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trialbymagicks · 1 year ago

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A Spooktacular Witch’s Brew: The Real Magic of Scary Godmother

It's that spooktacular time of year where the magic and the mundane merge once again for a night of tricks and treats! Just what is it about the Scary Godmother movies that makes them such an enduring cult classic?

The Part Where We Act Like This Is The Inspirational Personal Essay On A Recipe Blog

As someone who has always loved the spooky season and held a fond place in my heart for Halloween, I was drawn to stories – particularly movies – that suited the occasion. To name just a few: the Halloweentown movies, Hocus Pocus, The Little Vampire, Twitches and its sequel, The Nightmare Before Christmas, and of course Scary Godmother were all top of the very long list.

Perhaps not-so-surprisingly, as I revisit these tales from my childhood I’ve noticed that they seem to share common themes. Families or found families of outcasts celebrating their individuality in an environment that seems hand-crafted for them, often using Halloween as a time to openly hide in plain sight during a merging of two different worlds (the magical and the mundane) and ultimately fighting for their right to coexist when a closed-minded force threatens to destroy them. As I engaged with these stories growing up, I often found myself feeling like I was coming home just as the protagonists did when they embarked on their journeys of self-discovery and acceptance.

My own personal journey with the season has been a bit of a bumpy one. For the majority of my childhood, I adored the idea of getting to dress up as whatever I wanted to be and live out a magical fantasy. Once I reached my teenage years and struggled to understand who or what I was through the extremely confusing “socially-acceptable” lens of my peers, Halloween suddenly became the one day I felt like I could wear a costume and be as weird as I wanted to be because no one could judge me for it. Then depression soon hit me like a sack of bricks and that spark of joy the season had brought me began to wither away, the only saving grace being that I could still watch the movies I’d grown up with and feel at least a little like I was home again in my own skin, though I longed to be a part of those worlds instead. Now, a decent way into my adulthood, I have started to return to my roots and discover an even deeper appreciation for the occasion.

The Recipe For A Halloween Cult Classic

Scary Godmother started out as a hybrid comic-novel book series created by Jill Thompson for her niece as a way of spreading the Halloween joy to readers of all ages in a market that she felt was lacking the material. Two of her original stories were adapted to the screen in 2003 and 2005, both of which received her supervision and guidance during the creative process.

Step 1: For a unique and easily identifiable look, toss two art styles in a blender and pulse until satisfied. Be careful not to over-blend!

Mom says it’s Hannah’s turn with the eyes!

First things first, we have to address the elephant in the room: The mix of CGI models on 2.5D backgrounds is wild to look at and the internet has been abuzz with reviewers, reaction channels, and casual viewers alike commenting on how hauntingly unsettling it is. They point out the soullessness of the eyes on many of the human characters. There have been frantic questions about why the movies weren’t animated in 2D like Jill Thompson’s beautiful storybook illustrations. Was it only because CGI animation is quicker and cheaper to produce?

Luckily for our curious minds, the answers to these questions are simple. This was Jill Thompson’s vision!

The movie designs are accurate adaptations of her original illustrations and in fact the CGI was her decision. When discussing how to approach the style of the movie, she specified that she did not want live-action and she absolutely did not want 2D “because I’m doing 2D. Nobody else should be doing 2D, just me.” (Yes, she really did say in a Comics Bulletin interview that that was her reason. No, I’m not sure I understand it either.)

Perhaps a 2D animated movie would have looked less jarring, but I’ll say it – these movies are extremely charming in a storybook way largely in part due to that animation. The 3D characters perform highly energetic visual gags that often make them look as though they are leaping off the 2D pages of their world. Much like turning the pages of a pop-up book, it looks unreal and quite a bit magical, and may have been what first drew the attention of channel-surfing kids every year.

Step 2: Sprinkle in a Found Family of “weirdo” character types that you enjoy coming back to every year. Go ahead, really make it feel like a home away from home~

I always looked forward to catching this movie on TV every year because there’s something so sweet about Hannah’s found family journey with the inhabitants of The Fright Side. I mean, what Halloween-loving kid wouldn’t be drawn to a whimsical spooktakular adventure into a world of feel-good Halloween vibes? They welcome her into their home and encourage her to be her authentic self the way they live their own lives openly among friends who understand and appreciate them.

The three “broommates” in charge of the monster house are Scary Godmother, Bug-a-boo, and Skully. Their quirky trio truly is the backbone of the group.

Oh my god, they were broommates.

As the monster under the bed, Bug-a-boo is the quintessential misunderstood “looks intimidating on the outside but is a huge softie inside” character. If Boo immediately getting attached to Sully in Monsters Inc. got you right in the heart as a kid, then you’ll understand what makes Hannah’s friendship with Bug-a-boo hit home. She spends the first movie steadily realizing that they share interests and favorite foods, which makes him far less scary and allows her to appreciate his fun-loving nature. When he easily breaks down all the stereotypes Hannah had been taught to believe, it becomes clear that he’s looking out for her more than the guardian she had been told to depend on. To kids who were considered “weird” enough to like monsters, this dynamic feels personal.

Scary Godmother is like the cool aunt who always has her pockets filled with candy for the niblings. She takes a no-nonsense approach to her broommates’ shenanigans, making sure they don’t frighten Hannah too much before she gets the chance to adjust to the new setting, and you just know that if you ever had trouble at home she would be there in a heartbeat to take you in. There’s something about the good witch who can be a little bit bad when the situation calls for it that strikes a personal chord with a lot of misfits.

In the human world, Skully Pettibone is a skeleton in the closet, but in The Fright Side no one is pushing him to stay in any closets! He is out and proud and extremely loud about it. In fact, the first time we see him he’s flamboyantly busting out of the closet with the dramatic flair of a stand-up comedian ready for his grand debut. Somehow, he is both too much and not enough at the same time, so you’re already expecting it by the time he spontaneously breaks out into show tunes.

Oh, and they have the most adorable ghost cat named Boozle who occasionally hacks up scareballs. I love him.

Of course they also have an assortment of friends who have been invited to the party.

The most controversial is undoubtedly Harry the werewolf, a theater kid if you ever saw one. He is like the weird uncle who always shows up intoxicated to family gatherings (or he will be soon after he gets there), believes pajamas count as casual clothes, and has a serious case of the munchies. His fourth wall breaking humor flies over the heads of most everyone in the room and, though these facets of his personality consequently makes him the butt of every joke, he’ll read comics with you, howl at the moon, and make you laugh as he dramatically recites dialogue from your favorite scenes alongside the characters during movie night… even when he overstays his welcome.

Naturally, every band of monster misfits has to include a vampire or three! Orson and his parents are the old-fashioned goth family that gives HOAs nightmares.

Max is the socially awkward Nosferatu out of time with a morbid sense of humor, reminiscing about the olden days of vampire royalty and struggling to adopt already outdated slang in order to fit in with the younger generations. Ruby is the better-adjusted Queen of the Night who finds herself caught between supporting her husband’s preference for tradition and encouraging their son’s individuality. It’s a tough job trying to get them to meet somewhere in the middle, but she has learned to go with the flow. As for Orson, he is the stand-in for every kid whose parents unintentionally embarrass them in front of their friends with cheesy jokes and an awkward amount of affectionate doting.

Step 3: To build the plot, mix 3 parts sugar for your Pure-hearted Hero with 2 parts spice for your Unrelenting Bully and voila! If the Bully gets comeuppance and Good prevails, you’ve done it right! Don’t hold back; make it cheesy!

Did anyone else notice his ears got hairy? His parents let him throw out all but two pairs of clothes they never wash and his friends think he stinks… Just how unkempt IS he?

The premise for the first movie is pretty simple: Jimmy and his friends don’t want to babysit Jimmy’s little cousin while they Trick-or-Treat, so they decide to pull a mean prank to scare her by locking her in the Spook House after filling her head with tales of child-eating monsters. In response to Hannah’s tears, Scary Godmother shows up to whisk her away to The Fright Side and show her that monsters are people too!

While Hannah has the most spooktacular Halloween of her life, the older kids realize that their determination to ruin Hannah’s night caused them to miss out on all the Halloween fun they had hoped to have without her as they spend hours worrying over why they can’t hear her screams of terror from the Spook House.

The comedy lies in the eyeballs!

In the end, Hannah’s new friends help her scare her bullies in return and paint her as the brave hero of their little act, thereby winning over Jimmy’s friends for the sequel and leaving Jimmy with a full year of unresolved psychological trauma that he winds up channeling into a desire to destroy Halloween forever.

Hannah is clearly the glue that holds the entire human world together. Like many young protagonists, her wide-eyed enthusiasm for the holiday and willingness to think of everyone she meets as her friend the instant they’re nice to her is a large part of her charm. It is easy to put yourself in her shoes as she meets the denizens of The Fright Side for the first time or imagine yourself similarly solving the world’s Halloween-related problems with unquenchable optimism. She thinks outside the box and appreciates the charm in the homemade aspect of the holiday that has been overshadowed by the commercialism of the season for too long.

Someone smashed all the pumpkins in the pumpkin patch, jeopardizing that farmer’s livelihood? That’s just the mouth for their jack-o-lanterns!

Someone vandalized all the Halloween costumes and tampered with the candy in the store with no concern whatsoever for the employees whose paychecks might be at risk due to product loss? Just recycle last year’s costumes and make your own treats! Who needs candy anyway?

Someone TP’d the Spook House, littering and making it someone else’s problem to clean up later? That’s not toilet paper, that’s ghost decorations! How thoughtful!

Meanwhile, Jimmy was so traumatized by the experience from the first movie that he became a paranoid Home Alone style shut-in with a vendetta against an entire holiday… and no one was concerned about this. It’s honestly amazing how these human kids overreact to everything and yet their friend having a trauma-induced breakdown wasn’t even a blip on their radar.

He’s hallucinating monsters in his spaghetti, kids. I don’t know what else to tell you. This boy needs therapy.

Jimmy’s gradual descent from casual trespassing and bullying in the first movie to full on vandalism and destruction in the sequel is a character arc with real stakes for more than just the humans. No longer content to simply pick on his cousin, he nearly destroys The Fright Side in his attempt to rid the world of monsters and ruin his friends’ fun. But of course all it takes is an invitation to join the party he tried to crash and a chance to meet the source of his nightmares in a less scary setting to heal his mental and emotional scarring, thereby officially welcoming him back into the friend group and ending the story on a happy note.

Step 4: Bind it all together with an “anything goes” magic system and you’re done!

As the resident witch, Scary Godmother is the primary magic user of the movies and she can do whatever the plot calls for – or whatever looks the coolest to impress the children watching. The way she uses her magic can be boiled down to a few basics: flight, teleportation, levitation, telekinesis, materialization and dematerialization, and some classic illusions.

Her preferred methods of travel appear to be flying on her broomstick for long distances, teleportation for snappy appearances, and using her wings to fly around the house when walking just won’t do. She often uses telekinesis to move objects and get the house ready for Halloween or to levitate a particularly lazy werewolf out of bed.

She will materialize a spider web handkerchief to dry Hannah’s tears and one of her favorite tricks is materializing decorations on a whim for the house parties, but she summons all manner of items when needed and dispels them just as quickly once they have served their purpose. Only once or twice does she ever chant a spell while doing so, most likely for dramatic effect, so it’s safe to presume her magic doesn’t require it.

Perhaps she is at her most terrifying when she summons ethereal skeletal arms that shoot out from her hands to do her bidding against pests or when she uses her illusion magic to appear to melt her whole body into a puddle a la the Wicked Witch of the West. But most of her illusions are beautiful spectacles like releasing colorful trails of magic from her hands or hat to light up the darkness.

The Fright Side itself is a highly magical place with a mostly whimsical take on the concept of a magic system. According to Scary Godmother, it is responsible for such tasks as changing the color of the leaves each season, painting the clouds into the sky, and knitting spider webs. And you don’t need a magic broom to travel there either, since there is a magic key that creates a portal to The Fright Side when used on any door. But the most interesting detail is the thread that holds it all together.

You may be familiar with the concept of certain monsters or nonhuman entities that only exist if enough people believe in them. Or how about the idea that these entities’ power is determined by how many people believe in them? The Fright Side seems to work in a similar way. As seen in The Revenge of Jimmy, its magic is directly linked to how much Halloween spirit exists in the human world – particularly this one town where the main characters live, for plot reasons – because if the holiday was ever retired, not only would Scary Godmother lose her magic and the monsters become their human world counterparts… the magical world around them would disappear into the void altogether.

Final Food For Thought

So, with all that in mind, I really do have to wonder…

The magic calendar showed us that, if humans stopped celebrating Halloween or believing in it, October 31st would cease to exist at all and The Fright Side would disappear. But if the hard work of Scary Godmother and The Fright Side are responsible for such basic things as clouds in the sky and the changing seasons, how would that even work? Would what humans call science suddenly take over again to fill the gap in the universe? Or maybe what humans call science is the same thing as the magic used by The Fright Side to perform those tasks and nothing would change at all.

That’s not even addressing the fact that the complete erasure of October 31st would somehow transition the human world to a 364-day calendar. When it comes to the universe, there is usually a give and take, so would February 29th become a permanent day in the calendar to replace it and February 30th be declared a new Leap Year day to even things out?

These and many more are not questions we are meant to ask as casual viewers of the movies, but it sure is fun to think about!

Note: This article was originally posted on WordPress on October 31, 2022.

#Scary Godmother #Jill Thompson #movies #children's movies #posts on trial

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bklynmadman · 8 days ago

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Why was Trans People in Sports An Issue for Voters? 😑

I know I promised a weekly blog, but that wound up being a 3 Part Series. I couldn't stop writing. It's interesting how the results of the election of 2024 (or as I like to call it America's Reckoning) inspired me to find pen to paper, keystroke to screen. I finally found some inspiration, and it's awesome. Hopefully, it lasts. I also see I picked up some new readers along the way. Thank you all who came to this blog and read. I enjoy your patronage, Conservative or Liberal. Even if you are a Trumptard, I still appreciate your viewership.

This week's post came up during an argument that I was having with my friend, whom I shall name for the purpose of this blog Luka. (IYKYK) Luka isn't an evil person, nor did he vote for the Orange Dickhead. (I hope) However, sometimes Luka falls on the conservative side of the spectrum, and for someone in my life who always seemed to take the liberal side of things, has drawn a line in the sand on the issue I'm writing about today. The discussion/debate we had on this issue actually inspired not only this post, but a movie idea that I shouldn't and will not write due to the fact that I am a Cis-Gender Straight White Male and I couldn't accurately portray the struggle of anyone within the LGBTQI+ community. Some naysayers may say it's PC, (OH SHIT, IT'S THAT WOKE SHIT!!!!! RUN!!!!!!)

However, I would be equally offended if someone had written the struggles of Italian-Americans and they themselves weren't Italian. So, I see their point. That's a subject that may appear in a later blog post. 😉 But for now, let's do what ADHD neurodiverse people do best, STAY ON TOPIC. 😜

Circling back to my friend Luka, he argued that many people in the center were turned off by the Cancel Culture, The Pro-Nouns, and yes specifically The Trans in Sports Issue. Apparently, Trans people in competitive/professional sports was on the ballot this past election. On that, he wasn't wrong. Many in my feed would often raise these issues along with the Cancel Culture and the PC culture, and claim all of it is ruining our youth. Granted, most of those same posts call for the glorifying of violence towards children, and disregard of the feelings of those children. You might hear an older person (A Boomer, or a Gen Xer) say something like I wrote below. Now, Here is a ulta-dramatized example and not to be taken as a generalization that all Boomers and Gen Xers would say something like I wrote below. If they did, PURE COINCIDENCE.

Example: When I was younger, If I walked around the house calling my self "They" or "Them", I would've caught such a beating that I never would've done it again. I think kids today need that to come back so they won't be soft. Hey, I got beaten to a pulp as a kid, and I turned out fine.

I'm going to pause for a moment.

Count to 5 and say "Fuck That" real slow. Like a Whisper. Go ahead. Do it.

Did you do it? You fucking sheep! (JK)

SERIOUSLY KIDDING, (unless you're a trumptard. You are a sheep, and a snowflake.)

Now, Some of you in my generation, the Millennial Generation (not really Gen Z) have or had people in your circle that have said similar things that I have written above, or say these kind of things all the time. It's the new-old "Back in My Day..." type of shit. Usually these things are met with eye-rolls, but I would argue that more attention needs to be paid to sayings of violence towards children. One time I confronted someone in my circle over that issue.

For the sake of argument, let's call him Lee. Lee is in his 60's and a proud Gay Man who has done very well for himself. He's a hairdresser, and takes care of his mother really well. He's very loud, both in personality, volume, and costume. (You can hear him if you know him from two blocks away.) Overall, he's a good person who caught a lot of Trauma in his youth.

Things to know about him, He's an advocate for the Roman Catholic Church, (A Church that considers him a sinner for his homosexulaity.) Last I checked, they don't like Gay Men, and will not recognize Gay Marriage, but will happily support a priest accused of molesting a child. 😳 Funny how that hypocrisy works. (I do enjoy Pope Francis, but I wish all the priests were like him and not the current Catholic administrations like Dolan the NY Archbishop who above all things, commits "Fuckery" at each level. But this post isn't about that.) Lee is also a Larger than life personality, and an Italian-American Brooklynite. He'd be a lot of fun to party with it would seem.

So while Lee would cut my hair, We would square off on politics and religion quite a bit. If you ask him, I'm the "Mindless Brainwashed" liberal, and if you ask me he's the "Staunch, Extreme, Self-Hating" Conservative. Yet, we would get along. We used to have great conversations. I kind of miss those talks for I used to get intel of what the other side was saying. I always thought it was important to at least hear what the other side of your political leaning was saying. I think that is something that is long gone.

One of the many reasons, and my friend Luka was right about this despite being a "dick" about it. Neither side is listening to each other anymore. We've become so inundated in our own bias that we refuse to see what the other side is saying, and vice versa.

Anyway, I remember one particular conversation Lee and I had, and it went something like this.

"Well, Kids today, too fucking soft!" (LEE)

"Umm, How?" (MYSELF)

"They're too Entitled nowadays. The mothers let the kids scream and holler, and give them anything they want. They even put them in front of screens so they don't have to deal with it. I mean, when I was little, I had to learn how to behave myself or I'd get hit." (LEE)

"So, your mom or dad would hit you if you didn't act accordingly?"

"Yep. That's how I learned."

"You'd recommend violence for kids today despite having grown up in violence?"

"Yeah. And some kids need it."

"Yeah, but we've learned what violence does. The kid winds up not feeling safe in their own house. And studies have shown that it creates an environment where the kids tend to wind up sneaking around their parents rather than tell them what's going on. It creates a culture of lying."

"More beatings."

"So you're answer to that is more violence."

"Each time you get caught in lie, you get hit. It's that simple."

Now, Lee is in his late 60's, but I'm surprised how quickly he's forgotten the violence he, himself, had experienced when he was young. Growing up in the 1950's-1960's in Brooklyn NY to a very conservative Italian-American family was definitely NOT OK to be a lot of things but most of all, not ok to be gay, just to give you an small idea.

In his teenage years, Lee started to realize he was gay, and he had a teenage male friend that he used to experiment with in secret. When his father found out about it, the father threatened that family so badly, that family moved out of the neighborhood, and Lee was beaten to a pulp for being gay by his own father. That's enough Trauma to destroy someone, I feel. Not only did he lose a friend he was sexually interested in, and possibly romantically attached too, but was also beaten to a pulp for being what he is, a homosexual. Brooklyn was also a very small neighborhood, so I'm sure that this bit of news traveled fast, and poor Lee had to face the neighborhood he lived in, meeting the harsh judgements of his neighbors for being a Gay Man.

It's really sad what had happened to him. I feel for him immensely, for that is an intense thing to survive. However, I'm not surprised that Lee, having experienced not only the violence at home but the violence waiting for him in his own neighborhood as well, would turn around and advocate violence towards children . I think he forgot what that violence does to you, and I believe his story is systematic of people who reinforce this terrible system of violence against children.

VIOLENCE AND HAZING

Kids were routinely beat up when they got out of line with their parents, and when they become adults, one or two things happen.

1.) They continue the violence themselves or acquiesce to it.

2.) They discontinue it.

The 1st part is the part that explains part of the vicious cycle that is still going on today.

I have to reckon with the fact that many people do not want to think. They want to just do, or just want to move through things without stopping to think about an issue. They surrender thinking, or thinking deeply about anything that doesn't have a simple fix.

They don't think about what the violence brings.

A study from UNICEF (United Nations Children's Fund) shows that children raised with violence, or threatened with violent outcomes, often develop TRAUMA as a result.

The study demonstrates some of the effects of the Trauma in adults. The effects of the Trauma, well everyone is different so there will be different reactions to the Trauma they develop, but one thing is for cerain, those kids raised with violence develop Trauma.

Trauma is a very powerful item that can adversely effect children well into adulthood.

“There’s no situation that I can imagine where physical punishment is useful or necessary. It doesn’t teach children to behave well. It’s not effective for reducing aggression, or teaching self-control or prosocial behavior, or any of the things parents hope to teach children. It’s not effective in either the short- or the long-term.” (Elizabeth Gershoff)

Gershoff is a professor of Human Development and Families Sciences at the University of Texas at Austin. For the past 20 years, along with collaborators at other universities, she has been a leading researcher documenting the harmful effects of hitting children for “discipline.” ( I know, going to researchers????? How Dare I?)

Hitting causes Children to feel, among other things, unsafe in their own home. Many unhealthy developments come about when a child's safety is compromised, especially in a home environment. It's the worst kind of abuse a child can suffer (I should know. 🙁) As a result, children are likely to develop the following when Hitting occurs in the home.

Poorer moral reasoning

Increased childhood aggression

Increased antisocial behavior

Increased externalizing behavior problems (disruptive or harmful behavior directed at other people or things)

Increased internalizing behavior problems (symptoms of anxiety or depression)

Child mental health problems

Impaired parent-child relationship (How can you ever feel safe when the parent will openly strike you at any moment? Logically, that has to affect the relationship at some point.)

Impaired cognitive ability and impaired academic achievement

Lower self-esteem

More likely to be a victim of physical abuse

Antisocial behavior in adulthood

Mental health problems in adulthood

Alcohol or substance abuse problems in adulthood

Support for physical punishment in adulthood

---(SOURCE: https://www.developmentalscience.com/blog/2022/2/10/hitting-children-leads-to-trauma-not-better-behavior)

Take a good hard look. I think Most of America is here when it comes to how we voted in 2024. Most of this goes unaddressed. In the circle that I grew up with, it was common place to receive a beating at the hands of your parents. However, let it be said that some violence doesn't leave scars we can see. I believe that this applies to not only physical abuse, but also emotional and mental abuse as well.

Back to my friend Lee, he exhibits Poor Moral Reasoning. How could he not? Violence was done to him. He would often, as many often do, repeat this saying "Hey, I got beat up by my folks as a kid, and I turned out ok."

My response to that is "Yeah, but did you????? Also, why would you want/wish that to happen to someone else?"

I think part of the reason is what I call the "Hazing" effect. Hazing, by definition, is any activity that is condition upon recruitment, admission, affiliation, or continued participation in a group that humiliates, degrades, abuses, or endangers someone, regardless of consent or a person's willingness to participate. It's been present in our society for a long time, and it often goes overlooked. The other reason I feel the violence continues is just that. It's an attitude of "It was done to me, so it will be done to you". Adults I feel that continue to perpetuate the violence in their families, often do so for they feel it's "The right way" and I think subconsciously it's a form of Justice. Now, someone else feels their pain. Someone else, not me, gets to cry. Now it's my turn to make someone else cry. It's very sad.

"So when children experience pain from the person who’s supposed to keep them safe, it’s one of the worst kinds of harm they can experience. Their nervous system, designed to keep them safe, begins to get sculpted around the constant threat, creating brain circuitries that are vigilant, reactive, and dysregulated. At the same time, their attachment system needs to keep them in the relationship, so it devises all kinds of excuses: “It’s not that bad;” “I deserved it;” “It made me a better person,” etc. In other words, children dissociate from their feelings of pain and fear." -Elizabeth Gershoff

Violence kids experience in the home results in kids becoming unsure of themselves. Often, those kids don't realize their own pain or fear when confronted with the same stimuli, and rewire their nervous systems to adjust to their environment. It sucks doesn't it.

Apparently, this practice is deep rooted. Throughout the course of history, children were objectified and seen as property of their parents. They sort of were looked at as "Sub-Human" in the sense that they have become routinely disrespected, and their needs disregarded, discipline through Force became the norm, and the way to get them to become adults were through routine "beatings" and sometimes worse things. Sometimes, Conservative Christians believed that beatings were a type of "cleansing" of children and their "sinful" ways.

Where am I going with this? Well, it's relevant to bring up in the sense that many adults walking around lack the moral reasoning, among other things. But some people wonder why these Trumpers are all in for a man who is obviously unqualified to hold office, let alone lead a country. I've read countless articles with headlines "Inside the Mind of a Trump Voter", "What Trump Voters Want", "Why Trump won". It seems to be a bevy of reasons why people voted for Trump, (All of them Horrible.) but if you go with my theory, you might be able to understand it. Much of our population comes from Abuse, or homes where Parents physically discipline their children, and it's considered normal. (It's not) Those effects are long lasting. It's Trauma that has been undiagnosed, and goes untreated, and it holds people back ultimately.

I mean, How else can a reasonable person vote for a man like Donald Trump? A convicted criminal, a Liar, A rapist, a grifter, with no moral compass or principles, who is only out for himself, and doesn't demonstrate any compassion, humility, or empathy to anyone but himself. It's easier for this population to justify Trump's horribleness (just like the first time in 2016) because they don't know another way to go about it. It's familiar abuse, and people tend to choose what is familiar to them. I can't tell you the countless excuses many have made on this horrible excuse for a human behalf. From Politicians, to Aides, to Spokespeople. You can turn on CNN or any news network right now, and find someone spinning his horrible actions or explaining away his rhetoric. Like this one for instance.

"That's Locker Room talk" -A quote from Donald Trump to explain his "Grab them by the Pussy" audio with Billy Bush on access Hollywood.

When that happened, I used to work in a Real Estate Office surrounded by Older Women. (By older, I mean older than I was at the time. I was 31. They were all in their 50's or 60's.) I've worked with these women for a decade, and when this happened. I was outraged, and I thought they would be as well. Turns out, I was wrong.

These women, who knew me for 10 years and more, would tell me that they TRULY BELIEVED that ALL men talked like that and that "Locker Room" talk was a thing.

Upon further reflection, I thought "Isn't that sad???" This is what they think is normal, and no matter what I said back, they wouldn't believe me, despite myself telling them I don't feel that way at all, nor would I ever engage in that type of talk. What's sad is they probably thought I was lying about that too.

This is the behavior they've come accustomed to accepting. That's what Donald truly represents. People that have voted for him are used to being treated like shit, and don't really know the difference. OR, they know the difference but become dejected and think "That's how the world works". It's sad all around.

What else can you reasonably expect when your moral reasoning is out of whack or non-existent, depending on how much you were struck as a child?

Now: Am I saying All People who voted for Trump are Abused Children who never reconciled their trauma? Hell Yeah! It's a theory that definitely holds water. How else can you stand to reason your vote for Trump, or only look at some of his policies that work for you, and not all of them?

These people need to recognize that what they went through as Abuse. And we need to call it like it is. It is abuse, be it mental or physical, emotional or usually a combo of all 3. The more disturbing thing about victims of abuse is that they're more likely to accept this abuse as normal and perpetuate it.

My friend Lee was Emotionally, Mentally, and Physically abused by his family and especially his father, to the point of even supporting institutions that would further attack him if given the opportunity just for identifying as a Homosexual: The nuclear family, and the Roman Catholic Church. What's truly sad is he would easily turn around and do it to his own kids , (if he ever had them) if given the opportunity for he feels "its how the world works".

No amount of explaining it away will convince me otherwise. It's abuse. Abused Adults, who don't know any better, that have chosen to perpetuate the system that brought them around for no other reason as it was done to me.

Basically, I feel, the American people in general are used to being treated like shit because it's all they know. And when they get an abuser like Donald, it feels familiar to them so they accept it not thinking they deserve better or that we'll get anyone better.

Now to lock in the punt. This issue connects with the other issue I'm about to talk about, trust me. Just keep reading.

The Trans Women in Sports Issue

Like I said before, no one told me that this issue was on the ballot this election cycle. I was upset to learn that many in America voted for Trump because of this issue. When I asked a few, the answers I had gotten were

1.) We need to protect women from those "trannies" in sports.

2.) I don't want my niece going to the same bathroom as a dude.

3.) Those pronouns are a turn off to people in middle america.

To this I say, WOW, the Bigotry on display is stunning. But it also shows limited knowledge to an issue that doesn't affect them.

Let's look at the first one. "We need to protect women from those trannies in sports." Right off the back, gender dysmorphia is taking place. It's a refusal to recognize one's chosen identity, and it's done for that very reason. Again, these abused children without the ability to morally reason can't reconcile that someone has chosen to exemplify both male and female gender identities, or identify as a gender they weren't biologically born with. To identify as both sexes, or the non-binary is looked at in certain circles as an abomination, a "Weird Liberal thing", and to certain Christian conservative shit eaters, a sin against God. (As if that fucking matters)

Quick lesson about Binary and Non-Binary. There are many animals that have been found non-binary in nature. This means that the species doesn't ascribe to the binary (A Male or Female Gender). Some of them are listed below. Feel free to Google Challenge me on this. You might learn something.

White-Throated Sparrows, Clownfish (Yeah boys and girls, Marlon should be a woman by now. And by that true nugget of nature, Dory and Marlon should be in a lesbian relationship because all Clownfish are born male and then change to female as they age.) Roundworms, Earthworms, Slugs, Freshwater Pulmonate Snails, Chimera Butterflies, Copperhead Snakes, Intersex Cardinals, Black Sea Bass, Fungi and although not an animal, but has been classified as Non-Binary, the Avocado tree. Just to name a few...

For those saying that it's a choice, or that it is "unnatural". these animals and tree are non-binary. This means they don't exhibit one genitalia or the other their entire lives but rather it changes based on need. For example, the Snails can act as either male to female and vice versa based on needs. All they need to find to reproduce is a suitable mate with the compatible genitalia. I bring this up because if this is already occurring in animals of which we consider ourselves more intelligent and capable, why can't it occur among human beings?

Be it as it may, America, among many other things for this past election cycle has shown that the majority DOES NOT accept the non-binary schema, nor the labels that go with it.

It is their right to do. No one is forcing it down anyone's throats as they claim. I like to think (and I'm pretty sure I'm right) Transient people would like to be treated nicely if nothing else, and to be called/recognized by the gender they identify with. If you couldn't tell, I personally don't see an issue with this (although I admit, keeping up with different sexuality identifications is a bit hard, and I'll occasionally call a trans person by a singular pronoun. It's an old habit that was pounded into me during grade school and beyond, and that is grammar. It just doesn't sound correct to say "They walks in the door") However, I try. It's important not just for the Trans community, but also the LGBTQIA+ community, that people be recognized for what they want to be recognized for as far as identity goes. Wouldn't/Shouldn't we all ascribe to that?

What we have here are people FREAKING THE FUCK OUT, over the possibility of a Trans-Man using the same bathroom as women, and especially children. This is a pure nasty rumor, probably developed by closeted people who are attracted to transient people and one that I will not repeat because it will give credence to the rumor. I will say that this rumor is nothing new.

The older rumor used to be that if you were gay, that meant you were a child molsester. OR you acted as a sort of "Pied Piper" leading children to be indoctrinated in Gayness. (Because that's how it works, right?) Probably invented by the same closeted individuals who can't reconcile their own gayness. We have since learned that it doesn't work that way, but that older generation I'll bet still believes that rumor.

Most of us know that being in the LGBTQIA+ community does not indoctrinate kids to being gay or non-binary or identifying to a sexual identity. A simple matter of a drag queen reading stories to children will not automatically mean all of those kids will wind up identifying LGBTQIA+. (Last I checked, sexuality isn't airborne.) However, we have had the uniformed railing on trans-men competing in woman's sports, Many have voted for Trump because of this issue, and they believe that Trump will fix the problem. (He won't. He'll just make it worse just like everything else he touches.) It makes me want to scream from the rooftop: DON'T WE HAVE BETTER THINGS TO WORRY ABOUT THEN TRANS-MEN COMPETING IN WOMAN'S SPORTS? ''

I didn't want to believe that people could be such bullies or be so intolerant. And Boy did America show me this past election season. I guess an argument could be made that this issue was a long time coming, and it really started to peak over the summer during the Summer Olympics.

If you all can recall this past summer was the Summer Games in Paris, where we saw most of the world compete for a chance at the gold. Many people focused on one event in particular that year, and used it as a rallying point for bigotry, hate, and slander.

Imane Khelif, a 25 year old professional welterweight boxer from Algeria took home the Gold Medal for her country this past summer in Paris during the Olympic Games. She was quoted as saying that it took her 8 years to finally bring home the gold to her country.

Khelif is a biological female. I'll say that again just to emphasize the point. She identifies and is very much a Biological Female. She's not nor has ever identified as trans. She is an Olympic Gold Medalist, and among other things, a freak of nature.

I mean the term "Freak of Nature" in a Good Way. For those of you that don't know the sport of boxing. It requires a lot of speed, much endurance, ability to take punches, and strategically land punches. Some boxers have advantages over others due to height. In this case, Imane is taller than most other women in her division, which gives her a longer "reach" than her opponents. What the means is, Khelif has longer arms and can hit her target from further away than most other boxers can. Khelif can also use her height to keep her opponent away from her in the ring. If you're smaller than your opponent in boxing, that means you have to "get inside" in order to land your punches. "Getting Inside" means getting close to the other boxer so you can land your body and face shots. However, this presents a challenge for your opponent has a long reach and can strike you at a distance without getting too close to you. Khelif can keep her opponents away from her using her reach so that they can't get inside to land their punches.

Other Freaks of Nature: Michael Phelps. Winner of 28 Medals for Swimming, 23 of them being Gold. If you look at Michael Phelps body, he is a freak of nature for his body it seems has been made to swim.

If you look at Khelief's frame, it seems she has a body built for boxing. She's toned, athletic, and if anyone watched her compete, she's really good in the ring. She wanted to do the sport since she was 6, and begged her dad to let her do it. She used to sell bread and scrap metal just to get bus fare to get lessons in boxing. She trained, worked hard for a long time, and finally took home the Gold Medal for her country this past summer in what should've been an amazing, "Cinderella" moment for her. Too bad bigots, and haters had other plans.

A nasty rumor spread about Khelif, that she was trans and was born a man. Most people bought that because they took one look at her, thought she was too ugly to be a woman, so they went with it. I would see some posts making fun or belittling her for being born a man competing in a woman's sport. Donald Fucktard and Elon Pissant pounced on this, and due to their efforts, almost completely robbed her of her moment in the sun.

In Algeria, the laws on the books have no recognition for any transgender individuals nor does it legally recognize a person's changed gender. Algeria is also very Anti-LGBTQIA+ to the point of using outright violence should any "Gay" propaganda or iconography be used or seen in Algeria. Since 2001, there have been many hate crimes committed against individuals who identify in the LGBTQIA+ spectrum. Two men were stoned to death in 2001 for suspected Homosexuality. LGBTQIA+ community organizers are not allowed to campaign for LGBTQIA+ rights as dictated by law, and there aren't friendly establishments for LGBTQIA+ people to go too. (Not even underground Gay Bars/Clubs. The people are too terrified to get caught.)

I have had arguments with people online. They swore up and down that she was born a man, and that she had no business being in a woman's sport. No matter what I said to these people, from her father releasing her birth certificate to the Algerian Press, to the apology she received from her opponent Angela Carini of Italy. They wouldn't believe it. They based their judgement purely on looks, size, and nothing and no one would convince them otherwise. They took a molehill and made a mountain out of it.

I feel really bad for Imane Khaleif. Because this rumor was so vicious, she probably now has to look over both shoulders at home in case a random person tries to attack her for being trans, even though she's not. Is that nice for someone who has trained for so long, who put in the work for 8 years and finally brings home the Gold for Algeria only to be subjected to this type of treatment? On the word of a nasty rumor with no basis in reality whatsoever? I'd be angry too.

It raised the issue, should trans men or trans women be allowed to compete in their chosen gender's sports activities? Detractors say it's an unfair advantage for someone who was born biologically male to compete in women's sports. They don't say it the other way around as much. It became about protecting women from these demon "Trans Men" who have an unfair advantage because they were born Male. They've even gone so far as to say their a danger to women as competitors. These are all uninformed opinions. Let's go to the Science and experts. They say the following...

"If a young person transitions from male to female prior to puberty, as in the case of some transgender people, no accommodation is necessary at all and this student should be treated as any other competitor in girls’ or women’s sports. Additionally, if a transgender student transitions after puberty, medical experts increasingly agree that the effects of taking female hormones negate any strength and muscular advantage that testosterone may have provided and places a male-to-female transgender athlete who has completed her transition in the same general range of strength and performance exhibited by non transgender females who are competing. A female-to-male transgender athlete has no physical advantage before, during or after transition and should be permitted to participate fully on male sports teams." --(Women's Sports Foundation, 2016)

So, the point is basically moot. No one has an advantage. However, we can talk about this until we're blue in the face, and these morons will still believe it, just like there are still ignorant fucks that believe all Gay people molest Children and indoctrinate them.

Still, people point out that Hormone therapy for young kids is dangerous, and what do we do when we don't know enough about something, SURVEY SAYS...

WE BAN IT!

That's right. Let's just ban it before we can understand it further, says most conservatives. I just picture interviews from people walking around on the street saying the following.

"Yeah, Hormones? That there is unnatural. Boys are Boys and Girls are Girls."

"You are what you're born with. That what it says on your Birth Certificate. That's the bathroom you should use."

Here is what these same assholes are failing to recognize. You are now asking the government to target these families who have their children go through hormone therapy, to just stop them. I'll rephrase it in another way.

"Conservatives and the GOP are directing the government to tell parents what they can and can't give their own children."

Whatever happened to freedom? Whatever happened to the good ol' "Mind your own business" attitude? Government should NOT be in the process of what you and your partner have decided to do with your own kids, what they get, and what they can't have.

This will open the door to potentially my neighbor having a say in how I raise my children. Is that what you all want? I don't believe anyone reading this wants that, but the door has been opened and the current GOP seems to be shifting it's message.

It used to be about Small Government, Less Regulation, and more States power. Now, it's still Small Government, but less regulation when it comes to Financial Oversight, Banking Regulations, and FTC oversight on Company mergers. Hmmmmmmmmmm. It doesn't take a doctorate the figure out where this is going, does it?

The point here is this. This issue seemed to bother people so much that they were willing to turn to a hateful, arrogant, clueless, bigoted, misogynistic, entitled, old, cracked fucking moron to fix the issue. When you're dealing with a population of abused children who lack moral reasoning, it makes sense that they would pick on a population that isn't as visible as the other members of the LGBTQIA+ community. I mean, hey, if it was done to them, it should be good for the LGBTQIA+ community in the long run right? They'll turn out fine because of it? Or will they thrive in spite of it?

Thanks for reading. Until next time.

#donald trump #conservative #liberal #make america great again #lgbtq community #trump #lgbtqia #democrat #transgender #violenceagainstchildren #damaged

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anomalyztheseries · 2 years ago

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Anomaly Z in the “Real World” (of an Alternate Timeline)

In the alternate reality/future where Anomaly Z is already an active franchise, it’s doing pretty well. The franchise that Collider.com called “Breaking Bad to the Future” was a surprise hit even to its creators, making it to #1 in Netflix’s Top 10 upon release and in the Top 5 overall for the year, and rating 89% in critic scores and 96% average audience scores on Rotten Tomatoes.

Screenrant wrote: “[Anomaly Z has] a ludicrous concept that somehow still works, due to its exceptional performances, biting satire, and a full commitment to taking its ridiculous concepts to their logical conclusions, never once winking at the audience.”

Forbes’ Paul Tassi also wrote about Anomaly Z’s success, and also tweeted “Okay, I like Anomaly Z.” (At least Alternate Universe Tassi did. I have no idea what ours would think.)

Anomaly Z also inspired a sketch on Saturday Night Live.

Fedora Zane also managed to snag a cameo on the alternate universe Adult Swim’s Rick and Morty, where she rescued Morty and Summer from the gaping anus of an Ejaculian Fuckbeast. The episode scored high ratings on Interdimensional Cable.

Anomaly Z merchandise is also very successful. It includes the mandatory Funko Pop (Prototype Chronosuit Edition):

The collectible PVC statues for the Collector’s Editions of the Anomaly Z video game. Pictured are the statues from the $150 “Prototype Edition” and the $200 “Chrononaut Edition,” respectively.

Children’s costumes were also made for Spirit Halloween, despite the franchise being rated R/TV-MA. Sales were respectable.

And of course, the usual Anomaly Z t-shirts, hats, keychains, car air fresheners, you name it. A manga and an animated Crunchyroll exclusive series based on the show’s in-universe anime Fedora Katana: Sword Girl Detective! were also released. (See related blog entry.)

If you somehow make it to that alternate timeline and back, please bring me back one of those PVC statues, thanks.

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columboscreens · 2 years ago

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i haven't watched "it's all in the game" since i'm still on classic columbo but based on your screencaps MY GOD they fucked up the job on dyeing peter falk's hair.

on one screen cap he has dyed hair, on different one you can see the roots and yet on another one he has his natural grey color.

like i get it, recording one hour-long episode takes months and i have much respect for makeup and costume department and i also get the fact that columbo is bit younger than peter falk AND the set lighting can either be your friend or your enemy but for continuity sake i would just let falk has his hair normally from the start of rebooted series. or at least get a good hair dye and a person who does it well because this is atrocious.

i have seen your previous answer on the dye job in columbo so i felt inspired to write this ask <3 love your job on this blog and the full-blown analysis and tidbits from the series when needed <3 *chef's kiss*

thank you so much!! 😊💖

yeah, it's the prevailing opinion amongst fans that the dye job was...kind of unnecessary at best, abysmal at worst. i have utmost respect to costuming/cosmetic staff, but they really dropped the ball on falk's hair in the reboot. at times i'd even go as far as to say that at times they ruined it, a cardinal sin considering how important columbo's hair is to his overall look.

it wasn't just the dye, either. they started giving him these like, weirdly overstyled 80s blowouts and cuts that didn't suit him the way his natural hair did.

columbo is at his best when his mane is messy and effortless but still good enough for tv. left is original series, right is reboot hair (done right)

i think part of what bothers me about his reboot hair is that it appeared much more deliberately styled--which is antithetical to the character because columbo is supposed to be low maintenance. some of his 70s looks were styled but like...one minute with a blow dryer styled, not "full dye wash and set" styled. most of the time it's relatively natural, and sometimes they even let him keep his natural curls/waves.

at first i even sort of understood the hair dyeing, even though he was rocking significant grays as early as halfway through the original series. they wanted to retain that youthful charm, and in the late 80s falk had enough dark hair that the dye job didn't look so wrong. but it was rather ludicrous that they were dyeing the hair of a 70 year old man before finally realizing that it looked ridiculous. there were a few times earlier where they started letting it go ashen, and i was like wow! they're finally gonna...

then they were like NOPE SORRY and dyed it again and i punched a hole in my drywall

let

him

gray!

there. much better

#ironically the dye job made him look older most of the time...#it is gay for a man to have curly hair #text #columbo #ask #misc #sorry for the delay life's been Heck Tick

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jackrrabbit · 5 years ago

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Sidekick /// Dabi x f!Reader x Shigaraki (18+)

Summary: During a rescue gone wrong, a rookie sidekick catches the attention of two villains.

A/N: Thanks for 1k followers!! This is the fic that made me create a smut blog/lowkey inspired this. imho this might be the spiciest thing I’ve ever written 😳 also wanted to call out @kazooli because this is highkey inspired by her lol thanks queen

Tags/warnings: quirk kink, reader’s quirk makes other quirks stronger, noncon, threesome, lots of foreplay, outdoor sex, mild overstimulation, degradation, mild violence, threats, chronological/temporal inaccuracies, fucking long

You can hardly be blamed for not recognizing them. It’s only been three weeks since you debuted as a pro, and you’re not even really a hero. You’re a sidekick, and apparently you’re not important enough to have been briefed on the major villains you need to look out for. You’re just…doing your duty. Rescuing civilians indiscriminately. Stupid, naive little sidekick. It’s not your fault that the lives you just saved belong to the two most notorious villains around.

Still, Shigaraki can’t wait to see the look on your face when you find out.

///

The disaster you ‘rescue’ them from—the League’s bar crashing down, the result of a small-time villain’s poisonous gas quirk—isn’t even a disaster. It’s a minor annoyance, sure, but Shigaraki and Dabi would have been fine without you…even though both of them missed Kurogiri’s warp gate and ended up trapped under a wooden beam in the wreckage of the building… Okay, it’s more than a minor annoyance. Shigaraki hacks violently as the cloud of foul-smelling steam and powdered debris enters his lungs. The poisonous quirk doesn’t seem to be having the same acid-burn effects on his body as it did on the building, but he can’t assume it’s harmless.

Father… Shigaraki took Father off his face to drink at the bar earlier before the gas hit, and now in the confusion the severed hand is either buried underneath the rubble that used to be the League’s main base or somewhere else out of view. “Father? Father!” Shigaraki calls out, attempting to shift under the crushing weight of the beam.

“Shut up,” Dabi says from somewhere to Shigaraki’s left. “Kurogiri took it in one of the portals, I saw it.” He looks worse than Shigaraki feels—something hit him in the face as the bar collapsed, and a few of the staples (piercings? stitches? whatever) on his right cheek are torn open and bleeding.

“Are you lying to me?”

Dabi sneers and rolls his eyes. “Let’s just get out of here.” His palms glow blue and Shigaraki follows suit, letting four fingers sit on the wood that’s pinning both of them to the ground. It’s too heavy to lift, so they’re going to have to get rid of it…a task that seems significantly more difficult when it becomes clear that neither of them are positioned at the right angle to touch it.

Shigaraki tries to wrest his arm out enough for his thumb to touch the wood, but it’s impossible. Beside him, Dabi’s having the same issue. “Shit, I can’t reach—“

“Is someone there?” Confident, clear, and oddly robotic, your voice cuts through the din of gurgling water from cracked pipes and police sirens like a lit flare in the darkness. Shigaraki tenses and halts his attempts to get free from the beam, and a second later Dabi mimics him.

“I heard voices.” The same unfamiliar voice rings out through the half-light, now accompanied by a body—your body, taking a series of awkward jumps down the piles of rubble to land in front of the two of them. The outfit you’re wearing is ridiculous: a pair of metal boots that clang against the cement wherever you step, matching braces on your arms, and a space-age chrome motorcycle helmet to top it all off.

A hero. Shigaraki’s lip curls in disgust as your head turns his way.

You scan the scene quickly, eyes resting on the two men trapped in front of you for a moment before you turn back to the opening in the wreckage. “Found two civilians!” you call out to the rescue workers just in case they’re within earshot, although it’s unlikely.

Dabi snickers under his breath. Civilians? Even in the chaos, you should’ve known the second you saw them who you’re looking at. Are you faking ignorance? Got something up your sleeve? It’s either that, or you genuinely don’t recognize them. Priceless.

You kneel down in front of the fallen beam and give a half-hearted attempt to pick it up. It doesn’t budge. No surprises there—if it were light enough for you to lift by yourself, the two men held down by it would have no problem getting out with their combined strength. You’re going to have to use your support gear to get it off them.

But first—you search for a memory of your rescue training. Reassure the victims. They’re probably panicking.

“It’ll be okay,” you tell them, your voice coming out mechanical and distorted from the helmet you’re wearing. “You’re going to be okay. I’m here to save you.”

This time, Dabi has to bite his lip to keep from laughing out loud. Ah, yes…they’re so lucky that there’s a do-gooder little hero around to rescue them, because they’d be helpless otherwise. The laugh is still audible, though, and Shigaraki shoots him a glare.

You raise an eyebrow at their expressions. Did he just laugh? Well…you’ve heard that people sometimes have inappropriate reactions in times of crisis. The dark-haired man seems more badly hurt, so you creep toward him first, careful not to disturb any of the debris and trigger an avalanche reaction. “I’m going to check your injuries now,” you tell him, and your gloved hand brushes away a sweep of spiky hair to examine the sizable red bump growing on his forehead.

Ouch…there’s no way that doesn’t hurt, but the man’s not letting any of the pain show on his face. Instead, he looks disinterested at best, and at worst? You almost get the feeling that he’s eyeing you up under your hero costume. Not that you can blame him. Damn this skin-tight bodysuit—it leaves basically nothing to the imagination.

“Does it hurt a lot?” you ask him. “I don’t think this is too serious, but they’ll look you over for a concussion when I get you to first aid.”

Dabi shrugs and you frown. Is the non-verbal response because of the ripped stitches in his face? Is it too painful to talk? Or could there be brain damage? Or maybe he’s just a man of few words or something…?

“Can you get on with it? Pick up the fucking beam already,” Shigaraki hisses.

Startled, you pull your hand away from the other man’s forehead. That ungrateful little…nope, nope, don’t get annoyed, he’s just in shock. “O-Of course, sorry. Just gotta make sure it’s okay to move.”

Luckily, the beam doesn’t look like it’s supporting anything else that’ll fall if you pick it up. You crouch down next to one end and steady your feet against the cement, lifting up with all your strength while activating the effects of the support items you’re wearing. When you feel the metal on your arm braces grow warm, you remind yourself again to thank the developer of your costume. You may not be a fan of the way-too-tight bodysuit that clings to everything, but the strength-enhancing armor that you wear on your arms and legs more than makes up for it.

A second later, you hold back a grin. It’s moving! You try to ignore the unpleasant screech of metal against stone as the beam slowly lifts into the air. As soon as the men get out from under it, you pant and let it crash back into the ground. “You guys okay?”

“Mm…yes,” Dabi replies, running a hand over the torn piercings in his cheek. “Got any more gas masks for the poison mist?”

“Don’t worry! The Commission is familiar with the villain who created it, and the gas isn’t harmful to anything living. Only buildings. It’s a troublesome quirk, but we’ve got it under control.”

“Then what’s with the helmet?”

He can hear the hesitation in your reply, even distorted and tinny through the metal speakers. “Uh…I, well…”

Now that you’re getting a good look at them, the two scarred faces in front of you seem weirdly intense, considering you’ve just saved them from a collapsed building. The dark-haired man’s eyes are…very, very blue next to the burned-looking skin underneath, and the other man’s greyish-blue hair isn’t quite long enough to obscure a pair of red irises that are scrutinizing your face with obvious hostility.

You give a nervous shake of your head to clear it. “Um, the helmet is…it’s dangerous if I take it off. I should get you guys back to the rescue area, I need to meet up with my hero…” Without thinking, you take a step back and then one more, not knowing exactly why you’re backing away when you’re supposed to be escorting them. “I’ll just lead the way?”

With your third step back, though, you bump into something hard. What was that? Your head jerks around but before you can identify what it is that stopped your retreat, you feel the faint sensation of something tapping lightly on the back of your helmet.

And then…it just…crumbles.

What just happened?

You cough and shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut against the sudden onslaught of dust. A breeze whips through your hair, sending a chill through you in more ways than one. How? No one pulled the helmet off; you would’ve felt it if they had. More dust sticks to your face, and you rub your eyes so you can open them.

Behind you, Shigaraki waits with outstretched fingers an inch away from your neck. If he had to explain the decision to decay your helmet strategically, he could—you’re a hero, a potential threat, and he wants to know what you’re hiding under that outfit just in case you figure out who they are and decide to turn on them.

But really? He didn’t think about it that much. It was an impulse reaction to you walking away from them; a tantrum. Child-like.

Once your stunned face is exposed, Dabi has to wonder what you were even trying to hide. You’re…surprisingly ordinary. Young-looking—a rookie, fresh from hero school graduations a few weeks ago maybe? Large, expressive eyes, lips parted in shock, but nothing particularly interesting. Shigaraki cocks his head to the side to study your face too, and both of them are so focused on your appearance that it takes a moment for them to notice the feeling.

Well, feeling isn’t really the right word, but there isn’t a word for the way your quirk works. Dabi’s eyes widen when it reaches him and behind you, Shigaraki stiffens. You notice.

There’s an involuntary quiver in your voice as you break the silence. “Y-You guys must have strong quirks if you can feel it just from that.”

Dabi sucks in a breath. So this is your quirk? It’s different…he’s never felt anything like it, not that he’s exactly sure what it is. There’s some kind of energy in the air around you that he’s breathing in, a feeling like taking a shot of espresso after days of sleep deprivation.

No, it’s stronger than that. The head rush after doing a line of cocaine would be a better metaphor.

Either way, he’s awake—more awake than he can remember feeling in a long time. Heat rises to the surfaces of his palms unbidden, his quirk appearing without him calling it. “What is this?”

“…It’s called Boost,” you say, licking your lips as a dry wave of heat radiates out from the man in front of you. “I can strengthen other people’s quirks. That’s why it’s dangerous—if the villain finds us—“

“It must have been hard to get through hero school with a quirk like that,” says a raspy voice from behind you.

What—? Your head twists around. When did he—

Shigaraki grips your shoulder with three fingers, holding just tightly enough to keep you from stumbling forward and away from him. His pinky and ring finger hover an inch over your costume, careful not to disintegrate the fabric he’s touching—although with the power sparking through his veins at the moment, it almost feels like three fingers would be enough.

“…Doesn’t really seem like the kind of quirk a hero has.” His voice, soft and pondering (a weird contrast to the harsh architecture of his facial features you’d seen earlier), feels very close to your ear. Something soft tickles your cheek. His hair?

A voice (an instinct?) deep inside of you is telling you to run. You ignore it. This is normal, right? It’s not uncommon for civilians who’ve just suffered a traumatic villain attack to have questions, even if those questions seem irrelevant to the situation at hand. You have to answer, even if your gut is churning. “I’m not really a hero. Not yet. For now, I’m a sidekick to one of the pros—and speaking of which, I really need to find—“

“But how does it work?” Dabi doesn’t notice himself making a conscious decision to step forward, but he does anyway and being closer to you feels right. He can see the trepidation on your face as he gets close enough to reach out and touch you, but you can’t really ask him to stay back, can you? Not when your quirk feels this good?

“I—“ Is it unreasonable that you think you’re being trapped right now? They’re just a couple of civilians, right? The question itself is common enough. People often wonder how you can be a hero. It’s a concern you’ve had to address dozens of times over the years. “Well, I work with rescue operations, especially with other heroes who have healing-type quirks. I can also assist in combat in some situations.”

“In combat? If you’re with a hero and a villain, you’ll enhance both quirks. Seems counterintuitive,” Dabi says, half aware that his voice is getting lower.

“And you clearly don’t have physical abilities. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have…these.” Shigaraki taps three fingers on the metal brace on your right arm.

“The effects can be unpredictable. And I can increase the degree of the enhancement with physical contact.”

“Contact?”

“Yeah. The gloves of my costume come off. My quirk is way stronger when it’s skin-to-skin.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them.

You shouldn’t have said that.

Shigaraki’s ring finger and pinky, which were hovering over the arm brace, come down to rest on the cold metal. The effect is instant: no crumbling, no slow decay—it’s there, and then it’s dust. His quirk in action, boosted by yours.

“What—What are you doing? What did you just do?” You try to pull away from him, but he holds you tight by your collar. His other hand comes up to grip your chin, and in one long sloppy stroke, he licks you from your neck up to your jawline.

You shudder. So does Shigaraki.

“It’s my quirk,” he tells you slowly. His breath is steamy warm on the cold, wet trail of saliva painting your throat. “Decay. Have you heard of it?”

You flinch away from his hand and your back falls against his chest. Of course you’ve heard of the Decay quirk. You might be a rookie, but even civilians know about the young, impetuous head of the League of Villains. Jesus, how had you not recognized him earlier? White hair, red eyes…you should have known. You should have left him under that beam. “Shigaraki…Tomura.”

“So you’re not completely clueless. Do you know me, then?” Dabi asks. He would think he’s the more noticeable of the two (the burn scars usually identify him), but you just stare up at him with the same deer-in-the-headlights look as before. Smirking, he lights a blue fire in his palm and it jumps up toward your face—not just the small spark he intended, but a bright, high flame. “Maybe this will help you remember.”

“The Forest of Beasts incident. You’re the one who started that fire,” you whisper. You’ve seen the TV coverage of the attack on UA’s training camp, the abduction of that teenage student, the forest lit up blue from wildfire. No wonder his skin looks burned.

“Dabi,” he corrects you.

Breath is coming out of your mouth in shallow puffs. Are you hyperventilating? Is this what hyperventilating feels like? You’re definitely panicking. They’re so close to you, caging you in between them. The smoke from the blue fire is uncomfortably hot over the exposed skin of your face, and Shigaraki’s lethal hands are still touching you. If they want to kill you—and why wouldn’t they?—you’re fucked.

The flame goes out and Dabi’s hands come down to squeeze your wrists. His palms are hot like he was holding them in front of a lit stove. It’s not painful, but it’s a threat.

“I’ll fight,” you say.

Your voice is trembling, and Shigaraki likes it. The effects of your quirk, the way he felt when he licked your face… And you’re afraid. He can see it in your shoulders, the quivering of your torso pressed into him. It’s nice. He wants to feel it more.

You’re struggling against their hold, and Dabi feels the urge to laugh. “You’ll fight…the two of us.”

“If you try to kill me, I’ll—“

Before you can finish your sentence, Shigaraki’s hands flit down to your metal support gear and disintegrate it. Shit. He’s fast, and you’re helpless.

Dabi releases your wrists and cups your face in a mockery of intimacy. His eyelids flutter closed as his skin meets yours… Fuck, he could get used to this. You smell so good, sweet and soft and clean, like fruity shampoo. What is that, watermelon?

Life must be difficult for you, hm… Everyone around you must want to touch you constantly. It seems like Shigaraki enjoyed licking you—maybe bodily fluids are an even stronger conductor of your quirk? Pushing easily past your resistance, Dabi forces your jaw upward and kisses you.

Oh…yesyesyes, just like that. Perfect. Dabi has to bite down a groan as his tongue enters your mouth. It’s ridiculous for someone else’s spit to taste this good, but he’s right—your quirk is amplified by the contact from the kiss.

After a moment he has to break it to regain focus and make sure he’s not burning you. You cringe away from him, your cheek brushing against Shigaraki’s neck, but Dabi tangles his hand in your hair to pull you back. He runs a finger against your closed lips, letting the pad of his fingertip heat up until your mouth drops open in response to the threat.

“What the hell are you doing?” Shigaraki asks, voice laced with revulsion. Privately, you agree. What’s going on? You were sure you were about to be either burned to a crisp or decayed into the equivalent.

Dabi laughs under his breath. “Try it. It feels crazy good.”

Curious now, Shigaraki wrenches your head around and tilts your jaw up to repeat Dabi’s action. When you refuse to open your mouth, he taps your jaw warningly and a hiss of fear escapes you. Would he really kill you? He decayed your support gear so quickly—would it be the same for your body?

Well, what’s going to stop them?

You open your mouth.

Shigaraki’s lips are harsh and unsentimental against yours. His tongue sweeps over the inside of your mouth, invasive and brutal. He grips you forcefully, his face pushing you deeper into the strained hold with your head twisted toward his. You’ve never been kissed like this before. His spit—it’s in your mouth.

And Dabi’s hands are on your waist. “How do you get this thing off?” he murmurs, pinching the fabric of your bodysuit.

A surge of panicked adrenaline gives you the strength to pull back away from Shigaraki. “What? No, you can’t!”

“Are you going to stop us, little sidekick?” Dabi mocks. “I think I can burn it off without too much damage.”

“Let me.” Shigaraki takes hold of the cloth, careful so when it dissolves into dust his hand isn’t touching you, and within a second—a second—you’re left shivering in just your underwear and boots.

“Help!” The plea squeaks out and you hope blindly that there’s a hero close enough to hear you. But is there even anyone who can fight them? You certainly can’t. “Help me! Somebody!”

“Shut up.” Dabi sends up a tongue of flame from a fingertip and you shriek as the heat sears against you. “Oh, come on. You should feel lucky. Bad guys like us usually don’t hesitate to take heroes out.”

“I don’t— Please, I’m just a sidekick, I’m a rookie— What do you even want from me? Just let me go, I won’t tell anyone! Please let me go.”

“Well, I think I know what I want.” Dabi traces circles over the tender skin of your hips, playing with the elastic of your underwear. He meets Shigaraki’s eye over your shoulder. “I think he wants that too. Right?”

“Yeah, I want…I want to fuck her,” Shigaraki hums. This isn’t like him, but he can’t help himself. You’re different. Leaving you here and never feeling this stimulant again isn’t an option. He buries his face in the juncture of your neck and shoulder, bites down on the soft skin there, and sucks.

You whimper, half from his answer and half from the sensation of his chapped lips on your neck. “Why are you doing this?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but…you smell like something I want to eat. Especially this.” Dabi kneels down in front of you and hitches one of your legs up over his shoulder so you feel his hot breath washing over your clothed pussy.

You whine and attempt to wriggle back away from him, but Dabi’s grip on your thigh holds firm. His other hand brushes against the fabric of your panties to rub up against your slit and another surge of panic jumps up your throat. You can’t let him do this.

You kick your foot against his back, desperately attempting to make contact using the heel of the high boot that’s the only piece of outerwear still left on your body. It hits him awkwardly and he growls. “Damn it. Can’t you keep her busy?”

“Ahh…” Shigaraki ceases his oral assault on your neck and scratches a fingernail against one of the bright red marks marring your skin. He feels almost dizzy from the way your quirk is affecting him. Behind him, the broken expanse of wall digging into his back is the only thing keeping his focus. “Behave, sidekick.”

Before you can respond to the mocking title, Shigaraki’s face is against yours and his tongue is in your mouth again. Rough fingertips work up under the band of your sports bra and pushes it up over your tits. You screw your eyes shut at the sudden feeling of cold air on your nipples, and you know without looking that they’re standing up. Shigaraki gropes you thoughtlessly, keeping one finger lifted off of your skin, and you gasp on his tongue.

“That’s better.” Dabi’s mouth returns to brush against your panties. To be honest, eating you out isn’t the first thing on his mind. What he wants—what he really wants—is to shove you up against the wall and fuck into you and find out what your quirk feels like when you’re wrapped around his cock. But you’re probably not wet enough for that, and it’s not like Shigaraki is going to do anything to take care of you. Dabi would be surprised if the other man’s ever eaten pussy before in his life.

Besides…you smell good. It’s not even just the feeling of your quirk exciting him. The rich, feminine scent of your pussy is inches away from him, and Dabi is dying to make you cum in his mouth.

A moan curls up from deep in your throat as Dabi caresses the lips of your pussy through your underwear. You don’t bother protesting—at this point, it’s unlikely that any plea you could muster would stop them. Your earlier begging didn’t do much besides spur them on, but you still cry out as softly as you can when an unnaturally warm fingertip slips under the cloth of your panties to dip into your slit.

“Oh? You’re wetter than I expected. Are you enjoying this?”

Your frantic denial falls on deaf ears. Shigaraki rasps out a laugh and bites down on your neck again. He’s supposed to be keeping you still, but he can’t help enjoying the way your almost-naked body feels as you press yourself back into his chest, trying to force some space between yourself and Dabi.

Your squirming is no problem for Dabi, though—you’re so soft and vulnerable and the velvety skin of your inner thigh looks so delicious… He nuzzles against the area of bare skin and latches on to it, sucking until he’s sure you’re going to have a mark in a few minutes. The thought of leaving hickeys on you like a teenager is sickeningly nostalgic. You’re probably going to try to forget this when they’re done, aren’t you? But you won’t be able to, not when you’re covered in love bites and bruises. You’re going to be marked up for weeks.

Fuck, he’s hard.

Too impatient to bother taking off your panties, Dabi just pushes them aside to gain access to your damp cunt. His fingers feel hot—too hot, almost unbearably hot; you feel like you could melt into a puddle and your pussy is certainly slick enough as he pets your clit and slides one finger in, then two… You whimper and shake your head, silently denying what’s happening to you. The intrusion is uncomfortable, but Dabi’s fingers quickly find that rough patch inside of you that makes you want to beg like an animal. You hate it, but it feels good.

“She’s so tight,” Dabi says with something like awe in his voice. You can hear Shigaraki panting behind your back.

“Get on with it,” Shigaraki says.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

For a second you just feel Dabi’s humid breath against your dripping cunt before he closes the space between the two of you and his tongue slides onto you, laving over your cunt to come to a rest on your clit. A sound you’ve never heard yourself make before forces its way out of your mouth as Dabi eats you out in earnest, rubbing his tongue against your clit in a stuttering rhythm that gives you no time to catch your breath.

Oh my god. Oh my god. Your head rolls back onto Shigaraki’s shoulder. You feel like crying for a million reasons at once. Maybe you’re already crying—the sounds you’re making are almost like sobs. You want him to stop. You never want him to stop. Your hands twitch as you fight the impulse to fist them in the villain’s hair and pin him down between your thighs.

“Fuck, oh fuck, no stop please stop, ah…!” The stream of gibberish coming out of your mouth crescendoes into a real sob as you feel your climax coming. No—you can’t—you can’t cum here, in this broken-down bar, on the tongue of a villain, but it doesn’t matter that you can’t, because you’re going to cum anyway.

“Please don’t, please let me go—“ You writhe uncontrollably as the desire to cum sweeps over you, but Dabi just curls one arm around your thigh and pulls his face away so he can push his fingers back in, angling his palm to grind roughly over your clit. The harsh, rough texture after the warm wet softness of his tongue is enough to push you over the edge and you cry out your orgasm, your pussy clenching onto Dabi’s fingers as he works them in and out of you.

Unable to support yourself, you crumple like paper, and only the two villains you’re sandwiched between keep you upright.

“Fucking finally,” Shigaraki growls, and he pushes you down so your knees scrape painfully into the rubble. Your earlier resistance was cute, but so is your dazed compliance as he pulls your hips up to meet his.

“You’re going first?” Dabi asks incredulously. After he did all that work getting you off? No way.

“You can use her mouth,” Shigaraki tells him. His cock is straining against his pants and he groans as he releases it and rubs it over your panties. He could decay them, but…they’re cute. Pale pink, peach-pink, except for the wet spot over your cunt. Precum is already dribbling out of his cock as he pulls your panties to the side and lines it up with your pussy. Jesus-fucking-christ, you’re wet, sopping and slimy. Doesn’t that mean you’re begging to get filled up? Shigaraki hears himself sigh as he slides the head of his cock up and down your slit so it’ll be wet enough to go in.

You’re still out of it, dizzy from your orgasm and the tension of the situation, but you snap back to your senses with the feeling of something hard pushed up to your entrance. “Wait!” you yelp for what feels like the hundredth time. The gravel scattered over the wreckage where you’ve been forced onto your hands and knees digs painfully into your flesh as you pull away from Shigaraki, but he holds fast to your hips with pinkies raised.

“Uh-uh,” Dabi admonishes with a grin, as if he’s reprimanding a dog for not coming when called. He settles himself in front of your front and kneels again. Your hair is mussed but still silky soft and he takes a moment to enjoy the way the strands slip over his skin before he tangles his fingers close to your scalp and yanks your head in his direction, forcing your cheek to chafe against the crotch of his pants. It’s not difficult to tell what the the thick bulge is through the fabric, and you try to flinch away only to be caught again and immobilized.

“You’re going to take care of us,” Dabi tells you. “Like I took care of you. Okay?”

No, it’s not okay, it’s absolutely not okay, and you would say so if you didn’t see Dabi’s expression darken at your obvious denial and feel a wave of acrid heat coming from his hand in your hair. The smell is worse than the feeling, honestly—you’ve had enough run-ins with hair curlers and flat irons to recognize the smell of hair when it’s three seconds away from burning. “Okay! Okay,” you answer, panicked, voice muffled by the fabric of Dabi’s pants.

“Good girl,” he purrs, and the heat fades.

“I’m not waiting any longer,” Shigaraki says from behind you.

“Then don’t.”

You whine, too scared to try to get away again or even plead with them to let you go, but it doesn’t matter. Shigaraki’s cock presses into your pussy, and there’s nothing you can do to stop him as he slides into you, inch by inch, torturously slow. Is there anything to bite down on? You need to do something, anything to distract from the pain of Shigaraki’s cock stretching you out. He’s big, impossibly big.

Eyes squeezed shut, you bite your lip until you can taste copper and scrabble around blindly until your hand finds loose fabric to grip. It’s something of Dabi’s, probably the coat he’s wearing if you remember correctly, but your brain isn’t exactly working right at the moment—

“You were right…shit, she’s…she’s so fucking tight.” Shigaraki’s voice is low and labored with the effort of not thrusting into you all at once. “Feels like…she’s trying to push me out…”

Fuck it, he thinks. Would it really be so bad if he did push all the way into you in one stroke? It’s better to just get it over with, isn’t it? Yeah…you’d probably prefer him to do it quickly. And besides, he can’t wait another second to feel you all the way up to the base of his cock.

Your strangled whimper is drowned out by his satisfied groan as he shoves the rest of the way into you in a single sudden thrust. The pain knocks the breath out of you in a gasp, and your eyes fly open as you clutch Dabi’s coat like a lifeline.

“It hurts—!”

“Yeah…yeah, I bet it does,” Shigaraki pants, holding your hips steady as he thrusts in and out of you. The bored nonchalance of earlier is gone, replaced by a feral intensity as his cock carves its way through your pussy. If you didn’t know better, you’d think there’s something affectionate in his voice.

For Shigaraki’s part, he can hardly think of anything aside from the soft, hot, wet cunt wrapped over his dick. It’s taking every vestige of concentration he has left to make sure he’s holding a single finger on each hand away from your skin. It’s pure bliss. Your body was made to be fucked like this. He wants to live inside your pussy, he wants to do this every day, every minute. Fucking you raw is the best he’s felt in months…years. And it doesn’t hurt that your quirk is still working on him, still sending pleasurable shocks of energy that make him feel simultaneously like he could keep you pinned down for hours and like he could cum any second.

“Oh, she’s crying,” Dabi says, tilting your chin up so he can look into your eyes. You flinch and try to jerk your head away, but his hand is still holding you by your hair and he’s so much stronger than you are. They both are, even without using their quirks. “Look at me.”

You comply, more by reflex than any real desire to obey. It’s pretty striking to Dabi how cute you look as Shigaraki pounds into you so fast and deep you can hardly catch your breath. Your eyes are glittering with unshed tears, your tits bounce with every thrust, and you’re still holding onto Dabi’s coat like your life depends on it. It’s almost like you’re pulling him closer. Adorable.

“She can…take it,” Shigaraki responds breathily between thrusts. “Such a good whore, taking my big cock in her tight little pussy…”

The backhanded compliment jars you and you feel hot tears spill over your cheeks. “I’m—not—a—whore,” you manage to say, each word punctuated with Shigaraki’s skin slapping against yours.

“Really?” Shigaraki’s pace slows and he leans closer to you so he can reach an arm around and swirl two fingers against your clit. You mewl like a kitten at the unexpected stimulation and he laughs rudely. “Feels so good…can’t believe the heroes don’t want to fuck you like this all the time…”

You shake your head desperately and bury your face in Dabi’s chest, barely noticing him stroking your hair and then reaching down to unzip his pants.

“No, no, I bet that’s what you do as a sidekick, right?” Shigaraki’s thrusts are back to frenzied jerks, and he rubs over your clit just as roughly. “Spread your legs for your hero…you’d make a great personal cocksleeve. Or maybe they rotate you around so every pro hero gets a turn…?”

“No, I don’t! No! Ah— ahnnn…” The denials pierce the air uselessly as the villain’s cock fills you up again and again. You’re not a whore, you’re not…even if it’s getting harder and harder to ignore the growing pressure of Shigaraki teasing your clit in time with his cock rubbing against your sweet spot. It still hurts—he’s so big, bigger than anyone you’ve ever had sex with before, but there’s no way you’re going to admit to yourself that it’s starting to feel good.

“…Is my cock better than All Might’s?” Shigaraki’s words are cut off by his own grunt of pleasure as your cunt twitches around him.

“Shut the fuck up,” Dabi cuts in. “I’m sick of hearing a guy’s voice moaning. I’m going to get soft.”

Past the point of comprehending the situation, you look up at him gratefully, only to reel back in shock as Dabi frees his own cock from his pants and it brushes against your cheek. Trying to pull away from him is more instinct than rational thought, but he holds you just as easily as before and forces two fingers into your mouth. You tense, ready to bite down, (and hopefully take a few knuckles off) but he sees it coming and suddenly your mouth is horribly burning hot.

“You’re going to suck my cock now,” says Dabi conversationally, extinguishing the flame almost as soon as he started it. It’s not so bad—probably more like a coffee burn than anything else—but you’re coughing and spitting anyway. “Say yes.”

“…Yes,” you whisper, voice barely intelligible.

“Good little sidekick. And you’re going to be very careful. You’re not going to use teeth.”

You nod, unable to mount a defense with Shigaraki mercilessly fucking you from behind.

“I want to hear you say it.”

“Y-Yes!” you squeal as Shigaraki finds a particularly sensitive spot inside you.

“Good.” Dabi drags your head down to hover over his cock and massages your jaw until it falls open. “Suck.”

One of his hands falls to your shoulder to try to stabilize you, but you can’t help feeling the threat in the motion. You quickly duck down and attempt to ignore the heady smell of sweat and precum as you trace your tongue up the underside of his dick. He’s big too, maybe thicker than Shigaraki, and you hate yourself for feeling lucky that it’s not this cock inside your pussy right now.

The stunt Dabi pulled burning your mouth made you salivate, and you let drool coat your tongue as you lick around the head. But it’s not working—you rock forward every time Shigaraki stuffs his dick back in your aching pussy, and Dabi’s cock smears over your mouth haphazardly.

“I said suck. Not lick.” Suddenly (although you don’t know why you keep expecting some kind of warning before these villains find a new way to violate you), Dabi grabs the back of your head and shoves his cock into your mouth. Your throat constricts involuntarily as the thick head triggers your gag reflex, and all three of you shiver in unison.

“Do…do that again,” Shigaraki says, voice strained. “She tightens up…when you do that.”

Dabi smirks and thrusts into you again, relishing the warm, humid cavern of your throat around his cock along with the pure swell of energy from your quirk enhancing his. His rhythm matches Shigaraki’s and his cock hits the back of your throat with every rapid pump, making you gag and clench like you’re trying to milk the cum out of him. What a perfect little slut… He can see from Shigaraki’s sloppy movements that you’re squeezing around his cock every time too.

The feeling of having one villain cock buried in your pussy while another ravages your throat is unthinkable, even more so with Shigaraki’s fingers on your clit coaxing out an earth-shaking orgasm. But you’d almost be able to forget what’s happening—god knows you’re delirious with sensation, barely able to keep track of who’s doing what to you—if not for the sound. The wet slap of Shigaraki’s hips against your ass, the horrible squelching from your (dripping wet, even if you don’t want to admit it) pussy as his cock pistons in and out of you, your choked moans and gagging noises, and above it all, the unrestrained voices of the villains fucking into you.

You feel like a fuck toy, a sex doll, used without mercy by the two most evil people you can think of…and you’re about to cum.

Your voice is getting louder by the second, and the pulsing of your cunt around Shigaraki’s cock is telling him exactly how close you are. He curls his body over yours to get a better angle to rub your clit, enjoying your high-pitched whine in response. “Yeah…that’s right…good girl. Cum on my cock…like a good little sidekick.”

You keen and goosebumps rise on your skin as Shigaraki licks at the sheen of sweat on your back. He feels your climax almost as soon as you do… If your scream wasn’t stifled by Dabi’s dick in your mouth, everyone within a one-mile radius would know you were getting fucked silly, yeah? The walls of your pussy clamp down on Shigaraki’s cock, your body begging for his cum, and he grips your ass to make sure you can’t get away as he comes to his own orgasm inside of you.

Fuck… Shigaraki could die right now and be happy. He keeps stroking your clit, knowing it’s cruel, knowing you’ll be overstimulated and sensitive and that it’ll hurt to keep touching you like this after you already came, and not caring because every time the tips of his fingers push that little magic button, you shiver and squeeze him like you’re trying to milk him dry.

Shigaraki gives a few last thrusts, pushing his cum deeper into your body, fucking it into you so you’ll be dripping white for hours, and then finally pulls out. The slurping sound your cunt makes as his cock leaves your pussy is obscene. So is the cloudy trail of mixed white and clear fluid that connects your pussy and the head of his cock until he pulls it away. He loves it.

Knowing that Shigaraki came—inside you, no less, the inconsiderate bastard—Dabi grips the back of your head and tugs you down to deepthroat him. Your walls twitch involuntarily and Dabi groans, letting himself shoot his load down your throat. “Yes…yeah…yeah…just like that. Swallow.”

You don’t swallow. You don’t do anything but gag on his cum and gasp as he thrusts into you. Dabi pulls you off of him, annoyed and ready to threaten you into submission again…until your head lolls to the side and he can see that your eyes are closed.

“Shit, she passed out.”

“…What? Are you kidding?”

Dabi slaps your face lightly. You wince in your sleep but don’t wake up. “Nope. Must’ve been when she came the second time.”

“Is she…” Shigaraki trails off, not sure how to end the question. ‘Okay’ isn’t exactly right.

“She’s breathing, if that’s what you’re asking.”

The two of them wait for a moment, but you don’t move. When he catches his breath, Shigaraki wipes off his dick and pulls up his pants. Dabi does the same. Without them holding you, you flop down into the fetal position on the broken concrete. “What now?” Shigaraki asks.

Dabi wipes the sweat from his forehead. “You tell me, leader. I’m surprised Kurogiri hasn’t opened another warp gate to get you back. Guessing you don’t have your phone either?”

“…We can go to Giran’s place to meet up. They’re probably waiting for us there,” Shigaraki says, scratching at his neck.

“Do you have cab fare?”

“I don’t have my wallet on me. You?”

“Not enough for a cab. We’ll have to take the train. You can owe me.”

Shigaraki looks down at you. You make a pitiful scene, naked except for your boots, sports bra, and cum-soaked panties. Your neck is bruised red and purple, and you’re shaking, shivering in the cool air now that the sun has sunk further toward the horizon and you’re not being touched. “Are we going to leave her here?”

“What, you want to bring her on the train with us? You don’t think that’s gonna look suspicious?”

“Well…” Their eyes meet and Shigaraki knows Dabi’s thinking the same thing he is. You have a lot of potential as an asset. They haven’t even had the chance to see how your quirk boosting works in combat, but Shigaraki almost wants to pick a fight just to give it a try.

And fighting power aside, Shigaraki isn’t a fan of the possibility that he’ll never get to fuck you again.

“Yeah, I know. But she’s a pro hero’s sidekick. She can’t be too hard to find.” Dabi shrugs off his coat and crouches next to you. You’re limp enough that he has no trouble lifting you into his lap and guiding your arms through the sleeves of his coat. Once you’re wrapped in the black fabric, he does up the buttons, combs through your hair with his fingers, wipes the mixed cum and spittle off your chin, and admires his handiwork. Sure, anyone looking closely at you will know at least a little about what happened—you’re still sweating in the cold, you have that undeniable ‘just got fucked’ look all over you, and the smell of sex is overpowering. But at least you won’t have to walk back to the rescue tent in your filthy underwear.

In your sleep, you nuzzle into Dabi’s chest, reaching blindly toward the source of warmth. He grins and strokes the back of your neck, soothing warm fingers over the bruised skin there and enjoying his last opportunity to touch you and feel your quirk working…for now, at least. “You know, I wonder why villains don’t get sidekicks. Seems a little unfair, right?”

Shigaraki’s sneer matches Dabi’s as he bends down to run his fingernails over your cheek, almost hard enough to hurt. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

#Dabi x reader #Shigaraki Tomura x reader #Shigaraki x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha imagines #Shigaraki #Dabi #bnha #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia imagines #mha #my hero academia #mha imagines #my hero academia imagines #boku no hero academia x reader #my hero academia x reader #smut #tw noncon

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maxwell-grant · 3 years ago

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You have done an (excelent) post on how to reinvent Batman as a Pulp Hero. Do you think you could do one to Superman as well? Or do you think it is impossible to do this with the progenitor of the Super Hero genre without transforming him in a totaly diferent character?

Well, you saying it as impossible only makes it seem ever more tempting of a challenge, but yes, it is a bit harder. I'm gonna link my Batman post here as a reference point.

Partially because Batman's a franchise I've thought extensively about for a long time in regards to what I like about it or how I'd like to approach if given the opportunity, which is not something I can really say for Superman until more recently the Big Blue to start orbiting my brain. I don't have years worth of redesigns or fan concepts saved on my galleries and files to comb through to pick and choose here, and my experience with Superman as a character is considerably different, in some aspects more deeply personal, and not really something I'd like to go into in this blog, at least not now.

Part of the reason why it's harder is also because Batman and Superman have very different relationships with their pulp inspirations. Batman was, ostensibly, a pulp character adapted to comics, a dime-a-dozen Shadow knock-off who picked up and played up diverging traits from other characters and gradually ran with them to gradually forge a unique identity. Superman right from the start was rooted in a much stronger conceptual underpinning: the Sci-Fi Superman and Alien Menace who, instead of being a tragic monster or a tyrannical villain, becomes a costumed adventurer and social crusader. Even the name Super-Man was taken from an early story of Siegel and Shuster about a telepathic villain who ends the story lamenting that he should have used his powers for the good of mankind instead of selfishness. I hesitate to call what Siegel and Shuster were doing “subversive” because that term's picked up a real negative connotation, and it's not like Siegel and Shuster were out to upend their influences (they were pulp aficionados themselves), but rather putting a more positive, new spin on them.

Which is why it also becomes a bit harder to do what I did with Batman and align Superman with some of his pulp-esque inspirations, like John Carter, Flash Gordon or Hugo Danner, without just making it "Superman but he's John Carter", "Superman but it's Flash Gordon", and "Iron Munro / Superman but everything sucks" respectively. It's harder to create a character that wouldn't feel reduntant and derivative at best, and actively contradictory to Superman at worst.

I guess if I had to come up with a "Pulp Hero Superman" take I liked, well first of all I'd have to take steps to distance it from the likes of Tom Strong or Al Ewing's Doc Thunder, those two are as good as it gets in regards to Pulp Supermen. I stipulated for Batman a "No Guns, No Murder, No Service" policy partially to distance my takes on Batman from all the "Pulp Batmen" that just add guns and murder and take Batman back to the barest of basics. Likewise, I'm adding a "No Depowered Science Hero" rule here, which means it's a take that's likely going to veer off a lot more into fantasy and probably enough tampering with Clark's character that it does risk becoming a different character.

Frankly I don't think I'm gonna succeed at doing these without just making it a new character entirely, because with Batman you can get away with just upending the character's aesthetic and setting and even origin and still keep it recognizably Bruce Wayne (in fact Batman does that all the time), which isn't really the case with Superman, who needs those to remain recognizably Superman as he goes through internal changes and character shifts. I guess what I'm gonna do here is more taking the building blocks of Superman/Clark Kent and see a couple new ways I can rearrange them to create a Pulp Superman

Perhaps something we can do is to scale back or recontextualize the "superhero" parts without diminishing Superman's role as a superpowered fantasy character.

One way we can start is by picking on that connection between Superman and the sci-fi supermen/alien monsters of pulps I mentioned earlier and play it up further, to create a Superman who's deeply, deeply alien in a way that no mild-mannered disguise or colorful outfit can really disguise, something so dramatically powerful and alien, that instead you could get tales about the kinds of ensuing changes and ripple effects this has on the world upon the The Super-Man's arrival. And for that I'm gonna have to quote @davidmann95's concept for Joshua Viers' absolutely stunning Superman redesign on the left side of the image above

The red, the goldish-orange and white, the alienness, the angelic, sculpted feeling, the halo, that innocently curious expression: it’s genuinely beautiful. Superman as a redeeming science-angel from beyond our understanding, as much past the uncanny valley of limited human comprehension as a Lovecraftian monster but tuned to the opposite key - you could spend an endless procession of human lifetimes trying and failing to understand this being, but all you’ll ever know for sure is that it is beyond you, and it knows you, and it loves you.

Superdoomsday from Earth 45, healed and transformed into the savior it was originally envisioned as? Some descendant of his, or a future of the man himself? An alien who picked up on a broadcast of Superman from Earth, and so inspired reshaped itself in his image to spread his ‘gospel’ to the stars?

Alternatively, to come back to Earth a little, many, many pulp characters and series were built off the antics and personalities of real people, celebrities getting their own magazines or serials or fictionalized takes on them, so perhaps one way to make a "pulp" take on Superman would be to emphasize a bit more of Superman's real-world roots, trends that inspired his creation directly or indirectly at the time. The Jewish strongman Sigmund Breibart and Shuster's interest in fitness culture, Harold Lloyd's comic persona, the rising "strongman" film genre in the early 20th century, actors Clark Gable and Kent Taylor that supposedly named his secret identity, Clark Kent being a socially-awkward journalist based of Siegel's own school experiences.

Maybe one start to an authentic Pulp Superman, who would still be Superman, would be to just ask the question "What if Superman was a real person and/or a celebrity, and they started making pulp magazines and serials dedicated to him? What would those look like?". You wouldn't even have to restrict it to just a story set in the 1930s, in fact you could even play around with the rise of new mediums over the decades.

This third one is a little closer to some plans I have for my own take on a Superman character, not necessarily what I would do with Superman proper but one of my ideas for a Superman analogue. Superman's a character I'll always associate strongly with childhood and childhood fantasy, and to tap into that I would emphasize the other end of the fiction that influenced Siegel and Shuster: comic strips, in their case specifically Little Nemo and Popeye.

In my case I would bring additional influences from some of the comic strips I personally grew up reading like Monica's Gang and Calvin and Hobbes, and I already talked a bit about Captain Fray in terms of how he’s a Superman character despite being a villain. I guess you could call this one "What if Superman was a public domain comic strip character, stripped of the importance of being the founding figure of a super popular genre or extended universe, and also was kind of ugly?".

He's not "Sloth from the Goonies" ugly, I swear I didn't actually have Sloth in mind when typing out this idea, I've never watched that film nor did I know until now that he actually spends the film in a Superman shirt. That's not really what I'm going for. Visually I was thinking of modeling my take on Superman heavily after Hugo from Street Fighter and his inspiration Andre the Giant, to really emphasize the “circus strongman / freak wrestler” aspect of Superman’s inspiration, particularly in regards to how Hugo’s SFIII version strikes a really great balance in making Hugo ugly and both comedic and fearsome in battle, as well as lovable and even a little dopey (without being outright stupid, like his IV self) in his victory animations and endings.

He's still Superman, he still goes on fantastical adventures to help people, he's still a deeply loving and compassionate soul whose face beams with joy and affection and who's got wonderful eyes and a great smile. It's just that this smile has a couple of mismatched stick-out teeth or some missing ones, and he's got a crooked smile some people take as smug or malicious, he’s got a strongman’s gut instead of a bodybuilder’s abs, his nose is a little busted (maybe he’s had too many crash landings), and his hair is a little wild or greasy, and he doesn't exactly have very good people skills because of how others usually react to him and, y'know, he doesn't get the kind of publicity Superman would get despite doing ostensibly the same things. He’s not deformed, he’s incredibly intelligent and capable, but in comparison to how superheroes are usually allowed to look, he might as well be Bizarro in the public eye.

It becomes a running gag that people tend to assume some nearby fireman or cop was the one who rescued the hundred orphans out of a burning building single-handedly, meanwhile he's getting accosted off-panel by police officers who think he set the building on fire, or think they can bully this weird man dressed funny. He goes to rescue old people in peril and occasionally they yell at him that they don't have any money. He doesn't get asked to lead superhero meetings or teams even though many in the community advocate for just how much he does for the world, he gets censored out of tv broadcasts or group shots (even his face is sometimes pixelated when they do show him), people invite him on talk shows and don't really let him talk or assume they got the wrong guy. He goes to rescue a woman dangling off a building, and then he gets attacked by like three different superhero teams who assume he must have kidnapped the poor damsel. He was the first superhero, he is the strongest of them all still, but he never really gets credit for it, it nor does he even want to. None of this at all stops him or deters him, except for some occasionally funny reactions.

This never really changes for him, he doesn't really earn people's approval nor does he have to, instead the stories, outside of the gags and adventures you’d expect from a comic strip, veer more towards others learning to be less judgmental and him learning ways to better approach people. He isn't any lesser than Superman just because he doesn't look like most people would want him to look and he doesn't have to look like Superman. Really I think we could use more superheroes that don’t look all so uniformly pretty.

Again, probably not a take that would work for Clark proper, but it’s one way I would take a shot at doing Superman with my own

I have other stuff in the works for this character but I'd like to keep them to better work on them for now, but yeah, these are three of my shots at developing a Pulp Superman.

Alternatively here's a fourth idea that's more pulp than all of these: Join up Nicholas Cage with Panos Cosmatos again, or whatever weird indie director he decides to pair up with next, and let them do whatever the hell they want with Superman. Give us Mandy Superman. Superman vs The Color Out of Space. Superman vs Five Nights at Freddy's. Superman’s quest to find THE LAST PIG OF KRYPTON. Anything goes.

#replies tag #dc comics #superman #clark kent #superheroes #comic books #nicholas cage

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writingabouteverything · 3 years ago

Text

The Perfect White Flower--and Other Nonexistent Things

a/n YALL THIS IS PROBABLY DUMB BUT I HAD THIS IDEA ABOUT A HARRY STYLES X READER FIC THATS BASED ON THE PLOT OF JANE THE VIRGIN AND I WANTED TO WRITE IT SO BADLY I MADE THIS ACCOUNT

disclaimer--wont follow the show exactly

Pairing: Harry Styles x latina! reader (a key factor of the show revolves around the lead being latina, and im latina and honestly love writing for us but anyone can still read and understand/hopefully enjoy and the fic doesn’t involve any physical descriptions:))

Series Summary: Y/n l/n has had the world figured out since she was a child. She won’t be a writer because it’s risky, she’ll just focus on school and becoming a teacher. She’s never been a child, because her mother had her at sixteen and hasn’t aged a single year since. That’s part of the reason the promise she made to her grandmother means so much to her--if she doesn’t have sex before marriage, her child will never have to grow up as quickly as she did. And Harry Styles is at the top of the world--his music has never been more successful, he has a lovely girlfriend, and he’s never been more in demand. He has everything in the world...except a child, and through a series of unbelievable events--y/n might be his only chance to have one. Ever.

Chapter One Summary: Who knew getting a pap smear on two hours of sleep and three cups of coffee was as bad as having unprotected sex?

There’s something dangerous about taking public transportation in LA. And no, I don’t mean it in the ‘there are bad people in the world’ type of way. I mean it in the ‘I live in one of the casual influencer, celebrity, tourist hubs of the world and each time I step onto the bus I find myself mesmerized by all the stories I see in them’ way. Kind of pathetic, I know, but sometimes a child with blonde pig tails or a woman streaming on instagram live will catch my eye and the urge to pull out my lap top and start something I’ll never finish.

I know that writing isn’t some kind of disease. But I can’t let myself fall in love with it the way I want to. There’s nothing wrong with writing a short story or two, but trying to write a novel? That’s impractical. It will distract me from school, from the four year plan I’m almost done with.

Sighing, I brave taking at my surroundings. I deserve this today, after the anonymous, rude costumer at the hotel today, I need positivity. No one is particularly inspiring. The bus stops and I watch out the window. At first the crowd is ordinary, and then i see them...paparazzi. Flashing cameras from all angles, grown men violating all rules of personal space. It never sits right with me, but I guess it’s just part of living in LA. The bus starts moving again. When it stops again, I see even more paparazzis, but their cameras aren’t flashing. Good for whoever escaped that.

The bus door opens and I snap my attention back to my computer screen. I rub my eyes as I stare at my word document. How is there more that needs to be edited? This professor is the harshest grader I’ve ever had, and my friend, Gisa, is kind for giving me even more notes. But I’m exhausted. Two tests and an essay due before 12:00. And it’s...11:38. Great--I have to upload it the second I’m at my doctor’s office and have WiFi again.

I spend some time highlighting and rewording sentences, and once I’m done I reward myself with more people watching because I deserve it and I can’t fall asleep here. I’m kind of invested in the girl live streaming her bus ride...maybe she’ll say her instagram handle.

But when I look up, she’s not on the bus anymore. Almost no one is. An elderly couple is sitting towards the back. A woman with a toddler sit two rows in front of me...and there’s now a man directly across from me. I blink for a moment, imagining a story for someone who’s face I can’t quite see beneath such dark sun glasses. His dark waves and strong jaw do most of the imagining for me--he deserves a mystery, a dramatic one with a happy ending and just enough romance to keep the people interested. A good romance, too--not too sappy. Enemies to lovers, maybe. A mysterious stranger that’s not really a stranger because something about him is just...familiar.

He turns his head and I drop my gaze immediately. There’s no doubt he caught that, but I still pretend to edit the title of my essay. “You’ve been typing stubbornly since I first got on the bus.” There’s an accent--of course he’s english. But it’s more than that, I’ve heard that voice before. I’ve been...soothed by it. And--oh my god, I’m sitting across from Harry Styles.

Okay, don’t freak out. Don’t freak him out. He’s probably on here to escape the the whole ‘oh my god, you’re Harry Styles!’ thing.

“What are you writing?” Harry Styles just spoke to me. I greeted my one direction poster every single day in middle school, and Harry Styles just spoke to me. Okay--relax, breathe--it’s only weird if you make it weird.

There’s a kind of curt curiosity to his question. He could have been ruder, considering how blatantly I was staring at him. “I um...an essay.” I’m temped to turn the screen so that he can see I’m telling the truth. Though he wasn’t hostile, a part of me is paranoid that he thinks I am writing about him. It’s a fair assumption, for all he knows I’m drafting a tweet about who I saw on the bus this morning or preparing to send something in to some gossip girl-esque blog. “It’s due today at noon and normally I’m way more on top of things, but I had this last minute doctor’s appointment rescheduling because my usual doctor is out of town and--” I cut myself off before I can tell Harry Styles that I’m ovulating and that if I don’t go to my OBGYN now, I have to wait an entire month and I’ve already been off birth control longer than I’d like. I might not have actual sex in my near future, but my cramps have been extra terrible. “An essay, I just finished an essay.”

He nods once. Maybe he feels bad for so thoroughly startling me into such a rambling, because the corner of his mouth tilts upwards. A soft smile adds even more grace to his features, I focus on the dimple that appears in his cheek. “An aggravating essay, I take it, considering the death glares you’ve been giving your laptop screen.”

I smile at his polite humor. “It’s for the harshest grader on campus. She took three points off of my first essay freshman year because I spaced my bibliography wrong.”

He cringes in sympathy. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” I hum, proud of myself for not letting him know that I know who he is. The bus stops, I can see my doctor’s office behind a few paparazzi. “This is my stop.”

Harry nods once, ducking his head slightly. A tiny part of me feels sympathy for him; from what I’ve gathered, he genuinely loves his fans and the relationship they have, but it must be draining to never have a moment of privacy. Especially when it’s people who care more about selling your picture than your mental health.

I linger on the bus’s step, watching the men with large cameras look around. “Excuse me, are you guys looking for Harry Styles?” Most of the men disregard me, but one looks at me. “I know he’s near here because I’m a really big fan and my friend just texted that she saw him.” This gets me the attention I wanted. “He’s at Northfield--a cafe like three blocks down. I just know that if she got a picture with Harry in like a magazine or something she’d totally lose it--in a good way, and she’s been having a bad time so if you see her can you try to make it happen? Knowing her she’ll be at his side, she’s blonde, shortish hair.”

The men seem skeptical, but I guess they realize that this is the best lead they have. I think the fact that I gave a reason to justify selling Harry out for no reason helped. They disperse together, heading at least three blocks away from Harry. I don’t know if I’ve actually helped him, but I hope I have.

“Essay girl.” I freeze, half cringing. Did he hear that? That’s embarrassing. I consider darting away, but decide that would just make me cringe more. So I turn on my heels. “You...you forgot your phone.”

He just saved my life. “Thank you.” I take my phone from his outstretched hand, ignoring the slight thrill that runs through me when our fingers brush. “You’re my hero--the last thing I needed today was to run all over the city searching for my phone.” I finish the awkward admission with a partial laugh.

“Least I could do,” he mumbles, “especially considering what you just did.”

...He did see that. “Oh um--it was nothing, I just kind of made a connection and assumed the only reason you’d be on a public bus is because you were trying to avoid some things, and you make really great music and a lot of people happy, so you deserve that break.” Why does it feel like I’ve been talking forever? “Anyways, thanks for the whole phone thing, and I hope I got them off your tail.”

My joke seems to somewhat land. His lips part, like he’s planning on saying something else. A timer on my phone interrupts him. I instinctually look down--great, the alarm on my phone warning me that I’m only ten minutes away from being late. “I’m late.” I turn towards the bus’s exit. “I gotta go, but thanks again, and I hope you have a good day.”

I disappear after that, still not sure that that whole thing wasn’t some kind of hallucination. Did I just meet Harry Styles? He...he gave me my phone. Harry Styles has touched my phone. I can’t wait to tell Gisa, she’ll lose it.

I’m still thinking about Harry Styles when I finally reach my OBGYN’s office. When I get there, things are a lot more hectic than I thought they’d be. Many people crowd the waiting area and the receptionist’s desk is clearly understaffed. Two young girls are trying to address multiple upset pregnant women and take phone calls at the same time, all while practically buried in a sea pf paperwork. Wow, I didn’t realize that transferring was such chaos. One of the girls waves me over and barely checks my name before shoving a form towards me. I fill out as quickly as possible.

I upload my essay quickly after checking in. Who knows, maybe Harry Styles’s blessing will get me an A? A third person in scrubs emerges from the back after a moment and ushers me into a room. I tell myself to focus on going over the facts I need for the test I have to take in a little over an hour. Or to focus on the fact that I just met Harry Styles. But instead, I feel my heavy eyelids fall shut.

I don’t know how long I sleep, but I know that I wake up during the middle of a doctor’s sentence, “...I know I’m not your usual, so I just want to make sure you’re comfortable.”

“Hm...Yeah, yeah I’m comfortable.” She nods once, her wide eyes slightly red. “But I do have a class today in like an hour, so I was wondering if this was going to take longer because of the office’s move?”

“Oh, no,” she shakes her head. “Just because Dr. Rodriguez gave us no notice before deciding that she no longer wanted to work here...or in the country. Or even live in the US, despite the fact that we just signed a lease on a place together...” Tears well in the stranger’s eyes, pity settles in my stomach.

“That sounds incredibly complicated, I didn’t mean to rush you.”

She blinks twice, her expression blanking as she fights against the pain of what’s clearly a terrible break up. “No, no--you have every right. Today is your day and if..honestly, if you’re strong enough to go to a class after this, and do what you’re about to do by yourself, then I’m strong enough to get through today.”

Um...didn’t realize a pap smear counted as something that needs moral support, but I’ll chalk it up to her heightened emotions. “Thanks.”

She snaps on her medical gloves. “No, thank you for your patience. Now lay down.”

I do as told, preparing for a sensation I haven’t often experienced. A moment passes and I know she’s started. She’s moving away from me much faster than expected. Oh--I guess pap smears are a lot shorter than I expected.

“That’s it?”

“Yep,” she hums, pulling her gloves off. “Now just take it easy, and hydrate.”

Weird...but that’s like general doctor advice.��“Thanks!”

I’ve never wanted to keep a secret from Gisa, but sometimes I really regret telling her I met Harry Styles. It’s been almost a month and I find my mind wandering back to the moment in which our fingers brushed more than I should. Sometimes I let myself wonder what he might have said if my phone hadn’t rang. I was probably just imagining the way his lips parted, but my ind refuses to let it go.

“...You know it’s kind of sad, I read an interview in which he spoke about the fact that he has some genetic condition that makes it hard to have kids. He has so many godchildren, and I feel like he’d make such a great father.”

I try to keep up with Gisa’s words, but the dull ache in my head makes it feel so far away. “Yeah...he seemed really patient.”

Gisa nods, turning to face me. “You alright, you’re looking kinda green?”

“Yeah...” I reach for my canvas bag. “I think I just...I probably just need some water.”

My hand grazes the metal of my water bottle and then the corners of my vision blur into blackness. I sway, Gisa’s hand is on my shoulder...and then it all goes black.

I sit uncomfortably on the hospital’s cot. Gisa is a traitor for telling my mom that I fainted. I knew she’d just drag me here--hispanic mothers, they either believe they can cure you with vic’s vapor rub or they want you in the ER. No in between.

“I know you didn’t want another test, but you’ve been throwing up in the morning for days and now you’re fainting.”

“Fainted,” I correct, “it happened once.”

“C’mon, mija, it’s just one doctor’s appointment.”

Speaking of, an ER nurse returns. “Fainting and nausea spells explained,” he says, glancing at his clipboard, “you’re pregnant.”

My mom and I can’t help but exchange a look before bursting into laughter. Pregnant. If I’m pregnant then the second coming is here. “That’s impossible, I’m a virgin.”

He glances at my mom, “maybe we should have this conversation in private.”

“No, what you say in front of me you can say in front of my mom.”

My mom raises an eyebrow. “Y/n, did you and that guy from your english class--”

“No! No, we did not. I am a virgin and there’s no way I’m pregnant.” I glare at the nurse.

He then ushers me to a bathroom so that I can provide a urine sample. After I’m finished, he shows me a pregnancy test strip. “Pink means pregnant.” I bite my tongue as he tests the strip in my sample. He pulls it out and it’s...it’s bright pink.

“I’m calling my doctor, because this has to be a mistake. It has to be like a hormonal thing.”

“Exactly, pregnancy hormones.”

I glare even harder, calling the doctor that I saw last week. “Hello, Dr. Ash? I was wondering if I could get a consultation because I’m in the ER and some crazy doctor is trying to tell me I’m pregnant.”

Silence on the line for a long second. “...I actually cleared my calendar for you.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #jane the virgin #jane the virgin AU #lot #hslot st louis

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