pocket to see a series of text messages.

Are you okay?

Where are you?

Please call me.

Dabi, I need to know you’re okay.

He could hear your voice in the words, and with it he finally remembered.

‘I don’t want to end up alone again...’

Reality sharpened around him as his senses began to return – the chill of the damp cold night air soaking through his clothes, the itching on his back, the ache in his legs. The pulsing in his temples began to throb, and he closed his eyes against it, pressing his fingers against his closed eyelids.

The medication was finally wearing off, and now Dabi realized how much time must have actually passed. Twilight was long gone, the dark of night in full swing.

When he opened his eyes again, your words blared bright in the backlight of his phone screen.

I need to know you’re okay.

You were worried.

Of course you were. You always worried over him.

‘I don’t want to be alone again...’

You were alone now, stuck back at the hideout, desperately sending messages into the void and hearing nothing in return. And it was his fault, his choice. He left you alone.

But he’d promised...

I did it for you, he thought.

It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours...

You did it for yourself, a voice in his head answered back.

Anger welled up in his chest.

“GODDAMN IT!!!” the curse ripped from his lips, and his fist collided with the wooden telephone post next to him. The pain of the punch erupted across his knuckles and his wrist, but he didn’t care. He punched it again, with his other hand. Then he did it again. And again. Blue flames licked and teased off his knuckles, little dancing demons that left scorch marks on the damp wood before being snuffed out on the next hit.

Over and over Dabi punched, as if the pain could erase his mistake, could erase the mental picture of the look on your face that you’d give him once he returned. But it didn’t do any of those things, and he kept punching until his knuckles were raw and bleeding, littered with splinters.

He didn’t stop until the familiar sharp pain of his damaged nerves lit a streak of agony up his leg, just as it had that morning. He buckled, collapsing to his knees before falling to his haunches until he was leaning against the post, his breaths heavy. His hand instantly went to his pocket, eager for relief. Just as he pulled out the last three pills from the little bag, he froze. He stared at them, his hand shaking from the adrenaline and the withdrawal. They were small, harmless looking things, but they felt heavy, filled with guilt, accusation, and dependency. They drew his attention like the gravity a dead star threatening to suck him in until there was nothing left.

He recalled all of the ways he’d convinced himself it was worth it. How it would free you from his clutches, how he’d be able to get himself back on track if he could just get some. They had promised relief, freedom. But Dabi knew it was fake, knew it was a temporary fix. They’d be used up by morning, and then he’d be back where he’d started. And you... you would never trust him again.

Yet he still wanted. He craved. He stared at the pills and licked his chapped lips. He picked one and brought it to his lips.

‘Promise.’

Dabi hesitated, his hand shaking.

Then with a frustrated yell, he threw the pill into the harbor, followed quickly by the remaining two, still tucked into their little bag.

And just like that, they were gone, swallowed up by the night, their contents lost to the lapping waters. Dabi stared at the black water dumbfounded at himself as regret settled in the form of aching limbs and a pounding head.

Stupid fucking idiot, he told himself. Why did you do that?

The voices in his head didn’t respond, the answer buried too deep for him to find.

A raindrop touched his head, and then a moment later, another landed on his hand. More and more began to fall, speckling his hoodie, his head, the ground around him. A flash of lightning lit the sky, followed a moment later by the loud boom of thunder. The drizzles instantly turned into a downpour, and Dabi sat in the rain, letting the cold wash over him as the raindrops sizzled on his hot skin. If only it could wash away his mistakes.

But it wouldn’t. He’d have to go back eventually and face what he’d done.

He’d just gotten you back. The one person who gave a damn about him, and the first person to truly see him for who he was. And now he was going to lose you - all over five, measly, stupid little pills.

Dabi forced himself up and walked away from the water’s edge. He held his phone inside his pocket. He should respond to you. Let you know he was okay. But it was pouring buckets now. He needed a safe place. He made his way back to the bus stop, where the awning that covered the bench from the elements gave him the protection he needed. It certainly wasn’t perfect, with the wind blowing the rainwater sideways with each gust, but it was enough for Dabi to pull his phone out and hunch over it against the elements.

He found another missed message from you, time timestamp on it from fifteen minutes ago.

Please come home.

Dabi tapped the message box, and the little text bar blinked, waiting. Dabi stared at it, his fingers frozen.

As if you had sensed his hesitation, your number popped up, his phone buzzing with each silent ring. His thumb hovered over the red button before switching to the green and tapping it.

He put the phone to his ear and waited, his mouth dry, tongue stuck.

“Dabi?? Dabi, are you there?” your voice came through, slightly choppy from the interference of the weather and the poor cell phone service. But it was there, panicked, and shaky with worry. It grounded him instantly, and he finally found his voice.

“Yeah. I’m here.” He finally said, his voice slightly hoarse.

“Oh, thank God,” you breathed. “Are you okay?”

Dabi hesitated a moment, before answering. “No.” He was far, far from okay, he realized. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever been okay in his entire life.

“Are you hurt??”

Another pause. “No.”

A half lie he realized as he inspected his knuckles on his free hand.

“Okay. Are you close by? Are you able to come home?”

Home...

Dabi felt a stone form in his throat and his eyes began to burn. He rubbed at them with his thumb and forefinger, refusing to cry so many times in a single week. He cried all the time when he was younger and weaker. He wasn’t weak anymore.

He cleared his throat.

“I don’t have any bus money.”

“It’s okay, Kurogiri get you. Where are you?”

Dabi looked at the map next to him, encased in plastic on the inside of the bus stop.

“I’m at bus stop 23, at the harbor.”

“Okay, stay there. I’ll let Kurogiri know. Do you want him to transport you to your room?”

“Yeah.”

“Dabi, don’t hang up.” You ordered.

Dabi didn’t answer, but he didn’t hang up either. He could hear you on the other end of the line, opening and closing a door, the sound of footsteps, your muffled voice talking.

A moment later, the familiar black portal opened up to his left. Dabi hesitated then stepped through.

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Chapter 14

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IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST FOR THIS FIC OR ANY OTHER WRITINGS, PLEASE GO HERE TO FILL OUT THE GOOGLE FORM. 18+ ONLY ALLOWED.

TAGLIST: @babayaga67 @ladroone @samemec @georgettesand @horsetechie @ajaviary @thegratefulbread25 @lovingandenjoying @jammakesjam @christalcake @moth-baybee @kdadss @stealingyourturts @purplesweethart @reapersbarge @ren-z @dabi-lover @ohh-takuuu @darkovergrownforestnymph @silverrings-n-prettythings @kirisbeltbuckle @wynnsmelody @sleepyfairyxo @noonasaryn @alittlemoth @prettylambs @n0san1tyl3ft @afuturefailure @sleepycrybby

#dabi x reader #dabi x you #soft!dabi #tw:drugs #tw:alcohol #tw:smoking #tw:drug withdrawal #tw:drug addiction #angst #pining #touch #Touch chapter 13

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skykashi · 1 year ago

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1st (and this is purely personal) for everything's sake, when you call customer service and you get a survey after the call, that survey is only to evaluate the advisor you just spoke to, not your entire experience of 20 years or whatever with whatever service or company that is, even if the survey asks you to give a number to the company, that number would only count on that one call, don't freggin' give a low score and then leave a comment saying "the advisor was fantastic and resolved an issue I've been having for months, kudos to the advisor but the company sucks" or "the advisor was so helpful and did a great job but I hate the company"... Dude I swear I hate the company more than you do, but I have to work because I need food!! That low score you left isn't hurting the company, it isn't going to let your voice be heard, no one will notice it or care except the poor bastard who just spent all that time on the call trying to help you, you're only hurting the one person who actually cared and resolved the issue you've been suffering with for that long, and I'm not even getting extra money or anything out of the good score either but the mangers find those low score surveys enough reason to harasse us, like "your performance is not good lately... You like to work early huh? So as a punishment until you get your performance back on track again you're going to work in the late shifts" no one reads your comment or care that you said the advisor was amazing and did a great job but I'm leaving a low score for the company because of my past experiences!! Just ducking evaluate the call only, all 3 questions are about this one call only, even if it's deceiving enough to ask you how much you're satisfied with the company itself, I swear, they are lying, leaving a low score on such a question will only hurt the person who helped you, not the company!!

Second (and I know I said that a million times before) I promise Kakashi and Obito are both 5.11 ft why do ppl insist on drawing them like this?

They are both 5.11, They are both 5.11, They are both 5.11, They are both 5.11, They are both 5.11, They are both 5.11, They are both 5.11, why why why why do you guys not like Kakashi the way he is?!! This is so unfair, it would have been absolutely fine if they were canonically like this but when ppl insist on doing this even tho they are canonically the same height it makes me feel that they don't like Kakashi, they only like an imaginary version in their heads that isn't actually him and it's annoying me because it effects the entire fandom, especially because this is an old show that ended years ago so ppl don't remember how canon was anymore, they only see that fanwort and they genuinely believe that this is how they actually are and I find myself surrounded by this oc character who is impersonating Kakashi but isn't really him and it makes me miss Kakashi because I can't find him anymore, remember that filler episode that had fake Gai and Lee who were pretending to be them?

Imagine if these 2 imposters managed to actually take Gai and Lee's place forever and the real Gai and Lee can't be found anymore and most ppl forgot about the real Gai and Lee and believe that these are actually them, and you're the only one screaming to the world that no, this is not them, you guys, please don't forget the real Guy and Lee that we all love but no one is listening to you or can hear you... This is exactly how I feel about this and this is why it's annoying me so much because that fake OC fanon Kakashi took the real Kakashi's place and hardly anyone remembers him anymore and it hurts and I miss him and I'm trying not to care like everyone seems to be doing but unfortunately I can't stop myself from caring because we're not getting any more canon Kakashi content since the og story ended and all, and the fandom is all I have left now but the fandom is slowly replacing him with someone else that isn't him, and this is not just about his height or body, there are way too many misconceptions and claims about him that never happened too, like ppl denying good things he did or claiming that he did something that he didn't actually do and all of this hurts.

It's only 8 am and I'm so annoyed that I want to scream, and part of my annoyance is at myself because I'm not sure that I should be annoyed at stuff like that in the first place because most ppl seem fine with it but why can't I bw like most ppl?!! I'm so annoyed that I'm barely holding back the tears, too much annoyance to the point of feeling like I will explode... That's not a good start to my day, I hope it won't continue like this 😕

#fandom bs #personal #kakashi #obito #gai #rock lee #sky rambling

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betweenlands · 2 years ago

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hi i want to know your opinions about lalnable hector. this is graded /j

fuck i didn't think anyone would understand what i meant by ship of theseus. ok. ok. obligatory disclaimer i am late to yogs fandom and also have pretty much only watched flux buddies. under cut just in case (i take a couple potshots at various fanon things including ech/oble, sorry)

i don't think we have fully sufficient proof for him being a cannibal specifically of the enjoys it variety. while i'm sure he got the name Lalnable Hector from somewhere i think it's a lot more interesting to explore avenues other than just "oh yeah he loves eating people he does it all the time"

i don't know exactly how to characterize him and five's dynamic but i feel pretty confident in saying that "fucked up evil codependent romance" is NOT the right vibe. maybe it's just weirdness from "he literally made five from a tube" but i've always seen them as more. weird uncle and your equally weird cousin once removed that are the same age even though one of them is a full generation "younger"

everyone forgets lalnable has canon voice dysphoria. why does everyone forget this. he uses a voice changer because he is uncomfortable with the way his voice is pitched. he is SO trans coded. yes this also means that every lalna is trans by proxy i know what im about

i feel like people need to do more with the fact that he was locked in a box in yoglabs for [unspecified period of time] after helping with the cloning project. he finished being useful. he saw what was happening and tried to stop it. he was erased from history and disgraced for it and LOCKED IN A BOX--

much like every lalna. yes he's a himbo. yes he's also incredibly smart and intelligent please give him more credit than "dumbass"

really lalnable is like. i think he's a more nuanced character than he seems to have been given credit for. i'm not saying he doesn't have aspects of "insane murderhobo mad scientist" to him but i think those mannerisms may be a little bit more deliberate and intentional than people give them credit for. this also obviously means he's not just Pure Evil that part is yoglabs propaganda

lalnable is doing a Bit. he's doing the Evil Bit because it's the only unique sense of identity he has remaining in a world where he has been wholly replaced by countless doppelgangers from a project he helped run, working for people he thought he could trust. he clings to the things that make him unique even if they're traits that were leveraged to villainize him because at least then that proves he was an individual to begin with.

and the number one opinion:

lalnable hector is absolutely the original i cannot stress this enough not only does he literally say it in the 2.0 finale but the entire arc of flux buddies as a series and anything meaningful it would have to say about identity and self-idealization is fully kneecapped if you think lalnable is a clone. he is not a clone he is the original lalna. that's the entire point of his character in a meta sense he is a question of identity he is the brand new ship of theseus he is the first simon jarett he is the shape echoed in the funhouse mirror distortions of all the lalna clones. he may not have always been lalnable hector, but he was the original lalna.

#yt #ask #orig #anonymous #yogs #did i get a good grade in lalnable hector anon #i wont change my opinions either way but you said it would be graded so i expect a grade now

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ficforthought · 4 years ago

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On being SO DONE with M*sha, a rant a decade in the making!

After giving this some thought I'm going to go ahead and give my opinion on Misha and yesterday’s situation in public for the first time ever. I was going to just post on Twitter but since this has been 12 years in the making I have exceeded the number of tweets I can put in one thread! There’s A LOT in here, so my summary is also long. I'm aware that I will lose followers over this, I'm not looking to offend anyone but it will inevitably happen. I wish anyone leaving all the best as fellow human beings.

TL;DR - having kept quiet for so long I’ve finally reached my limit and it’s all come bubbling out. I’ve never been a fan of Misha, I’ve been ambivalent for the most part, but have never criticised him in any hateful way, that's not who I am, but after all these years of putting up with his bullshit, attention seeking and troublemaking I am DONE. Deleting his tweet containing the word Wincest and replacing it with an APOLOGY just to pander to his Minions and save face is the straw that broke the camel's back. He has consistently pushed his ship on not only fans but on other actors (despite Jensen's discomfort, and him having repeatedly made his feelings known on it), he has stood by while his Minions/Hellers have harassed, victimised, doxxed and sent death threats to people based on their FICTIONAL ships. He has pandered to their gatekeeping, constantly demanded attention in obvious and not so obvious ways, and to the best of my knowledge never criticised their actions even though he's aware of it in a very real way. Some of his Minions have now taken their shit into The Boys fandom and created negativity for Jensen before the guy has even got a foot through the set door, and how is that supporting one half of your ship?

Misha has claimed to be a victim of targeted harassment from Wincest/brother fans (not only shippers) yet his fans have said and done the most despicable things on his watch, all in the name of what he must think is entertainment, or even his idea of a ‘joke’.

Any respect I had for the man based on his humanitarian work has gone because I can only take so much hypocrisy. He and his pandering because of a desperate attempt to be woke and wholly inclusive (which is actually impossible, no matter how good intentions are) are beyond pathetic. Whilst I have never seen why people think he’s so great I have friends IRL and online who genuinely adore the man, yet they have been shocked and upset by his contempt for half of the fandom that made him somewhat famous. It's disgusting and I'm not scrolling by any more. Misha, I hope to never see you on anything J2 related in future because none of us need that kind of negativity, *especially* not J2. Be gone, foul fiend!

OK, so to the too long part. Please be aware that these are my opinions as a fan of the show, of Sam and Dean, and J2, not only as a shipper. I can separate canon and fanon, and can view canon from a gen or shippy PoV. Whether you agree or disagree with my opinion let me be clear that I do not condone constant bashing and hate of a person or character so this isn’t the start of a regular thing for me. It's possible to have an opinion and not show the same vitriol that has been following this man around for years, and that’s what I’m doing. I've not posted this to prompt more negativity, it's simply to get it off my chest and make it clear how I feel. I stand by my philosophy of ship who you want to ship, enjoy it, but don't force it on other people and don't be a dick about it…hmm, that kinda sounds like familiar behaviour, though, does it not?!

I have ABSOLUTELY NO ISSUE with other people liking Misha, Cas or Destiel when it’s for the love of the characters and the ship. What I *do* have an issue with is people who are the true definition of a Heller. I don’t see that as a generic term, don't be ignorant and think I do because I know the difference between actual ship fans and the crazies, both ships have ‘em and I want no part of either of their venom. If you are reading this and class yourself as a Heller then you are part of the problem so run along and as you are all so fond of saying, 'get help' and take your bestie king with you.

I’m stating my opinion in what I feel is the most mature way I can, because unlike many people on SM, I am an adult and can act accordingly, with forethought and without resorting to temper tantrums and bullying of other people to get my point across. I am able to tell the difference between reality and fiction, I don't tar everyone with the same shipper brush and I don't expect everyone to agree with my opinion, but as we know opinions are like arseholes, we all have them and sometimes they stink. Unlike some, for the most part in life (online and offline) I *do* stand by what I say and don’t backtrack or delete things to appease the masses. I have spent a lot of time writing this out to be as clear as possible without being intentionally hateful. Bear with me jumping between actor and character where relevant, at this point they're conjoined. I will say this before I go any further, it doesn’t end well for Misha, I don’t mince my words and if you don’t like seeing facts and opinions laid out, this isn't the post for you.

I’ll say right off the bat what most of you have surmised - I’ve never held Misha (or Cas) in high esteem but I have never *hated* on him. I have shared mild criticism of his actions and opinions on Cas over the years but never, I feel, in any way that has made me feel I have something to apologise for. I have said several times I've been unhappy about Misha crashing con panels, taking attention away from J2 when at those cons *most* people paid their hard earned money to see the STARS of the show they love, first and foremost, and anyone else is a very nice bonus. The odd appearance here and there crashing a panel is fine (and Misha isn’t the first or last person to do it), maybe take up a few minutes then leave, but when someone commandeers an entire panel, that's just not on. It's not only selfish, rude and attention seeking but also disrespectful to other actors, fans and to the organisers who work hard to make sure everything ties in to give us the best con experience we can have. Everyone gets their turn on stage, there's no need to try and hog any more of the limelight, Veruca Salt style. Oh, and if you’re reading this and not getting that reference, (a) you shouldn’t be on my blog because you’re far too young, (b) look it up, and if you still don’t get what I’m saying… well then please refer to point (a). Thank you, kindly!

There was a time in Kripke's era where Cas was - I feel - intentionally used as a pawn by the writers to divert *canon* from the ‘questionable’ relationship between Sam and Dean, i.e. Wincest focus. Prior to that people (other fans) lightened up and just accepted the fact that Wincest had been there since day one in terms of the writing of the show and the fandom. All the cast and crew knew - J2, Kripke and JDM in particular - and made light of it, never judging, never shaming and often encouraging it because they understand it’s a fun part of fandom. Wincest was present enough to be part of the not so subtle subtext, as I said people just accepted it. Kink tomato was alive and well, so was ‘don’t like, don’t read’ and we all just scrolled over things we didn’t like without turning everything into a personal vendetta and excuse for bullying others who didn’t share our views. When the angels came into the plot I think most of us Wincest fans gave the Dean/Cas innuendos the small laugh they deserved and then turned back to the focus of the show which was the brothers, as it had always been intended. Misha, however, milked those moments as much as possible which was amusing at the start but got old *very* quickly, not just for fans (shippers and non shippers alike), but for other actors, in particular Jensen who is on record MULTIPLE times showing his dislike for Destiel. He told people outright that's not how he was playing the relationship between the two characters and CATEGORICALLY said "Destiel doesn't exist" but did it end there? No, it did not because neither fans or Misha let it go, in fact Misha only pushed more, goaded fans into flogging the same dead horse as much as possible. He’s never stopped, not even when there was so much discord in the fandom, a huge wedge was driven into it because of ships, which IMO he heavily contributed to.

Fast forward to over a decade later (a decade, seriously man, let it fucking go!) he didn’t even stop when Destiel did partially go canon. I have never doubted that Cas loved Dean (Sam, too) because in SPN lore angels are made to love, even rebellious ones. I, along with many others, liked that about Cas because who doesn't love a rebel, especially one rebelling for very good reasons, and because of those two wonderful men? Sam and Dean allowed him to see beyond what he'd been brainwashed to believe his entire existence. The fact is that although the nature of that love changed for Cas, it never did for Dean and was CANONICALLY UNREQUITED because Dean was incapable of loving anyone else as much as he loved Sam. All that mattered to Dean, even when he saw other characters as "family" was still Sam…ALWAYS Sam, every step of the way. Again for those who have too much Misha shaped wax in their ears, that’s canon. Whether people choose to see that love platonically or romantically is up to them, soulmates don't always have to be romantic, either way, brotherly love won out above all else on the show. No amount of Misha screaming ‘hey look, Destiel!’ changed that, but it sure didn’t stop him trying, did it?

So now that the obvious has been stated, here's something else we all know - never once in all of the years on the show did Misha drop rallying of the troops to his precious, ego stroking ship. Never once (that I am aware of) has he called out his Minions and Hellers on their continued harassment of everyone involved in the show and other fans despite the fact that they have bullied, victimised and wished bodily harm, rape and death on people who don't see their ship and because didn't get the ending to the story that they wanted. Not once has Misha shown any remorse for the trauma his "fans" have caused, and I’m taking REAL trauma, here, not the kind Twitter stans see as ‘triggering’ - people have been driven to close SM accounts, attempted, and in some cases succeeded in taking their own lives. These Minions have openly mocked Jared’s struggles with depression and anxiety, and Misha - who claims to be friends with J2 and be supportive of them in every way - has stood by and let it all play out, knowing full well some of the goings on, if not the full extent of how toxic these people are. We know he sees things being said online, and I have absolutely no doubt he spends time online searching his name for things that are relevant in some way to him in an effort to insert himself into a current conversation, or even start one so that attention is on him. Gotta stay relevant, somehow, right, Mish?

He has actively encouraged bullying by his actions of enabling the behaviours above, both by the flogging of the aforementioned dead horse, AND by not objecting to unacceptable behaviours. Remember when Minions and Hellers were slating J2, particularly Jared, for not posting on SM about BLM and other topics? Yeah, he didn’t ask them to stop doing that, either, even when he was tagged in things along the lines of ‘If Misha can post why can’t J2?’ etc. There have been some token protests, con vids I've seen have show his 'objections' which IMO have been done in a very tongue in cheek way, meaning that those people who needed to be pulled aside and told to change their ways just carried on, because their evil overlord didn’t explicitly explain it in terms a three year old could understand that bullying and forcing your opinion on others is WRONG. Not all of his cult are young and impressionable, not by a long shot, but many of the more vocal and vitriolic ones are.

As a father himself I wonder what Misha would do if he found out that his kids were behaving in ways his Minions are? I’m aware they’re young, but kids are cruel and bullying doesn’t just happen online. Even at whatever age they are, would he laugh it off the way he appears to have done with all of this fandom toxicity? Not bloody likely! I wonder if he’s as desperate to gain the approval of his family, friends and colleagues as he appears to be for that of his Minions/Hellers? I would certainly hope so, but that question can only be answered by Misha, himself, and I can and will not presume to speak on someone else's behalf on things in their personal life. For the record I would never presume I know what J2's answers would be on anything, however I do feel that after 15 years I have an accurate gauge on what kind of people they are so would be confident that any opinion I had on a matter aligns with their morals and ethics. As much as J2 have shared of themselves with us - willingly and under no pressure to do so, I might add - we don't *know* them, but we know enough to have an informed opinion. I can’t say the same for Misha because based on the behaviour he’s repeatedly displayed, things I've heard about from other fans as well as people I know IRL who have had direct dealings with him through cons or GISH (including some very actively in the early days when it was GISHWHES) he just hasn’t seemed like a person I wanted to follow on SM. I’ve never watched any of his solo panels, though I have watched ones with both or one of the J's, mostly being left irritated because of his behaviour. Watching the J’s put up with that shit is painful, and it’s a testament to how good they are as actors that they managed to hide at least some of their disdain for as long as they did. Microexpressions give them away, particularly Jensen, and they certainly have faces I have spent many years watching closely. Beautiful faces to go with beautiful souls, both of them! <3

I have precisely ZERO interest in Destiel as a ship, very little interest in Cas as a character anymore (though I did like him in the early days,and his relationship with Jack in late seasons) so I have absolutely no reason or desire to follow anything Misha does. That said, I've obviously been peripherally aware of some things he's been involved in because of friends, from things I’ve seen on SM and general fandom stuff. Despite the things I've already mentioned about his behaviour, up until now I have been able to maintain a level of respect for him as a person because of the humanitarian and charity work he's done. He seems like someone who really does want to change the world for the better and I am in full support of that fact, so much so that I have supported TWO campaigns relating to him. I bought one of the Super Good t-shirts for the campaign he did with Michael Sheen (a true angel!), the SPN/Good Omens x-over to help homeless charities, and I chose the design with text only and not artwork of Michael and Misha on, basically because I didn’t want to be wearing something with Misha’s face on it and I make absolutely no apology for that, whatsoever. I also bought Alex's #TheEndHasNoEnd shirt, which some of the profits went to Random Acts who do great work, so again, despite not liking Misha I still willingly contributed for a cause bigger than me, and to support Alex, who I absolutely ADORE. I'm aware that Stands aren't popular with some of the fandom, however since most of the cast of SPN are happily affiliated with them then I don't feel it's my place to either judge, or to discuss topics I know next to nothing about. But I digress, as a decent human being I have shown support tangentially to a man who I don't care for out of respect for the work he does outside the fandom. Telling you this isn’t to paint myself in a good light - I don’t need your approval, I’m a big girl, unlike some I don’t need constant validation! - only to provide background on how I’ve actively *not* hated on Misha.

Now though, any respect I had for him has come to an abrupt end, the events of the past 24 hours has seen to that. Whilst I have been annoyed at his behaviour in regards to shipping, I don't feel it's ever gone this far, or at least not that I've seen first hand. This man has, IMO, contributed to so much toxicity in the fandom by way of things I've mentioned before, he's claimed - without actually saying the words - that Wincest fans weren't interested in him as a character when he came onto the show, and hasn’t felt included because of the fans’ love of the brothers. Um, hate to break it to you, love, but when you come onto an established show that is about two people, and you’re a *guest star* you can’t expect everyone to love you. Some characters we as individuals do fall in love with straight away (Bobby, Charlie, Crowley and Rowena are good examples for me), it takes time to establish a dynamic, so if that’s how he felt then it was incredibly naive of him as an actor to expect instant acceptance from anyone. Also, why wait until after the show finished to bring it up AGAIN … oh wait, yeah, that would be to step back into the limelight in a way intended to garner sympathy from Minions and INTENTIONALLY piss off bro fans and Wincest shippers alike? How fucking self centred, desperate and disrespectful do you have to be to shit all over the finale of a show that for the most part accepted you and kept you in paid work for 12 years? Well, Misha Collins levels of all of those things, obviously.

So, on the topics of self centred, desperate to stay relevant, attention seeking and being oh so needy, the tweet yesterday from Amazon mentioned Castiel. He wasn’t tagged in it, so I refer to my earlier comment about searching online, because how else would he have possibly seen that? It’s possible someone sent it to him, I appreciate that, but if we go off past behaviour it’s not any stretch at all to believe that didn’t happen. So, once again, having seen the tweet he took it upon himself to - oh so predictably - turn it into something relating to Destiel. When I saw it I immediately rolled my eyes and thought ‘here we go again’, but then also had a little smile because I really liked the fact that he explicitly mentioned Wincest, therefore seeming to accept that his poor old dead horse wasn’t the only one in the race. I actually mentally tipped my hat to him then because it appeared that he’s matured enough to acknowledge by name the ship that predates his inclusion on the show. Great, I thought, this is a positive thing in a sea of negativity surrounding the man and his sunken ship, because what followed was Wincest trending in the US (it may also have been other countries as well but I had to sleep!) … largely due to the fact that Hellers were responding to it, calling him out on mentioning the dreaded ‘W’ word. I’ll repeat that because it’s been a rare occurrence up to that point… the Minions were actually disappointed with their overlord for mentioning another ship. We all know what they think of it and I for one, don’t give a flying fuck about their opionion. Ship and let ship, it’s all fun (or meant to be) so we have different tastes, that’s life kiddiwinks, deal with it. I mean, you really don’t have much of an example set for you when your king has proven several times over to be one of the biggest obnoxious brats out there, but just give it a try for your own sakes, yeah? Awesome, good on you, besties!

An unexpected development - to my joy and that of other Wincest shippers - them doing that got the topic trending, only *kept* trending by the fact that were all coming online asking why it was trending. Wincest shippers barely lifted a finger, we just flooded each other’s timelines with lovely content and basked in the Hellers - and Misha - shooting themselves in the foot, which was awesome. But did the vitriol stop? No. Did he get the attention he so clearly craves? Yes. Was it in the way he wanted? Fuck no, so poor, emotionally wounded baby backtracked after seeing that his name was trending alongside Wincest because that’s *so* not what someone narcissistic to do it in the first place, wanted.

Now here’s where I could easily have just moved on with an unusually fond chuckle, giving him an ironic pat on the back and a ‘thanks, Misha’ for being the one to instigate hours of fun, but once again his despicable behaviour made that impossible. It’s been more than obvious for many years that he cares more about what his fans think than anything else to do with the show and the fandom in a larger sense, but to delete the tweet and APOLOGISE for daring to be so insensitive to the snowflakes’ delicate sensibilities for mentioning Wincest in the first place was absolutely disgusting. Stating , “I used a term that I had never really given any thought to other than, "that's a thing?! Yuck." is not only complete and utter bullshit, it’s pandering of the highest order.

We all know he has referred to Wincest on multiple occasions, so to say he hadn’t thought about is a flat out lie, which IMO is an insult to everyone, not just Wincest shippers. Does the man have no self respect at all, why would you contradict yourself in the face of such overwhelming evidence? Instead of either ignoring all the people calling him out, or addressing it with another tweet saying ‘yeah, that happened’ or something similar he chose, I repeat, CHOSE the route of claiming he didn’t realise he was being offensive to people who felt ‘triggered’ by him using the word Wincest. He basically shat all over an entire ship and large sector of the fandom in an attempt to appease his own fan base which consists of a lot of children (or those that act like children) who have no idea what RL is like.

Once again, he’s reinforced the idea that if you shout loud enough at someone just because you don’t like something they said, they will back down and apologise for something even when there’s nothing to apologise for. If he wants to be such a role model then he could easily have pointed out that a fictional ship doesn’t condone RL incest, any ACTUAL trauma people have suffered because of RL situations, and made an effort to make sure people understand that. He COULD have used it as an opportunity to do some good in the fandom by encouraging people to build bridges, to accept that people are entitled to their beliefs and that sometimes we see things differently but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t treat others with BASIC HUMAN DECENCY because of it. Instead he YET AGAIN chose to show that he cares more about what Minions think of him, keeping them onside to constantly stroke his unbelievably fragile ego in everything he does.

It is my understanding that Misha is big on (or claims to be big on) putting positive energy out into the world, treating people with respect, helping others and accepting people for who they are, not who you want them to be… all this after YEARS of consistently practising what he preaches only when it suits him. He sends out a message that it’s perfectly OK to bully, to spread hate, to draw attention to yourself at the cost of others, to throw colleagues and friends under the bus and at the same time use them to further your own agenda and get hits for your YouTube channel. Is this really the legacy he wants to leave? Is this an environment he wants his own kids to grow up in as well as future generations? Is this what he thinks is a valuable contribution as a human being? JFC, the arrogance, hypocrisy and the need for constant validation this man exhibits is nothing short of cringeworthy… actually it’s beyond that. It’s deplorable behaviour, it’s not new, and he will continue to act like this for as long as he’s being enabled and this harmful cycle needs to end.

I have friends IRL and online who are (now, possibly, were) big Misha fans, who have supported him from either the beginning of his run on the show, or since they started watching, and this is how he repays this behaviour? He’s willfully alienating decent people (including multishippers) all to make himself look good by being seen to do everything he can not to offend people. Spoiler alert, you DID offend people, you continue to do so time and again and we’ve had enough. I can’t imagine how exhausting it must be to be such a perpetual people pleaser, but let me say it’s not doing you any favours in any way, shape or form.

Misha, you are *not* a role model, you’re *not* someone to look up to when you can't live up to the ideals you preach. You’re spitting in the face of people who have supported you even after some questionable things in the past, who gave you the benefit of the doubt because we’re all human and we all make mistakes. The key to growing as a person is not to keep repeating the same mistakes over and over, understanding *why* what you said and/or did was a mistake and making a concerted effort to make changes. I don’t ever see you doing that, you will continue down this path of only caring about Minions under the guise of caring for people in general. You are transparent, you are sad and despite the fact I’ve never particularly liked you, I didn’t speak up because I didn’t want to get involved in the drama. Well now I have spoken up and I’m saying you’re a disgrace, you have no respect for other people and nobody is fooled anymore. If it hadn’t been this tweet it would have been something else, but I for one am glad it happened so soon after the show ended so we can finally be rid of the limpet-like behaviour. It’s over, let it go for the sake of what dignity you might have left, for the sake of your family and friends and for the sake of anyone who isn’t capable of seeing through your ‘it’s a joke’ mentality.

You have been weighed, you have been measured and you have been found wanting. Fuck you and the horse you rode in on, Misha.

For anyone who made it to the end of my ramble, thank you. This has been a cathartic exercise and I’m drawing a line under it now, I don’t think I could possibly make my thoughts any clearer. I urge you not to get caught up in any petty squabbles with his Minions, let’s celebrate J2 and other cast and crew members who have shown us all respect and who I am proud to call part of the SPN family. There’s always one member of the family who needs to be frozen out for the good of everyone else.

#ficforthought speaks #sorry not sorry #i spent way too long on this #purging the poison

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realcube · 4 years ago

Text

haikyuu!! boys when your ex hassles you in front of them 💢

characters: suga, sukusa, atsumu & oikawa

tw// harassment, exes, swearing, gn!reader, he/him! ex, sexual references

thank you for the cool request, anon!

Kōshi Sugawara

i don’t think he knows what your ex looks like-

why would he?

so when your ex approached you on the street and started asking you a bunch of intrusive questions about you, while pretending that sugawara wasn’t even there

suga just stood there 🤠

well, he did that for a while until your exes’ questions started getting uncomfortably personal

but suga tried to be subtle about it bc he thought the guys was one of your friends pfft

i mean, why else would you just start talking to a random guy in the park?

‘uh, hiya. i don’t think you should be asking questions like that.’ he chuckled, awkwardly rubbing the back his neck

then, he felt your hand discreetly slip into his own and give it a small squeeze so he took that as a sign that he was doing something right

but then..YOUR EX JUST WENT BACK TO TALKING AS IF SUGAWARA WASN’T EVEN THERE

he didn’t even spare poor suga a glance smh smh

he was livid

!! how quickly he went from fanon to canon suga

‘HEY YOU CAN’T JUST KEEP ASKING (Y/N) WEIRD QUESTIONS WHILE STAND HERE AND WATCH! FUCKING STOP !!’

geez you weren’t sure whether you should be the one frightened or not

both you and your ex just kinda stared at him like ◉_◉

until your ex finally broke the silence by muttering something along the lines of ‘we’ll catch up later’ then bolted off

suga then went back to being all smiley, as if nothing just hands, gently swaying your intertwined hands back and forth as he guided you in the opposite direction

‘are all your friend like that?’ suga inquired, lightly tapping the back of your hand with his thumb

‘that wasn’t my friend - just an ex.’

ok good bc now the little bit of guilt that was bugging suga had washed away and was replaced by a sense of pride

Kiyoomi Sakusa

sakusa pretends like he doesn’t care about your exes but in reality he has all their legal names, schools, addresses and weaknesses memorised

also he’s hyperaware of what’s going on so he probably notices your ex before you do

so he does everything in his power to match sure y’all don’t cross paths but his efforts were in vain as your ex finally sees you then proceeds to try and greet you

at that point, sakusa will literally just grab your hand and swerve the guy tbh

that must be quite embarrassing for him but let’s say he’s persistent enough to try talk to you again

sakusa would make some of the shadiest comments in hopes to scare him off

and his blood is fkn boiling too so it probably comes off his tongue rather sharply

‘is this your stalker, (y/n)?’

‘he’s quite short’

‘what business do you have asking those kind of questions?’

‘weirdo.’

‘i have places to be, (y/n). let’s go.’

that last comment would prompt your ex to offer for you to spend the rest of the day with him so sakusa could go to his ‘places’

but that was the last straw for sakusa tbh

he just drags you away at that point

and if you mention how defensive he was acting, he’ll definitely blame it on the fact you looked uncomfortable but in reality, he was mad as hell too

Atsumu Miya

you’d mutter something like ‘oh, it’s my ex..’ before the guy approached you and atsumu would just leave y’all to chat while he went on his phone

but then he began to notice how weird and personal the guys’ questions started to become and how uneasy you looked

he didn’t want to be uptight so he’d probably try to act pally with your ex to kindly get him to stop 🛑

‘hey, man; uh, me and (y/n) need to go but this has been mad fun. talk to you later - love the hair, by the way.’

atsumu spun around on his heels and gave you the eyes 👀 which you knew meant that you should follow him

you did so, but then you felt your ex grab your wrist to hold you back, yelling something like ‘wait!’

.........

atsumu karate chopped his wrist so he’d let go IVZBZSRTIUGSH

he doesn’t know his own strength though sometimes so your exes’ wrist was lookin... kinda mangled

and he let out a cry of pain which wasn’t a good sign

‘fuckin run-’ atsumu whispered in your ear before taking off 🏃‍♂️

Tōru Oikawa

as soon as he realised that he guy trying to talk to you was your ex-- oikawa didn’t even let the guy get a word in lmao

he was too busy making feisty remarks and cruel comparisons

but they’d never be directly towards him, he’d whisper the snide comments in your ear but loud enough for your ex to hear

‘oooh, is this the guy you were dating before me? what a shame.’

‘you seriously upgraded, didn’t you?’ (please agree with him or else that’s gonna be pretty awkward)

‘i can tell your taste in men has improved greatly’

‘it’s small, isn’t it?’

‘i feel so bad for you, (y/n).’

‘is this the one that you said you had to fake orgasms for?’

‘why is he still talking?’

it would reach the point where your ex has to choice but to back off as the insults got harsher

honestly, you barley even processed anything that your ex just said as 90% of your attention was focussed on stifling a chuckle in response to oikawa’s little commentary

‘you’re so mean sometimes, tōru.’

oikawa quirked at brow as he looked at you with a perplexed expression, did he hear you right? i mean, he just saved your ass from your ex yet you were calling him mean? didb’t he des--

‘and i love you for it.’ you hummed, pressing a kiss on his cheek

#haikyuu x gender neutral reader #oikawa x y/n #sakusa x reader #sugawara imagine #atsumu x you #oikawa x reader #oikawa hcs #sakusa imagines #sakusa headcanons #sakusa x y/n #atsumu x y/n #haikyuu x gn!reader #sakusa hcs #sugawara hcs

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madam-melon-meow · 4 years ago

Text

Bisexual Kyoshi is something that can be so personal, actually

Panel edit by @flagellasturbation

[image I.D. : An edit of a comic panel of avatar Kyoshi. On the left in the image is a close-up of Kyoshi from the torso up, contained within an upside-down trapezoid shape. She wears her full battle uniform of olive and emerald robes, dark gloves and bracers, and a golden headpiece in a fan-like shape. Her eyes are the same emerald shade as her robes, she has black hair billowing to the left edge of the image, and her black eyebrows have been dramatically lengthened by black face paint. Her face and neck are artificially whitened with chalky makeup, she has black winged eyeliner, red eyeshadow that sweeps upwards to her temples and down the sides of her nose, and red lipstick outlined in black. This is the classic Kyoshi makeup. Her arms are crossed, the left arm behind her head pointing a golden fan away from the viewer, the right arm extended in front of her face, another golden fan pointed towards the viewer. She appears to be looking upwards and towards the right of the image. Above Kyoshi’s eye level and in the top right of the image is a comic text box. It reads in all caps: “even avatar Kyoshi- who by all accounts loved men and women- was unable to effect any kind of real progress.” The background art and color has been replaced with the Bisexual Flag, a thick horizontal line of pink on top, stopping at Kyoshi’s cheek level, then a thinner line of purple ending at her shoulders, and a thick line of blue that extends to the bottom of the image. End I.D.]

(If someone does not find my image I.D. sufficient, please let me know. This is my first time trying to make such a thing, as i am a lurker, not a poster)

Rise of Kyoshi by F.C. Yee, page 99 (text copy / pasted from the b&n ebook version)

““Are those . . . fire lilies?” he said, a wide, knowing grin spreading across his face.

Kyoshi flushed beet red. “Stop it,” she said.

“That’s right,” Yun said. “The Ember Island tourism minister brought a bunch when he visited two weeks ago. I can’t believe you simply shred the flowers once they dry out. I guess nothing goes to waste in this house.”

“Knock it off,” Kyoshi snapped. But it was too hard keeping the corners of her lips from curling upward.

“Knock what off?” he said, enjoying her reaction. “I’m just commenting on a fragrance I’ve come to particularly enjoy.”

It was an inside reference that only the two of them shared. Rangi didn’t know. She hadn’t been there in the gifting room eight months ago while Kyoshi arranged a vast quantity of fire lilies sent by an admiral in the Fire Navy, one of Hei-Ran’s friends.

Yun had spent the afternoon watching Kyoshi work. Against every scrap of her better judgment, she’d allowed him to lie down on the floor and rest his head in her lap while she plucked deformed leaves and trimmed stems to the right length. Had anyone caught the two of them like that, there would have been a scandal that not even the Avatar could have recovered from.

That day, entranced by Yun’s upside-down features dappled with the flower petals she’d teasingly sprinkled over his face, she’d almost leaned down and kissed him. And he knew it. Because he’d almost reached up and kissed her.

They never spoke of it afterward, the shared impulse that had nearly crashed both of their carriages. It was too . . . well, they each had their duties was a good way to put it. That moment did not fit anywhere among their responsibilities.

But since then, whenever the two of them were in the presence of fire lilies, Yun’s eyes would dart toward the flowers repeatedly until he was sure Kyoshi noticed. She would try unsuccessfully to keep a straight face, the heat coloring her neck, and he’d sigh as if to mourn what could have been.

Today was no different. With a wistful blush on his own cheeks, Yun stared her down until her defenses broke and she let out a giggle through her nose.

“There’s that beautiful smile,” he said. He pressed his heels into the floor, sliding up against the wall, and straightened his rumpled shirt. “Kyoshi, trust me when I say this: If it turns out not to be me, I’ll be glad it’s you.”

~~~~~~~~~

Rise of Kyoshi by F.C. Yee, page 210 (text copy / pasted from the b&n ebook version)

“You think you don’t deserve peace and happiness and good things, but you do!” Rangi yelled. “You, Kyoshi! Not the Avatar, but you!”

She closed the distance and wrapped her arms around Kyoshi’s waist. The embrace was a clever way to hide her face.

“Do you have any idea how painful it’s been for me to follow you on this journey where you’re so determined to punish yourself?” she said. “Watching you treat yourself like an empty vessel for revenge, when I’ve known you since you were a servant girl who couldn’t bend a pebble? The Avatar can be reborn. But you can’t, Kyoshi. I don’t want to give you up to the next generation. I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

Kyoshi realized she’d had it all wrong. Rangi was a true believer. But her greatest faith had been for her friends, not her assignment. She pulled Rangi in closer. She thought she heard a slight, contented sigh come from the other girl.

“I wish I could give you your due,” Rangi muttered after some time had passed. “The wisest teachers. Armies to defend you. A palace to live in.”

Kyoshi raised an eyebrow. “The Avatar gets a palace?”

“No, but you deserve one.”

“I don’t need it,” Kyoshi said. She smiled into Rangi’s hair, the soft strands caressing her lips. “And I don’t need an army. I have you.”

Psh,” Rangi scoffed. “A lot of good I’ve been so far. If I were better at my job you would never feel scared. Only loved. Adored by all.”

Kyoshi gently nudged Rangi’s chin upward. She could no more prevent herself from doing this than she could keep from breathing, living, fearing.

“I do feel loved,” she declared.

Rangi’s beautiful face shone in reflection. Kyoshi leaned in and kissed her.

A warm glow mapped Kyoshi’s veins. Eternity distilled in a single brush of skin. She thought she would never be more alive than now.

And then—

The shock of hands pushing her away. Kyoshi snapped out of her trance, aghast.

Rangi had flinched at the contact. Repelled her. Viscerally, reflexively.

Oh no. Oh no.

This couldn’t—not after everything they’d been through—this couldn’t be how it—

Kyoshi shut her eyes until they hurt. She wanted to shrink until she vanished within the cracks of the earth. She wanted to become dust and blow away in the wind.

But the sound of laughter pulled her back. Rangi was coughing, drowning herself with her own tears and mirth. She caught her breath and retook Kyoshi by the hips, turning to the side, offering up the smooth, unblemished skin of her throat.

“That side of my face is busted up, stupid,” she whispered in the darkness. “Kiss me where I’m not hurt.”

~~~~~

I include both these quotes because i've seen a few posts about the “gigantic lesbian” avatar, and although i am glad my sapphic sisters feel connected to Kyoshi (as well they should!), that doesn't mean i wish to simply be quiet on the matter of her textual bisexuality. I understand that not everyone has read her novels, nor has everyone read legend of Korra comics, but Kyoshi is *textually* bisexual.

Kyoshi had a loving romantic relationship with her firebending friend Rangi, but this does not erase her feelings for her earthbending friend Yun, even if neither of them were able to properly express it due to their respective “status”. (For context if you haven’t read, the masters believed that Yun was the avatar, and though he was bodyguarded by Rangi, and though Kyoshi was his servent, the three of them were simiar ages and thus close friends until the discovery of Kyoshi’s true ability destroyed their former lives). Hell, Kyoshi and Rangi do not become intimate until after fleeing their former lives. Who is to say what would have happened, had Yun not been captured by father glowworm ?

I know that there is a chance you will scoff at this, will write this off as comphet, accuse me of disproportionately weighting an almost-kiss with a true relationship, but these above quotes (as well as the comic panel from “the legend of korra: turf wars- part 1”) serve as proof that Kyoshi, “by all accounts loved men and women” (see panel directly below)

[image I.D. : the same comic panel as the edit above, this one without the bisexual flag edited in. Directly behind Kyoshi, within the upside-down trapezoid shape, is an olive to lime gradient, darker around her head and lighter near the bottom. Around and to the right in the image, outside of the trapezoid, is an aerial shot of buildings within an Earth Kingdom city, and what appears to be the lines of troops on the ground far below. the text box in the image is the same, but I have underlined the word “men” in blue, the word “and” in purple, and the word “women” in pink, to reflect the bisexual flag. End I.D.]

I am making such a big deal over this because Kyoshi is a massive figure, her long shadow cast over Aang’s life alongside Roku’s, and even before her novels came out there were often jokes about her “bloodthirsty” nature. I implore you to read the novels and see why Kyoshi believed in deadly justice at times, but also so you can see what a dynamic, loving, and beautiful character she is.

Some members of fandom have taken a “step on me” attitude towards Kyoshi, who has, even if the 7 feet tall thing is more fanon than canon, been explicitly described as “exceptionally tall”, and “towering” over others. This “strong woman who will break me and I thank them” attitude is one that butch &/or physically imposing sapphics, as well as trans women with similar statures to Kyoshi have expressed discomfort when applied to themselves and characters like them. I would love for more people to acknowledge her flaws and multi-faceted nature, that she is more than a “warrior goddess”, just as Aang is more than a living relic. Flattening her out to the easily-fetishable parts erases the depth of her character and the complexity of circumstances that led to the instances of deadly force.

There are very few bisexual characters in media, especially women, and especially in children’s media. Bisexual women have often been caricatured as loose, promiscuous, good for a threesome and not much else. (This is mot to say that i think any lesser of my fellow bisexuals who are proudly promiscious, nor can an actual live bisexual person be considered a stereotype for living their life, but media’s portayal of us as obsessed with desire is incredibly harmful). Knowing that a strong, beautiful, and important character in the avatar universe is a bisexual woman is amazing, even more so to have her first lady-love described in the novels with such care. F. C. Yee, the author of these novels, has my eternal gratitude. I sincerely hope that the new generation of fans, whether they are drawn to the cartoon or even the hypothetical live action show, will pick up these novels and discover the kind of bisexual character that I wish existed in my early days as a reader, and if a small fraction of them resonate with Kyoshi’s reciprocal on Yun and love for Rangi, then the world becomes a little bit brighter for it.

I mentioned her importance for the simple reason that Kyoshi IS important with the text of ATLA. As one of the avatars, she is one of the most historically important figures in that universe, one of the few avatars that Aang knows by name, and one of the only avatars to speak through his body. The fact that she has two whole novels to herself testifies to that effect, making her bisexual representation all the more important than a simple background character might be.

If or when the ATLA live action tv show occurs, we can expect some mention of Kyoshi. After all, there is a whole episode dedicated to exploring one of her missions, and the way that the descendants of her enemy have recolored history. It is my sincere desire that enough discussion is made about her canon bisexuality , that fandom trumphets it from the roof with as much force as crackshipping zukka, that when she does make it to the screen, there is some subtle nod in her bisexuality’s direction, even if it is something as meta as casting a bisexual actress for her. Thank you for taking the time to read this.

edit by @flagellasturbation

[image I.D. : An edit of a comic panel of avatar Kyoshi. This is like the first image, Kyoshi and the text box of the comic panel untouched, the background color and art replaced with the bisexual flag. However, this version has the words “by all accounts” blown up large and placed diagonally in the image, directly under Kyoshi’s face and stretching from one side of the image to the other. The bottom third of the image is similarly obscured, the words “men” , “and” , “women” blown up large enough to fill the panel and cover most of Kyoshi’s torso, as well as the purple and blue areas of the background flag. End I.D.]

#Avatar Kyoshi #Rangi #Yun #The Rise of Kyoshi #The Shadow of Kyoshi #father glowworm #bisexual

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makeste · 4 years ago

Note

Are there any headcanons that you would like to share? About anything you want.

anon in the absence of specific guidelines I have managed to make this post pretty much entirely about Bakugou. I apologize if you really wanted to know all of my headcanons about Kouda or something lol. but all joking aside he really is the character I think about the most and so probably like 80% of my headcanons are about him, including close to 100% of the headcanons I actually have a solid enough grip on to put into words. anyway here goes.

he does not know how to tie a tie. he was a rowdy little free range knee-scraping grass-staining run-don’t-walk child whose parents only ever managed to wrestle him into formal attire a handful of times for special occasions when he was younger, and then he went to a middle school that used gakuran-style uniforms so he never learned then, either. his dad offered to teach him when U.A. rolled around, but he was all, “fuck off dad, I know how to tie a stupid tie,” because by that time he had grown into a cocky little brat confident in his own skill and naive as to the reality checks of the world, and he genuinely believed with the conviction that only a fifteen-year-old can muster that when the time came he would just magically know how to do it. on the first day of school he got as far as draping the loose tie over his neck and holding one end in each hand before staring at the mirror and abruptly realizing the hole he’d dug himself into. and so rather than admit defeat, he just straight up decided not to wear it. which became a permanent life choice once he got to school and saw how badly Deku’s tie was tied and realized there was no way he could ever risk that kind of humiliation.

in a similar vein, I know there’s a popular fanon that because of his parents’ influence Katsuki has a good sense of fashion, but my own personal headcanon is that this could not be further from the truth lol. it’s not that he has a terrible sense of style, mind you; it’s just that he doesn’t care about it at all. he’s a nerdy jock who spends all his free time studying and lifting weights. this kid literally only wears one color, and that color just so happens to be the easiest possible color to coordinate. he owns like three pairs of shoes max. he wears his pants three sizes up and they drag so much that the hems are all frayed from him constantly stepping on them (literally canon, and one of my favorite details from chapter 218). he just doesn’t give a fuck, so long as the clothes are comfortable and don’t look stupid. he has about a million things he’s more concerned about than what he or anyone else is wearing. in fact I’m 90% sure that his mom still buys most of his clothes, and about 70% convinced he does not even know what size he is.

he’s good at household chores (because he’s good at everything), but hates doing them. aside from cooking, which he enjoys, he will bitch and whine nonstop if forced to do tedious-yet-necessary things like washing dishes and folding laundry. that said, he is a perfectionist, and he also has a lot of experience because his mom made him do chores all the time during the seven trillion times he was grounded while growing up (that’s his estimate, btw, so it may be slightly exaggerated. he was not an easy kid to raise. when your kid’s fuse is about a millimeter long and he has a tendency to literally blow up whenever he throws a fit, you end up with a lot of objects in your house that have been replaced at some point), so if you do actually manage to get him to do the chore, rest assured that chore is getting fucking DONE.

when he was very little he watched an Avengers Endgame-style All Might film where a bunch of bad guys attacked earth and various assorted heroes tried and failed to stop them. then at the climax of the film, All Might showed up and said “I am here”, and everyone got super pumped up and excited because they knew the heroes were going to win with All Might on their side. this scene remains Katsuki’s favorite scene in anything. not the fight -- just the moment where All Might shows up and grins and the audience knows right there and then that he’s going to win. this is the feeling that inspired his dream. he wants to be the one who shows up and everyone is like, “we’re good now; Katsuki is here.”

when he was six or seven he got into a big fight with an older boy over that scene because he said it was fake and that there was no way All Might could have beaten those guys in real life. Katsuki insisted he definitely would have because All Might never loses. the other boy replied that everyone loses sometimes. Katsuki kicked his ass and got suspended for a week.

ten years later, Katsuki watched All Might battle All for One at Kamino and realized two things. one, that the other boy was right and that anyone can lose. and two, that he, the one who had so proudly defended All Might back then, was going to end up being the reason why he finally lost.

for a long time afterwards, he couldn’t bring himself to watch that movie again.

when he and Izuku were three years old their moms sent them out on a first errand (google Hajimete no Otsukai if you’re unfamiliar with this tradition, I promise you it is the cutest fucking thing you’ll ever see) to buy ingredients for katsudon. Izuku was full of bouncy childish enthusiasm and could rattle off the full shopping list of ingredients front to back, but when the moment finally came his confidence wilted as soon as their parents were out of sight. Katsuki also had a moment of panic when they first rounded the corner and he couldn’t see his house anymore, but rallied once Izuku burst into tears and he realized that he had to be the one to take charge. he proceeded to morph into an absurdly over-the-top caricature of his own mother for the duration of the errand, to the point where in addition to telling Izuku to stop crying he also ordered him to stand up straight and tuck in his shirt. the two of them went on to complete the errand flawlessly and their moms were PROUD AS FUCK and took a billion pictures. Izuku and Katsuki have only a few scattered memories of this milestone in the present day but it’s enough to send both of them absolutely reeling with embarrassment whenever they’re reminded of it.

he and his mom don’t often get along but sometimes they’ll bond over roasting a mutual target. they have watched many a trashy reality TV show together for this purpose. Masaru lives for these moments but never comments on them lest he spoil the rare moments of peace.

Katsuki is perfectly capable of using keigo (i.e. normal polite Japanese with no rude language/cursing), otherwise he would not be one of the top students in his ivy-league high school. code-switching is a thing guys! anyways his teachers are aware of this, because all of his essays and homework assignments are written normally. he merely chooses to go about his daily business acting like a wannabe yakuza stereotype because that’s just his personality, and he’s not about to start censoring himself and acting like some weird little goody two shoes robot person just to please people he mostly doesn’t give two shits about. but if you put a gun to his head and told him you’d pull the trigger if he said “fuck”, he would probably be all right; he’d just have to concentrate.

when he was little he went through a phase of collecting cicada shells and leaving them EVERYWHERE -- in the bathroom sink, on his mom’s pillow, you name it. Mitsuki often tells people this is when she started getting gray hairs. one time she opened a box of cereal and there was one in there and a little bit of her soul died that day.

he generally doesn’t care who calls him Kacchan. it doesn’t particularly bother him and it never occurred to him to pretend like it did just for appearance’s sake. also secretly for some reason the thought of Deku ever calling him anything else really bothers him. he’s not sure what it would mean if that ever happened, or what he would do.

all of his workouts are designed to strengthen his arms and back and shoulders because those are the parts of his body that take the most abuse from his quirk. other than that he avoids building up excess muscle anywhere else because the more weight he puts on the harder it is to fly around. for this reason he is never going to end up being a big bulky guy like All Might. one day Deku is going to surpass him in muscle, but he doesn’t care because he’ll still be a match for him in firepower and speed.

he’s one of those kids who will not so much as take a sip of alcohol until he’s twenty-five. partly because he’s experienced enough concussions that he doesn’t particularly want to give hangovers a try, and partly because he’s a control freak and honestly afraid of getting drunk and making an idiot of himself somehow. the rowdier members of class A try virtually every trick in their wheelhouse and then some to try and persuade him over the years, but not even the reverse psychology “aw, don’t worry, it’s okay if you’re... scared :)” thing works, because that’s only actually effective when he secretly wants to do the thing.

then one day he just wakes up and is all “you know what, I’m gonna try it”, and for the next few days his google history is basically just “how many drinks does it take to get drunk” and “how to avoid getting drunk” and “how to prevent hangovers.” somehow word gets out through the grapevine (he probably told Todoroki, who is the one person in class A you’d think wouldn’t be a big ol’ gossip but in fact IS) that Bakugou is finally going to get his drink on that weekend, and pretty much EVERYONE shows up at the izakaya that Friday night excited as FUCK.

Katsuki proceeds to drink a grand total of two beers over the span of several hours, and drinks like five glasses of water in between, and literally nothing happens to him at all except that Kaminari almost fights him out of frustration. the rest of class A never fully gets over their disappointment.

he actually knows like 90% of class 1-A’s names by this point. there are still a few people he doesn’t and will never know, though. twenty years from now Aoyama will still be “that weird fucking french kid” in his mind.

he had no idea who Eri was until the Christmas party. sometimes he’d hear the other kids talking about someone named Eri, and from context clues he somehow ended up thinking it was one of Aizawa’s cats. when Eri came to the party he had a brief moment of curiosity wondering if she was Sensei’s niece or something, and then he heard someone say her name and he was all “THAT’S ERI?!” and his entire worldview was briefly shaken up.

he pulled Kirishima aside to ask him and Kirishima basically gave him Eri’s whole entire life story which was way more than he actually wanted to know. he’s now kind of terrified of ever being in the same room as her for fear of having to interact with her because he’s pretty sure he’d do or say the wrong thing. most of the time being intimidating is something he strives for and puts a lot of effort into, including when he’s around kids (who are basically just smaller, sloppier adults in his mind), but he doesn’t want to be the guy who scared an abused kid, so he basically just hopes the others will have enough common sense not to ever go “oh hey you know who should totally interact with each other?? Eri and Bakugou!”

that being said, if circumstances ever arose which forced Katsuki to protect Eri, the two of them would totally bond and they would have a really sweet relationship in which Eri looked up to him just like she looks up to Deku and Mirio and the rest, and where Katsuki was constantly trying to be on his best behavior around her, like genuinely, sincerely trying, and kind of failing at it a lot but still being sweet in a gruff sort of restrained-disaster way.

...and after sitting there for a while trying to think of more I couldn’t come up with any so I guess that’s it! basically most of my headcanons are about how secretly boring Katsuki is. honestly if it weren’t for him having the vocabulary of a 52-year-old sailor whose foot was caught in a bear trap, he and Iida would probably be best friends.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #bakugou katsuki #bnha meta #bakugou meta #bnha headcanons #don't think there're any spoilers here except for the detail about his pants in 219 lol #sorry if I have spoiled anyone for that #makeste reads bnha #asks #anon asks #long post #oh whoops it was actually 218 my bad just edited #wait a second the christmas party is spoilers isn't it lol whoops #bnha spoilers #there we go

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the-mercurial-star-o-vesper · 4 years ago

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1, 2, 3, 4, and Jaaaam~!

As time of writing, I’ve faced off and beaten 1010 on Normal. Wooo~!

So, more 1010 stuffz!

Either through updates or I've merely been watching play throughs with turned down graphics; Having now played the section, the 1010 battle and cutscene sprites now have their eyes the proper matching color. However, at this point, I ain't gonna discount or discourage the "White Eyes Synch" HC.

Turns out, according to Kliff’s brief, Neon J had been a Captain of the Cruiser. Now I don’t know about the time frames of the Royal Malaysian Navy, but for US Navy, it takes a collective of 21-23 years (at an estimate) to get to rank of Captain [No idea if this means starting at the rank of Seaman Recruit or starting as an O1; either way this dude was a full eagle]. Means, Neon J was in the military for a loooong time.

So, when you destroy a member of 1010, they leave remains behind that can be transformed to face off against other members of 1010 or as something benefitial for the PCs. Fanfic Writers, do with this as you may.

So only White (Rin) and Red (Zimelu) have parry attacks. Meaning they're the guys our PCs are more likely to go after first (The designated Leader; and the persumed more combative or warlike 1010 member / Bad Boy).

Barraca Mansion also has those five colored portraits.

The section of Metro Division leading up to the Boss Fight is just covered in dance-dance games.

According to the NSR-Post, type 4 Battledroids are still in service, and do in fact have background memories to hold in combat. In a previous post, I've already speculated that 1010 may have Neon J's memories...

Consider what it took to actually get to the boss fight. That's not just one limo, that's an entire floating fuckin escort with god damn canons. And not all of them were cars, half of em were akin to the Battleship Limo. Basically, Neon J didn't just command one ship, he had an entire fuckin Fleet.

Part of Neon J’s voicelines do call 1010 “robots”.

I know the section was mean to play for laughs, as a break from the character driven plot, but really reeeeally look at this level: - When you defeat a body of 1010, you can transform the remains to go against the other members. - You are actively being photographed / recorded fighting and doing all this damage to 1010. - The fact that Neon J acknowledge Yinu and had an entire escort, means he already knew you were coming and was actively preparing to face you - Which is probably why he had his factory out. Let's face it, 1010 are Battledroids with weapons included, and most folks don't even come to their stomachs in height. Unless a fan is wearing full Halo MJOLNIR power armor and wielding a Fallout Fatman, you don't need to break out an entire robot factory if anything happens. Plus, shields. Neon J knew that BBJ were coming, and prepared accordingly, hell, 1010 was actively waiting on you (even though none of it was enough) - Consider everything. Neon J was a captain who faced what might've been some pretty historically bloody and brutal wars, and while he did break out weapons... ... None of these weapons do ANY personal or permanent harm to you / BBJ. Not even the sawblades or the missiles. ... Hell, consider the jump over. Nearly none of the other boss security levels have flash when you fall off edges, you just sorta pop back up, but 1010's? There's a red flash that pops up when you fall off, as if something was actively teleporting you back on to the car platforms. ... Think there might be a chance that, while Neon J knew you were arriving, he might have had more sympathies for BBJ than previously considered? ... Consider 1010. A Mohawk (Red) is, after all, a very Rock based Hairstyle. And Yellow? Its a pompadour, a "Rockabilly" hairstyle. How bout Blue's Lennon Specs (The Beatles were a Rock Band)... And the biggest boy bands of the 60s were Rock Band. ... Neon J goes over the top with his loyalties to NSR, like, uber over the top. And even the game acknowledges that he's paranoid. Its almost like he's playing a Role...

Time. According to descriptions found by playing Zuke, NSR (at least) takes place after the 90s. While for Neon J, he has fought since the 60s (68; It sounds like he might’ve just gotten out of basic training, the way he talks). This leaves a 30-40 year time frame to consider. Take into consideration, however, that this world has flying battleship cars, robots, a virtual idol that isn’t holographic glass, and folks have duper supernatural powers. This could be in the 2100s or more for all we know.

A Change of Pace, HEADCANON TIME!

White is the Default Droid. Not so much in 1010, but in battledroid standards. You program in what you want the bot to be or do after the fact, and the color will indicate such. All battledroids have combative abilities, but their out of combat jobs are: - Red - Maintenance. (Believe it or not, a saw is pretty useful on a ship) - Blue - Parade (?). I mean, batons? - Green - Grenadier is kinda hard to find outside of the niche combat, but consider Fallout GOAT. Probably does a lot of background jobs, like laundry. - Yellow - Missiles. Probably a Bridge stationed bot, and does a lot of calculations. Missiles are a calculated effort to aim and launch. They're not Grenades where you pull the pin, and hope that it only goes off at the designated 5 seconds (and not sooner). - White - Default, and as we've seen with Rin, probably the kind that commands or acts as VIs (Virtual Intelligence, basically a smart interface).

1010 = Superhero fighting squad Oh please, a bunch of "young men" with color coded appearances and color coded weaponry, lead by a Captain with a Factory that actively replaces their bodies? And you're telling me they're ONLY a boy band? These dudes are fighting crimes like the god damn Power Rangers with all that equipment.

Neon J supported BBJ Consider all the above suggested. The Dude knew full feckin well that NSR wasn't the greatest of the great, and half the 1010 level proved that he was pretty much prepared for your arrival, and possible his own defeat. Let's face it, the dude was a Captain for a long damn time, and like commanded a small fleet in that time (not unlike the 1010 Level). You don't do stuff like that without some major strategy and awareness, ESPECIALLY, if you've survived entire wars and terrifying / inhuman conditions. Plus consider his over exaggerated speech. With all the evidence in mind, and all the visuals, the dude was definitely playing up his NSR schtick. There was nothing stopping him from just unleashing an entire army of invulnerable and shielded 1010 bots to root you out and stomp on you mercilessly. Believe me, this dude had the resources, the weapons, and the experience, to put out two brat indie bandmates.

He threw the fuckin fight.

... Though I'm pretty sure he didn't like the Breaking Yinu's Piano Part. At least for everyone else it was either a justified humiliation or just... unplugging stuff, not outright destroying priceless heirlooms. Notice how that's the only thing he mentions, and he's the only Megastar to take into account another Megastar (and that's excluding Tatiana).

1010 Memories The dance, the shared voice, the synchronization; oh yeah, 1010 probably had a share of Neon J's memories (though likely not all of them).

This goes hand in hand with the popular Fanon that 1010 were based on former Squadmates of Neon J's.

ITS CYAN Sorry, but we've seen the direct difference in Sayu's fight with the Glowsticks and we see Purl-Hew's bright cyan blue next to an actual neon Blue. Purl-Hew is Bright Cyan Blue, he's not Regular Blue. ... So you see, I like color theory and have a set and unbreakable idea of color patterns.

Rin's weapons I believe Rin's capabilities is Synchronization with his bandmates, and the capacity to use Shields. Remember that there is no Rin phase for the Factory, and the shields fall out of the fight immediately after Rin is perma-defeated. Plus, the quasi-Purple-Magenta color matches Rin's poster seen in both the fight and on Barraca Mansion.

#no straight roads #1010 (nsr)#neon j

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sweet-sammy-kisses · 3 years ago

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I posted 8,905 times in 2021

250 posts created (3%)

8655 posts reblogged (97%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 34.6 posts.

I added 6,857 tags in 2021

#soulmates - 897 posts

#911 on fox - 785 posts

#wincest - 745 posts

#buddie - 709 posts

#otp: you can't lose him - 696 posts

#epic love story of sam and dean - 677 posts

#buck x eddie - 676 posts

#otp: you can have my back anytime - 630 posts

#my happy tag - 591 posts

#kakaobi - 451 posts

Longest Tag: 92 characters

#if you must go out for whatever reason then keep your mask on and practice social distancing

My Top Posts in 2021

Anyone else beside me so tired of the hellers and their never ending drama? Their hate against Jared because he liked the finale episode? Their lies that they sell over and over until they believe it is true like Jensen hating the finale episode but ignoring that it was the one before the world went into lockdown? The bullying/stalking/death threats? The claims that Dean was suicidal when he wasn't? The claims that they can openly harass Jensen at the cons once they start up again about Destiel?

The fact that Supernatural is over and they still are causing drama?

I love Supernatural. I love Sam and Dean 😍. They will always have a special place in my heart one that can never be replaced. I will keep writing and reading fics about Sam and Dean. I refuse to let spoiled brats take that away from me.

What I will be doing because I am done with the drama and hate is blocking all hellers, Jared haters, Jensen haters, "we are reclaiming Sam" people, Wincest haters who post in the tag or on Wincest posts and Misha cult members who can't use their brains and think.

If you are one of the above people and respond or reblog this post with your hate you will be blocked. I am done with you.

Sincerely a tired Supernatural fan.

113 notes • Posted 2021-04-11 19:53:39 GMT

If your response to Jared and Jensen answer that SPN is and never was about romance is to threaten them or declare they are homophobic please step away from SM and find something positive to do with your life other than threaten people over a fandom ship.

SPN is about the unbreakable love between Sam and Dean who are platonic soulmates, who chose one another above everyone and everything. Who defied Heaven and Hell plans.

J2 said nothing but the truth and I'm sorry that you can't handle having your fanon ship sinking again but it has been almost a year it is time to stop blaming Jared and Jensen for your ship never happening it never was. Jensen has said time and time and time again Dean is straight and Destiel was never going to be.

It has been almost a year and still hellers/minions take every chance to blame/hate Jared and to a smaller degree Jensen. To call them homophobic the moment they deny Destiel.

SPN was never going to be a love story it was always going to be about the bond between Sam and Dean and it is time the hellers realized this.

134 notes • Posted 2021-10-17 04:39:48 GMT

Dear cult like Hellers,

Jensen is not your Ken doll.

Jensen is not here to be a part of your fetish.

Jensen is far more than one half of your fictional ship, there is no Destiel connection to everything Jensen does.

Jensen did not write any Destiel songs for the new album.

Jensen has said time and time again Dean is straight and Destiel does not exist. You refused to believe him when he said that many times, going as far as to label him homophobic and now that SPN is done you still refuse to stop.

No one was silent. Jensen did not sign a NDA. Jared did not use the final episode to prompt Walker. Jared being shirtless for one final scene of Sam did not prompt Walker or stop making your fanon ship from happening because it was never going to happen.

Dean is straight in canon and he will always be straight everyone from Jensen to Kirpke has said so. And I am bi so you can’t call me homophobic.

The colour of wall, of light, of what shirt Dean wears or what he eats and listen to doesn’t make him bi.

The show is over and you still refuse to stop, you refuse to see how toxic you are. The fact that you claim that bullying and death threats is okay. That telling people to die over what they ship because it is you who can not separate fiction from reality and that you put a fictional character above everyone even the actor who plays them shows how harmful the way of thinking you have.

I know cult like behaviour and you all share the mindset of one. One of the popular blogs post something another one backs up that theory and suddenly you are all prompting it as truth without stopping to think for yourselves.

And stop treating Jensen like he is yours to do with what you want or that he is supposed to act/think/behave the way you want him to be and then lash out at him when he doesn’t. Treat him with respect and acknowledge that he is his own person and not your doll.

Signed a tired Jensen Ackles fan

146 notes • Posted 2021-05-08 02:04:55 GMT

Incest is horrible to “ship” and you’re a disgusting person for doing so🤢

MNM I just love the idea of Thor being possessive over Loki. Leaving marks allover his baby brother. Loki loves to tease Thor until his brother has enough and with a growl takes Loki anywhere anyplace to remind Loki and all who are watching that Loki is his. Loki sitting on Thor's massive thighs on the throne of Asgard where everyone can see the King massive fingers opening Loki up until Loki has enough and takes control and starts riding Thor in view of everyone.

And Sam teasing Dean with coy looks and knowing smiles as someone flirts with him, his smile growing as Dean jaw clench and his eyes darken with lust and possessiveness until he finally snaps and spreads Sam over the hood of the Impala taking him hard and fast marking Sam as his. Then when he has Sam spread out beneath him in the backseat of the Impala and teases him open until Sam is begging for more.

See the full post

156 notes • Posted 2021-06-29 03:30:01 GMT

Happy international women day. Here are my top 10 female characters 😍

Morgana

Evie O'Connell

See the full post

425 notes • Posted 2021-03-08 02:32:41 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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ravenclaw-questions-gone-writing · 4 years ago

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Trope Snippets

Summary: Sneak peeks into a Maribat fic that I’m working on and may never post. Easily subject to change as I sort through the plot bunnies. Following no particular time line. On my Ao3: TiredFictionGate

Chapter 1 There is me, Zio

“Lila Rossi?” Adrian asked.

Marinette nodded, rubbing her temples in an attempt to relieve her headache. “In the show, she lied for attention. I don’t know much about her. She only showed up in the first season once, but from what I picked up from the fandom, she threatened and bullied canon Marinette in the following seasons. I don’t know how much of that is fanon though. Something about chameleon salt… I think that might have been an episode name.” Marinette bit her lip. “I’m not too certain, really.”

Adrian hummed. “So how big of a threat is she?”

“Apparently she was willing to work with Hawkmoth to get what she wanted, like willingly and not just brainwashed in the heat of negative emotion. I’d say she’s a goon level minor annoyance. If I recall correctly, all she does is lie and throw tantrums when things don’t go her way.”

“Well, we’ve already dealt with Hawkmoth, so what’s the problem?”

“I don’t know.” Marinette frowned, fiddling with her bracelet. “Just a bad feeling, I guess.”

“Like scary magic intuition bad feeling?”

Marinette huffed and rolled her eyes. “Just keep your guard up. Things aren’t canon anymore, if they ever were, but that doesn’t mean things will be peaceful.”

“Things are never peaceful with us.” Adrian muttered as he opened the door to their classroom for them. Marinette hooked their arms together, ready to begin their dating charade.

Their classmates were clustered around two unfamiliar people.

“Oh gods, there’s two of them,” Marinette groaned quietly as she buried her face into Adrian’s arm. No wonder her instincts had been going off all morning, giving her the massive headache she was dealing with right now.

“Hey dudes,” Nino called. “Glad you guys aren't too busy making out to get to class on time.”

“Hey Nino, who are they?” Adrian asked, eyeing the two unknowns behind his bright smile.

“New students,” Alya beamed at them, excited to spread news.

“They’re twins!” Rose chirped.

“Hi, I’m Lila.” the female twin greeted, giving Marinette a politely dismissive look and zeroing in appreciatively on Adrian.

“Fabrizio. Just call me Zio,” the male twin smiled, his eyes sweeping calculatingly over the two reincarnators and lingering on Marinette in a predatory way.

“You expected there to be one Rossi, but you were wrong, there is me, Zio.” Marinette mumbled into Adrian’s ear, trying to ignore her growing headache. Could they be any more obvious?

Adrian choked on air and turned away as he attempted to cover up his laughter as a coughing fit. “Mari!” he hissed, sending her a glare with no heat.

Marinette gave Adrian a cheshire’s grin before turning back to their two new classmates and giving them a customer service smile that was so natural only Adrian could tell the difference. “I’m Marinette and that’s my boyfriend Adrian. It’s nice to meet you two.”

“Sickeningly sweet as always,” Alya cooed teasingly.

“Marinette’s the class president and big sister, if you need anything, just go to her.” Alya explained needlessly.

“Hey, doesn’t Zio mean uncle in Italian?” Adrian asked.

Fabrizio gave a short chuckle. “Yeah, I was something of an older brother for my old class too, kind of like you.” He said, giving Marinette a playful wink. “But they called me uncle because it’s already in my name.”

Marinette gave him a polite nod, customer service smile still on her face. “How interesting! I’m sure you’ll fit in just as well here.”

Thankfully Bustier came in and the class dispersed and went to their seats. Marinette was seated in the back and away from either of the Rossi’s who apparently liked to sit up front.

“There’s something off about them,” Adrian commented once they’d made it to their hero hideout that they still didn’t have a name or code for. “They’re magical aura is too strong for people without cores. Or is that a twin thing?”

“Twins with magic have a habit of either cancelling or amplifying each other’s powers. So yes, it’s probably the twin thing. What I thought was interesting is that it doesn’t feel completely human in nature.” Marinette answered, taking notes on the things she’d noticed about the Rossi twins before she forgot them. “An atavism, I’m guessing.”

“Magical creature blood, abilities, and no training.” Adrian nodded. “That’s not a good combination. On the bright side, they’re probably not even aware they have magic and they definitely can’t use it if they haven’t formed a core.”

“A fairly safe assumption but there is a chance they could learn and figure it out on their own.” Marinette tapped her pencil against the pages of her notebook. “We should figure out what they’re descended from to prepare...” She words devolved into mumbling over her notes.

Adrian huffed. “You’re being paranoid. They’re just kids.”

Marinette stopped tapping as she pursed her lips and gave her partner a dirty look.

He rolled his eyes and leaned back against the bookshelves. “Yes, yes. I know. Be prepared for anything. Don’t underestimate someone based on their age, gender, alignment, or anything else.”

“They won’t be kids forever.”

Adrian sighed but despite his misgivings, he gave his own observations. “I’m certain their magic has a connection with the moon but it’s not a moon alignment. It’ll take a while to sort through the possibilities but I’m positive that what they use is metaphysical in nature.”

Fortune telling, illusions, mind reading, mind control, hypnotism, puppeteering… that sort of thing.

“And that Fabrizio kid is the stronger twin.”

Marinette nodded, she’d noticed that too. “At least they’re not descended from Selkies, the magic doesn’t feel quite like that special signature combination feeling. I can’t rule out Sirens though.”

“Thank the gods,” Adrian muttered. Selkies were a pain to make enemies of as their songs could neutralize or strengthen certain kinds of magic. Sirens, while more vicious, were far more manageable.

“I know you’re busy planning how to take them down but don’t you think we should train them or something?” Adrian asked. “Untrained magic users can be pretty dangerous.”

“I'm biased but they seemed to me like the kind of people who would abuse power. Trained magic users willing to abuse their powers, particularly when dealing with mind magics, seem far more dangerous, if you ask me.”

Marinette sighed and leaned back into the couch she sat on. “But I’ll leave it up to you to decide if they should be trained but please learn what kind of people they are before you make that decision. Watch them for two months, at the very least.”

Adrian nodded.

“And ask the Beaumont's, the Li’s and Father for advice.” Marinette ran a hand through her hair. “You should also-”

“Marinette,” Adrian stressed. “I get it, I’ll be careful. Stop worrying.”

“Telling me to stop worrying isn’t going to make me stop.” she hissed. Nevertheless, she forced herself to relax.

This was actually written a while ago, when I wanted an eviler Rossi than Lila.

In this fic, Lila's basically a minor inconvenience because reincarnated Marinette used to be and sometimes still is worse than Lila when it comes to manipulations and the like. So I needed someone worse than Lila to be the bad guy and since Adrian is also a reincarnator, it can't be Adrian salt. So I made Fabrizio the magical stalker creep to pick up the slack. He's where I was going to shove all the Adrian salt, but he's since been replaced since I couldn't figure out how to fit him into the timeline. Might save him for another fic.

Sorry the characters are all flat, I was just testing them out.

Chapter 2

#Maribat #daminette #arranged marriage #but not in this chapter #lila rossi and her evil twin #evil twin is no longer in the main story #reincarnated characters #no longer connected chapters #they were supposed to be in the same fic #but the plot bunnies multiplied like crazy #more magic than miraculous magic #tenses suck #crack fic?#unreliable writter warning: may never update #It's on ao3 #Trope Snippets #My writing #Ven's Fanfics #Ven's sneek peeks

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think-thonkin · 4 years ago

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The whole zvkka stans calling zutarians and people with non-gay sexuality headcanons for either character homophobic reminds me rather disturbingly strongly of when the portal fandom tore itself apart over accusing chelley of being lesbian erasure... I'd genuinely rather not see that kind of shit happening again. It resulted in a multitude of discord fanservers to get deleted due to continued bullying and pointless drama as well as tons of fans quitting the fandom here on tumblr too. It's what nearly made me quit tumblr for good 5 years ago, I was part of the group of people who were harassed.

Guys it is seriously not that hard to stick to basic human decency and in extension, basic internet fandom etiquette.

Tag your posts properly and don't stir drama.

I originally had nothing against zvkka as a ship other than the fact that I simply disagree and only see them platonically, but I could absolutely respect if people like it because their preferences are none of my business and usually don't harm anyone - plus I saw the potential as a not too serious and lighthearted comfort ship for sure.

But now I'm immensely uncomfortable with it for the sole reason of some of the stans being rude, crass and outright threatening towards anyone that isn't a supporter of the ship.

I've seen people get called homophobic, racist and get bashed for simply disagreeing with a ship preference, using arguments that support biased and contradictory interpretations at best.

This has to stop.

Fanon is not gay or mlm rep and headcanons are just that. Headcanons. Unless something is openly confirmed it will remain as such, but knowing how canon went (comics and LOK) we know that such was not really the case.

Using your headcanon being disagreed with unironically as an argument to put someone else down is clownage of the highest caliber and all you're accomplishing with it is making an ass of yourself.

Everyone should be allowed to make up whatever headcanons they like, they're merely ideas to build upon the material that's already there or to replace what parts you don't like about it and overall enhance your personal fandom experience.

However, it is just that. Ideas and concepts, not rule.

Shipping mlm ships and bashing those who don't is not activism.

People disagreeing with your headcanons is not phobia.

Telling people they're terrible people or homophobic for headcanoning a character - who in canon has only been seen dating the opposite gender - as anything other than gay is performative activism at best and harassment at worst.

I'm by the way perfectly aware that it's likely only a small portion of the fandom that behaves this way, but the fact that it is still happening regardless and that the rest of their fandom seems to just let them have their way uncontrolled is starting to get on my nerves and makes me dread posting anything Sokka related on my artblog out of fear that I'll find hateful anons in my askbox once one of the bad zvkka stans comes across it and figures out I post zutara content too.

It shouldn't need to be said that in the end this is just fiction we're talking about. It really should not be nearly important enough to get so damn aggressive about it and harm others.

Get your priorities sorted and rethink your approach please.

Nobody needs people like that, they form a graceless stain on the reputation of talented fandoms and suck any joy out of them.

#anti zukka #rant #anti zukka fandom

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backupblogforjg · 5 years ago

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The racism, sexism, homophobia, ableism and cruel tropes in Voltron

So, it’s the anniversary of the ending of Voltron. And I’m getting really, really tired of people saying that only shippers hated the ending. There were many issues with Voltron, and they were neither limited to shipping nor to S8.

So, I’ve decided to compile a list.

It gets LONG. Turns out there was a hell of a lot of racist, sexist, ableist and cruel tropes in VLD.

In fact, I had originally planned on writing a list of both the terrible tropes and the plot holes. But there just wasn’t enough room for both. The post is huge as it is, and with the plot holes, it would have been twice as long, so I had to focus on only one thing.

Salt, obviously. So, so, so much salt. I could turn a lake into a sea here. You’ve been warned.

RACISM:

1) The Alteans are genocide survivors. Out of all the Alteans, only the black Altean was used for a Reverse Racism story where she resents a teammate for belonging to the race that exterminated hers. The white Alteans are totally cool with him, and with his race in general, and only hate the bad people. But the black one had to be taught that hating people because of their race is wrong.

2) VLD Allura is also the only version of Allura who is black. In every other Voltron media (several different cartoons and comics), Allura is blond with blue eyes. All the white versions of the character get a happy ending, while only the black version ends up dying to save the world.

While "hero sacrifices their life to save the world" is not a bad trope in and of itself, it becomes bad when it kills off one of the extremely few black female characters in leading roles. You kill off a white male hero, there are 463278462387 more. You kill off the black female hero, you are kinda screwed. Making it worse, Allura had been portrayed as suffering from depression throughout the latest seasons, so that her death comes across less as heroic sacrifice and more as suicide.

3) The brown Cuban kid who dreamed of being a pilot, and never once in 78 episodes ever expressed anything but sheer love for an exciting life, in the final two minutes of the final episode ends up realizing that the place for him is a farm.

4) As told in interviews, Lotor was meant to be a bad example of mixed-race person, to contrast him with Keith as good example of mixed race person. Do I even have to point out how messed up this is?

5) Even before they became Space Nazis, back when they were still on the side of the angels, the Galra invaded and conquered planets. This is portrayed as totally cool when they happily name the prince after a "hero" who invaded and conquered a lot of worlds, and the peaceful Alteans think the guy is just as heroic as one of their greatest scientists. Apparently there is such a thing as ethically killing people to steal their land.

6) They whitewashed Keith, a character who is poc in every other iteration of Voltron.

I’m sure a lot of people are going to get angry here, claiming that I hate Keith. Let me assure you, I don’t. I love Keith, and I hate what was done to him. I hate that they took a traditionally poc character and went to frankly ridiculous lengths to erase that part of his character. Keith should be Asian, and it would be incredibly easy to make him so in VLD (seriously, all they’d have to do is update the freaking bios, an intern could do it right now in 5 minutes). But they refuse to do it.

A lot of people don’t realise that the surname “Kogane” in VLD is fanon.

I’m serious. Check his official bios page. Keith is not actually called Keith Kogane in VLD. Fans started calling him that in fanfiction, and it stuck, but it’s not canon.

In every other Voltron media, Keith is an Asian guy. But in VLD, they:

- went out of their way to always avoid giving him an Asian surname

- gave him a Texan father

- refused to confirm his race, even when every other character had a specific race. Again, check his official bios. All the other characters got a race, Keith gets “human.” It got so ridiculous it would be funny if it weren’t sad. It pretty much went like this:

Fans: Keith is half alien, but about his human half, what is his ethnicity? EPs: oh, we couldn't possibly say, because the story takes place in the future, and in the future, everybody is mixed up! So, Keith is HUMAN, we can't give him a specific race because there are no specific races in the future! Fans: ok. And what are the races of the other characters? EPs: Pidge is Italian, Lance is Cuban, Hunk is half-black half- Samoan, Shiro is Japanese. Fans: but Keith...? EPs: HUMAN! There is no such thing as race in the future!

Some people at least hoped that Keith's Texan father had Asian ancestry because he kinda looked like Shiro, who is Japanese. But the EPs confirmed that the resemblance was just a coincidence, they never meant for the dad to look Japanese.

At this point pretty much the only evidence that Keith is Asian is that he is voiced by an Asian person. But then, Josh Keaton is not Japanese, is he?

7) After whitewashing Keith, they claimed he is the best leader of Voltron, better than his poc predecessor, because he has Galra blood.

So, instead of bringing up any sort of legit reason to justify why Keith should be in charge (like his empathy or pilot skills), they go with "the half-white guy is also half space-nazi and that's why he should give the orders instead of the poc guy."

If you think I’m bashing Keith here, please ask yourself why you are getting angry at the person pointing out the whitewashing instead of getting angry at the whitewashing. Especially when, again, making VLD Keith canonically poc could be done anytime with zero cost and zero effort, and DW just doesn’t want to.

- Hunk, the half-black half-Samoan guy, was going to be killed and replaced as Paladin by a blue alien. The EPs were pissed when DW forbade them to, and complained in the interview about it.

SEXISM:

Every single woman who is ever put in charge ends up going insane, making terrible decisions that endanger her planet, or losing all of her authority.

Allura starts out as co-leader of Voltron and leader of the Coalition. Ends up as a foot soldier who takes orders from the new leader and his right-hand man, and is treated as a cadet by the Earth military.

HOMOPHOBIA:

1) Dreamworks, Netflix and the EPs very, very, very heavily promoted S7 as GLBT-friendly. The EPs gave whole interviews about the past relationship between Shiro and new character Adam, retweeted a ton of posts celebrating Shiro’s homosexuality, and enthusiastically sent tweets like "you are going to see more of Adam in S7! :D" from their personal accounts after they showed the episode that introduced him.

In S7:

- Shiro's homosexuality is so ambiguous that even the Brazilian voice actor didn't realize that he was supposed to be gay. Just by watching the show, without knowing the World Of God, you can’t tell he and the other guy were engaged.

- Adam gets about 30 seconds of screentime after that one episode they had already shown. Then he dies screaming in pain and terror in a fire.

A lot of people claimed that it was okay to kill Adam because Shiro was supposed to be our rep, not Adam, who was a brand new character we knew little about. And, out of context, that would be true. Adam was pretty much a NPC, why would his death matter?

But the problem here is the context:

- Shiro is closeted in S7, you need to read interviews to know he is gay. So, if only Shiro is meant to be the rep, they couldn’t even do that right.

- They very heavily marketed both Shiro and Adam as gay rep, and specifically talked at length about Adam in several interviews.

In THAT context, REGARDLESS of what you ship, killing off Adam revealed a complete willingness to manipulate the audience to the point of outright lying. Even if you hated Adam, even if Adashi is your NOTP, the clear evidence that the creators had absolutely no problem making empty promises was NOT a good sign.

2) The moment Shiro is revealed to be gay in interviews, he is practically quarantined from the Team.

3) Shiro is also given a Totally Not AIDS deadly disease.

Making it even worse, Shiro never actually gets cured in canon. We are told he is cured in interviews, but the show itself drops the topic entirely. Depending on where you lean in the Word Of God VS Death Of The Author debate, Shiro may be doomed to die.

4) A female villain is revealed to be a lesbian. 30 seconds later she gleefully tortures a little girl. Then she, too, dies in a fire.

(Fan outrage about pulling two Bury Your Gays in the Season that had been very heavily promoted as GLBT-friendly caused DW to retcon her death and bring her back in S8, but she was originally meant to die in the explosion)

5) Shiro ends up marrying a random character who doesn’t even get a name in the show.

ABLEISM:

1) Shiro's PTSD magically disappears offscreen. In interviews, the EPs claimed that he "got over it" between S6 and S7 because "he is a professional." Wow! Who knew being a professional magically cures mental illnesses!

2) Shiro is an amputee. The EPs admitted that they never put any thought into his status as disabled rep, they just wanted a character with a cool-looking arm. It literally didn't occur to them that making him lose his arm (TWICE! First up to the biceps, then up to the shoulder) meant anything. Also worth noting that Shiro’s new arm makes him look like the guy who tormented him.

3) Shiro is systematically robbed of his agency.

- He is the only Paladin who never gets to use his bayard.

- He loses his bond with Black for no given canon reason (and the reason they give in interviews makes no sense, they basically say that transferring his soul out of the Black Lion makes her stop loving him. But she still lets Zarkon fly her!).

I know that Keith is traditionally Black’s pilot in Voltron media (although that shouldn’t matter, because VLD made a lot of huge changes to the traditional status quo). But if they wanted Black Paladin Keith that badly, they could have given some non-insulting reason for it. For example, say “because Shiro has spent so much time within Black, their bond is now so strong that he will get absorbed again if he flies her again.” Or co-pilots in Black (if Pidge can co-pilot with Matt, why can’t Shiro co-pilot with Keith?).

- He is defeated not only by Sendak, but also by a bunch of random Alteans. He basically can’t win a fight anymore unless it’s played for laughs.

- His new robot Atlas is bigger than Voltron, but also much weaker, and can only buy a few minutes for Voltron to come save the day.

- Every single enemy he ever defeated comes back to be finished off by somebody else (even the friggin' Gladiator from S1 comes back in S8). In the epilogue, he retires in his twenties.

4) Narti, the disabled General, is fridged shortly after her introduction. For a while at least it seemed like her death had affected the remaining three Generals, but then it turns out that the "For Narti" line was a trick and they never actually planned on avenging her.

CRUEL TROPES:

1) They intentionally baited the fans by pushing the plot thread that Lotor would be redeemed. They named the episode where he defects "A New Defender," they kept saying in interviews that they come from Avatar and they are very familiar with Zuko *hint hint*, they showed his family as incredibly abusive and Lotor himself as desperate, they showed that Lotor was a victim of severe racism (he is mixed race, and as stated above, the Galra are Space Nazis and are pretty obsessed with blood purity).

Then, after revealing him to be a villain, they gave an interview where they practically dislocated their shoulders by patting themselves on the back as they gleefully bragged that "we made them think we would give them a Zuko, but we gave them an Azula!"

(Nevermind the fact that Azula herself was a 14-year-old child, not a monster, and that Aaron Ehasz himself confirmed that he always wanted her to be redeemed).

When fans who are survivors of child abuse told them that the bait-and-switch was really hurtful, they laughed it off, and claimed that Lotor was just beyond redemption. Then they proceeded to redeem Lotor's abusive parents, who were objectively much worse.

2) Shiro’s clone, who sincerely believed he was Shiro and always meant well, was dehumanised, demonised and discarded like his life meant nothing. His short existence was full of pain from literally the moment he first opened his eyes, as Haggar kept torturing him with migraines to manipulate him. In the end, she brutally violates him body and mind, and brainwashes him to force him to turn on the family he was so desperate to find in The Journey. He dies in incredibly questionable circumstances, without ever getting to learn that his family survived Haggar’s plans. He is victim-blamed for the things she forced him to do against his will with mind-control, and is never mourned because the only family he ever had writes him off as a “thing” and “evil.”

In fact, the horrific treatment of Kuron foreshadowed S8. The Medium article “It never stops at one - Why Voltron: Legendary Defender's tragic ending wasn't a surprise and why more DreamWorks' series will follow suit” explains how.

The tl;dr version is that, when a story posits that the circumstances of your birth determine the value of your life, so that good intentions and hard work mean nothing, and long-established bonds can be discarded with zero thought and care, and your very humanity can be revoked over something you have absolutely no control over, and the whole sociopathic disaster is celebrated as a happy ending... it really, really can’t end well. Not just for you, but for the entire cast.

#voltron critical #vld shiro #vld keith #vld lance #vld allura #vld lotor #voltron #voltron salt #takashi shirogane

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