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physalian · 5 months ago

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“Why doesn’t the villain just kill the heroes?”

Ah, plot armor. If you want to be a real go-getter and think up a more creative way for the heroes to always narrowly escape death out of sheer dumb luck, the villain being too slow on the draw, or the villain simply not thinking of it in the moment, you have to come up with a reason for why the villain doesn’t just kill the hero.

Four examples today.

1. Zhao & Aang

In “The Blue Spirit,” Aang is captured by Zhao, a man normally not above anything to further his agenda, including murder. The Avatar is the largest obstacle in his way, second to the Earth Kingdom, and all he has to do to take Aang off the gameboard is to kill a twelve-year-old. He’s got Aang in chains, not quite powerless but harmless enough, and could do it quickly.

So why doesn’t he? Per Zhao himself, if he kills Aang, the Avatar cycle will continue, born into some random water bender that may take them years to track down. Sure, they’ll be harmless for a few years and the Fire Nation might get lucky and find them easily, perhaps even sway the new one to their side, but what if the waterbending Avatar is born into the Foggy Swamp? Or they end up having to kill them, too, and then have to track down an earthbending Avtar across the entire Earth Kingdom? Does Zhao really want to take that chance when he can just keep Aang alive? Just barely?

Of course not.

Killing the hero in this case might stop the immediate threat, but it will just delay the inevitable, thus it’s in the villain’s best interest to exploit a loophole while likely committing war crimes in the process. He gets to secure a Fire Nation victory and make Aang suffer for the rest of his life.

Ozai doesn't kill Aang until the first chance he gets, which just so happens to be the series finale. And we all know why Aang has a no-kill policy.

2. Sam, Dean & The Angels and Demons

Hahaha it’s the show known for its refusal to kill its heroes. We’re gonna ignore everything past season 5. There’s obviously meta reasons—kill the main characters and you have zero supporting cast that could realistically take over the show.

But in season 4, despite multiple deaths already for both of them, so begins the “if you die we’ll just bring you back” threat, because they’re angels and angels can do that. Similar to Aang, Sam and Dean risk a fate far worse than death if they don’t cooperate with Zachariah’s plans. He happily gives them both a slew of diseases and illnesses to get his way whenever he gets the chance and reminds them both that if they just kill themselves to escape the Apocalypse, he’ll happily revive them. The Demons won't kill Sam and Dean because they're necessary to further their own plans by breaking certain seals on Lucifer's cage, though they're not above breaking bones and killing bystanders.

Fate worse than death is a popular threat, but usually the heroes offing themselves is still a viable, if deeply unpopular, option. Supernatural removes it entirely and for such a simple little detail, it does a lot to make their survivability believable.

3. Batman & Joker

Ahh the age old furious rant by people who don’t understand Batman: If Batman killed his villains they’d stop busting out of Arkham and murdering innocent civilians, Batman has so much blood on his hands—

Babe. Babe, he’s a comic book character. By his very nature, he can’t kill his villains otherwise he’d have no rogues gallery. Comic books are like a giant board of Monopoly, going around in circles and occasionally having a timeout in jail.

But the in universe reason there’s no killing has been essayed about extensively and so has why Joker doesn’t try harder to kill him, but I couldn’t not include these two. Batman does not kill because he is not judge, jury, and executioner of his villains, most of whom have mental health issues and while they certainly know better and their crimes aren’t justified, his villains need actual therapy and help and medication, not death. Even those who he might agree must be stopped and there’s no other way except murder, Batman himself will not be the one to pull the trigger. He must remain a hero, so that no matter who he comes across in the dark alleyways of Gotham, they know he’s not here to kill them, be it criminal or victim.

Joker doesn’t kill Batman for a much simpler reason, and Heath Ledger literally says it: “I won’t kill you because you’re too much fun.” He does not need a more convoluted reason, he enjoys the game, the chase, the tug of war (most versions of him, at least) and to kill Batman would be to end his greatest form of entertainment, and the only person probably in the whole world who is neither afraid of Joker nor dismissive of him as simply a freak.

4. Optimus and Megatron

Optimus Prime and Megatron are very similar to Batman and Joker but with literal eons of history between them. In most serialized Transformers media, as opposed to movies where the plot is more urgent, Megatron both wants to win Optimus over and just can't quite let himself finally win. Who is he without his rival, after all this time?

Optimus is in the same boat, refusing to kill him because he's still holding out hope for Megatron's redemption, that there's a peaceful way to end this war (no matter how much collateral both leaders end up causing). Shit gets real whenever Optimus breaks the unspoken rules of their no-kill rivalry and Megatron gets incredibly pissy about it because he's in love.

—

Suggestions to workshop this plot hole in your own narrative:

The hero staying alive is absolutely paramount to the villain’s plan (in which case, you have to have rock solid reasons for why they keep narrowly escaping capture)

The villain is so confident in their plan that they don’t even consider the hero a proper threat

The villain doesn't really have a bodycount, but if they kill the hero, suddenly all the other powers that be will take them seriously and they'll have a huge mess on their hands

The villain is so full of themselves or so in love with their rival that it’d break their heart to have to kill them just to win

The villain is simply not capable of murder either physically or morally (perhaps because the hero is a child)

Killing the hero would make them a martyr and the villain would end up with a far bigger mess on their hands when the lone hero is replaced with an avenging army

The villain is too proud to simply kill the hero and wants to win fairly in a proper fight on the battlefield and not take the cheap and easy shot

The villain does not have a phyiscal form or real presence in the plot, acting through their minions, and their minions are incompetent

It’s simply not fun if the hero dies/the hero is the only one who understands them and they’d lose far more than they’d gain by killing them

The villain still wants to try and win the hero over and is so dedicated to this path that they regularly sabotage their own plans desperate to change the hero’s mind

The villain firmly believes in a fate worse than death and while the hero’s survival isn’t crucial to the main plan, they want the hero to watch their own failure/become the villain’s minion/ prisoner/ partner by the end

There’s a million examples out there to pull from and I could keep listing them all night. So long as whatever it is doesn’t come out of nowhere or open a plot hole of “why didn’t they just do that earlier?” you can get quite creative.

One last example that’s a personal favorite of mine to implement: In Eternal Night of the Northern Sky there aren’t too many opportunities to ask this question, but when it does arise, Villain A has Hero B as a meat shield, and while Hero B’s love interest, Hero C, is more than happy to shoot through them to incapacitate Villain A, the person they take orders from isn’t so reckless, which later leads to Drama and Issues.

#writing #writeblr #writing a book #writing advice #writing resources #writing tools #writing tips #writing villains #heroes and villains #plot holes #deus ex machina

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maybe-im-dark · 3 months ago

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Instinct

Based on this post

The night was thick and dark, a heavy silence blanketing the forest as Logan and Wade moved through the underbrush. Shadows stretched out from towering pines, and the faint glow of moonlight filtered through the dense canopy, casting everything in an eerie silver. Wade kept close behind Logan, who was leading the way with calm, measured steps.

They’d been out there for hours, following a faint trail left by their target. Wade, usually the one cracking jokes and keeping the mood light, found himself silent as he watched Logan maneuver through the darkness like he’d been born to it. Wade knew Logan had spent years outdoors, but he hadn’t fully realized what that meant until now.

“Alright, peanut,” Wade whispered, finally breaking the silence as he stepped over a fallen branch. “How exactly are you figuring out where we’re going? It’s pitch black out here.”

Logan didn’t even glance back as he answered, “Using the stars and the magnetic fields of the earth, Wade.”

Wade chuckled. “Haha, very funny, but seriously, how’re we finding this place? Are we even close?”

Logan stopped, finally turning to give Wade a deadpan look. “How do you think I managed to survive in the Canadian wilderness all these years?”

Wade stared at him, waiting for the punchline, but Logan’s expression remained steady, unbothered. “Wait… you’re serious?”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You really think I need a map to get around out here? I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you might think.”

Wade’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Logan, trying to piece together the full extent of what he was capable of. “Okay, so you can track people down in the middle of a forest…without a map. That’s…actually kinda hot, but let’s stay focused.”

Logan rolled his eyes, but there was the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Good to know where your priorities are.”

As they continued, Wade couldn’t help but be impressed. Logan moved almost silently, his every step calculated, barely a rustle in the leaves underfoot. He’d stop every so often, glancing up at the sky or feeling the air as if he could actually sense something out there. Wade was used to operating with gadgets, intel, and often sheer dumb luck. Logan, on the other hand, was using something primal, something honed from years of raw survival.

“Alright, sensei, teach me your ways,” Wade muttered, trying to match Logan’s stealth.

Logan glanced over his shoulder, amusement flickering in his gaze. “First lesson, don’t be loud.”

“Right, right. Got it.” Wade nodded, attempting to mirror Logan’s silent footsteps but failing miserably.

Twigs snapped beneath his feet, and he stumbled over a hidden root, only for Logan to catch his arm, steadying him without a word.

Wade looked down, a bit sheepish. “Alright, peanut, guess I’ve got some work to do.”

“Keep up and maybe you’ll learn a thing or two.” Logan shot him a quick smirk before pressing on, his gaze trained on the stars and the faint light peeking through the trees.

Wade watched him, caught somewhere between admiration and curiosity.

“How do you know all this?” Wade whispered. “I mean, the stars, the earth’s magnetic fields…I thought that was, like, folklore.”

“It’s not folklore,” Logan replied, pausing to adjust their course. “It’s instinct. And years of having to rely on something more than technology. You spend enough time out here, you learn to listen to things that most people ignore.”

Wade watched him, a newfound respect growing. He’d known Logan was capable, but this…this was something beyond skill or training. It was primal, something Wade didn’t quite understand but could only marvel at.

They reached a small clearing, and Logan stopped, signaling for Wade to crouch down beside him. Logan scanned the area, his senses heightened, and Wade held his breath, trying to feel the same tension in the air.

“There,” Logan muttered, nodding toward the faint glow of a campfire barely visible through the trees.

Wade peered out, squinting to see it.

“How did you…?” Wade started, shaking his head. “I’ve gotta hand it to you, Logie, you’re full of surprises.”

Logan’s gaze softened just a bit, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. “Guess you don’t know everything about me yet.”

Wade chuckled quietly. “Well, keep it up, and you might just make me fall for you all over again.”

Logan shook his head, suppressing a smirk. “Let’s finish the mission first, Wade.”

But as they prepared to move forward, Wade couldn’t help but feel grateful for this quiet, intense side of Logan—the man who could lead him through a pitch-black forest using nothing but instinct and the stars. And for once, he didn’t feel the need to joke or break the silence. Just this once, he let himself follow Logan’s lead, trusting him completely.

#hugh jackman #wolverine #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool #ryan reynolds #poolverine #deadclaws #logan is so good at this #why can't he teach me

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kimmie2me · 3 months ago

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# 03. Unexpected Partners

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.....

If you’d had a time machine, you wouldn’t use it for anything noble or selfless—no epic rescue of historical figures, no preventing major disasters. Nope. You’d drag yourself back a month just to shake your wide-eyed, naïve self by the shoulders and scream, "Don’t do it. Find another department. Any other department. Join traffic control. Herd cats. Just don’t end up here."

Because here was Bakugou personal circle of hell. The past few weeks felt like a marathon in which you’d been tripped at the starting line, dragged halfway, and then left to sprint uphill. In the rain. With weighted vests. There was no mercy in Bakugou’s world, only adrenaline and barked orders that carried enough force to knock the confidence right out of your chest.

You learned, fast and furiously, that he wasn’t just tough. He was ruthless, exacting, and demanded perfection with all the warmth of a drill sergeant who hadn’t had coffee. And coffee—you’d learned the hard way—was something that could make or break a morning. There was The Incident when you dared bring him a cup with too much sugar, only to receive a sharp glare and a grumbled, “What, you think I’m ten?” The next thirty minutes were dedicated to sprint drills so intense your calves whimpered for days. All you wanted to do is figure out what the hell his favorite coffee is! Yes, you're still trying..

And yes, you're still failing.

Bakugou’s teaching methods were a combination of trial by fire and sheer terror. He wasn’t interested in your excuses or half-assed answers. If you messed up, you’d know—usually by the clipped way he’d shout, “Run it again,” or the eye twitch that signaled he was two seconds from ripping the folder out of your hands and doing it himself.

It wasn’t just the shouting, though that was certainly a staple. It was the moments he’d watch you with that hawk-eyed stare, arms crossed and expression set like granite. There were no second chances when Bakugou was breathing down your neck; you either got it right or got ready to count pavement cracks while doing your punishment laps. You hadn’t done so many wall sits since training, thighs quivering like jelly by the time he allowed you to stand.

And it wasn’t just you. Anyone who dared step into his path found themselves swept up in the tornado of his expectations. It made surviving the day feel like a badge of honor, if surviving meant stumbling into your apartment with barely enough strength to fling your shoes off.

One time, you’d accidentally jumbled up a lead in a report, swapping suspect descriptions that Bakugou caught in record time. He’d smacked the paper onto your desk with an incredulous look. “D’you even read this before handin’ it in?” And just like that, your next hour was filled with circuits and resistance bands that made your arms feel like spaghetti. “C’mon, rookie, or should I start callin’ you noodle arms?” The jab stuck, and you groaned whenever he brought it up.

Bakugou’s wrath was tempered only by moments of begrudging silence, the rare instances where you met his eyes and thought you saw a flicker of something softer, only to blink and find it gone. Those moments would have been comforting if they weren’t fleeting, crushed by his next tirade over a misplaced document or a missed clue.

But just as you’d started thinking maybe you’d bitten off more than you could chew, a case dropped that pulled everyone into high gear: a string of burglaries, each more calculated than the last. No dumb luck, no rookie mistakes would fly with this one. Bakugou’s tension was palpable, a crackle in the air whenever he entered the room. He’d pace with his hands shoved into his pockets, muttering curses and theories under his breath like the case had insulted him personally.

Your nerves spiked with each passing day. Bakugou was more relentless than ever, orders flung out faster than you could grab your notebook. And if you so much as hesitated? He’d turn, eyes gleaming like a predator scenting blood. “Keep up, or get out.”

By the time you wrapped up that week’s legwork, you weren’t sure whether to feel accomplished or absolutely wrecked. Bakugou had pushed every ounce of strength and patience from your body, leaving you hollowed out and aching. Yet, for some reason you’d yet to understand, you kept coming back, stepping into the precinct with a quiet determination that only grew as his glare followed you like a challenge.

Time machine, you reminded yourself, scribbling down notes that were half-legible from your shaking hand. You’d go back, find yourself, and whisper conspiratorially, Choose desk duty. It’ll save your soul.

But you didn’t have a time machine. You had Bakugou. And you were starting to suspect he might just make a detective out of you, whether you survived him or not.

.....

The burglaries had started small—a string of break-ins that barely made the back page of the city’s morning paper. But each successive hit grew bolder, more precise, like the thief was taunting the force. By the time it hit their radar, Chief Yagi’s usually calm expression had hardened to steel, and even the more seasoned detectives were exchanging wary glances.

For you, it meant one thing: Bakugou was operating at maximum intensity, his usual scowl deepened to something almost carved from stone. It was an energy you could feel in the air, like the static before a lightning strike. And with that, the pace of your life turned from grueling to almost impossible. Long days blurred into longer nights, the fluorescent lights above burning into your skull as you combed through reports with squinting eyes and a splitting headache. The precinct buzzed with anticipation and tension, everyone bracing for the storm.

You sat at your desk, meticulously cross-referencing suspect details when Bakugou stormed in, clipboard in one hand and the other pressed into his hip like it was the only thing keeping him from losing it entirely. He glanced around the room, eyes sharp as the edge of a blade, before they settled on you. The air shifted.

“Rookie,” he barked, and you jumped, nearly dropping your pen. He didn’t wait for you to recover before launching into his rapid-fire speech. “Listen up, ‘cause I’m only sayin’ this once. The pattern’s changed. Our thief’s not just hittin’ high-value targets anymore—they’re goin’ after places with tech infrastructure. Means they’re not just lookin’ for loot—they’re diggin’ for data, and if we don’t get ahead, we’re gonna be two steps behind with our heads up our—”

He paused, jaw tightening like he was biting back an insult, and then leaned down, bringing himself to eye level. His eyes were an inferno, daring you to miss a word. “You listening?”

You nodded so fast it was a wonder your neck didn’t cramp, scribbling down notes as if your life depended on it. Maybe it did—at least, your peace of mind surely did. Bakugou’s tone wasn’t just demanding; it was drilled into your skull, searing in its urgency.

“Good. Now, look—”

“Oh! Hey, Kacchan!!”

The voice sliced through the room like a record scratch, shattering Bakugou’s hyper-focused tension into a thousand jagged pieces. He physically recoiled, straightening up so fast you’d think he’d been stung. Your pen stilled mid-word, eyes flicking between him and the newcomer with an internal "?!?!?!?!" blaring in neon letters.

Kacchan?

There, standing at the threshold of the precinct like he’d wandered in by accident, was Detective Midoriya Izuku, all soft smiles and bright green eyes. He gave a little wave as if Bakugou wasn’t seconds away from launching into orbit.

“Kacchan, hi! It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Midoriya’s tone was impossibly cheerful, and the nickname fell from his lips like it was a greeting between best friends. But from the way Bakugou’s hands twitched, it may as well have been a bomb dropped into a room full of dynamite.

Bakugou’s response was instantaneous, voice sharp enough to cut glass. “What the hell’re you doin’ here, Deku?”

The silence that followed was suffocating, punctuated only by the distant hum of computers and a detective a few desks over clearing their throat awkwardly. Your heart thumped in your chest as if it was trying to escape the awkwardness, and you glanced at Midoriya, expecting him to shrink back. But he didn’t—his smile wavered, sure, but he held his ground, eyes earnest.

“I’m here to help with the case,” Midoriya explained, and it took everything in you not to whip your head around. Help? With your case?

Bakugou’s reaction was as explosive as you expected. “Help? You—”

But before he could finish, a voice cut through the tension like a blade. “Enough, boys.” Chief Yagi’s voice was firm as he walked in, flanked by another man who exuded calm authority—the infamous Chief Aizawa Shouta. His tired eyes swept over the room, taking in the scene with a raised brow.

“Chief Aizawa and his team are joining us for this operation. And that includes Detective Midoriya.” Chief Yagi’s tone left no room for argument.

Bakugou’s jaw set so tight you could hear the grind of teeth. And in that moment, you knew that whatever the past few weeks had been like? They were about to get a whole lot more complicated.

…

You barely had time to absorb Midoriya’s, let alone Cheif Aizawa's, sudden appearance before Chief Yagi called everyone into the briefing room. This would’ve been a regular meeting for the higher-ups—the kind you’d usually only hear about when Bakugou came out, slamming the door behind him, face redder than the emergency exit signs. But today, for reasons you couldn’t fathom, you were summoned along. Because apparently, if Bakugou was involved, you were involved.

The briefing room was already filling up, the thick scent of coffee and paper lingering in the air as officers shuffled in, muttering greetings and speculations under their breath. Chief Yagi took his place at the head of the room, looking as solid and unyielding as ever, while Chief Aizawa leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets, observing the room with the detached but alert gaze of a cat watching a busy street. Midoriya slid into a chair near the front, shooting you a small, encouraging smile. Bakugou, in contrast, looked like he’d swallowed a wasp.

Then, in strode Officer Ashido Mina, bright as a firecracker, with Officer Sero Hanta close behind her, both exuding a casual confidence that somehow didn’t feel out of place even in a room of high-stakes professionals. Mina shot a finger-gun wave at the room, winking in your direction before taking a seat across from Midoriya. Sero plopped down beside her, his grin almost lazy but eyes sharp, taking in everything at once.

Chief Yagi’s voice brought the room to order. “Alright, everyone, this joint task force is in place because the burglaries have escalated. We’re dealing with a team of thieves targeting secure information in addition to high-value assets. The leads point to a complex operation, and that’s where our collaboration comes in.”

He nodded to Chief Aizawa, who spoke in that low, measured tone that commanded instant respect. “We need all hands on deck. Each of you will have a role—whether it’s field, intel, or processing. Officer Uraraka will be on the evidence team, coordinating with the data we’ve collected so far.”

The mention of Uraraka’s name caught your attention, and sure enough, she was at the back, beaming when she spotted you. Her presence was a rare comfort in this sea of intense, stern faces. It had been years since you’d seen her, but it was like old times when she waved, mouthing an excited “Hey!”

“Detective Bakugou, Officer L/N, you’ll be working alongside Detective Midoriya’s team,” Chief Yagi continued, and the very air in the room seemed to vibrate as Bakugou’s scowl deepened. He was in full protest mode, shooting daggers at Midoriya, who looked back with a determined—if slightly nervous—smile.

Once the briefing concluded, Chief Yagi dismissed everyone, and the room exploded in chatter as officers filed out. You managed to navigate through the crowd until you reached Uraraka, who practically bounced on her toes, pulling you into a quick hug.

“Can you believe it? We’re working together!” she said, her voice bright with excitement. “I’ve been doing the fingerprinting, data scans—all the good stuff. Remember when I used to geek out about this stuff in school?”

“Oh, totally! You always aced those forensics projects,” you replied, grinning as the memories rushed back.

She nodded, laughing. “Exactly! And now, look at us! I get to actually do it. And you—you’re working with Bakugou Katsuki, of all people!” Her eyes widened with awe and maybe a little mischief, the kind that reminded you of her knack for getting you into trouble back in the day.

“Working is a strong word,” you muttered, glancing over at Bakugou, who was still glaring holes into Midoriya, ignoring everyone else. “Surviving might be more accurate.”

Uraraka giggled but quickly straightened when she caught Bakugou’s expression aimed squarely at her—a glare so intense that it was a wonder she didn’t spontaneously combust. She cleared her throat, gave you a small, sympathetic smile, and said, “Well, I’d better get back to it. I’ll send over the scans when they’re ready! And hey, catch up soon?”

You nodded, squeezing her hand in agreement. “Definitely. Thanks, Ochaco.”

With a final grin, Uraraka turned back to her workstation, her demeanor shifting from friendly to focused in an instant. You watched her go, feeling a brief pang of jealousy at how seamlessly she slid into her work. But that was quickly overridden by the realization that Bakugou was striding your way, arms crossed and a storm brewing in his expression.

“Done with your little reunion?” he sneered, barely waiting for you to nod. “Good. 'Cause now it’s time for you to actually do somethin’ useful, rookie.” He nodded towards the open case file in his hand. “Let’s go.”

.....

The silence between you and Bakugou was taut, strung up like an overused wire threatening to snap. He stalked ahead, practically dragging the storm cloud that was his mood behind him. You weren’t entirely sure why he’d decided that now was the time to go full boot camp on you, but here you were, heels clicking on the polished floor, trying not to look like you’d rather melt into it.

“Listen up, rookie,” Bakugou started without turning around, his voice a low rumble laced with that familiar bite. He navigated the labyrinth of hallways like a predator circling its territory. You’re gonna make yourself useful if it kills ya, got it?”

You swallowed thickly, feeling a combination of irritation and nerves twist in your chest. You’d learned over the past few weeks that Bakugou had a penchant for the extreme. Everything was all or nothing with him, whether it was paperwork, interrogations, or the way he yelled about the printer jamming (which was only your fault that one time).

“Got it,” you managed, though it came out weaker than you intended. He spared you a glance, eyes narrowing as if daring you to prove him right about all the times he’d muttered under his breath about “extras” wasting his time.

As if on cue, the door to one of the briefing rooms swung open, and Detective Kirishima stepped out, his broad grin a sharp contrast to Bakugou’s perpetual scowl. “Yo! Heard we’re working together on this one,” he said, his voice friendly and warm, instantly cutting through the tension.

Great. If there was ever a time to look capable, it was now. Not that Kirishima would ever point out your mistakes, but being around Bakugou had a way of amplifying your self-awareness until it was deafening.

“Try not to get in the way,” Bakugou snapped, jerking his thumb towards the entrance. You wondered if his eyes had always held that unrelenting glint or if he’d sharpened it specifically for you. Kirishima, bless him, only chuckled, patting you on the back as he passed by.

“Don’t mind him. He’s just on edge about the syndicate case,” Kirishima whispered, though you knew Bakugou’s sharp hearing likely picked it up. His glare confirmed it, but he didn’t say anything, turning his attention to the map on the table instead. Red pins clustered like a rash, each marking a hit by the crime syndicate that had every department in the city scrambling.

The realization hit you hard. The stakes were higher than ever, and the idea of fumbling now made your stomach churn. The last thing you needed was to mess up in front of Bakugou and Kirishima, especially when the latter’s optimism made you want to do better and the former’s disdain made you feel like you never could.

Bakugou laid out the plan, his voice cutting through the thick tension in the room. "..'nd if we’re lucky, tonight’s stakeout’ll give us what we need.” He turned to you, eyes narrowing to twin blades. “That clear, rookie?”

“Crystal,” you muttered, earning a sharp nod.

As Kirishima checked the comms equipment, you shifted on your feet, the weight of what was coming pressing against your chest like a vice. The quiet hum of urgency filled the room as you prepared for the night ahead, a stakeout that promised no sleep, a test of patience, and a confined space with Bakugou’s intensity smoldering beside you.

Yeah. You're soo fucked.

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fandom-rants-here · 9 days ago

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I need Mike to confess first. And I need Will to not believe him.

something something...

"Will, I promise you I am not lying. This isn't- this isn't any prank or trick or mischief or whatever you think is going on here. I am telling you that I am in love with you. I always have been."

There are audible tremors in Mike's voice and he thinks he feels tears falling down his face.

"Whatever I had with El was not love. It was coincidence and my own cowardice that brought and held us together. It was dumb luck I met her. But you know who I was looking for that day? It was you, Will. It's always been you. I chose to walk up to you on that playground 10 years ago. I chose to ask you to be my friend. I chose you. "

Even if Mike had the confidence to look towards Will, his eyes were blurred with tears and he couldn't even see the ground they were falling on.

"I'm sorry for what I said at the pizza shop. It was- I was lying. I was just saying what I thought she needed to hear again and I really don't know why cause it never works and you were right there and it fucking hurt to lie so much and you didn't deserve that, you- Will, my life didn't start the day I met El in the woods, not in the way I implied, at least. You were missing, most thought you were dead or would be soon. We were all so hurt and lost without you. Joyce seemed half hysterical, Jonathan- I'd never seen him so sad, and we, The Party, we didn't know what to do without you. I felt like death, like I'd died without you to keep me alive. But then we found El and she- if she could be lost in the woods and found, so could you. And then- then she recognized your photo and she knew who you were and she flipped the board to show you were in the Upside Down and- and meeting El wasn't my life starting. It was hope restarting it, hope that she could get you back to us."

They stood and he wasn't sure if Will was nearly as frozen as he was, but it took him several moments to regain any thoughts and then continue speaking.

"Will, I've known I was in love with you for years, now. But the love has been there far longer. You- you're amazing, Will. You're so smart, even if you suck at math. You capture beauty in ever drawing and painting you make, creating it from sheer care and adoration alone, when you have to. You consider other's thoughts and feelings before you do or say anything, no matter how angry you are. You're such a quick thinker, it's scary sometimes. Not- not really, but you get the idea. You're the most level headed person inside of a group where everyone else is about 10 seconds away from murdering each other. You're patient, gentle, honest, hilarious, and you're also, like, super handsome. I couldn't live without you, without my cleric. I almost didn't. You've saved me more times than you know. Because, Will, you are so strong and so resilient. You've survived and endured more than anyone ever should be forced to yet you remain kind. You called me the heart, in the van. And don't even try to say that's all El, you and I both know that she doesn't think that and that you're a terrible liar. But, really, Will? Me, the heart? Will, that has always been you. You bring together and unite people. You bring out the best in people, even when they're cruel or being assholes or telling you things that aren't meant for you but for themselves. You have always been the heart of this party. You've always been my heart."

The weight of their matching watches is heavy on Mike's wrist, the syncronized ticks breaking the stark silence every second. And, as he finally lifted his head up, Mike once again saw that Will had already been staring.

For once, Mike doesn't look away. Rather, he takes a few hesitant steps closer.

"I love you, Will Byers. You are my best friend, my first friend, my childhood crush, my gay realization, my tether to reality, my cleric, and you have been the most important person in my life since you entered it. Maybe even before. Maybe I had carved out a space knowing one day you'd fill it."

#dialogue heavy #it's a mike speech what else would it be #did I make him a bit self-depricating?#yes fuck off #stranger things #mike wheeler #will byers #byler #byler nation #mike wheeler defender #someone mentioned once that he always focuses on you rather than i when talking to will so I hope I did that justice #smallest ever quarry reference #mike sees will through rose coloured glasses but don't worry they'll learn to see each others flaws and be more kind to their own #they're in love your honor #mike wheeler i know what you are #I wanted him to sound like the writer he is #be fr he already had half this stuff in his head since the end of season three #Can't wait for Will to read the letters that sound like this but even sappier #did I mention I hate anything I write because what is this

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macgyvermedical · 10 months ago

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My Experience in Inpatient Psych

So I know a lot of people on here have talked about their experience in inpatient psych facilities, but I'd like to add mine just to give all you writers out there a writer-focused one. It's below the cut just in case you have to sit this one out for your own reasons.

To give you some background, I am 30 years old and have had hallucinations since about 16 and bizarre intrusive thoughts (someone living in my house that wasn't supposed to be there, somebody poisoned my walls, etc...) for about a decade, as well as very severe anxiety since I was about 3 years old. This is something not a lot of people know about me, even people I am friends with IRL.

The only thing I am actually diagnosed with is anxiety, which I'm starting to think is a failing of the psych systems I have been a part of. I have had counseling off and on and prior to this hospitalization I took escitalopram, aripiprazole, and gabapentin prescribed by my primary care doctor- all for the severe anxiety.

Quite frankly, I should have been in inpatient psych at least a few times before this, and it's by sheer dumb luck that I've survived to continue this blog.

On Friday, I was at home alone and made a few pretty bad decisions. I wont say what they were because frankly they're embarrassing, but they have to do with self-harm. I was scheduled to work Saturday and at about 9pm I realized that if I drove myself to work I would crash my car. Since my wife drives me sometimes, I figured I would just ask her to.

I told my wife and she asked- even if she drove me to work, since I was a nurse, would I be able to keep myself safe around insulin or other potentially dangerous drugs? I couldn't answer that question. We talked for a couple hours and came to the conclusion that I probably needed to go to the emergency department.

At this point I figured they would evaluate me and release me because I couldn't possibly meet the criteria for inpatient. I was wrong in this assumption. After telling them the decisions I had made that day, the feelings of wanting to die in a car crash, plus about a previous attempt, they recommended inpatient. Turns out, when you're a nurse, you can make some really bad life choices with the knowledge you have, and they didn't want to take any chances.

I was given paper scrubs to wear (so I couldn't hurt myself with my clothing or a hospital gown). I was also given a patient companion (someone who sits in the room and makes sure you don't hurt yourself).

They gave me the option of signing myself in voluntarily, or putting me on a writ of detention. A writ of detention is a piece of paperwork that allows a medical professional or law enforcement officer to hold someone for 3 days in a psychiatric facility against the person's will for the purposes of psychiatric treatment. Whether you sign the voluntary or get placed on a writ, you cannot sign yourself out. You need to wait until the psychiatrist taking care of you thinks you're ready to go.

I didn't believe at this point I needed to go inpatient, but I took the voluntary option because there are some perks, like being able to leave within 3 days if appropriate. At this point I was convinced I was probably going to have to call off work Saturday and Sunday, probably be out of the hospital Monday, have a few days to rest and be back at work on my next scheduled shift after that, which was Thursday.

Well, that's not what happened.

Because of some of the decisions I had made, along with bed availability, they wanted to keep me in the observation unit overnight before they sent me to psych. I stayed overnight in a unit that shares staff with the unit I work on, so I was taken care of by my coworkers. This was surprisingly not that bad. I like my coworkers and they were really professional about it.

Saturday I felt like I was in a fog all day. I couldn't watch TV. I couldn't color or write. I worked out some in my hospital room and paced the halls once or twice. Mostly I hung out with my wife and occasionally talked with my companion, but even talking was difficult. I had refused ativan because I felt like I had no hope of finding a medication that made me feel better, and I figured I didn't want to take the one medication that might actually work and then not be able to get it ever again.

Around 7PM I took a 45 minute ambulance ride to the facility. Getting my blood pressure taken is a big anxiety trigger for me, but my brain felt so scrambled that I couldn't express this well. They took it every 10 minutes on the ride there and by the time I got there it was in the 170s/100s (BP goes up when you're having severe anxiety). This was not their fault of course, but no matter how much I thought about telling them or refusing the BPs, I just couldn't do it.

When I got to the facility I was greeted by a tech who took my BP again (150s/90s this time), showed me around and looked through my personal belongings (basically just the clothing I came in with since my wife took my phone and wallet knowing I wouldn't be able to have them on the unit) to make sure I didn't have anything I wasn't allowed to on the unit. She showed me around my room and was really thorough with telling me how things worked, what the rules were, etc..

The rules included:

No patients allowed in other patients rooms

No personal belongings that had strings, belts, or laces, or that could be used as a weapon

No caffeine after lunch and no free access to caffeine

No personal electronics (including eReaders and watches). There was a TV in the day room and 2 phones mounted to the wall for patient use

A little later my nurse came into my room and asked me a ton of questions. Here's the thing about any hospital- you get asked the same questions over and over. By the time I'd gotten there I could give my story in under a minute. Or at least, that's what it felt like. There were only 2 clocks on the unit, at the nurses stations.

The unit itself was laid out in a "T" shape. There was a main nurse's station at the place where the two hallways intersected. At the end of the long hallway there was another smaller nurses station, a cafeteria/day room, and a "comfort room" which was a small room off the day room that had a collection of the oldest and worst donated books that have every come together on a bookshelf.

I did some pacing that night and then went to bed, but didn't sleep particularly well.

On Sunday morning the tech woke me up to take my blood pressure, which was, not unsurprisingly, still high. It was about 5 AM so I got up and paced the longer of the corridors for about an hour. Breakfast was served at 8 and the food wasn't that bad. The coffee was about the worst I'd ever drank, which I suppose helped with the no caffeine goals.

Just after breakfast I met with a psychiatrist on an iPad for about half a minute, and I'm not exaggerating there. The only questions he asked were whether I was suicidal and whether I would be fine with tripling my dose of aripiprazole in light of the hallucinations. I had had a 50-lb weight gain in the last year so I asked to switch my med. He switched the med to cariprazine. That was all.

I had a much longer meeting with my nurse later. All the nurses did an excellent job of assessing me, asked tons of questions, and it seemed like they really tried to figure out what was going on. That day I also met with a social worker, and a therapist, and a nurse practitioner. Each of them did an assessment to see what my needs were while I was there.

There was also a music therapy session where I cried my eyes out to Because of You by Kelly Clarkson.

I was really tired by the end of the day but I also didn't think I could sleep so I asked for trazodone. I should clarify that when I say "I" in this piece I really mean my wife convinced me to ask because I legitimately didn't believe I needed or deserved any of the things I asked for at this point. To my utter shock and surprise, they gave me the trazodone.

My first night on trazodone was amazing and I realized I hadn't slept well in a long time. With trazodone I fell asleep and stayed asleep until the blood pressure cart came rolling down the hallway at 5am. The second I got up on Monday morning I was wide awake.

I paced a lot Monday. I went to a goals session in the morning where I gave a goal to write 3/4 of a page. I didn't know if I could do it or what I was even going to write about, but I know I like to write and it might be a reasonable introduction to getting back to life.

I also was having kind of a rough day brain-wise. My brain was coming up with all the ways I could hurt myself in my room. There weren't a lot of them, but it was trying. I told the nurse during her assessment and she asked if I felt I could keep myself safe. I asked her what she would do if I said no. She said they could move me to a more secure part of the unit and give me more supervision. I knew what part of the unit she was talking about, and I didn't want to go there (no space to pace, and pacing was keeping me alive right then). So I told her I could keep myself safe (if anything, the idea of moving was good motivation to do stay safe in itself). I hallucinated some black and white blood cells falling from the ceiling and music coming out of my vents.

I also had another meeting with the social worker to figure out discharge plans. I voiced in the meeting that I wasn't sure that I could trust my wife, since it felt like at the time she was the one who exaggerated my symptoms to get me in here. The social worker said we had really good communication skills, since this was something I felt needed to be said in front of both of them and we both stayed really calm through the whole thing.

I finished the day with an art therapy session that really helped me turn a corner. The prompt was to draw the emotion(s) you felt right now on one side of the paper, and to draw the emotions you wished you could feel on the other side. For the first time I realized that my emotional state was actually really bad and that the suicidality hadn't come out of nowhere, and that I needed help.

When my wife came to visit later that night I was able to tell her about my breakthrough, even though I still felt a little bit like she had done something to get me in here and I still wasn't sure I needed to be inpatient.

Tuesday was a lot better. I felt like I had woken up out of some kind of fog and I had no idea how long I'd been in it. I went to goals group, a spiritual group, and group occupational therapy. My goal was to be more social and I made a friend and we paced together and worked out. I read a quarter of The Martian by Andy Weir (my wife brought it for me because the best thing on the bookshelf was Louis L'Amour). I wrote about how good I suddenly felt. Turns out, I thought, a few days of good sleep, lots of therapy, and a new medication or two will really change things.

A quick side note about The Martian. I highly recommend it to anyone who is chilling in a psych hospital but has the ability to read while they're there (I sure didn't the first few days). I don't really know why, but the first few times I read it, I felt like they had created this superhuman character in Mark Watney just so they could throw a ton of wild things at him for the story. This time reading it, as a suddenly not suicidal person, I realized anyone with Mark's skill would have done the same thing and not just died on Sol 7 to get it over with.

Wednesday I woke up not feeling nearly as good as Tuesday, but still like the fog had lifted. I was a little disappointed (I hallucinated my cat (thanks for coming to visit me, Corina), some spiders, and just felt kinda meh. But I remembered how good I felt the day before, and that really kept me hopeful about going home.

I saw the psychiatrist again and asked to go home. He joked a little about me staying till Christmas, but ultimately he said as soon as his note was in I could go. I ended up leaving at about 12:30 with my wife.

In the time since leaving I have required a lot of support from my wife. The medications are all locked up, so are the blades and anything I could use to hurt myself. My wife has me in eyeshot at all times. I can't drive due to intrusive thoughts, so she does all the driving now. I quit my job because I feel like it was a big part of why I ended up as bad as I was. As someone who has been a pretty independent person this is a big change of pace, but something that is really necessary to my healing.

Ultimately at the end of my hospital stay, I was prescribed escitalopram, gabapentin, trazodone, cariprazine, and then a few days later propranolol. I'm currently on a total of 5 psych meds and honestly I don't care one bit because its so much better than being not on them at this point in my life.

#mental health #personal #writing reference #inpatient psych #suicide mention #hallucination mention

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adreamingofguns · 7 months ago

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oooh what do you think people get wrong about hoffman and gordon??

OH BOY. Starting with Hoffman, people who characterize him as a daddy dom miss the character entirely. This man is a sub. Put this man in a dog collar immediately. in all seriousness, I also think the characterization of him being a murder maniac also feels... Wrong. We see him getting rid of everything, id and so on, and that feels... Final, to me. Like his Hoffmanator Murder Spree was not intended to be survivable, and only through sheer dumb luck did he manage to live (and because the cops in Jigsaw City are like. Very bad at their jobs). I also think that Hoffman is an extremely lonely man who WANTS to help people (his volunteers of America mug for sure, but also the fact that he comforted Corbett Denlon with a stuffed animal when he didn't have to, and the fact that out of everyone, he is the Only apprentice to target multiple white supremacists) and who only really sticks around because John was leading him with affection like a horse with a carrot on a string. We see this textually when John is encouraging Mark by touching his shoulder in a parental sort of way. I think Hoffman is passively suicidal throughout most of the series because it's the only thing that makes a Lot of his decisions make sense. Also kinda fucked up to make a suicidal guy go after a suicidal target, John.

ALSO THE WHOLE SLOB HOFFMAN THING. This man redecorated his house, this man has an ART NOOK and tasteful black leather that goes with his dark cherry or mahogany furniture. This man wears suits even when he doesn't have to. This man probably smells amazing. And he's fat. Stop drawing him skinny.

ALSO Lawrence is canonically a misogynist with a criminal record who either a) punches walls or b) fights people. This is in text, in the script and in the video games (which ARE canon). Lawrence kinda sucks and he FROM THE BEGINNING doesnt think John is a murderer, so him disagreeing with jigsaw is ooc because he canonically in the movie says "jigsaw doesnt kill people". I think also Lawrence is convinced of how jigsaw does actually help, which is why he goes to the meetings. ALSO LAWRENCE DID THE BOBBY DAGEN GAMES IN MY HEART WHICH KILLED JOYCE BECAUSE HES A MISOGYNIST. Lawrence sucks SO bad as a person, but as a character he's so compelling.

IN FACT STOP DRAWING LAWRENCE SKINNY TOO

#saw franchise #saw #mark hoffman #lawrence gordon

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starmieknight · 1 month ago

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Stars Align

The Inconveniencing

17 Again AU: After a disastrous first day with the twins, Stan swears to do better as an uncle. But fate loves playing tricks on him and the magic 8-ball in the attic is more than it seems.

Now on top of having a pair of twelve year olds around the house while he tries to finish the portal and bring his brother home, Stan has to deal with being back in his seventeen year old body! Summer has never been weirder in Gravity Falls.

Prologue, The Legend of the Gobblewonker, Headhunters Pt. 1, Headhunters Pt. 2, Headhunters Pt. 3, The Hand That Rocks the Mabel Pt. 1, The Hand That Rocks the Mabel Pt. 2 (previous), The Inconveniencing, Dipper Vs. Manliness (next)

Any joy Stan might have felt from his lingering victory over Gideon and the find that came with it was dampened by his brother’s near indecipherable notes.

It was already hard enough to read his fancy handwriting, but having to slog through the sections written in code only to find stupid little observances that he’d hidden just because he could was maddening. Stan had spent their childhood and teenage years going over his brother’s homework to finish his own then another thirty years going over Journal One over and over again until the spine was soft and the pages embedded in his memory. Decoding Journal Two was easier with the first one on-hand, but it wasn’t without its difficulties.

If he hadn’t spent his entire life forcing his eyes to stay on letters with the tendency to get up and move on him while he read, he might have thought Ford had used some kind of magic on the books to keep unwanted eyes out. As it was, he knew that it was just his own brain struggling to keep up and make the words look right.

Reading aloud helped ― he had a better memory when it came to things he could hear rather than trying to retain information by reading, but he only had a few hours in the dead of night to go over the book.

Dipper and Mabel, though safely sequestered in their attic bedroom after a certain point in the night, didn’t do as much sleeping as they claimed to. Stan could often hear knitting needles going a mile a minute even past midnight, or the compulsive clicking of a pen as Dipper tried to beat the protagonists in his mystery novels in solving the case. And, ugh, why did those stupid Sibling Brother novels have to be so popular? Those guys had been jerks even way back in 1960s Jersey.

Shoulda let the Jersey Devil eat them…

Stan hoped the last Journal would help put the others in perspective. He had no delusions about Dipper letting him keep it for long and had spent a good bit of his time between tours working on the old copier in his office. The thing had been a dinosaur long before Stan had arrived in Gravity Falls and he was only slightly worried that it was another crazy invention of his brother’s. Anything was possible with the leftovers Stan had built his life around here. But if he could just make his own copy of the book, Dipper would be none-the-wiser about why Stan was so invested in it.

And he was sure he’d end up spending more time pouring over the book than he wanted to. It just felt like something was missing ever time he read through them. Something hiding right under his nose.

What he wasn’t missing, however, were the pinecones flying over the Mystery Shack’s parking lot.

He paused on his way to the car, having intended on going into town to get craft supplies for a new exhibit, and turned to squint at the roof.

He hoped it wasn’t the gnomes being assholes again.

Creepy, little―

A pinecone hit him square in the face.

“Gah! My nose! It hit me right in the nose!”

“Oh my gosh!” a familiar voice cried in panic.

Dipper.

Now, really ― Stan could let a lot of things go when it came to being a responsible guardian. He was cool like that. And, besides, it wasn’t like he’d had any good role models to base his skills on growing up.

But the kid had just survived a tumble off a cliff thanks to sheer dumb luck and his sister’s quick thinking.

A sister who was standing beside her twin on the roof.

Along with his lumberjack-in-training cashier.

“Wendy Darlene Corduroy!” Stan bellowed, his face red with anger. “You get your ass down here right now and explain yourself!”

“My innocent ears!”

“You too, Mabel Olivia!”

Oi, he really was channeling his mother these days, what with the ‘explain yourself’ and full naming the kids…

“Ah, man. There goes my hideout.” Wendy sighed, unbothered by being caught. The twins, however, looked mortified. “Oh, hey ― it’s my friends!”

Wendy then did something that nearly sent Stan’s teenager body into cardiac arrest.

With all the casual flippancy that her family seemed to possess in spades, Wendy launched herself off the roof, latching onto one of the pine trees that bordered the house and riding it down all the way into the parking lot. She was in her friend’s van and speeding off before Stan could catch her.

“Later, dorks!”

“Later, Wendy!” Dipper cried, his voice cracking painfully. He seemed to have forgotten the situation he was in.

Well, Stan could fix that!

“Mason Alexander Pines! You’d better be down here in the next thirty seconds or your BABBA collection’s goin’ in the Bottomless Pit!”

__________________________________________________________

Maybe it was a bit childish to still be on Dipper's ass the next day, but Mabel was a lot harder to embarrass than her brother. And Dipper still was trying to find excuses about why he couldn't share the journal yet.

Well, opportunity gave Stan the chance to share a little something of his own!

“Mom used to dress him up in a lamb costume and make him do…” Mabel was telling Wendy eagerly, pausing for dramatic flare.

“The Lamby Dance!” Stan finished for her gleefully, pulling a VHS tape from his jacket and waving it at the kids.

He'd found it after all, buried in an old box of home movies that Ford had kept buried in the lab. There were even a few reels from the fifties and sixties that Stan just couldn't bring himself to watch. But Dipper’s mortifying childhood memories were free real estate!

“Grunkle Stan!” Dipper screeched, his face crimson. “We don't talk about the Lamby Dance! Destroy that tape!”

“Hup, hup, hup.” Stan tutted, easily keeping the VHS tape out of his nephew's reach. “Now, this is a precious memory I treasure. Why would I destroy it? It's not like you can promise me anything in return…”

Dipper groaned dramatically. “Fiiiiine. I'll stay off the roof!”

“Deal!” Stan grinned triumphantly, his expression gaining a slight edge as he watched the boy stomp the tape into oblivion. It was a good thing he had more copies hidden away.

Wendy laughed at the scene, gently ribbing the boy about wearing a costume, when the cuckoo clock in the gift shop signaled the end of the Shack’s hours.

“Hey, look at that!” she said eagerly, pulling her name tag off and shoving it in her pocket. “Quittin’ time ― the gang's waiting for me!”

And then, much to Stan's surprise, Dipper invited himself and Mabel along with them, spinning a quick yarn about their age.

Stan raised a brow at that but kept his mouth shut, curious about where he was planning to go with this.

He crossed his arms, looking at the boy expectantly while they waited for Wendy to gather her things.

“Gimme one good reason why I shouldn't tell her you're really twelve.”

“C’mon, Grunkle Stan!” the boy hissed, eyes darting to the doorway nervously. “This is my― our chance to hang out with, y’know, the cool kids! And Wendy’’ll be there!”

“The same Wendy who jumped off my roof yesterday?” Stan asked, his tone flat and unimpressed. He shuddered. Ugh, he sounded like his father.

“Give him a break,” Mabel soothed, eyes twinkling. “He can't help that he's in love with Wendy!”

She screeched the last part like a particularly excited bird, making Stan grateful he no longer needed his hearing aid. The feedback would have been murder on his ears.

While the twins wrestled in the background over Dipper's apparent crush, Stan mulled over the situation silently.

On one hand, letting them run off with a bunch of teenagers could end horribly. There's no telling what they could get up to, especially in Gravity Falls.

On the other hand, seeing Dipper grow a little bit of a spine and showing the ol’ Pines’ conman spirit tugged at his heart strings. If the kid honed that mindset just a bit more, he'd be a real chip off the ol’ block.

They'd finally have something in common.

“I’ll allow it!” Stan declared suddenly, surprising the twins into silence. “But I want to know where you're going and I get to meet the rest of those kids. If you've got a problem with that, I'll tell Wendy the truth and you twos don't go nowhere.”

The twin shared a look.

“Deal!”

Stan pressed his lips together tightly and trailed after the kids as they met up with Wendy's friends.

The teenagers lit up at the sight of her, cheering her name like many townsfolk did for her dad.

Despite the obvious affection they seemed to have for the girl, something tightened in his chest at the picture they all made. Specifically the twins at the center of it.

Mabel had seemed to charm her way in with the teenagers instantly, like a duck to water. She didn't even fawn over the boys, which relieved Stan.

That was a nightmare he wasn't ready for. Probably never would be.

He knew the dangers of falling for older men.

Dipper, meanwhile, was struggling to fit in with the others, leading to an awkward silence in the group. Yeesh ― maybe the kid did have more in common with Ford than he’d thought.

One of the teens took advantage of the silence to notice Stan. A pale, crater-faced kid with dyed black hair and an air of indifferent despair. The Valentinos’ son.

Stan narrowed his eyes at the kid. He’d been an unwanted interloper, who'd hung around the Shack in the early days of Wendy working there. He was a terrible distraction that had to be run off multiple times before getting the picture.

He knew to be afraid of Stan Pines.

He knew nothing about the new ‘teen’ hanging around with Wendy

“Who's this guy?” the Valentino kid asks, his voice nasally and weasel-like. It grates on Stan's ears and something about the kid makes him want to start punching.

If the way Dipper also tenses is any indication, the boy shares the sentiment.

“Stanley Pines,” Stan offers shortly before anyone can open their mouths. “The Second.”

“Whoa,” one of the other boys grinned at him. His long hair and face reminded Stan of the overly patriotic redneck in town. They might even be related. “ I didn't know Old Man Pines had a kid. Dude, he's not, like, dead or anything, right?”

Stan blinked rapidly for a moment at the question, a lie falling from his lips before he had time to process how the idea of Stanford's identity dying out entirely makes him feel. His chest feels tight again. Stomp it out and put it in a box to deal with later.

“He's on a cruise.” He shrugs noncommittally. The teenagers relax at the lie. Probably uncomfortable with the idea of being forced to offer a stranger their condolences. “Won it in a sweepstakes or somethin’ and he made me come down to run the Mystery Shack while he's gone.”

The teenager with the hat made a sympathetic face. “Dude, that sucks ― having to work all summer.”

“Yeah,” Wendy agrees, throwing an arm around Stan’s neck and nearly choking the life out of him while she grins. There's an edge to her eyes that whispers mischief. “He should totally come hang with us.”

Oh boy…

“What?!” Dipper yelps, mortified by the very idea of Stan tagging along. Which he gets, but also ― ouch.

The Valentino kid looks just as upset with the idea, glaring daggers at the arm Wendy has around Stan.

Oh great, the kid’s jealous of him!

Now would be a great time for Stan to bolt and disappear. Possibly lock himself in the basement so no one could find him and get some extra work done on the portal while the kids are out.

But Wendy had a death grip on him and he was forced into the back row of an unfamiliar van while people he didn’t know shouted up front.

Altogether, a familiar experience made new by the presence of his niece and nephew sitting on either side of him.

Stan crossed his arms and glared at the back of Wendy’s hat.

“I am not okay with this.” he announced flatly, breaking Dipper and Mabel out of yet another argument about Stan’s kidnapper.

“Grunkle Stan,” Dipper began hesitantly, lowering his voice until they were in a little bubble only privileged to their family. “Why did you tell them your name is Stanley?”

Stan does his best to breathe through the cramp in his chest, the sensation lingering from earlier, and fixes his eyes on the dents in the roof. Shoves his hands further into the crooks of his elbows to hide his sweaty hands, the echoes of his mother calling his name ringing in his ears. (Always Stanley and never just Stan.)

“I didn’t wanna be Stanford Junior.” he says finally, hesitating just too long to be a natural answer.

“Who’s Stanley Pines the First?” This time it’s Mabel, her eyes sharp and likely running through all their shared relatives in her head. He’s grateful the majority of the Pines family were back on the East Coast, Shermie’s family the only outliers and not as ready to fill the twins’ heads with cautionary tales designed to keep them from turning out like their ‘no-good, dead uncle’.

‘Stanley’ was practically a swear word in Shermie’s house.

“A dead man.” Stan mumbled, the words nearly lost beneath the cacophony of the teenagers in front of them. “The family’s better off without him and that’s all ya need to know.”

“You must have loved him, at least.” Mabel prodded, ever the optimist. This was the first time it had ever cut into his heart like this. “I mean, to name yourself after him. Rename? Would you name a hypothetical son after him?”

Stan finally turned to look at her and she flinched from the intensity of it.

“Never.”

__________________________________________________________

The old Dusk-2-Dawn looks just as Stan remembers it. The last time he’d been in there was 1995 to buy a few things he was too lazy to go all the way into town for. He’d been in a foul mood, his birthday only weeks away, looming over his head like a coming storm, and he’d barely said two words to Ma and Pa Duskerton while roaming the aisles.

Ma had tried to push the conversation, eyes full of a matronly concern Stan hadn’t seen in over twenty years, but he had resisted to the point of rudeness. It normally wouldn’t bother him to be a jerk, but the old lady had looked so disappointed with him that he’d suddenly seen his own mother’s face staring back at him. The way she’d looked at ‘Stanley’s’ funeral, the only family he’d had there. Even Shermie hadn’t come down, though he’d had the excuse of having an appendectomy on his side.

Stan had mumbled an apology and an excuse about having a headache.

Ma’s face cleared of irritation pretty quickly and she’d pressed a packet of aspirin into his hands, free of charge.

To help keep the town’s best tourist catcher in good health, she’d claimed. The Murder Hut had brought in a surprising amount of revenue to the town once he’d made it into more than just the local papers.

He’d done it again a few years later after rechristening the Shack with a more family-friendly name, but Ma hadn’t been around to see that.

But she’d believed in him at the moment.

Three days later, she and her husband were dead and their store closed down.

Haunted, the townsfolk claimed. Fenced off and avoided at all costs.

Unless, of course, you were a group of teenagers who wanted to star in a horror movie like Wendy and her friends.

Or Dipper, who’d climbed onto the roof to break in.

Wait ― what?!

Stan jolted out of his memories at the sight of his nephew disappearing into a vent and he made a strangled sound of rage.

That knucklehead!

Still, it was pretty awesome to see the kid punching his way through his problems. Just like his ol’ Grunkle Stan!

The boy opened the doors and waved them in, a grin splitting his face.

Stan followed after the other teenagers, most of them chattering happily about the unexpected addition to their group, and paused just inside the doors.

“I’m impressed, kid.” he snorted, ruffling the kid’s hair and messing up his hat. “But don’t do that again!”

The boy laughed at him, always a tad nervous in their interactions, and smiled hesitantly back at Stan.

The resemblance to Ford was too much for him to take in at the moment, so Stan slung an arm around his neck and dragged him inside.

Now breaking and entering was something he could get behind!

He even found himself laughing with the other teens as they trashed the store, throwing food and dusty cat litter at each other. They dropped Mentos into an old bottle of Pitt and Stan just shook the fizz out of his hair with a joyful grin.

He had to hand it to these kids ― they knew how to have a good time. Even the Valentino kid and all the weird staring he did at Stan. It wasn’t even all glares, but there was an occasional splash of color that made the kid go all splotchy whenever Stan caught him in the act.

Stan tried to avoid him, sticking close to the kid with the long face and his friend with the hat. Lee and Nate, though he’d forgotten which one was which.

They seemed to like him the most after Wendy.

The other girl was too focused on her phone to pay him much attention ― though he’d seen her snapping pictures of him on occasion ― and the last guy in the group was too desperate for attention from the original friend group to try and corner Stan.

So Stan gets caught up with the pair of boys who seem to know each other like the back of their hands, so lost in the thrill of finally acting like a teenager again that he fails to notice when something inevitably goes wrong.

“Stan!” Dipper hisses urgently, tugging at his uncle’s T-shirt and pulling him away from the others so they can speak in private. “Something's wrong here! I keep seeing things ― weird things! ― around the store and I’m pretty sure it’s haunted and Mabel’s overdosed on Smile Dip and I can’t say anything to the others because they’ll just think I’m a scared little kid or something!”

Stan takes a moment to just blink at that, because, wow. He’s surprised the kid didn’t pass out trying to get all that out in one go. He certainly hadn’t stopped to breathe.

Then he straightens up, the air of a teenager sliding off him to show the old man he really is inside.

“Where’s Mabel?”

The poor girl looks like the guys Stan had known back during his dark days in Colombia. Living on the streets was rough enough ― seeing them go into seizures after too much ‘edible flour’ was almost as traumatizing as accidentally pushing your brother through an interdimensional portal while he called your name and begged for help.

So… pretty damn traumatizing.

Stan didn’t know if Smile Dip had the same stuff in it to send Mabel into a similar state as the guys he’d known on the streets, but he didn’t want to chance it.

He scoops his niece up, cradling her tiny body to his chest, and wonders what the hell is wrong with him.

How did he get so caught up that he missed Mabel trying questionable substances?! The girl was so much like Ford in his eyes that he forgot how much she was like Stan, too.

It’s just supposed to be a bit of fun.

Until it isn’t.

“We’re leaving!” Stan barks at the others, startling them out of their fun. The Valentino kid is so shocked that he falls off the counter and disappears behind the register. “NOW!”

“Whoa,” Wendy tries to placate, her gaze hardening as it lands on the bundle of turquoise and pink in his arms. “Stan ― breathe. C’mon, guys, time to go.”

A breath leaves his chest in an explosion of air, the tightness in his chest having built up to a vice yet again. It burns and crushes him simultaneously, quickly becoming a feeling both familiar and a hindrance. Every moment the twins spend in Gravity Falls just makes the feeling grow and grow and grow.

The last thing Stan wants to do is send them home to parents who’re contemplating divorce, but that small bit of good sense he has whispers that it may be what he needs to do.

To keep them safe, alive.

“No one is leaving!” a new voice bellows.

Stan can only look on in horror as the Valentinos’ kid rises from behind the counter.

And keeps rising.

They really did end up in a horror movie, the Valentino kid obviously possessed now and floating above them while wreathed in a ghostly glow. His dark eyes are white beneath his fringe, rolled back so far in his head that the veins are visible and bulging.

That… That can’t be good.

It’s a blur after that, the teenagers disappearing one after another until it’s just him and Wendy left, backed up against the doors with the twins encased in Stan’s arms. He’d picked up Dipper at some point, though he had no recollection of doing so.

The ghost is laughing at them now, saying something about hot dogs of all things!

Fury and fear war within Stan until they spew forth from him in an angry wave.

“Oh, can it, Duskerton! You never sold your dogs at a discount and that joke’s thirty years old! Get some new material and let us outta here!”

The possessed Valentino kid scowls at him, his ghostly glow tinged red, but it’s the other face materializing next to him that catches Stan’s attention.

“My, Pa!” Ma Duskerton exclaims in surprise. “That’s Stanford Pines!”

The red fades away and Pa Duskerton fades into view beside the transparent image of his wife.

The Valentino kid drops to the ground, landing with a muffled groan.

“Why, it is, Ma!” Pa says joyfully, floating closer to peer at Stan’s face. “Got yourself caught up in some magic mischief, didya m’boy?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Stan rolled his eyes at the familiar tone of the couple. For some reason, they liked him enough to ignore his gruff attitude. “The whole baby face’s old news by now. So, ya gonna let us go or what? My kid’s spazzin’ out over that junk you guys used t’ sell.”

Ma’s face crumbled with concern and she disappeared, only to reappear right in front of them. Stan jumped and clutched the twins more tightly. Ma didn’t seem to notice, attempting to pet Mabel’s tangled curls, her hand going right through the girl.

“Oh, the poor dear.” the woman tutted maternally. “I saw my share of kids go through the same thing. Get her some water to break it down and something starchy to soak it up and she’ll be just fine, deary.”

Some of the tension floods from Stan’s shoulders at the reassurance. Already Mabel’s eyes are beginning to clear, every pass of Ma’s hand bringing life back into her tiny body.

“Now,” Pa sighs, crossing his arms. “I really am sore at you kids for the state of our store.”

“We’re really sorry,” Wendy offers sheepishly, the expression out of place on her face. “We didn't think anyone would care after seventeen years.”

Pa flares red briefly but settles down quickly when Dipper flinches in his uncle’s arms.

“Well, I do care, young lady. But you’ve apologized. Your friends, however…”

“Can’t we do anything to help them?” Dipper asks rather meekly. He forces himself to stay steady when Pa attempts to pat his head and shivers when the hand passes through him.

“Now, now, little fella ― say, how old are you, anyway? Y’seem a bit small to be one of them sassa-frassin’ teenagers!”

Once it’s apparent that the Duskertons hate teenagers, Dipper’s con is now on the line.

The boy looks nervously at Wendy before slumping in defeat.

“I’m twelve… technically not a teen.”

“Wonderful!” Pa beams, his ghostly glow becoming almost blinding white at the admission. “Do you know any funny little dances?”

“No―oooo,” Dipper drags out the word in a panic as Pa flashes red. “Well, there is one! The, uh, Lamby Dance… But I can’t really do it without a lamb costume, so―”

Which doesn’t deter Pa in the slightest.

The ghost snaps his fingers and warps reality around them to put Dipper in a fleecy costume, the boy teleported to the center of the store where there’s room to dance.

Stan muffles a distressed moan at the sudden loss and holds Mabel tighter. Whatever the kid was doing, he didn’t want to get in the way. His nephew’s song and dance routine is a familiar comfort, but Stan won’t be anywhere near at ease until the boy’s back in his arms again.

Which probably won’t be any time soon.

The boy’s sacrifice has saved the others and everyone practically crawls out of the Dusk-2-Dawn as Wendy regalls them with a heavily edited retelling of how Dipper exorcised the ghosts.

Mabel’s stirring in his arms and Stan barely has time to put her down before she’s throwing up against the van’s tires.

There’s a muffled chorus of sympathetic noises from the rest of the group as she finishes spewing her guts.

“Oh, man.” Wendy sighs as she comes to stand beside Stan. Her face is contrite and worn, a shadow of nervousness on her face that Stan would have missed if he hadn’t known the girl her entire life. “Sorry about all that, dude. I just really wanted you to let loose a little ― not deal with overdoses and ghosts.”

He bumps his shoulder against hers gently. It barely budges her, only a testament to how tired she really is.

“I’m not happy about the twins getting dragged into another mess, but you didn’t know what would happen.” Stan’s reminded of another teenager who made a mistake, a lifetime and a coastline away, and can’t bring himself to yell at her just yet. “Whaddya say to dumpin’ the gremlins in bed and pigging out on ice cream and bad public television?”

Wendy grins and punches his arm playfully. It actually kinda hurts.

“You got it, man. Better than just staring at my wall for hours until the world makes sense again. Next time we hang out, let’s just stay at the Mystery Shack, okay?”

“Next time?” Dipper, who’d been hovering at their hips and holding back Mabel’s hair, perks up. “You mean, you still wanna hang out with us? Even… even after I lied about being thirteen?”

Wendy pushed his hat down over his face.

“Of course, doofus!” her tone was unbelievably fond. “The Pines Family is the coolest in Gravity Falls!”

The boy is practically glowing as he climbs into the van, only dimming slightly as he and Mabel fall asleep on the ride home. The twins glue themselves to Stan’s sides and only offer mumbled protests when he and Wendy carry them into the Shack. They’re snoring by the time they’re tucked into bed and Wendy and Stan crash in front of the TV to spend the rest of the night binging some old movie they’re too tired to protest watching.

By the end of it, Stan’s crying over Duchess’ long-awaited wedding and appropriately angry when it’s interrupted.

Wendy just laughs at him, long and hard, still grinning half-an-hour later when she finally passes out. Stan follows her soon after, his dreams full of dashing men in waistcoats and fiery young women who challenge the world.

#gravity falls #gravity falls fanfiction #stanley pines #stan pines #gravity falls stanley #gravity falls stan pines #grunkle stan #de aged Stan pines #de aging #my writing #17 again au #stars align

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charlie-pippin-faraday · 4 months ago

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i've reached the investigation portion of danganronpa v3 chapter 2, which is the last point to which i had watched youtube content and thus everything beyond will be new to me. my chapter 2 commentary thus far:

kaito really just decided that he and shuichi were going to be best friends and shuichi didn't have any choice in the matter lol

nobody needed to tell me that kaito was the one incessantly ringing my doorbell, i knew it was him lol

i have been referring to tenko, himiko, and angie as "the girlies" and i am 100% confident that every single one of them is going to die before this game is over

lmao shuichi asking himiko "how have you survived this long?" same bro i also wonder this about her

kaito threatening to slug kokichi and then kokichi literally bolting out of the room is the realest thing that has happened in this game so far

i've made a habit of clicking on ALL the characters every free time to see if they have any fun dialogue before i choose who i actually spend free time with. on i think the first free time slot in chapter 2 i went to kokichi who said something about being scared that kaito had caught up to him because he was afraid he was gonna slug him (or something along those lines), and then when i talked to kaito he immediately said "you seen kokichi around anywhere?" implying he had indeed been looking for him to deliver said slugging. made me laugh my fucking ASS off

by sheer dumb luck, i had gotten the parasol from the monomono machine in chapter 1, so i was able to talk to tenko before doing the flashback light scene in the gym and unknowingly unlock what i later found out was one of the secret scenes (and let me tell you i was delighted by this development and that it happened naturally). and thus i was able to witness ~the girlies and keebo at the pool~. subsequently, i have SO many questions lol. tenko kind of implied that she kind of wanted just to hang with himiko, and angie was probably there because himiko invited her and tenko can't say no to himiko, but why did tenko invite keebo? lmao tenko you're such a hot mess

during the free time session i was planning on hanging with kaito first, but then i spoke to keebo and he asked so vulnerably "shuichi if you have free time would you like to spend it with me? there's something i want to ask you" and i changed my plans SO fast i would die for you keebo

"maybe someone like miu would appreciate his mechanics" shuichi you're not trying to play matchmaker are you?

lmao there was a stark difference in shuichi's reactions to that day's free time events with keebo and with kaito, both of which involved them talking about their skills/stuff they'd learned. about keebo, shuichi said "okay...he's weird and i don't understand him." about kaito, shuichi said "wow, kaito's incredible!" these were incredibly similar interactions. lol okay tell me how you really feel shuichi. you can't tell me he doesn't have at least a little bit of a crush on kaito

hm a "gyoza in the shape of a face - a dumpling that's modeled after someone you swear you've seen somewhere before." hm gee i wonder who that could be. (definitely doesn't look like makoto naegi or anything. haunting the narrative much?)

the fact that korekiyo was definitely in the top half of most reasonable people i spoke to in this chapter is a sign that the world has been flipped upside down

every one of these games has had one weird, obsessive, one-sided, and likely ill-fated romance, and i knew this time it would be tenko's weird thing for himiko. i can't believe i'm saying this but i feel a little bad for tenko. a little, at least. i get the feeling i won't be feeling bad for her in the future. for whatever reason, i get the sinking feeling that in a future chapter this obsession with himiko and her jealousy over himiko spending time with angie is going to end with tenko snapping and someone ending up dead

actually why is everyone obsessed with himiko? tenko claims to care for her and wants to support her and believe in her magic, and she definitely wants to get in her pants, and angie also wants to be friends with her and has successfully brainwashed her to her atua cult and convinced her to put on a dangerous magic show. and like, why? himiko is not that cool, she's lame and pathetic. she eats termites on accident, can barely go to the bathroom by herself, and is super fucking lazy and uncooperative. i get that she's afraid/sad and is susceptible to brainwashing (she's not the only one here easily manipulated *cough cough* gonta), that part's understandable and i'll give her a pass, but like what is she bringing to the table? i don't get why all the girlies are obsessed with her. i'm with shuichi on the "how did you survive this long?" train of thought. i'm torn between "tenko you deserve better" and "all 3 of you toxic girlies fucking deserve each other"

definitely my favorite event thus far has been miu and da boyz clowning on kaito in the casino. true teenage bonding experience. (and i mean da boyz literally, all the boys who were alive were present except gonta and keebo, who is only debatably a boy.)

"i guess you can't underestimate luck" you did it, you boiled down the entire character of makoto naegi to one sentence

but fr tho every time someone utters the word "luck," "hope," or "despair" in danganronpa games i feel myself suddenly at FULL attention, like those words aren't there by accident, there's always hidden meaning there. and i am once again wondering at the lore/secret behind this particular game, i still don't know what it is

immediately after this casino event is when i finally spent free time with miu. it was the first time i'd approached her as shuichi and she didn't threaten me. and she was even in the casino when i approached her! where we'd already spent time together clowning on kaito! so it was perfect timing

speaking of miu, she needs to get laid SO bad. maybe she'd chill out. like she acts like she's had a bunch of sex but given how much she talks about it there's no fucking way she's gotten laid, she's absolutely projecting her insecurities. someone nail this girl please it's what she needs and tbh it's what we all need. side note: kiyo telling her to stfu in the casino was fucking hilarious lol

question do the friendship fragments not carry over from kaede to shuichi? i had updated report cards from hanging with gonta, keebo, and maki as kaede, but they're not there anymore. do i not get to keep the friendship fragments that i earned from them?

another question, was i just not allowed to hang out with maki in chapter 2? every time i approached her during free time she fucking threatened me. did i the player do something to lock her out or is that simply not allowed?

bro tenko is gonna fucking lose her mind. i approached her in i think the last free time and she was just muttering himiko's name over and over again, big yikes. and then "my saliva makes injuries heal faster can i spit on you" girl what???

i think tenko needs to move on, perhaps to one of the other girls. miu, perhaps? if they could fuck i think this would solve some problems for both of them

in the bug room, kokichi said something about a "mean" difficulty and not being a coward in the killing game and i felt so called out lol, because i have all the trial action set to be as easy as possible lmaooo

keebo my beloved saved the day in the bug room and got the first major non-verbal victory in the keebo vs. kokichi war. i'm proud of him, but this will definitely not be the last of it

i do wonder what "snafu" kokichi was referring to when he was running around that caused him to be late returning to the bug room. they never addressed that, and i hope they get to it during the trial

bro did kokichi get rabies or something???? right before the magic show, gonta said kokichi wasn't there because in the bug room his mouth bubbled and then he passed out lmaooooooooooo

what were kaito and maki up to this entire time? making out? aside from ryoma, they were the only ones who were absent from both the bug room and the magic show. miu and kirumi weren't in the bug room, and kokichi wasn't at the magic show and left the bug room for a portion of time, but those two were nowhere to be seen for any portion of both events. i need some answers

noooo don't use keebo as a battering ram!!! that's so rude!!! kokichi definitely won that particular battle in the keebo vs. kokichi war, and we are nowhere near over. i want to see where this rivalry goes, 'cause tbh i think it's secretly the most tense one here

bro i hate himiko uuuuuugggghhhhh. "we need you to tell us how your trick worked so we can figure out how the culprit killed ryoma." "i can't tell you, i did it with my magic and that's the only answer you're getting" god shut the fuck up you're annoying and unhelpful and you never listen and you're actively getting in the way i want one of these dudes to punch you

i have some HEAVY suspicions about who i think is the culprit. and tbh i've held these suspicions since before i even played the game, back when i just watched some youtube content up to this murder. i don't know what will happen from this point forward, but if i'm right about who i think did it, i am gonna be SO stoked about it

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