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#if you think there's nothing inherently wrong w the first one. the comments were full of 'omg iluv being fem 🩷 im so glad im afab idk

yanderart · 4 years

Text

Once you found Shouto on the Anti-Purge forums, it felt so wonderful to be understood. So comforting to finally have someone you could rely on...

So, when you got a letter notifying you of your selection for the Annual Purge later on, of course you went to seek his help.

Should’ve known better than to trust strangers online, though.

My fic/portrait convo for the Yandere Purge Collab, from the Lovesick Discord. And please check the rest of the m. list for other amazing works set in the same AU!

Under the cut is the actual fic (Todoroki x Reader, nsfw, dark themes, 10k), as well as the respective TWs. Hope y'all enjoy 🥀

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Tws: Usual yandere ones (stalking, manipulation, delusion). Dub-con/Non-con. Non-consensual Drug Use, aka Aphrodisiacs. Death threats and sexism (from randoms on the forum, not Todo).

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You couldn’t think straight —hadn’t been able to since waking up again. All you could recognize amidst the fog currently obscuring your thoughts was the longing, prolonged, and tangible in its hold over your being.

You felt hot all over, the flames licking at your skin burning brightly as you squirmed from your place, eagerly attempting to get closer to the cold reprieve emanating from the man that held you.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Y/N." One of his hands was steering you on his lap, the other one gently massaging your shoulders in a comforting motion. “I can only help you if you do."

If your judgment had not been overcast by the desire pushing away your self-awareness, then perhaps you could’ve heard the faint hint of amusement in his voice. Perhaps you would’ve thought to look up and finally encounter the content shine of his heterochromatic eyes.

“I feel…" speaking was laborious, your tongue impossibly weighty and your mind swirling with thoughts that escaped any semblance of coherence. “I feel hot all over. It hurts.”

The hand positioned around your waist went to search for one of your clenched ones, easily engulfing it in his grip as he nudged the side of your face with his chin rather tenderly. A gentle encouragement for you to stay attentive, anchoring you to the moment despite your dazed mindset.

“Show me then,” his low timbre tickled your skin, sending another wave of excruciating heat to wreak havoc inside your body, “Let me know where it hurts.”

With a stuttering sigh, you proceeded to press both of your hands to your lower stomach, gulping audibly before bringing them further down. Dancing just short of your underwear while your eyelids fluttered shut.

You knew your actions were out of character deep down. Even recognized the shadow of wrongness that distorted the current scene. You weren't supposed to do such things, weren't supposed to feel like that…

But the reality was that you were so excruciatingly warm by that point, and his palm felt so deliciously cold.

When you heard the dreadful siren going off in the distance, the instantly recognizable sound of the Purge starting at last, you were already too far gone to think of anything else but the fingers brushing against the thin cotton of your panties, so close to the evidence of your need soaking through them.

Your parents had told you not to trust strangers online once upon a time. You should’ve really taken their advice more to heart.

。。。。。

But first, perhaps a little tracing of your steps is in order —some necessary context to fully understand the extension of your plight.

You see, earlier that day you had woken up full of a peculiar mix of drive and determination. It was indeed Purge Day, the single day of the year you had grown to fear the most ever since childhood, and yet for once you found yourself oddly relaxed, filled to the brim with resolve instead of your usual nerves.

Which was already an unexpected turn of events, considering you had just gotten a letter notifying you of your selection as one of the accursed Darlings of the Night.

A gentle reminder that, if caught, your life would stop belonging to yourself for an entire dreadful year.

Because a Yandere had their sight on you now, or so the notice had informed you in impeccable typography. Anxious fingertips memorized the slight raise of inked words, inspecting every single detail the letter carried.

You had imagined a monster ready to pounce just outside your door then, fitting enough to be the carrier of your bad news. A preternaturally grotesque being, built from all the Yandere themed horror stories you had heard throughout the years.

And yet there you were, feeling safer in that instant than you had in years; Because this time you had a plan. He made sure to give you one you could easily follow.

Just like he later made sure to welcome you in with a kind smile and awfully persistent hospitality.

"Would you like a cup of tea?"

You should've known better than to accept.

。。。。。

In the present, fingers were now dipping under the elastic of your panties, ghosting across feverish skin and encouraging your whimpers to grow louder.

"Is this what you want, then?" The man's breath tickled one of your ears, rough digits gathering your slickness with practiced ease. And he sounded genuinely concerned too, as if your discomfort was not a consequence of his own machinations. "Because I wanna ease your pain, baby. Give you what you truly need."

He barely even touched you yet you were already struggling not to crumble, the desire governing your mind mixing with the new sensations to create a new delirious kind of torment.

Continuing to tease you, the man was relentless in his torture, barely even brushing over your neediest spots. A gentle press of his palm to stimulate you for a moment before pulling back, much to your shameful frustration; Better than nothing, but not close enough.

In his own way, though, he was urging you to speak up. Expecting you to demand what you truly wanted.

Yet as a retort, all you could come up with was gasping out his name, dripping from your lips like honeyed prayers as your hips fought to buck up against his hand.

A sound you afterward repeated a hundred times over. Chanted until its melody became engraved on your tongue and the man was finally caving in, sliding his fingers inside with a smirk.

He had known you'd end up caving, had planned for it for months now, and yet nothing had prepared him for the actual view.

。。。。。

Shou, actually, had been his username when you first met him. Once upon a time recited with a genuine smile and an eagerness to please, such a far cry from the anguished whines it would later lead up to.

You started frequenting the forum he inhabited a few months back. A place which happened to be a hidden corner of the internet for people who did not just stumble upon it, but actually sought it out. A part of the web where its occupants challenged societal norms and, against what society had tried to condition you all into thinking, chose to voice their taboo Anti-Purge sentiments instead.

Sentiments perhaps born either due to the inherent discriminatory nature of the holiday (why was it that Yanderes were accommodated for, while Darlings barely got a warning before they were made prey?), a need for contrarianism (when opposing open kidnappings, assault and other debauchery became an act of rebellion), or just a tenuous moral high ground which made it unbearable to stomach. Whatever the reason, it was your first time encountering such a density of like-minded peers.

Despite attempting to commit yourself to being a lurker, deciding to never post or reply to others, your days had still quickly become consumed by the need to read each and every topic. You were simply fascinated with this new dark corner of the web.

That was, of course, until the aforementioned Shou became the main focus of your attention, a dash of intriguing brightness to break the monotony of your existence.

And like moths rushing to the flame, your curiosity would be your undoing.

There was something about him that pulled you in (along with many others from the community, which tended to flock on his posts whenever he grazed the forums). His username was clearly just a nickname instead of a carefully crafted pseudonym; profile picture just an image of the back of what you all assumed to be his hair, dual-toned strands catching the light in a hypnotic way.

Truly, his disregard for anonymity within those parts was a bigger statement than you were expecting, almost as commendable as it was dumbfounding. There was the nature of his postings too, never subtle about his inclinations or ideas.

How to disarm and reutilize Purge Traps.

Most effective ways to incapacitate a violent assailant.

Government lies and why they matter.

Faking a BOPC (breach of purge code) and getting away with it.

There was little method to the madness that was his forum activity, besides the hint that he was evidently more knowledgeable about the subject than most. Plus the fact that he was proactive about his advice, actually seeking to teach others to fight back instead of just hide away and hope for the best. For another self-proclaimed Darling, Shou was ruthless with his methods —it was hard not to admire him.

And admire you did, keeping tabs of his sporadic bursts of activity and speeding to try and interact with him whenever you caught him online. You were, to voice it simply, simply star-truck by him (and perhaps becoming a bit of a fangirl).

Because whoever Shou was, it felt like he understood you. And so, against every ounce of your common sense or natural paranoia, you had finally decided to break your golden rule and reach out for the first time since you joined the niche forum.

And not to just leave a vague comment agreeing on public discourse, but to actually send him a private message. In your defense, how were you supposed to know the chains of events your actions would start?

Do you actually believe what you post?, had been your lame conversation starter.

Luckily for you, he did not leave you hanging. You made sure to send the message while he was still active, one of the few days a week you knew he devoted to his presence on the site (and wasn't it slightly creepy, how you had taken the time to learn his schedule by that point?)

I wouldn't be here if I didn't, dry, to the point and leaving you embarrassed to have even sent the first question.

Yet for some reason, something about Shou reverted you back into a middle school kid seeking to impress a way cooler senior.

Perhaps it was what he symbolized (a change for the better), what he appeared to be (everything you wish you were) —whatever it was, your fingers were frantically typing a reply as soon as his appeared on your screen.

I just think it's amazingThe things you know

How you share them with everyone

The way you see through the lies

I just think you're— , your digits hovered over the keyboard as you were about to type out the last sentence before quickly deleting it. Even in your excitement, you knew how obsessed you'd sound if you started complimenting him personally in your very first conversation.

So instead you sent your thoughts on his posts and awaited his answer with bated breath. A few minutes ticked by this time, your anxiety making you count down the seconds in mortified silence, slowly weighted down by your doubts until your notifications for the forum were going off again with a distinct ping.

I've seen your replies around. I think you're great too.

Whatever your hang ups for praising him directly had been, he clearly did not harbor any. As the prongs of nervousness alleviated their hold over your body, you struggled to see any problems with it either…this was a person you had come to idolize, and they thought you were great?

Your smile, while still anxious, was considerable while you quickly responded.

I'm just a n00b. Learning from the pros.

A moment of thought, biting your bottom lip as you decided whether to add a second message or not. Fuck it, you told yourself.

I wasn't even supposed to be posting anything, but you made me wanna reach out.

Was that too forward? Oh god, it was, wasn't it? You must've sounded creepy, must've sounded desperate and…

That's cute. Did my ramblings teach you anything?

An actual squeal left you then, sounding like it came from an altogether different person. You were an adult, with a career and responsibilities… Yet somehow, this stranger online indirectly calling you cute made you more excited than you were comfortable admitting.

Ofc. I didn't even know what a BOPC was before. Didn't know most of the purge traps you mentioned, either.

The spaces between replies were getting smaller, the conversation turning fluent as you both seemed to be staring straight into the screen, waiting for the other to finish typing.

So you really are a n00b then.

Shit, did you fail some sort of forum etiquette by admitting that? Somehow, the need to impress Shou was more palpable than ever.

And you clearly know your stuff. Makes me wanna up my game.

Be more like you, you left unsaid.

So am I your senpai then?

Your fingers froze just above the keyboards, eyes scanning over Shou's last message and reverted back to staring at his profile pic for a solid minute. You would've squealed again, if you weren't so taken aback.

You make it sound like I am, his second message lit up your screen, coming in quickly after your rare pause in replies.

I don't think that's bad, though. Third message from him, and you were close to fainting now.

Then in that case I suppose you are. You wondered whether Shou wouldn't think you were pathetic admitting that, or whether he had been honest by saying he didn't mind...

I've also noticed you agreeing with some of my more polarizing views.

A welcomed change in topics.

You thought to ask him which ones (most of his posts tended to have a polarizing effect, with people finding him either too radicalized or not radicalized enough), but before you could formulate the question you saw the twinkling circles symbolizing he was typing up another sentence.

Do you actually believe them? And now it was his turn to spit your words back at you.

Well, yah. You make compelling arguments.

Color me impressed then, the start of his new retort left your mind spinning. Never met a n00b like you before.

After his declaration, you found yourself writing and rewriting your answer, hesitating on your word choice, and yet pure elation coursed through your veins.

He said he's impressed with me, your brain kept supplying on loop. You had no way of knowing just how much of a lasting impression you were leaving.

I don't wanna stay one tho. I'd like to jump a few levels. Improve.

Barely a moment's notice before his last message provoked a noticeable hitch in your breath.

I can help you with that.

Which, as short of a reply as it was, left you giddier than would’ve been healthier to admit.

Perhaps it could be chalked up to your work shifts growing more monotonous and tiresome, your social life becoming a faint echo of what it used to be, or just the regular wear and tear from a too-plain existence —a routine where you didn’t tend to engage with life, but just passively watched it go by.

Whatever the true reason was, that night you went to sleep with such a wide grin that the apples of your cheeks had started to hurt from the exertion, infinitely excited after getting to talk firsthand with someone you had already come to admire by that point.

It almost made you self-conscious, knowing just how much it all meant to you, how such a small gesture on his part happened to mean the world to you.

But there was really no reason to feel ashamed or overzealous over your own reaction. If you could’ve seen Shou, you would’ve known you weren’t the only one smiling.

。。。。。

Almost as open of a smile as the one adorning his features right now, currently hidden from your view as his fingers set a maddening pace. Tortuously slow at first until his knuckles started brushing against your opening with each thrust.

All you could hear now were the wet sounds of your arousal facilitating his movements, motions whose only purpose seemed to be to drive you more rambling and disoriented by the second.

"Is this what you want? What you need, perhaps?" His usually calm voice was uncharacteristically affected as he gasped against your ear, the torture he was making you endure clearly getting to him as well.

You were much too preoccupied with the waves of pleasure and warmth overflowing your body to give a proper response, but your lack of one did not deter him.

If anything, your needy gasps and whines were the only encouragement he required.

"Don't worry, Y/N. I'll take care of you, make you feel good."

By that point, the hand that had been petting your hair had found its way to your sopping heat too, calloused pads circling around your pearl while the man continued feeding you his eager promises.

"I get you, baby. Just like you get me." So close, your entire body taut and ready to snap. "And you want me to take care of you too, right?"

You weren't conscious enough to understand the implications, your impaired judgment prohibiting you from reading further into the meaning of his words. He sounded so encouraging, so deceivingly tender despite stuffing you full of his fingers as you squirmed on his lap.

All you could do was nod furiously.

And later on, when your senses sadly returned, dedicated yourself to lamenting over which of your actions brought you down this unfortunate path.

。。。。。

Perhaps, your consciousness supplied, it had been the fact that you opened up so readily. That you had dared to share with a supposed new friend, things that should’ve better stayed hidden in the first place.

But goddamn it, you felt downright honored that he even considered you worthy enough to entertain in the first place. From the very first second, Shouto already had the upper hand.

During the first few conversations, the topics you two discussed were all closely related to the purge and your mutual hang ups with it. Concise and carefully typed out messages were exchanged, discussing opinions you had never expected anyone to be interested in hearing—not from you, at least.

But then, as the weeks slowly progressed, the subjects of conversation began shifting to both of your lives, to your occupations, hobbies, and, directly against the forum's policy for privacy, the people you two were outside the confines of your online corner.

Even without actually exchanging any real data or supplying him with your name or age, you found yourself starting to open up more and more with each day.

You told him about your grueling office job, the friends you hadn’t seen or texted in weeks, and the reality of an apartment which more closely resembled a containment cell than a home…

Revelations that you had kept hidden for so long, which now came pouring out without regard for how mortified they made you feel. You were conscious of the limits blurring between you two the further you kept going, of how you were telling him things best left unsaid, cramped and buried in a hard to reach place.

And yet, for some obscure reason, everything Shou represented made it impossible for you to resist the temptation to speak up, to demand to be heard for the first time in an eternity of quietness.

You’re pathetic, is what you expected him to say in return. Pathetic, weak, meager, and worthless. Anticipating him, somehow, to echo all the doubts and deeply held fears you carried inside.

Most of my friends don’t understand either, was instead the response you received. But most people don’t see what's wrong, what needs to be changed. You feel lonely because you do.

It wasn’t clear what you would’ve wanted to hear beforehand, the things you had fantasized someone would reply if you ever gathered the courage to share your anxieties. Whatever those expectations had been an eternity ago, they now vastly paled when compared to what your new friend was dangling in front of you.

It felt like he was giving an excuse for things you had always perceived as personal failings. If what he said was true, it would mean it wasn’t your social ineptitude that kept people away, your uselessness, or uninteresting personality.

It would mean the shadows around you could still be dispelled somehow, exorcising the silhouettes of a suffering that had become a regular companion in your day to day life.

Brandishing a courage that only anonymity could give you, your fingers were a blur on your keyboard as you tried to ignore the rapid heartbeat in your chest, the fear, and exhilaration from opening up for the first time in forever.

Something you would later regret a thousand times over.

And you do too, and it wasn’t a question, a nervous comment or a stuttered retort. With the aid of the text format, you could look as confident as you knew you weren’t. You understand as well.

You understand me, was the tacit meaning behind it. The prickling of unshed tears made it so you were furiously blinking, fighting against the downpour despite your eyes refusing to leave the screen for longer than an instant.

I do. More than you realize.

For all intents and purposes, your first mistake was indeed opening up.

And your second one was being naive enough to let him in. Seriously, why hadn’t you heeded your parent’s advice about stranger danger?

。。。。。

...If they could only see you now, coming apart at the seams and with the name of your tormentor being the only word you were able to string together.

"Such a beauty, and all for me," his praises accompanied you through the rough orgasm ripping through your body, lips kissing your forehead in stark contrast to the digits still pumping inside your heat. "Let me hear your voice, baby. Let me hear how beautiful my name sounds on your lips."

And you obeyed, because what other choice did you have. Mindless, broken, and oh, so needy.

You continued to audibly moan as your climax unwound, crying out his name in absolute reverence while Shouto's smile deepened against your skin. The chill of his touch was still as soothing as ever, calming down the embers of a lust that refused to completely die down.

When he finally pulled his hands from your core, you felt excruciatingly empty. But you were not given enough time to wallow in your despair, because who you once considered your friend was then grasping your face gently between his hands, leading your gaze to meet his—forcing you to witness the intensity and adoration present there.

"My Y/N."

Even in your deeply intoxicated state, the last few dredges of your senses supplied just how utterly abhorrent the situation was.

The sirens signaling the start of the Purge had died down a while ago, drowned out by your own cries of pleasure, but you could still see the remnants of the government logo still plastered all over the TV, its bright glow bathing you both in an eerily scarlet ambiance.

From the same weak place of coherence, a shiver of fear managed to break through your stupor.

"You're going to continue to be a good girl for me, aren't you?"

When he kissed you then, slow and almost ironically hesitant despite what had just transpired moments before, you couldn't begin to tell your body to refuse. Much to your own horror, you were soon eagerly kissing your tormentor back.

。。。。。

The second mistake leading up to your downfall, on the other hand, took a little longer to occur. It was after a few more weeks of conversation. You vented and talked way too much, while Shou listened intently and even rewarded you with a few crumbs of advice of his own.

So wrapped up in your new seemingly innocuous friendship you were in, you failed to recognize the magnitude of an event that should've sent you scrambling to shut off your monitor. A warning so loud it would've put the Purge sirens themselves to shame.

You see, with Shou's help, you were slowly becoming more of an active user around those parts. You didn't just stick to replying to his posts or lurking until he shot you a private message anymore; no, you were now officially a contributor, deciding to step out of your anonymity to share what you thought was a fairly interesting article. It was a rather long-winded thinkpiece on the morality of Darlings’ treatment after the Purge had ended—the reality of that year spent in captivity that most people tended to just brush under the carpet, all in the name of making the entire ordeal more palatable to digest.

In all your eagerness, however, you had failed to realize a very crucial detail, which was that the article was a whole two days old. Already an ancient text by forum's standards, apparently.

So with that in mind, of course you should've expected the hate, an outpouring of bitterness fit for a community of loners and acidic underdogs. You were on an anonymous forum on one of the darkest parts of the internet, somewhere most sane people actively stayed away from—Clearly, a rookie unwittingly reposting something was the perfect target for a lot of your bitter comrades. An excuse to finally take out all of their pent up frustration.

Fuck1ng pleb, thanks for copy-pasting the same post for the 55th time.

This is why we shouldn't let newbies post. Look at this mess @mods.

Time to hang it up, n00b. And by “it”, I mean your f****** neck.

i bet ur a girl, [Username]. u type like a b1tch.

And the icing on the cake for internet interactions, a myriad of wall spamming "KYS" being plastered all across the comment section, bold and daunting as they filled your notification box with the repetitions of hate. If you weren't so sure of your safety behind your screen, perhaps you would've felt intimidated.

As it stood, you were just embarrassed, mortified at the fact that you had seemingly botched your only attempt at leaving a positive first impression. If anything, it only seemed you had given everyone a common enemy to pick on for once...

Or that was, at least, until Shou happened to log in at exactly that precise moment. You knew he was usually busy around that day and time (he never actually told you whether he had a job, but you had surmised as much from your past chats), so his instantly recognizable profile picture and username popping up had you genuinely gasping at first. It was one hell of a coincidence, but you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief at what looked to be your savior.

Everyone, stop getting your panties in a twist. This is why no new users end up staying, the environment is abhorrent.

It was vague enough not to betray the fact that you two weren’t just strangers anymore, as well as keeping Shou’s reputation as a lone wolf from completely shattering.

And a comment which, surprisingly, instantly dulled most of the incoming messages your post was being flooded with.

People respected him there, his status as a renowned user giving him a genuine sort of power and hold over the rest of the community. One of the first things you had recognized on the forums was the distinct hierarchical structures amongst its users, and there Shou might’ve as well be granted the title of mayor for all the weight his every sentence carried.

Or at least they did with the majority of the community. As in every place where large numbers of people gathered, there were always a few rotten apples just begging to be tossed.

and ofc ur whiteknighting for her, Shou The Great. shes sucking ur dick under evry single post u make

You cringed, studying the bitter user that had decided to be a contrarian and easily recognizing him from unsavory past encounters you witnessed. Although, if you were completely honest, this time you couldn't exactly say his words didn't carry a certain degree of validity.

Shou had told you he was glad that was the case with you, that his post resonating with anyone was one of the main reasons why he hadn't just disappeared from the site completely. But in reality, saying you weren't subtle about your agreement with his ideas would be an understatement.

You were like a puppy skipping behind him, trailing his interactions and always ready to write an eager comment backing him up. Yet you had never thought others actually paid attention to your mostly one-sided interactions, the occasional meager downvote or emote being the only thing that made you aware your comments weren’t just lost in the sea of spam Shou’s posts were usually showered in.

For the longest time, your support had just felt like leaving letters for the man to find. Letters you hadn’t even been sure had reached their target until a few weeks back...

Suddenly, the sharp sound of Shou's incoming reply drove you from your tribulations.

Well, maybe if you weren't such a crude man you wouldn't be permabanned from starting topics yourself. Although I doubt anyone would be sucking your dick either way, shitty ideology considered. [Image attached]

A grimace was quick to grow on your face as you aptly studied the picture Shou decided to close his reply with.

It was a screenshot of what looked to be someone's post history, a rather extensive list with alarmingly offensive titles such as "Why male darlings should be spared", "The purge is a form of cuckoldry" and “Feminist agenda: female yanderes and their biological advantage [Repost]". Almost all of them exhibited a tragic downvote ratio right as well, besides the red symbol signaling the posts had been archived by senior users or mods.

For someone who also loathed the terrible holiday, it was almost admirable how the man managed to be almost as detestable as the criminals you all rallied against.

But even so, what disturbed you the most wasn't the clear bigotry of the user, but the fact that that screenshot couldn't have been taken from public records. A user's post history was hidden, just another measure on the site’s part to keep people from recognizing too many details about each other and possibly endangering themselves.

No, it could only have been taken from inside the account. And judging from the other guy's quick reaction, you weren't the only one who came to that realization.

how the fck did u get that

I knew u were friends with the mods. fcking rats

By that point, everyone else had stopped clogging the comments and, you assumed, instead opted to settle down and attentively observe the events transpiring. Apart from the emote reactions and the rapidly rising number of upvotes on Shou’s comments, you had all become a passive audience to the public ridicule.

Although you couldn’t help feeling slightly disjointed by Shou’s behavior. Below your wicked sense of pride at having him defend you, there was still the whispers of your gut telling you the man was going a little too far, his actions spelling a more sinister meaning than just “having a friend’s back”.

You've been here for years, Minoru. Surprised you haven't yet noticed how much of a pest everyone sees you as.

Minoru? You did a double-take, going back to read the username of the guy Shou was arguing with. But he just had a randomly generated number as a pseudonym, same as you and most others, and with just a picture of some anime sneezing girl to distinguish his profile from the rest. No trails or signs of what could Shouto be referencing to.

Nothing but an option you preferred not to consider. But it couldn't be, could it? your friend wouldn’t...

fucking delete that right now, man.

this isn't a joke, DELETE THAT.

Only that the abrasive and desperate reaction told you everything you needed to know. Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest, shock mixing with equal parts horror and amazement you couldn’t even begin to try and disentangle. Because right that second, you were witnessing your friend breaking the forum’s number one rule with a front-row seat to the spectacle.

And he was doing it all in your name.

Then maybe think twice before you go out of your way to harass newbies. Or have you had too much time on your hands after being fired, is that it?

It was vague enough not to represent any kind of threat... if not for the context of the site. And yet you all knew the hidden message behind it, the warning for whoever Minoru was to understand Shou knew much more than what he was letting on. That he could expose much more than he was currently alluding to.

y are u even doing this, shou? y do u care wtf happens to this noobslut anyways?

Shou's reply took barely a moment to appear, lighting up your screen and, despite the slightly morbid nature of his protection, coaxing out a smile to adorn your lips. It was like a balm being applied to your worries, quieting down most of your incipient concerns in favor of rejoicing.

They're a friend.

For fuck’s sake, you even screenshotted that for posterity. Somehow, him acknowledging the new bond you two had openly felt like a milestone.

When a mod came in to archive the post and give everyone involved a stern warning later on, you were already way past your previous doubtful sentiments.

Instead, the last thing you did before going to sleep that day was to open up your private conversation with Shou and send a quick yet heartfelt message of gratitude his way.

Months prior, you wouldn’t have ever thought you’d be thanking anyone for semi doxxing another human being. How rapidly things were changing, though, and all while you got lost in the thrill of mattering.

Thanks for sticking up for me. It meant a lot, you typed feeling slightly lightheaded, drunk on the idea that anyone would think you worthy of having your back.

You thought Shou went offline after dishing out his not so thinly veiled threats, but somehow he was back again in an instant, the sound of notifications going off shaking any remnants of your exhaustion.

Anything for you, [Y/N].

You were so tired, it didn't occur to you that you hadn't yet shared your real name with your friend either.

That night, for once, you fell asleep with a twinkle in your eye and the image of Shou's multicolored locks dancing against your eyelids. Imagining, ever so briefly, your fingers trailing down the back of a neck you now had memorized from analyzing his profile picture.

And, while you slept with your phone clutched to your side, you also failed to notice the peculiar sound of your own camera going off, the soft glow from the red light beside your lense bathing your features in its subtle illumination, flickering against your eyelashes and the lingering grin on your curved lips.

You truly looked angelic like that.

Suffice it to say, Minoru never bothered you again after that day. In fact, his name disappeared from the site not too soon after.

。。。。。

But now, to continue the grueling task of giving a context for your inevitable end, it is necessary to jump a month further into the future, barely a week from the excruciating present.

Because it was then that the last strike finished nailing the coffin of your proverbial undoing, burying you under the weight of your own ignorance.

You got your notice in the mail on the Day of Announcements, an inconspicuous letter lacking any further distinction beyond a scarlet government seal emblazoned across its front. But even before you opened and read the message, you already knew of its contents—easily recognizing the image before you from several of the varied posts you had seen floating around on the forums lately.

Purge Notice!!! Help needed Urgently.

Just got my letter. Do I stay hidden or fight back? [Open poll]

Third time getting mine. AMA about my methods.

The range of how you had seen other users reacting to their own selections was diverse, with some of them being more experienced while others, such as you, had just gotten their first letter ever. If things played out differently for you, then you were sure you would've been another one of the numerous panicked voices, awkwardly trying to maneuver their way out of their new situation.

And maybe, then, your odds wouldn't have been so completely fucked from the start.

As it stood, as soon as you laid eyes on the notice, the first thing you thought of was how quickly you could boot up your computer and open the forum’s private messages. Because, for the first time in forever, you were overwhelmed by the feeling of someone else being there for you.

Shou was your friend, had earned that spot fair and square after months of listening to you venting and sharing deep discussions; faster than you could even realize it, and so it was only natural for you to seek his help once the news of your selection for the new yearly Purge reached you.

He had even threatened another user for your sake, for fuck’s sake. So, really, what harm could come out of relying on someone you were sure was trustworthy?

Maybe it was too late by that point for you to snap out of it, but it was almost amusing seeing you being so easily deceived.

Just another reason why you needed him, certainly.

。。。。。

Already told you I'd have your back, had been his immediate reply barely an instant after you attached a candid photo of your hand holding up the envelope. Whatever you need, I’m here.

His lack of hesitation was palpable through your screen, heart hammering in your chest as you were faced with a kindness you had thought yourself undeserving of not long ago.

As soon as you closed your mailbox, you had immediately raced to send him the message, completely foregoing telling any of your other friends or family members when you doubted they would even understand you in the first place. Shou had been right when he told you people just didn’t want to see the truth, even if it slapped them right in the face, leaving dark imprints in the shape of their narrow mindedness.

But he was there, he was letting you know as much, in his own words. And for what felt like the hundredth time in the past few months, you felt incredibly lucky to have stumbled upon the Forums in the first place, to have traced whatever fortunate path had led you to find him—the one person able to distinguish you in a world you always thought you blended straight into.

Thank you, Shou, for everything. And at that moment, you really had been truthful, so much so that there were tears prickling at your eyes, an overwhelming feeling of gratitude drowning you with its intensity.

Indeed, your final mistake had been your desperate need for acceptance. A need that had, in the end, cost you everything.

You can call me Shouto now. No use for nicknames anymore.

Amidst the chaos of your life possibly crashing down all around you, somehow his revelation put a trembling smile back in your face.

Then allow me to repeat: thank you, Shouto.

Np, Newbie. Told you I'd help you level up, didn't I?

His teasing managed to garner a small stuttering laugh out of you despite the dreadfulness of your situation.

But you couldn’t help it. Somehow, every reply Shouto sent you only served to wrap the illusion of safety tighter around you. So tight in fact, that you should’ve started worrying about suffocating.

。。。。。

On the other side of the screen, the man with the multicolored hair couldn’t help but keep staring at the picture you had sent him earlier.

He was transfixed, eyes almost unblinking as they refused to separate from the image. The way your fingers tentatively held the letter up for the picture was simply adorable to him. Beautifully naive.

It wasn't like he hadn't seen your face before, like he hadn't already memorized the texture of your skin and the everlasting trace of a frown always threatening to dampen your mood. He read your expressions like poetry, every mole and scar furthering the securing of his interest.

But this was the first picture you had actually chosen to send him out of your own volition, the final symbol of a trust he had worked so tirelessly to earn. Used to catching prey as he was, the man wasn’t entirely sure when you had turned from a game into a priority, from a priority into the only thing he could even make himself care for.

And it didn’t help that it was his letter you were holding, too. His formal declaration of pursuit.

With time, Shouto was sure you would find it in yourself to appreciate the beauty of such irony.

But, for now, what he really needed to do was buy some tea. Couldn’t have your own stubbornness ruining your first encounter, could he?

。。。。。

In the coming weeks, your friend aided you and even coached you as you jointly planned for the horrific holiday, not only suggesting ideas but tracing the safety measures needed for them to succeed. You really had no reason to doubt him by that point.

That evening, after you finished letting Shouto know you were back from work, you made sure to pack all of your supplies into an inconspicuous bag you had acquired for the occasion. Whoever your Yandere was, it was best to not give any hints of your new acquisitions, just in case they were already stalking your movements.

Shouto had helped you devise the list, mentoring you in your selection of weapons as well as self-defense arsenal—what brands of pepper spray to get, which ammunitions were most efficient and reliable, even what kind of clothing was the least troublesome if the need to escape ever arose. If you had been sure he knew his craft before, now you were surprised at just how vast his wisdom genuinely was.

After the last few finishing touches of preparations, you were already on your way to the direction you had both agreed on (supplied by him, approved by you). There were several hours until the start of the Purge still, but the adrenaline swimming through your bloodstream was already considerable.

Shouto had suggested you visited him for the Holiday, quoting how the measures in place for his home made it nothing short of a fortified vault, impossible for any outsiders to break into (and for anyone to break out of, but let's not get ahead of ourselves).

With that in mind, how could you have refused his offer? Your place was barely an excuse for an apartment, windows that didn't entirely close, and feeble doors that could be easily broken into. Even if you weren't partly driven by the curiosity of meeting your new internet idol turned friend, it would've been foolish to decline.

So in a few hours, you were sporting a nervous smile on your face as you parked your car in front of the largest apartment complex you had ever encountered. It was luxurious in a way you had only seen staring back at you from a television screen, marble, and gold accents giving you the impression you were about to step into a drama set instead of visiting an online friend.

Before the surrealism of the entire situation could begin to set in, however, you noticed the young man sitting on the ample stairs of the building. He had an air of effortless elegance, tall and lithe, yet sporting a black turtleneck which hugged his frame and made it clear just how much sheer strength hid behind his movements.

And he also sported the same peculiarly colored locks you had already memorized from the last few months, the light softly reflecting on them proving to be an even more impressive show when admired live.

You were dazzled for an instant, wondering if, somehow, this entire thing was a prank and the Shou from the forums had just schemed his way into making a fool out of you in front of a handsome stranger. Way too convoluted, yet entirely too plausible to your bewildered self.

Until the man lifted his eyes—as beautifully dual-toned as his hair, and catching sight of you standing just beside your recently parked vehicle.

"Y/N," he was sharply climbing to his feet as he called out your name, the shy hint of a smile in his lip contradicting the monotone cadence of his tone. "Good to finally meet you."

You had first been under the impression that the Shou you knew was cold, the way he interacted with others on the site reminding you of an emotionless robot at times, but the man addressing you seemed like he was ripped straight out of a stereotypical rom-com.

Maybe he'd be the aloof, tormented heir? Which, in your fantasy drama land, would make you the nearly illiterate and poor love interest. Your feelings of inadequacy only grew at the comparison.

Almost cute, how that had been one of your greatest worries once upon a time. How foolishly eager you were to be liked back then.

"Shouto." The name still felt somewhat strange on your lips, even after he had insisted you started calling him that. "It's good to meet you, too."

He was by your side in an instant, taking your bags from you swiftly and shutting the door to your ride. From this up close, it became considerably harder to disguise your staring.

Even the scar which covered his left eye, a splash of reddish textured skin, somehow came across like yet another enhancer of his appeal. An underlying harshness which you couldn't help but be intrigued by.

"Your hair looks even better in person."

And leave it to you to once again find a way to screw first impressions. You were chastising yourself a mere second after the words left your mouth.

But Shouto only sent you that same hint of a smirk your way, his eyes appearing genuinely pleased at your praise. If he thought you were a weirdo and was regretting ever inviting you to his house, then he was a good enough actor for you to be fooled.

And fooled you he did, but with completely different intentions.

"You look just like in your pictures," came his serene retort not long after.

Which you assumed was a joke, keeping in mind that the only photo you had ever sent his way had been of the Purge letter you received a few days ago.

Laughing lightly, you tried to ignore the nerves tugging at your chest before catching up with him on the steps of the building.

As you giddily barged straight into the open jaws of the beast, it once again struck Shouto how utterly unsuspecting you were. How you trusted him so wholeheartedly.

He couldn't wait to see it all come crashing down.

。。。。。

Inside his honest to god penthouse, your previous feeling of insufficiency only became more severe.

The interiors were decorated sparingly, albeit fashionably. Filled with different muted shades and being unexpectedly traditional in the way they were designed. It was a stunning abode, even if you couldn't help but mentally point out how utterly unlived in it appeared.

There was not a single cup, shoe, or book out of place, everything perfectly polished and organized to the point that you felt hesitance as your sock-covered feet continued making their way through the place.

"Make yourself at home," Shouto told you most matter-of-factly. If you weren't so sure of his intentions by now, perhaps you would've thought he was being sarcastic.

Without any of your belongings to distract yourself with, you instead gravitated towards what you could see of the kitchen through one of the sliding doors.

It was very modern despite the rest of the aesthetic the penthouse sported, shiny stainless steel and spotless dark countertops. It should've looked out of place when paired with the carpeted floors, wooden furniture, and sparse pieces of classical Japanese art…

Yet somehow, it strangely fits. Just like his owner, you supposed, thinking back to the oddities that amounted to his unique brand of appeal.

And you really needed to stop thinking of your friend like that.

When you heard the door to the apartment being audibly locked with a resounding click, you instantly stopped your fingers grazing the smooth countertops. Your instincts flared up with worry for a moment, right before you forcefully willed yourself to calm down.

After reminding yourself of the true reason why you were there, the exhale you released next was one of clear relief.

"Want something to drink?" Shouto appeared in your line of sight again, hands buried in the pockets of his pants and looking like the picture of composure.

You felt embarrassed once again, knowing he had given you a free pass to roam but still somewhat self-conscious about intruding on his space.

"You don't need to make me anything. I'm fine." Your timbre was apologetic, not used to slipping into the role of a guest just yet.

He seemed strangely dissatisfied with your answer, closing some of the distance between you with a presence that had you almost flinching back for a second.

There was an intensity in his gaze, something which you could not quite yet place.

"But I want to be a good host. So let me." He appeared very serious about it, too, with his face growing stern as his peculiar eyes bore into yours.

Not wanting to cause further distress, you imagined relenting would be the best course of action.

It was like you were molded to be the perfect Darling, so wonderfully meek and gullible.

"Okay then. Water is fine."

Yet Shouto shook his head, still somewhat dissatisfied with your answer.

"Tea it is." His phrasing allowed little space for argument. "I know you mentioned liking a few brands before, so I took the liberty of stocking up on them."

A surprising burst of laughter broke through your anxious feelings then, drawing Shouto's eyes again from the particular cabinet they had drifted to as he mentioned the beverages.

He looked at you puzzled, an unasked question written all over his otherwise blank expression, and so you decided to reply from the surge of unexpected amusement you were experiencing.

"It's only a night, Shou," you didn't even realize you had slipped back into his nickname, too entertained by how much he had apparently overdone his hospitality. "There really wasn't any need for you to go buy my favorite teas."

His eyes blinked quite slowly your way, his expression back to his vacant mask before a smile reappeared.

"I wanted you to feel welcomed," he supplied as he approached the cabinet he was eyeing before, dedicating himself to searching for whatever kind of flavor of tea he had in mind.

In response, you just shrugged your shoulders with another chuckle.

"And I didn't get you anything. You're making me feel even more out of place."

"Nonsense," he cut you off in that deadpan way of his, hands rummaging through the most ridiculously vast tea collection you had ever seen. And then he added, decidedly quieter, "today is supposed to be about you, after all."

Too bad you didn't pick up on it.

When he ushered you back to the salon with barely a wave next, pointing at one of the cushions arranged around the short-legged table, you decided to follow his suggestion and wait there while he finished brewing the drinks. By now, you understood the futility of offering any kind of help when he was still so intent on properly welcoming you.

So, curious as you were, your eyes continued to inspect each and every inch of the apartment, drinking up all the pieces of info you could observe, that you didn't even think of the potential dangers of letting a stranger fix you a cup while you weren't looking.

Unbeknownst to the other, you were both actively counting down the seconds until the Purge started, minds lost to your own inner turmoils from opposite sides of the suite.

And for entirely different reasons, you were both filled with anticipation.

。。。。。

Meanwhile, finally back in the present after retracing the steps that guided you there, it was becoming increasingly hard to compartmentalize the chaos brewing inside you.

Shouto’s lips were the personification of hunger against yours, an inescapable gluttony to mark and consume every single inch of you he could encompass.

After a hint of understanding returned to your body post-orgasm, your vision and the sensations you endured were becoming disturbingly vivid. It was impossible to conceive anything beyond his hands ridding you of your flimsy camisole, palms cold in comparison to the heat you felt, splaying against your sides and slowly making their way up the sensitive mounds of your chest.

“All mine, baby.” You barely registered his teeth nipping at your bottom lip until a shock of pain snapped you out of your trance.

He bit you, and quite harshly too, but when you tried to instinctually pull back his response was to hold you even tighter. Before you could attempt to voice your complaints, his tongue was darting out to clean up the droplets of blood he spilled.

“Out of all the Darlings I’ve played with, you’re the only one I’ve ever even considered keeping, you know?”

And now that had you freezing, even amidst the cloud of desire still muddling your cognizance. His arms pressed you closer still, forcing you to bury your face against his chest, completely unphased by the bloody mess your mouth had morphed into.

Had he tricked others before then? Was that the reason why he was even on the Forums in the first place?

You wanted to ask him what he meant, wanted to demand explanations for a phrase that had dread closing around your neck like a noose. But whatever he slipped into your drink to keep you so awfully responsive and pliable, also appeared to make forming any complex sentences incredibly hard…

Shou, ever the receptive one, caught onto your change in demeanor rather aptly. His face nuzzled your hair softly, humming a calming melody as if you were a scared child who could be so easily reassured. Meanwhile, his hands hadn’t abandoned your breasts, still tenderly kneading them with a touch bordering on worship.

“But I’m glad you weren’t my first, baby. Means I could be all ready for when we met.” He rocked you both as he rested his back further on the sofa, opening his legs wider below you and forcing you to settle closer to his clothed groin with a whimper.

Your arms reached out to grasp his shoulders while you tried to stabilize yourself, the strain of his erection resting snuggly against your still sensitive slit.

"Helped me to know when to pull back," he kept confessing, purposefully thrusting into you while he kept lovingly massaging your chest, fingers twisting your hardened peaks to coax a new kind of mewl to be uttered against his skin. "Wouldn't want you to break now that I've finally found you."

The fact that your bodies seemed to fit so perfectly, even in your impaired state, was not an irony lost on you.

Abruptly, Shouto stopped fondling your breasts in order to maneuver your face again, both of your stares meeting in a vehement standoff before he continued.

“I’ll make this as close to perfection as I can, I promise you.” And you got a direct view of the vulnerability in his uniquely colored eyes, the nature of his words clearly heartfelt despite the atrocities they alluded to.

As you heard him drag his zipper down, the hand clutching your jaw trembling in anticipation, you couldn’t help the new wave of warmth spreading through your body, negating all the fear and anxiousness warring inside you in order to shamefully expose your baser desires.

Now that whatever had been clouding your judgment was pulling back slightly, your thought process had begun to snap back into place, overflowing you with a terrible sense of shame at your own reactions.

He gave you something earlier with your drink, you were sure of it, and yet you couldn’t help but still be horrified at just how much you were enjoying it. Once you felt the flushed head of his cock placidly rubbing against your thigh, the sounds leaving your mouth weren’t ones of complaint, peril or dissent.

Quite the contrary, actually, and it only made Shouto grow bolder.

As the hand clutching your face grew tenser, gripping you with force before tugging harshly, you got the hint. Now painfully following his lead, it wasn't long before the previous pressure against your legs was now resting directly against your cunt.

The pre-cum already gathered on him mixed in with your still oozing arousal, smearing the span of your outer lips as he lightly teased you one last time.

You were so mortified by that point, that if he had offered to end your embarrassment right then and there with one of the several weapons you knew he kept, you would’ve been very inclined to accept.

“... I didn’t even think there was such a thing as 'The One' before, actually.” You hadn’t even realized the man was still talking, ardent whispers getting lost on the intensity of the situation.

His eyes were searching your face, a satisfied twinkle lighting them up as soon as you returned his stare of your very own volition. Perturbed, you wondered if his delusion made him see anything beyond a twisted mix of lust and fear reflected back at him.

“But I now know just how wrong I was, Y/N.” So sure of himself, tone back to the stern cadence you previously associated with him for a moment, gripped by a gravity befitting of his obsession. “Indeed, I think you were always meant to be my darling… don't you agree?”

To your credit, you did struggle to speak up, to gain back the control over a body which had stopped listening long ago. Too bad you only managed a single pitiful word out.

“Shouto…”

But before you could even fathom attempting a better response, he was breaching into you, sheathing himself with an ease you wished you could overlook, turning your voice from an anguished plea into outrageously labored moans.

You had once thought Shou had been interested in you because he somehow perceived you as anything but pathetic, but you were beginning to think it had been your weakness which drew him in all along.

So deliciously frail, that even a predator like him had been driven with an urgent need to protect you. To break you down, just so he could be the one to build you back together.

As he started fucking you with shallow thrusts, hips bucking up from the sofa while he tenderly guided you until your body was mimicked his motion on its own, you couldn’t help but be the most disturbed at his oddly affectionate ways.

As awful as it sounded, now that your mind had awakened from its stupor all you wanted was for him to bend you over and abuse you, manhandle you and mistreat you in a way which unequivocally screamed assault. You wanted bruises painting your skin, proof that you hadn’t just willingly given up and facilitated your own ruin.

He was humiliating you despite the pretty words he decided to disguise it as—showing you how easily he could own you and even make you enjoy it, drug-addled drink or not.

But as his mouth latched around one of your hardened nipples, sucking generously until his name was once again fast on your tongue, you also couldn’t deny the crystal clear responses you were giving.

You could attempt to lie to yourself later, could swear it was all a delusion born out of the deranged man's mind, but the particular brand of your screams was unmistakable.

When your own hand reached down to facilitate your release, you knew you were already acting beyond what you could've previously attributed to the drugs. Toying with your bundle of nerves, you rested your forehead against Shouto's shoulders, tears from the pleasure mixing in with the subjacent agony of your guilt.

Why did it have to feel so good? And how far did the drugs truly affect you? Or had they just peeled back your inhibitions perhaps, baring you until all you had were dark desires and no self-control to contain them.

You still tasted blood inside your mouth when your walls started clenching around his cock, the coppery flavor entirely too vivid on your tongue. Hearing his own choked groans gasping against your chest, you felt his mouth abandoning your bud with a pop before his kisses were trailing a path back up—eager in their search of your face, your lips.

You were still cumming by the time a lascivious kiss connected you two again, unwinding in his grasp until his hands were the only thing keeping you whole.

“Even if I wasn't taught how,” he began promising while his rhythm grew frantic, barely resisting the allure of your core fluttering around him. “I promise I’ll love you, Y/N. Love you so good, you won’t ever want to leave when the next Purge comes.” He was getting increasingly excited by his own words, imagining a future where you did not need the aid of a little cup of tea to eagerly kiss back. “I’ll fuck you every day, fill you up and show you just how much I care. How much you matter.”

Faced with his degenerate promises, all you could do was gasp out his name one last time, perhaps seeking to express your reticence, perhaps oddly excited by the image he was painting.

You indulged him in the pitiful sound of your whimpers molding around its syllables, and it wasn’t long before you were coaxing him to join you with an orgasm of his own.

He actually came inside, you recognized inwardly after the aftershocks of enjoyment now quieted down to a lull, a new type of dread quickly following the realization. His cum was still shooting in hot ropes, stuffing you to the brim with the intent and purpose of a man bent on marking you, owning you.

But Shouto was so loving as he kissed you time and time again, painfully reminding you of just how nice he could be for you, how gentle and attentive. It made the lines between your tormentor and a traditional lover blur even further, the confusion clouding your sense not merely born out of narcotics any longer.

You had been so preoccupied with a monster outside your house once. A creature ripped from the kind of movies that were ripe with cheap scares and considerably cheaper thrills.

But monsters never were like that in real life, were they? As the man continued to cradle you in his arms like the most vulnerable of creatures, you were suddenly struck by how glaringly obvious things should’ve been from the beginning.

Because your Yandere’s obsession had not come with claws and a row of sharp teeth. No, it came instead with a suit of deception to hug its frame, the bait of acceptance, and the promise of a reliable ear to comfortably listen. It arrived with whispers that assured you that you were not alone, that it was not you who was flawed, but the world for not welcoming you.

It dangled everything your little heart desired, so by the time you were reaching out, you were simply too distracted to notice the dangers of the abyss you were throwing yourself at.

Luckily for you, Shouto had made such a void his home. And for however long it took you to consider the darkness as your own, his was a kind of hospitality that no amount of your struggles could ever hope to wear down.

And if the worst came to pass, if you kept stubbornly refusing and fighting despite your odds? Well…

He could always brew you another cup of tea.

-------

Well, I can finally rest now 💀

This monster of a one-shot took me a lot longer than expected, so I ended up being a lil later to the collab that I would’ve liked. Either way, I’d really appreciate hearing any feedback or opinions on either the fic or art (or both?)... I swear that’s what keeps me motivated ;___;

So fr, thanks to everyone who takes the time to let me know your takes! y’all are the bests of the best 🖤 And speaking of bests of best, special thanks and gratitude to the actual angels who helped and gave me feedback for both the art and/or fic @reinawritesbnha , @drxwsyni, @wootato, @snappysnapo and @coyambition. Don’t catch me seeing y’all drop your crowns bc it’s on sight 😠 👑

#bnha fanart #todoroki #yandere todoroki #todoroki x reader #bnha imagines #bnha #mha fanart #bnha x reader #todoroki fanart #todoroki smut #todoroki shouto #todoroki shoto #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #anime fanart #bnha smut #bnha art #artists on tumblr #just art tingz

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princeanxious · 4 years

Text

Part One; “A Wounded Snake Lies Still”

A continuation fic in the au i built from this art piece I did and this post that I’d written that inspired this whole idea. I don’t know how many parts there will be, but the plan is for it to be hurt/comfort? It’s just that the comfort comes in small increments, but I promise the ending will be happy!

Fandom: Thomas Sanders Sides

Ships: mentions of past healthy Anxceit, start of story begins w/ analogical, end goal is analoceit! Side royality, Remus is lowkey Aro.

Minor Trigger Warnings: in no particular order.. brief mentions of painful memory loss, brief food mention, Remus and Deceit as sympathetic characters in general, accidental revealing of a secret-Remus feeling awful about it and Deceit being completely forgiving on it. Deceit being sorta selfish but also being very selfless without realize it. Deceit lying when he speaks/ backwards talk.

Serious Trigger Warnings: (slight spoilers) Deceit ignores his own distress in favor of keeping up a nonchalant act around the others, and doesn’t process his inner emotions in a healthy way. Deceit repressing years of his own resurfacing emotional trauma that originally came from his separation from Virgil, Deceit also briefly relives said trauma in the fic and pretends nothing is wrong even though something Really Is. Patton has minor empath abilities in this au and accidentally gets hit with a ride of very negative emotions that Deceit is already internally feeling when he touches Deceit.

(Let me know if I need to tag something else!)

Summary: Virgil’s missing memories have always been a touchy subject. After Remus and Deceit gain their acceptance of from the Light Sides and Thomas, Deceit still seems to have a few secrets to hide. If you asked him, he’d tell you it was for the best that he kept them. Partially concealing the truth was a slippery slope, indeed. But, could you really blame him? When Virgil was dating Logan and finally seemed happy again? To him, All the repression of his own trauma was worth Virgil’s happiness. Their years of love were lost with Virgil’s memories of the past, and there was no way in hell Deceit was about to jeopardize Virgil’s current stability now, not when the only person at fault for losing was Deceit himself.(or, was it? He’s never sure anymore. Trauma is a fickle beast.) Well, one slip up from Remus is all it takes before Deceit finds himself faced with that exact dilema fast approaching, and he finds he is less than prepared to face the music..

[[MORE]]

“Ugh, gross. In front of my deodorant?? Could you guys like. Not?? Be romance-y in the living room?? You two remind me of when Dee and Virgie were dating.” Remus grumbled offhandedly, too tired to deal with his twin’s particularly loud and loving attention directed towards Thomas’s literal representation of the heart this late into the afternoon.

They’d been loudly and shamelessly flirting back and forth from across the room while everyone set up for movie night, Roman in the living room with the others and Patton in the kitchen with Deceit making snacks. It was only seconds later that the duke realized his slip up as everything and everyone around clattered to a halt, the other sides turning stare at him in confusion.

Three years. It had taken Deceit three long, painstaking years and counting to distance himself from the years of memories he’d spent in bliss, to separate his mind from the heartbreak of losing his only love. Three years to come to terms with the fact that his only love now held no memories of the time they spent together, to accept that his love now deeply loved another.

Three years to come to terms with the fact that Virgil would never know what it was like to watch helplessly as his love writhed in pain. To watch as The Line ripped the memories from his love’s very being, forcing Virgil into a clean slate. Three years to come to terms that Virgil would never remember.

Three years of patience and heartbreak and anguish and lies, telling himself that it’d be okay, telling himself that he would move on and heal eventually. Three years of painstakingly separating himself from the narrative he and Virgil used to share, and ensuring that Virgil never had any inkling to what had been of his past. It was the only secret Deceit ever asked Remus to keep.

Rest assured, he’d tried to respark Virgil’s memories many times in the first few months after Virgil crossed over The Line from Dark side to Light, having ultimately crossed for good. It’d only led to fight after fight, driving a wedge further and further between them with each escalated argument. With a bleeding heart, he’d eventually given in, and stopped any further attempts. After all, each attempt only seemed to fuel Virgil with irritation. It had been clear then, that whatever they’d had, was never going to be again.

Three years it’d been. He thought he’d nearly healed, really. Most days he found he could exist and interact with the others and not be reminded of the past, and be comforted that he himself would not be a reminder to the past. Repression had always been his strong suit, though, conciously or not.

The Line had diminished as of late, after Thomas had really begun accepting Deceit and Remus. They could cross The Line for long amounts of time now, and mostly be fine. Occasionally they suffered from a bout of fatigue when disagreements with the others briefly turned sour, feeling The Line tugging back at them insistently. It never lasted for long, but there was always that underlying worry that The Line would finally snap them back into the dark for good if one of them made a final wrong move. The Light Sides didn’t know about The Line, not even Virgil remembered stumbling away from it after all that had happened. And well, if it were up to Deceit? They would never find out about it. Too many questions, too many messy answers.

Three years later, Deceit finds his heart splintering once more, an ache sinking into his chest that he knows Patton feels as they stand nearby one another. Memories flood in harshly, a deep painful longing resurging from the depths of his mind as it always did when faced with his reoccurring trauma sinking its claws into his psyche.

It’s only been seconds, but the silence is starting to feel heavy. Instead of moving on from the previous comment, Remus glances to Deceit, eyes pleading and devastated by having made his mistake, breaking the only promise to Dee he’d ever been seriously asked to keep. And Deceit knows he must do what he does best to save face, there is still time to redirect the carnage.

“Remus, please don’t refrain from spreading lies, that’s certainly not my job, after all.” He teases lightly, keeping his tone precisely on the edge of amused confusion, though his eyes hold an understanding none of the others know to read for. “Next you won’t be telling me that your favorite animal is a squid, not an octopus. Not your worst try at shock humor, yes?”

Remus catches on after a millisecond, drawing out a full cackle. “Sorry, not sorry! You should’ve seen the looks on your faces though! Priceless!! Who knew a shitty joke falling so flat would shock everyone so good!”

Their reactions held the desired effect. Quickly, everyone around the room seemed to relax, Roman even firing back his own playful quip to further lighten the mood. In the end, it was just a bump in conversation, something Remus caused every once in a while as everyone adjusted and Remus learned. Not a single step amiss that wasn’t already expectedly out of line.

Still, he’d have to talk to Remus in private later. Remus was just as sensitive to rejection as Roman was, and paired with his inherently intrusive thoughts, it would come to no surprise if Remus already thought Deceit now hated him. He didn’t, it’d been an accident, and Remus’s first ever slip up in three years since making the promise. Even if Dee had been mad about the slip up, he wouldn’t have had any right to be. He’d be sure Remus was the first person he sought to soothe when they got a free moment alone, it wasn’t right to let those kinds of thoughts fester.

Remus first, Virgil next, as it wasn’t quite crisis averted. He could feel Virgil’s eyes on his back from the living room. He denied his bleeding heart the closure of meeting Virgil’s gaze, of sharing his expression. He was too vulnerable, even now the anxious side could read his tells far too well, often without even realizing why. There was no doubt Virgil would try and talk to him later about it, and no matter how good the terms they were on with each other now were, Deceit knew the conversation would be a rough one. Virgil knows he has missing memories, and only recently had he accepted Remus and Deceit’s vague answers when he’d asked lightly about his past. It was at least him acknowledging they had the answers to the past he doesn’t remember.

If he wasn’t careful, each and every brick in the wall that Deceit had carefully worked to build up in the past three years could crumble right before his eyes, leaving him stripped emotionally defenseless, his trauma bared for all to see. And who knew what the others would do if they knew so much? What would they think of him then? Deceit inwardly shivered at the thought. It would not come to that.

Slipping into the nonchalant act was an easy card to play, it being his strong suit and most comforting form of security, a version of his own little lie of omission to soothe the bumpy situation over.

What he didn’t account for, was Patton gently reaching to touch his arm when everyone else had settled and their attentions returned to their tasks at hand. Deceit fought against his immediate urge to pull away, knowing the moral side just preferred connection through touch when addressing another, and instead looked up to meet Patton with a questioning gaze.

Whatever Patton was about to say died on his lips as he suddenly seemed to reflect an absolutely heartbroken expression, tears welling up in his eyes. Pain and sorrow and surprise seemed to seep into the other’s expression, warring for dominance amongst the primary confusion. It was only then that Deceit realized that Patton was still touching him, his bare arm with an equally bare hand, to be exact. The memory that Patton bore minor empath abilities that were tied into his existence as the representation of Thomas’s morality and feelings sunk in two seconds too late.

Direct skin to skin contact, something Deceit sought often to avoid in general nowadays anyway, was a direct way for Patton to tune into another's current feelings through said abilities, often by accident. There were limits that Patton could control, of course, and Patton only ever seemed to struggle coping with that ability when faced with an overwhelming swell of emotions from the other side. And, well.. Deceit’s mind certainly hadn’t taken well to being reminded of his repressed past, seeping through his protective mental walls with all sorts of roiling negative emotions.

From self-loathing, to dread. From anger, to guilt. From longing, to grief, then to depression, and finally apathy. It just couldn’t be helped that Deceit, a master of disguise and deception, had had three whole years to perfect the act that hid it from the outside and controlled it all from within.

Carefully, Deceit pulled Patton’s hand from his arm, and gently tucked it against the moral side’s chest. Still, he keeps his gloved hand there, letting Patton grasp it with both hands to ground himself after such an emotional ride.

“Deep breaths, dear Patton. Whatever isn’t the matter?” He asks gently, still playing into his act but his eyes plead a different story. ‘Not now,’ they say, ‘I will tell you, but not here,’ they beg. Patton nods slowly, and Deceit carefully wipes away Patton tears. In a move he knows he might regret later if it raises questions, he slips his hat off to gently plop onto the moral side’s head, and gently presses against the others clothed shoulder with his own in a show of comforting affection. It has the desired effect of distracting Patton and lightening his mood, Patton’s lingering upset masked by a watery smile only they can share. Deceit silently mourns the loss of his safety blanket, but accepts that a few minutes of feeling vulnerable while comforting Patton is a good trade to escape having his distress found out. He couldn’t have the other sides cornering him into explaining why Patton had suddenly begun crying without reason. It certainly wasn’t the fact that he felt guilty for Patton having experienced second hand an echo of his painfully raw emotions, no, not at all.

Thankfully their little scene goes unnoticed by the rest of the preoccupied sides, who are far too busy bickering over the movies they want to watch. Well, unnoticed by all but the one who sits to the side. Said side keeps an unconcerned but intrigued eye on the two in the kitchen, glancing over every time he adjusts his glasses to avoid suspicion. Logan says nothing, but knows he has questions for his dearest Virgil when movie night is over. He can only hope that the answers Virgil gives will not raise more questions.

(..Unfortunately, they do raise more questions than answers.. However, they now know exactly who has the answers they seek. It’s only a matter of getting those answers that is a task far harder than they’d ever expected it to be.)

To be continued..

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fuwafuwamedb · 4 years

Text

The Rayshift Thefts (Cu Chulainn, Rin Tohsaka, Hakuno, Gilgamesh)

He couldn’t help it.

Sometimes, when his master wasn’t around, he found himself closing his eyes, thinking about that brunette. His other selves were in the midst of a good poker game with Gudako, laughing it up or simply grunting as Gudako made poor jokes. The whole place was cheery enough, filling the air with a collection of sounds that were hard for any servant to imagine before coming to this place.

A facility that summoned servants not to fight one another but to protect humanity.

“You’re remarkably easy to persuade to help us fight,” Gudako had once commented.

He’d laughed at the remark, asking if it should be difficult for him to agree to such terms. However, he’d just been avoiding the answer that had been in his mind.

His eyes still saw the brown hair, glinting in the light of that basement. He could still see the eyes that had finally held fear in them, the pain and the torment slipping away as he pulled Gae Bolg from the body of the priest that had been trying to destroy her life any further.

Sometimes it felt like he could feel her hands on him, lightly touching at his armor as all that mounting hope broke into pieces.

“I need to smoke.”

Cu glanced over at his other selves.

“Oi! Who needs a break?”

“I smoked before I came,” Caster him complained, glaring over at Gudako.

“I don’t smoke those flimsy twigs,” Alter growled.

“I’m going cold turkey,” Proto replied.

So just him.

Lancer shook his head at them, climbing to his feet and fixing the turtleneck he had on. Guess all this meant was that he was meant to be ponderin’ that cute brunette a little longer. He could imagine the knee high socks, the long coats and the tumblin’ dark hair that she tied up on the sides to keep out of her way.

Wandering through the facility, he looked out to the lakes in the distance, just below the mountains, noting how the blue color seemed to look like the depths of those intelligent eyes.

He was an obsessive old man, wasn’t he?

Confident women with brains and a lack of ambition for ruining a man were hard to come by. Too often, he’d ended up with women like that Medb or his master; women who had their own ambitions and were all too happy to mow you down just to get to their goals.

That Rin Tohsaka had been a rare gem.

“You look entertained.”

“Hmm?”

It looked like he wouldn’t be smoking alone, after all. Not that he could call the other company, but…

“You got a light, Gorgeous?”

Gilgamesh rolled his eyes at that, flicking a thing from his pocket and handing over the cigarette he’d had close at hand.

If nothing else, the other’s taste in good tobacco hadn’t changed at all. Cu found himself settling against the wall of the rayshift room, knowing full well that they’d have to run the damn fan in here when they were done.

Worth it though, he thought.

“Mutt, I’m bored. At least bark a little.”

“Woof woof, Goldie. I ain’t up for that shit. Entertain yourself.”

“Entertain myself?” The man’s eyes glinted. “Are you truly thinking yourself that cocky after all we’ve been through?”

“Oi, leave it.”

“I remember a certain man volunteering to look after the vessel candidate, insisting on twenty-four-hour surveillance.”

“I miss that woman.”

The words came out far too easily. He wasn’t sure how, wasn’t sure why, but there they were. They hung in the air between him and the archer, lingering like a storm cloud.

He remembered being stuck around the church. The memories were far too persistent, despite his best efforts otherwise. He could also remember her though, the small conversations, the blush could form as she misunderstood something or simply became too naïve to realize the truth of things.

“You miss a mongrel like that?”

“You never met her.”

The man clicked his tongue. “I met something close enough… This conversation bores me. Go get her if you are so lonesome, mutt. Who’s going to stop you?”

“Gudako?”

Gilgamesh laughed, smashing the butt of his cigarette against the wall and pouring himself some wine. “That fool? She lacked the courage to address many things in this place until they became unavoidable. A little mage hiding in your room will hardly be worth noting.”

“I don’t see you summoning anything here.”

“Me?”

“Is there nothing and no one that you miss?”

It was obvious that there wasn’t anyone. Why would there be? The great king of Heroes was not one for entertaining himself with women and liaisons other than sadistic trysts with malignant priests. He entertained himself with ideologies and the chaos of the inherently good becoming corrupt. A man like that-

Gilgamesh made a small hum.

“Should I allow you to assist me then? I suppose you do owe me for my forcing Kirei to treat you so well.”

“I ain’t interested.”

“No?”

The man was ruining his smoke break. Pulling the cigarette out, he went to kill it when the other spoke up.

“Not even for that Tohsaka fool?”

“Eh?”

He laughed, those red eyes meeting his own. “I’m talking about that little fool your lovesick for, you fool. You wish to go get her, but you don’t want to break any precious rules. Hate to have Gudako see you wet the floors or scratch up the furniture, right?”

“I ain’t givin’ up my place here just to catch a glimpse of the girl.”

“Control the command room when I fetch someone and I’ll control the room when you go to fetch your mongrel.”

“Who are you going to get?”

Gilgamesh eyes closed, his expression deflating until he looked about ready to leave. “I have other things to do. Decide quickly and cease your wasting of my time.”

“How do I know you won’t betray me?”

“Betray?”

He began to nod a second before that face was close, he could see something dark in that gaze, the smell of smoke hanging between them in the intimate space.

“What a strange word coming from someone who spread me before that useless priest and allowed his slop down my throat. Do not think I’ve forgotten a second of that. That or what else you helped him with.”

“You did the same, Goldie.”

“And now we both stand here, with the man dead and the sins of that time lingering only in memory. You want something. I want something. I see no reason why we should allow a little red headed fool tell us what is and is not to be done about our needs… do you?”

“So you’re saying that sexual shit-“

“My time is precious, don’t waste it further, Celt.”

“Fine.”

“Excellent.” Gilgamesh moved to the other room, tapping the glass with his knuckles as he settled into the command room seat. “You’ll fetch your woman first. Be quick. You know how loud this place is and I want who I want tonight as well.”

Be quick.

Funny words from someone who shifted him to the other side of the damn city. He found himself leaping from roof to roof, looking about the strangely offputting city of Fuyuki. Mid-Grail War, obviously, if he could take some damages here and there as any indication. Things had been changed, buildings torn apart and stores collapsed from what had to be a few good battles.

The woman’s own home was quiet, a lone woman lying in the center of the bed in a state of disarray. The bandages on her were numerous, her first aid kit was emptied out, a pile nearby showing that she’d bleed through enough already.

“…Rin.”

The woman jumped, spinning around only to gasp.

A stab wound.

She hadn’t had that. Cu Chulainn yanked at the bedding, bunching it in a rush as he found the woman struggling against him.

“Let me go!”

“Woman, you’re dying.” He grabbed her turtleneck from the floor as he made her hold that blanket to her chest. Her coat nearby was grabbed next, alongside her scarf and stockings.

“What are you doing?! How did you get-“

The shift back came the moment that he had the woman in his arms.

“You would find an idiot sporting a fatal injury, wouldn’t you?”

Gilgamesh stormed into the room, leaving Rin to jump again. Her body clung to him, looking around in shock.

“Kit’s on the chair. I’ve written down the instructions for my shift. Do not fail me. My little toy to keep the place distracted won’t last long and you’ve wasted my time again.”

“Right.”

He didn’t have time to argue, not with Rin like this. Getting her into the other room, he could see the chaos on the monitors. Gil’d unleashed a selection of Avicebron’s golems into the hallways, leaving the place to collect them and that fool Spartacus.

“What is this? Where am I?”

“Chaldea.” Cu typed in the shit on Gil’s paper, shifting him off before he grabbed the kit and looked to her. “Watch the monitors for when that golden guy has whatever he’s searching for. I need to treat your stomach wound.”

“I’ve tried healing it. Nothing’s been working…”

“Yeah, well, let’s just say I’ve had my fair share of these, as you know.”

“I don’t know who you are.”

She what?

Cu Chulainn stared up at her, watching that blue gaze try to understand what was happening. His clever Rin had been a shit liar, even worse at hiding feelings. She should have been raging, kicking and shouting ‘lancer!’ or ‘you idiot’ at him.

Instead, there was just a tired look of shock on her face, as though the world was ending but she still found herself running into that one last problem.

Where did that golden asshole send me?

It had been during the war, he knew that. The damage was obvious. Rin was the same. Right down to the hair style and the weight of her, she was the same.

“You’re a servant, I know that.”

“Shit, Rin.”

“How do you know my name?”

“What do you remember from the Holy Grail war?”

“The war… you mean that my sister won?”

Her sister-

He’d gotten an alternate time’s Rin.

That damned bastard, shipping him off to steal a Rin that didn’t know him. Whatever had happened to this one, she was clueless as to who he was. Who knew what had-

Cu paused.

“…Did anyone try to touch you?”

“W-What the hell is wrong with you!?!” The woman slammed her foot into his chest, sending her computer chair flying back as she did. The bandages he’d been applying fell loosely around her exposed waist. “WHY THE HELL WOULD SOMEONE DO THAT?!”

Thank the gods.

“HEY-“

“You don’t know how glad I am to hear that, lass. Come here and let me tend that damn wound before ya die on me. I didn’t save your ass in one life just to lose your alternate life like this.”

“…Alternate?”

He motioned her over, watching her hesitate a moment before listening.

It took a minute, ultimately ruining the outfit she was in. He pulled his shirt off and shoved it over her to give her something clean to wear.

“…I don’t get you.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot.”

He ruffled her hair a moment before checking the monitors again.

Most the golems were rounded up now. It looked like time was almost up.

Gilgamesh meanwhile was moving through a school building, slipping into a room and pulling a slumbering woman out of bed. It looked like he had what he wanted, judging by his waving of one arm.

Cu slammed the shift button and glanced back to Rin.

“What am I supposed to do here?”

He hadn’t thought that far.

Embarrassing as it was, he had no clue how to handle things from here. He’d expected to have his own Rin, the one that had yelled at him and demanded his aid in fighting that red archer. He’d expected swearings and stompings and a collection of colorful insults to fill his evening. It’d have been long enough for him to think of a reason to keep her around other than that he liked her.

This Rin was just sweet.

It was like gaining a bird with a broken wing. No matter how powerful, they still couldn’t fly. He’d have to nurse her back to health and figure shit out on the fly.

“Are they still gathering those beasts?” Gilgamesh asked, hauling the woman into the room over his shoulder.

“Last few.”

“Then move it. I won’t be caught this early just because you want to play nursemaid with the woman you missed.”

“Missed?” Rin stared at him next, earning a scoff.

“Figure your own fool out on your own, mongrel. I have things to do.”

Things was currently holding onto his shoulders, her face pressing against his neck. Whoever the woman was, it was clear she was entirely asleep, lost in a warm and comforting dream that would burst the moment she woke up to the asshole archer.

“You mind trusting me a while longer?” Cu asked the woman in his shirt, offering his back to her.

“…Since you helped me not die, fine.” Rin shifted, her body wrapping around his carefully before he grabbed her soiled clothes and the first aid kit from the floor. Her head leaned over his shoulder. “I want an explanation of what’s going on when we get to wherever we’re going.”

Yeah, he’d figured that she would.

Shame he didn’t have one for her.

#drabble #drabbles

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userseokkie · 5 years

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Steve Rogers is a walking contradiction: the anti military soldier

After reading this meta on a gifset about Steve and Tony i got carried away and wrote essentially an essay about the analysis that had been made. and while i agree with the general sentiment of the post, some things didn’t sit right with me. btw i decided to make this my own separate post because this isn’t intended to start an argument or derail the original post, i know it can be annoying for gif makers to have dozens of comments added onto their posts.

(the meta in question)

ok so full disclaimer I’m not American and I’m not white. i just felt like this analysis was really interesting and when I read it I couldn’t stop all these thoughts that formed in my head, next thing I know I had written all of this in like 30 minutes. I’m not trying to argue or start shit, this is my own personal analysis of Steve’s character and why I don’t agree with some things said above.

First of all, let’s get this out of the way: Steve does not trust the US government. at least not blindly. the fact that he’s still the little shit that had a real problem w authority figures is something they touch upon on catfa a lot. he changed on the outside but on the inside he’s still that idiot punk kid and like, I get what the tags above me are saying but also Steve’s arc is more than that? and let’s not forget this stupid movie was written and directed by thanos Joss “I’m the true feminist ally” whedon so I would take this exchange with a grain of salt. I mean this is the movie that gave us “gOllY tHeRe’S OnLy oNe gOd m'Am” and “sOn oF a GuN” Stephen Rogers which is the most ooc thing I’ve seen since endgame’s Steve. Steve is a fucking potty mouth ffs he’s Irish and a soldier, so that doesn’t even make sense. but anyway, my point is something else, nvm this movie’s portrayal of Steve in general.

I guess we could probably argue all day long abt which Steve portrayal is the most accurate one since his character in the MCU is the one that’s suffered the most at the hands of inconsistent characterization, but I prefer thinking he already WAS someone that was well aware of the horrors of war and how unfair it was to recruit people w lies and the promises of education opportunities and loans for the poor to join the army, because he LIVED that he grew up dirt poor and had to see his mom take on three different jobs to support herself and him, so he’d consider this attempt to bring civilians into the military life by preying on their needs disgusting, he’d be fucking seething with anger. and if he had lived through the 60s (which I think it’s better for everyone involved that he didn’t, can u imagine poor guy would’ve died from the disappointment in what his country had become) I highly doubt he would’ve been the bitter WWII vet that defended Vietnam and shit on the protestors……. Steve would support the citizens’ rights to ask for accountability and demand justice!! even the hippie movement I think he would’ve been ok with when he saw that they were advocating FOR PEACE. that’s why he enlisted on the war after all, to bring the fight to an end and to have Bucky come HOME. I think Steve rogers would be all for peace. I mean, civil disobedience and telling the government to shove it? that’s Steve Rogers’ goddamn ethos. he would be all over that shit.

I agree w op’s tags where they say Steve doesn’t represent America, he represents what America wishes it had been. and I think Steve himself would be well aware he’s the anomaly here, the one that should have been America’s highest ideal. and I think that makes Steve very wary of his own image, anything he endorses becomes what America endorses. Steve rogers isn’t important, Captain America is. but I think Steve’s response here has more to do with his coping mechanisms to deal with loss, rather than coming from a place of “oh we’re soldiers, it’s what we do, we die for our country.” while Tony’s response comes from a place of anger (we are NOT soldiers!!! fuck u old man, i never asked for this!!! coulson didn’t ask for this!!!!!) Steve’s reaction comes from the intrinsic nihilism and dadaism product of his own time. it’s not that he’s minimizing Coulson’s death, it’s more that he’s so used to losing people, the thousands he met that died in European soil, the sick and ill from his ma’s work that died everyday, his own father whom he never even met, that his mechanism is to just. shut down. shrug it off a bit, even. people die. every day. “for believing” means for standing for something, because Steve is WELL aware that people that stand for nothing will fall for anything, and standing for something gives counterbalance to the official agenda. in his eyes, Coulson died not because he’s a soldier and winning the war means being prepared to make a few sacrifices. Coulson died because he chose to believe in something that the majority didn’t care about or even actively sought to destroy (the wsc over fury’s shoulder) and he died because he would not back down from the fight. I can do this all day is something Steve feeds off of because he knows that when you stop getting up from the ground, anyone and anything can strike you down.

but on another note, I get that Avengers happens literally 6 fucking days after he woke up from the ice, he probably had no time to catch up on all the atrocities the US had done on his behalf, or rather on what they said he represented, on the ideal he died defending and the US took and twisted and tore apart until it was no longer recognizable. Steve being a week out of the ice is super sad and to me, the biggest crime this movie did was literally brushing off Steve’s trauma, being riddled with PTSD and shocked from waking up seventy years in the future was not even addressed. at all. this could’ve been easily avoided by setting the movie at least a couple of months AFTER he wakes up. but whatever. After learning of all the shit the US has done, I think Steve rogers would be the first to walk out of there and be like “fuck it, I died for this country and you took it and fucked it up and now young people and people who’ve been killed for protesting your shitty ass decisions genuinely believe I would side with the government. they think I’M the stubborn baby boomer who kisses government boots and would approve of the Gulf War or the Vietnam War or the Central American coups or the war on terror or any of the stupid shit you’ve pulled in the 70 years I was gone!!! YOU MADE ME A SYMBOL FOR YOUR BIGOTRY WHAT THE FUCK”. so he obviously needs time to catch up on all of that before realizing how bad they fucked up his memory and how corrupt the system has become. but Steve’s depiction as a boy scout who believes the US can do nothing bad is inherently wrong and something only this one movie tries to do. no other movie featuring Cap tries to drive the point home that Cap is a goodie two shoes who still believes in american exceptionalism.

CATWS was the gold standard because it truly touched upon the cognitive dissonance Steve experiences coming out of a 70 year nap. the loss he experiences not only for being “the man out of time”, but the true man behind the symbol. heavy are the shoulders that carry the world indeed. and he’s been carrying the entire world on his since he decided to become Captain America. I truly believe the tragedy of Steve Rogers comes from the lack of agency he has over the Captain image, one that has been used to prop up political agendas over and over again. of course, he’s the one that decides to be Captain America as much as he is Steve rogers, blurring the lines between the two men. he could’ve retired, he could’ve adopted a new mantle or even go the old reliable route and try to keep a civilian life away from the superhero gig. but he didn’t. even in the comics whenever he tried to do that it didn’t stick for more than a few issues. so, you know in CATWS he truly experiments what it’s like to pull back the curtain and see the wizard behind it, he faces this disenchantment with the institutions that created him, both SHIELD and the US government. this helps pinpoint the moment he grows super distrustful of politics and agendas, because up until this point he’d only been in the battlefield, and he realizes governments cannot be trusted to make the right decision or even act in benefit of their people.

this way, Civil War does make sense when you see how Steve has grown so disappointed with modern politics that he sees the Sokovia accords as one big red flag, and the first step in a direction that only points toward authoritarianism and civil control. this movie deals with many things poorly of course, but one thing that doesn’t feel ooc is Steve telling the UN to fuck off. He wasn’t around to see the formation of the united nations remember? he literally has no background on what collective security and globalized autonomy are. there’s many things that could’ve been different in CW, but Steve was on the “right” side of the conflict for his character. (i’m NOT saying there’s a wrong and a right side on the Civil war dilemma. that whole thing was badly written so let’s just say it made sense in a hypothetical way). supporting the government in any capacity isn’t a part of Steve’s “thing”, but even when/if he sided with the US govt, he’d never endorse a political agenda that he perceives as “wrong”, knowing it’s hypocritical to do so.

he doesn’t think the end justify the means, which is highly different from Tony’s pragmatism. if Steve and Tony represented opposing philosophical movements, Tony would be utilitarianism and Steve would be deontology. this brings the analysis full circle by pointing out that yes, Tony and Steve operate differently in theory, but in practice they both work for the same objective. Tony is the cynic product of his own doing, he understands how war can destroy and he knows the US has a bad track record of owning up to its own shit. and because of that, he believes that the most good he can do is in his own hands (and because of his extremist way of thinking, he also equates that with being the only one who can do it and therefore, he must, no matter the personal cost). On the other hand, Steve is the idealist product of other’s people efforts, he understands how sometimes war can be the only way to save what is worth saving, but also how it can corrupt even the noblest of men. and because of that, he believes that the most good he can do must be done because other people believe in him, and because by setting the example, others can follow and make the world a better place. (and because of his very stubborn nature, he also equates that with being the ‘tree that must plant itself in the ground and say no, you move’.)

so what I guess I’m trying to say, is that to me at least, saying that Steve Rogers would be in favor of US militarism or that he equates the word “soldier” with hero is a huge disservice to his character. the fact that he’s a fictional character that was first conceived as WWII propaganda is not relevant, because I choose to believe the idea that says fiction stops being the creator’s own the moment it’s out in the world. And Steve Rogers NOW is a different character and serves a different purpose than what he was originally intended to. His entire origin is based on being a soldier, yes, but what makes his character so compelling is the juxtaposition between being a soldier and being essentially opposed to what the US military complex entails. he embodies a lot of american values ofc, like freedom and right of free speech and so, but my take is that he defends this values in a way that is distinctly non American. setting aside discussions of propaganda and the integrity of an art form, i think he’s been written in a way that evokes patriotism without being exclusively american. i mean heck, Steve rogers makes me proud to be from my own country, and inspires me to be better while never reminding me of the fact that he’s from an imperialist super power. Star spangled suit aside, he’s probably a fair enough representation of what one's love for their own country can bring to the surface, no matter which country specifically. i could delve more into that, but this is already getting too long and, since i already mentioned, I’m not from the US and my cultural upbringing is far different from the US. so i’m not sure i could make such a poignant analysis about the military culture and the way it impacts characters such as Steve.

#why tf did i write this #full disclosure i took two adderalls today oop #maybe that's why #steve rogers #marvel meta #mcu #marvel #captain america

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dxmedstudent · 6 years

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I have been having some mental health issues lately, symptoms match with many anxiety and depression ones, i tried to bring it up w/GP although initial appointment was for a persistent chest infection.. Talking about mental health is a huge deal to me, I've never done it before as my family don't believe it's a big deal and I feel shy discussing it with friends. So naturally I stutter and stumble when I try to bring it up, the GP seems inpatient, so me feeling like a burden, downplay 1/2

downplay my symptoms because I feel uncomfortable discussing suicidal thoughts and whatnot with the doctor who seems as if he has better things to do. Ifeel ashamed with myself for not being able to speak properly to the doctors about something so serious. But it’s difficult to open up about something so sensitive when the gp doesn’t even have the patience to listen properly, not to mention I was on the verge of tears from the onset of a breakdown at the time of the appointment.

I’m really sorry to hear that, Nonny. The way the GP system works isn’t ideal; they get 10 minute slots, and a lot of appointments throw up momre than 10 minutes’ worth of problems, so they/we often end up running late. If someone comes in about their mental health, it always runs late. At least, when I was working on my GP rotation. It’s a stressful, busy job. And that makes it potentially dangerous, because things can get missed. And because it’s a very fine skill to allow patients to open up, as fast as possible, whilst not making them feel the inherent time pressure you are on. It’s really easy to miss cues as a doctor if you aren’t paying attention or very finely tuned to pick up cues in patients; and if you are busy or stressed, you might not pay as much attention as you should to the subtle signs that tell you that the patient’s agenda is not your own. It sounds like your doctor was so focused on their own agenda that they didn’t pick up on your own, at all. And didn’t pick up on your body language and tone enough to adjust the conversation to make you feel comfortable enough to share things. I’m not sharing this to justify what happened, but to explain it from the doctor’s side. Any clinician you approach for help should take your symptoms and request for help seriously; all of us have to ask about suicidal symptoms during these kinds of conversation, but as you point out, it can be hard to be honest if the right tone isn’t set for conversations. That’s not your fault, and not your responsibility as the patient, so please don’t feel that you’ve done something wrong because you didn’t get everything off your chest in one consultation. It’s usually hard for us to share our innermost feelings, and somtimes it can take multiple sessions for people to truly open up to you as a doctor. It sounds like your doctor should have paid more attention to your words and body language, and adjusted the tone of the conversation to the topic. And most importantly, they should have properly paid attention to listen. Perhaps they were; I couldn’t possibly commentate since I wasn’t there. But it is clear that you don’t feel listened to. I’m sorry that’s the case. You sound like a sensible person, someone who has thought about the changes in your life, and the symptoms/problems you have been having, and identified that something isn’t right. Which is hard, when mental illness is involved. So well done you for recognising it. Not only that, but you took the brave and scary step of seeking help. Stuttering and stumbling is a normal response to being in an uncomfortable situation, and seeking help can be scary and intimate. You have nothing to be ashamed of; you were very brave, you sought help, and your journey is not over. Recognising that something is wrong, and that you could use some help were the first steps. Seeking help has been the second. But you haven’t yet had the support you need. That is not your fault at all. It is completely not your fault that the GP missed how you were feeling, and you ended up downplaying things. It’s also not the end of the road for seeking help. You did the right thing to go to the GP, and it sounds like you need to make another appointment. If you can bring yourself to tell them that the reason is “low mood” when you book it, that will also help to flag up that this is the main problem, and let them know to appropriately focus on that before they’ve even met you. That might make you introducing the topic this time around easier, because you and they both know it isn’t a surprise. I find that it’s easier to have that coversation the second time around. You’ve made progress, too, because you’re able to share how you feel with me. That’s pretty brave, too! I’m proud of you for having reflected on the consultation, how it went down, what could be done differently, and recognising that your needs weren’t met, and realiing you still needed to seek help. As doctors, we understand that people don’t always feel able to share the full story with us, so if you do seek help and it happens to be the same GP, they will not judge you if you went back and said ‘actually, I feel a bit worse than I said last time”. People do that all the time. So it’s not awkward if you go again. I highly suggest that it would be useful for you to make another appointment. Some people like to bring someone along for moral support (sometimes they come in, sometimes they wait in the waiting room), but if you feel that theres nobody you’d like to bring, then coming alone is perfectly OK. When I had to go to the GP about my own mental health during a recent bad patch, I also found it difficult, even though I knew that it shouldn’t be. I’d been the doctor on the other side of that conversation dozens of times. But still. I didn’t want to waste too much time or make their other appointments late, and I found myself worried they would think I was doing better than I was. I found myself rehearsing the conversation in my head just to make sure I would say everything I needed to say, as fast as possible. These conversations can just be scary, and tricky, and it can take time for us to get it all off our chest. You’re not a ‘bad patient’ for not having had the conversation go as you hoped. And you can always go again and share what you need to share. Be as honest as you can at the time; it’s OK to mess up, or feel uncomfortable or not feel ready to share everything. But the more you can share with us, the better we can help. What I want to say is that the doctor is there to help and serve you, and you deserve help when you need it. If they haven’t done that the first time around, it means that another conversation is required to get you the support you need. I can see that it wasn’t easy the first time around, and that you didn’t get to feel comfrotable enough to really share how you feel. As doctors, we only know if we haven’t gotten to the bottom of a problem if patients come back and let us know. You’re making good progress, and I hope you can continue. Good luck, and I hope you have the conversation you need, soon.

#ask dx #askdx #medicine #mental health and medicine #mental health #suicide

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phosphorescent-naidheachd · 7 years

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_____ said:

on one level i will always enjoy watching a cool lady ride jon's face or w/e so i am not anti-dany getting some of the old King In The North. otoh - the whole epic meet cute destined thing is too grand for me. it's like an archetype? i prefer how rooted and grounded and layered jon/sansa is as a ship - everything has resonance and a kind of unexpected joy, like Persuasion, where neither person thought they could repair the past and find happiness and yet happiness is there for them. it's just more my jam. i hope jonsa shippers have enough to work with for fic purposes after the show ends

another thing - i wish dany could have a male family member who doesn't want to bang her, especially given that monster of a brother she had... jon is a wonderful family member. i wish they could have been that to each other

^^^

I’m not inherently against J0n3rys -- written as an epic ‘our fates were written in the stars long before our birth’ archetypical relationship or not -- as long as it’s executed in such a fashion that feels true to the characters and that resonates emotionally with me... but I highly doubt D&D are going to manage to do that. I have approximately 0.12% trust in them as writers/directors and that’s a generous estimate. Add in the fact that D&D have a fairly limited amount of screen time to build a J0n3rys relationship up from nothing, and the chances of D&D sacrificing true character/relationship development on the altar of expediency rise considerably... as do the chances for an increased amount of ‘telling’ rather than ‘showing’. Just my opinion, though.

GRRM isn’t perfect, but -- partially because of the medium, partially due to his own skills -- his writing of the J0n3rys relationship will doubtless be a lot more nuanced and believable when the characters finally meet in the books.

Actually, one thing that’s really neat about Jon’s relationship with Dany (and with Sansa, among a few other characters!) is all of the narrative parallels and contrasts drawn between their individual experiences. I recently read a piece that argued that GRRM isn’t just deconstructing fantasy tropes with ASOIAF, he’s also very much reconstructing them -- “not tearing the genre apart so much as reminding readers of why it was worth falling in love with in the first place” -- and that really struck me. I like to think that if J0n3rys does end up being endgame in the books, GRRM will use his particular “existential brand of romanticism” to make that archetype feel fresh and real and worthwhile.

Ughhh, I feel you there. Dany deserves kind, platonic, supportive family members. Like Jon, she’s always had a strong longing for a home and family and belonging, and Jon (and through him, perhaps some of the other Starks too) could really fill that role well under the right circumstances. Which isn’t to say that he couldn’t still fill that familial role in a romantic/sexual capacity, but it’s not quite the same thing, y’know? As you said, Dany has never really had someone love her who doesn’t want to bang her (maybe Missandei, but I always thought there was a faintly femslashy subtext between the two of them on the show), and I think it would be good for her to have that kind of relationship in her life.

My feelings re: show!J0n3rys are a lot more complicated than my feelings re: book!J0n3rys, mainly because my feelings re: show!Dany herself are very conflicted. I think most of the criticisms leveled at Dany by the fandom contain validity, but I also think that most of those criticisms are also strongly influenced by fandom’s sexism/misogyny and its attendant double standards. I think that Dany -- both in the books and on the show -- is a very complex character, and frankly I don’t think D&D really get that; I think they see her purely as The Once Underdog, Now Conquering Heroine(TM), and that the GOT narrative is going to reflect this sadly limited viewpoint.

I have a lot of sympathy for Dany’s position and understand why she acts as she does; her traumatic past and the culture(s) in which she was brought up have absolutely shaped who she is today: her fears, her desires, and her methods of achieving those desires. I would also argue that although show!Dany is pretty self-centered, she generally has good intentions. Nonetheless, I’ve become less and less a fan of show!Dany over the years. I have issues with some of the choices she’s made, with her frequent (albeit unintentional on her part) hypocrisy, and with the racist undertones both GRRM and D&D have (accidentally?) inserted into some of her major story arcs (indeed, to the point where I have a hard time mentally separating her from said arcs). If Dany undergoes further character growth that positively alters how she acts going forward, my feelings towards her may change again, but in the meantime… I don’t know. As I said: it’s complicated, and my thoughts about her sometimes even vary from episode to episode. (Heaven knows my thoughts & feelings re: Tyrion and Jaime often shift depending on the episode lol. But that’s a topic for another time.)

I don’t want to see Dany humiliated and humbled, the way many antis do, but I also don’t want to see her as she currently is on the Iron Throne, the way most stans do. I don’t believe she’s insane or currently in danger of becoming insane, as many antis think, nor do I believe that she’s an unusually cruel/terrible/[insert negative term here] ruler and warrior for the society in which she lives. However, none of this makes her inherently the best person to rule Westeros, either.

Although it isn’t entirely Dany’s fault, she knows almost nothing about Westeros -- past or present -- and what little she does know was understandably given to her through a pretty pro-Targaryen lens; this lack of understanding of facts -- and more crucially, of attitudes -- will serve her (and more importantly Westeros) very poorly if she ever becomes Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Yes, having Westerosi advisors can help, but only so much. The monarchy of Westeros doesn’t seem to have much in the way of checks and balances, after all, outside of ‘it’s probably not a good idea to offend any of the major Houses too badly and definitely not multiple Houses at the same time’. Dany is still relatively inexperienced at ruling and is certainly more than capable of learning and improving... the question is whether she’ll allow herself to. Especially now that she has the ultimate power in the form of fully-grown dragons, which makes it even more difficult and dangerous to question or challenge her actions than it would a dragonless monarch like Robert Baratheon.

(Although, since we’re mentioning Robert Baratheon... I get the sense that Dany, like Robert, much prefers the fighting and ceremonial parts of being monarch over the day-to-day administrative parts. YMMV.)

It’s my opinion that Dany has gotten increasingly good at convincing herself that her personal desires are actually selfless and/or inevitable, that her way is the Right Way, that too much compromise is weakness, and that an increased volume and degree of violence on her part is both justified and necessary. This is an excellent piece of meta on the subject; although it’s about book!Dany, it’s still by and large applicable to show!Dany too... in fact, I would argue that in many ways, it’s even more applicable to show!Dany. Dany isn’t the only “good” character in ASOIAF/GOT to harden herself to violence or to make some of these sorts of mistakes, of course -- Jon probably would have been an even bigger disaster if he’d somehow wound up as the ruler of Meereen, for instance -- but that doesn’t remove the validity of these criticisms towards her, either.

Actually, speaking of Jon and Dany, there’s one argument that antis make that really bugs me: that Jon was chosen by his people, while Dany chose herself; meritocratic monarchy vs. hereditary monarchy, if you will. It’s not entirely wrong, but it’s not the full story either. Davos falls prey to this same trap when talking to Dany on Dragonstone, in fact: "He's not King in the North because of his birthright, he has no birthright, he's a damn bastard. He's King in the North because those hard sons of bitches believe in him."

I mean, yes, Jon was chosen by his nobles to be their king, and they do believe in him, but you can’t act like his heredity didn’t play a significant role in that decision. If Jon hadn’t been the ostensible son of Ned Stark, do you really think all the nobles of the North would have called for him to be King, no matter how worthy he was or how much they believed in him? Just look at part of Lyanna Mormont’s speech, for crying out loud [italics my own]: “I don’t care if he’s a bastard. Ned Stark’s blood runs through his veins. He’s my king, from this day until his last day!” *rolls eyes* But I digress.

Moving on to address your comments on Jon/Sansa:

Unlike many J0nsa shippers here on tumblr, I don’t think J0nsa is ever going to be canon. Definitely not on the show, and probably not in the books either. And I’m mainly OK with that; that’s what fanfiction is for, after all. (Which isn’t to say I wouldn’t be delighted to be proved wrong re: canon lol.)

I’m very much a multi-shipper in GOT/ASOIAF, and my main fannish wish is that my favorite characters survive to the end of the series. Ideally, none of them irrevocably betray other characters I care about and they all survive and they’re all at least marginally happy, but that’s probably way too much to ask. As I said, I’ll take ‘alive’. Because as long as they’re still alive, a happier ending is still a possibility somewhere ‘off-screen’ after the series ends. Dead, on the other hand, is dead. Sure, I can create AU ‘so-and-so-lives’ headcanons, but I’m still acutely aware that they’re AUs, y’know? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Yessss, Persuasion is such a great comparison! There’s something very bittersweet and healing about that kind of ship. Shades of a shared past paired with hope for a better shared present and future. The gradual realization that it isn’t too late to find/create happiness. idk, I just have a lot of feelings about this dynamic.

#wow this turned into a MUCH longer answer than i'd meant for it to be #phos replies #3~~#4~~#5~~#GOT meta #daenerys targaryen #jon snow #jonerys #jonsa #meta #things done by phos #long post #GOT spoilers #well sort of but not really

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queensofmystery · 7 years

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5x18

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@elementary-said-ni said: Totally agree with the Joan thing. But the Sherlock being racist part? Are you sure? He definitely didn’t go by emotions when it came to Shinwell, he was always objective when it came to him, right from the start. But the only reason he was so hell bent on getting the truth out of Shinwell was because he has always believed that if you murder someone, you cannot be excused, no matter what the circumstances. I was reminded of Murder Ex Machina where Mason tries to justify the killer who murdered a bad person, and Sherlock says that the killer did not have the right to take a life, and so he must face the consequences. I also believe that the writers want us to be in two minds, and want us to pick a side. I think this is what leads to the conflict between H and W that the writers have been talking about. Should SBK take priority (for now) or not… And this doesn’t mean that Joan is wrong, I think she is right in prioritizing taking down SBK, I just don’t think that he is in the wrong either… The whole murder being a no-no thing is why he practically pleaded with Kitty not to murder Gruner, and was so relieved when she didnt have a murder on her hands…

I want to answer your comments in two parts - first, on Sherlock’s prejudices and second, on Sherlock’s attitude toward murder in general and the idea of Kitty committing murder.

I want to highlight what @beanarie said here about 5x18 - it made me think of the double standard we’re seeing in how Sherlock is treating the event of Kitty mutilating a man who abused her vs. Shinwell murdering a man 12 years ago because a gang he belonged to manipulated him into doing so. I don’t think Sherlock thinks he’s being racist, of course not, but his distrust of Shinwell has been there from the beginning, and even after he’s been training Shinwell to succeed against SBK for weeks (months?), he’s immediately ready to turn on him once he has proved (to himself; we have a witness account and Shinwell’s indirect confession but so far no physical evidence - Idk what’s enough to make a conviction) that Shinwell committed murder. If it’s not racism in his character, it’s racism in the writing. Kitty, a white woman, was allowed to mutilate her rapist’s face and return to New York without any consequences because Gruner would implicate himself by revealing Kitty as his mutilator.

In my view, Sherlock has never been objective about Shinwell—he has been the Devil’s Advocate from the beginning, I think purposefully on the writers’ part. They wanted to set up Sherlock as the side that believes Shinwell to be inherently bad because of his background. Joan was the side that believes Shinwell to be capable of doing good, of redeeming himself (as she wishes to by helping him, but no one writing the show cares about that). Sherlock then is the person who saves Shinwell from prison, and the person to offer to train Shinwell, even though both he and Joan do the training. After all these sacrifices Sherlock sees himself to be making for a man who he has always believed to be untrustworthy, to learn that Shinwell has committed murder 12 years ago puts Sherlock in a spot that, as you said, forces the audience to choose a side. Racism is inherent in this, because Shinwell is a victim of a racist system.

Even with Sherlock’s comment in Murder Ex Machina, I don’t think Sherlock has a black-and-white view of murderers. I think he is black-and-white about intent, and what the killer in question did or didn’t deserve. There is Abigail in 2x04, his first “killer” who he didn’t give away (and the abused teenage boy who actually was the killer who he didn’t give away either), and the scene with him and Kitty in 3x12 was not him begging her not to kill Gruner. He hoped she wouldn’t murder him, but he did not dictate to her that murder was not the solution. He said: “You, um... saved me. I'd like to return the favor. This is a favor. Interfering. If you decide that killing Gruner is going to make you feel whole again, I won't stop you. But I'd be remiss if I didn't tell you that we had found a way to expose him.” (Kitty: What does that have to do with me? With what he did to me?) “Nothing. Everything. Wish I could tell you. Whatever you decide, you must understand that you will always be special to me. You will always... be my friend.” (via transcripts.foreverdreaming.org)

He wanted to tell her it wasn’t necessary to murder Gruner to ensure he got the punishment he deserved. I think the issue with Sherlock and Shinwell is Sherlock assumed he knew Shinwell murdering Jameel was proof that he was right about Shinwell, that Shinwell was, in fact, the bad, untrustworthy, dangerous person he had believed from the beginning and this murder from 12 years ago was going to prove to the world, and to Joan, that he was right all along. But he didn’t take into account the circumstances of Jameel’s murder like he did with Abigail and her abusive father and Kitty and Gruner. He didn’t even try. He just wanted Shinwell to admit to the murder so he could get the guy back in prison and out of the way (remember he commented how the structure of a gang and prison gave no proof that Shinwell would make a good informant?) That’s what seems clearest to me, and that’s why I think Sherlock’s actions show racism. In this situation, Sherlock playing the Devil’s Advocate about Shinwell is going to have a racist tone no matter what, because Shinwell is black, and prisons and gangs are predisposed to victimize black people. Sure, the white writers may not be aware of the full social and racial weight of what they’ve written, but it’s there. That Joan, a WOC, is the one to want to help Shinwell move forward with his mission is just as significant (and I sincerely hope they don’t flip their views after this episode and have Joan turn completely against Shinwell I will be pissed because it wouldn’t make any sense).

I definitely admit I am coming at this while being firmly on Shinwell’s side. His murder of Jameel is not excusable, but nor should he be villainized for it. His last lines in 5x18 need to have an impact on people: “You looking for someone who killed one person. SBK kills dozens of people a year. Their drugs ruin thousands of lives, but don’t nobody care. They don’t get press. They’re not clever. They’re not fun. They’re just evil.” Sherlock focusing on the murder of a single person, by a person who has been trying to prove his willingness to destroy the very thing that made him a murderer, over the myriad of crimes committed by the gang he’s trying to take down—if I was Shinwell I’d probably want to beat up Sherlock too. (I don’t like that the show chose to show Shinwell acting that way toward Sherlock, they did not set it up well, I don’t think most of the audience will be discerning enough to not immediately villainize Shinwell…it’s happening already, and Idk which direction the show will go, but I don’t think it’ll be helpful.)

(This might be a stretch for some but idc) Shinwell is like a more extreme version of Joan. He killed someone because he was manipulated into doing so (not that he doesn’t have free will, but think what might’ve happened to him if he’d refused to kill Jameel?), while Joan killed someone during a surgery. Both killed people that they cared about, to varying degrees. Both killed people they would’ve otherwise done everything to save if events had gone differently (Joan was trying to save her patient but did the exact opposite; Shinwell and Jameel were like brothers, and Shinwell would’ve done anything for Jameel if SBK hadn’t lied to him about someone he thought he could trust). Both came to regret those deaths to such an extreme they shaped their lives around redeeming themselves for those lives they had taken. The show won’t address it, but I think Joan sees herself in Shinwell. She sees a successful surgery, a positive memory from her disgraced medical career, a life that she was able to save that actually mattered. What does Sherlock see? A former criminal and gang member, a murderer, someone who doesn’t deserve redemption despite all the strides Shinwell’s been making toward that very thing, with Joan’s help (and if they’d approached 5x09 the way they should have, Joan would’ve had a direct say in saving Shinwell from prison—and there’s nothing in the canon to tell us she didn’t have a say in it /shameless self-promotion)

I hate even talking about what I want the show to do with Shinwell because I feel if I talk about it that means it won’t happen. And I know you didn’t say Shinwell should be villainized, I’m bristling against the writers who seem to want to deliver a moral message with Shinwell’s character that will only demonstrate that people like Shinwell are doomed, fighting a losing battle. Once a black criminal, always a black criminal. The violence against Sherlock in 5x18 rang like a nail in Shinwell’s coffin. So many people don’t excuse violence committed by MOC, while they will excuse it again and again when committed by white men. Like @nairobiwonders said here, Shinwell is Sherlock in season 1. She thinks Sherlock will come to want to see Shinwell redeemed…but what makes me angry about that idea is that the show won’t give us enough to make Sherlock’s turnabout convincing, I just can’t see it. They give so little to Joan I have to resign myself to seeing her emotions twisted whatever way suits the plot best, regardless of what little emotional development she might’ve had with Shinwell if this show actually cared about her.

#elementasquee #elementary #joan watson #shinwell johnson #i want the wolves to come for me #elementary season 5 #my s5 meta #my meta #elementary said ni #kitty winter #episode #518

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fashiontrendin-blog · 6 years

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Does Anyone Actually Eat Cereal for Breakfast Anymore?

https://fashion-trendin.com/does-anyone-actually-eat-cereal-for-breakfast-anymore/

Does Anyone Actually Eat Cereal for Breakfast Anymore?

was visiting my parents on a recent weekend when I witnessed the following tableau at 9 a.m. on a Saturday morning: my dad, clad in a blue cotton pajama set and robe, sitting in the kitchen with a newspaper spread out before him, pouring 2% milk into a bowl of Grape Nuts cereal and eating it at a notably leisurely pace. I must have watched my father perform this ritual thousands of time over the course of my childhood, but I suppose I never registered the fact that he was still doing it. I observed with rapt attention, like an anthropologist observing some bizarre human behavior.

After a few minutes, I couldn’t help myself: “Dad, you still eat milk and cereal for breakfast?”

“Yes?” he replied, his tone more question than answer, as if curious why I even found it necessary to ask.

Thus began a mental spiral that ended with a pressing — nay, burning, investigative query: Is the combination of milk and cereal, eaten out of a bowl and consumed with a spoon, still a breakfast staple in 2018? It hasn’t been one for me in at least eight years, though I did ingest milk and cereal daily in this precise manner from the moment I had enough teeth to chew a Cheerio to at least the end of my senior year of high school. My cereal phases over the course of this seminal period were arguably more powerful than my stylistic ones, evolving from Rice Krispies to Raisin Bran to Smart Start to Honey Bunches of Oats to Cracklin’ Oat Bran with no shortage of ceremony. Sometimes I garnished my morning bowl with banana slices, but more often than not it was an purist endeavor: plain cereal swimming in milk of the cow variety (skim, 1% or 2% — whatever was in the fridge). I ate it in the company of my family before we set off for school, or work, or whatever agenda the day happened to hold, all five of us huddled over the kitchen table, washing down each bite with a sip of Tropicana orange juice. I ate it without thinking, because it was placed on the table in front of me and it tasted good.

Then, I stopped. It was somewhat gradual in the sense that I replaced the milk in my cereal bowl with Greek yogurt circa 2010, but when I ultimately eliminated the cereal as well, the transition picked up considerable speed. I became a flake in the brewing avalanche that was Wellness with a capital W, and baby, I was snowballing. All of a sudden I was eating oatmeal decorated in the manner of a professional mosaic and assembling open-faced toasts worthy of the Museum of Modern Art. The only thing close to milk I continued to consume regularly was the soy variety I added to my coffee in the morning, and cereal? I pretty much forgot it existed.

Apparently I wasn’t the only one: “[Breakfast] cereal, both as a cultural marker and a profit center, is at a crossroads,” The New York Times proclaimed in 2016. “Since the late 1990s, its popularity has been slowly fading.”

“Overall cereal sales in the U.S. have declined 11% over the past five years to around $9 billion in 2017, according to Mintel, a consumer research firm,” The Wall Street Journal reported this past spring. “Post CEO Robert Vitale said cereal has lost a tenth of its shelf space as a result.”

In a Twitter poll conducted a year ago by CNN Money Digital Correspondent Paul La Monica inquiring how often his followers ate cereal, the majority of responders answered “Never!”

More woes for General Mills. Cereal sales down. So is $GIS stock. Will include this poll in story later today. How often do you eat cereal?

— Paul R. La Monica (@LaMonicaBuzz) March 21, 2017

I posed a slightly more specific question to my Instagram followers last week, asking how many people actually consume cereal and milk for breakfast these days. Responses poured in by the hundreds, many of them from staunch defenders of this mealtime ritual I’ve associated with a bygone era.

“If eating cereal as an adult is wrong, I don’t want to be right,” one person messaged me. “If anything, cereal should be the norm! A lot of us are adults who work full time jobs and are not afforded the luxury of having the time to prepare a full breakfast for ourselves every morning. Cereal is cheap(ish), easy and there is a ton of variety.”

“Absolutely,” another said. “There is nothing more decadent than a simple bowl of cereal (bonus if you go for a ‘children’s’ cereal, a.k.a. joy in a bowl.)”

In addition to ease and cost, nostalgia was the primary reason responders cited as the driver behind their cereal consumption: “I had a long chat with some folks about this the other day,” one person told me. “We all agreed that we only eat cereal when we’re feeling super nostalgic! And, depending on my mood, I either go for the super sweet sugar bombs (that I was only allowed to eat at grandma’s house) or the boring cereals (Raisin bran) that remind me of what the adults were eating.”

“Cereal feels dependable and reliable, not to mention very comforting and nostalgic,” another wrote. “There’s nothing nostalgic about a protein shake or a poached egg!”

“It totally hits the spot when I wake up feeling off or need food that feels like a hug from mom,” said another.

Others acknowledged that even though they maintain their cereal-eating habits, they do so in the midst of a changing breakfast landscape. “Breakfast is the hardest meal to choose,” one person confessed. “There are so many health injunctions related to breakfast. You ‘have’ to eat protein (but be careful with dairy!), good fat, no sugar, not too many carbs… it’s so hard and makes me more anxious than any other meal. I compromise by adding fresh fruits and nuts to my milk and cereal.”

“It’s definitely not trendy, and it seems old-school compared to something like avocado toast or chia seed pudding or whatever else people are eating for breakfast these days,” said another.

“The vibe I get at work is that the only acceptable grown-up breakfast food is yogurt,” chimed in a third.

Upon further research, I learned that cereal companies are not only wizening up to the powerful selling point of their products’ inherent nostalgia factor, but also pivoting their marketing strategy based on the reality that they can no longer compete with so-called “trendy” breakfast foods like green smoothies and chia seed puddings.

“The cereal makers realized that coming out with some of the really healthy cereals in recent years like Cheerios with added protein or Frosted Flakes with high fiber just weren’t getting people to eat more cereal,” Wall Street Journal reporter Annie Gasparao told CBS News. “The people who are eating cereal are eating it because it’s fun and it tastes good and it looks fun with fun colors. They aren’t eating it to be healthy.”

In other words, after trying and failing to hop on the Wellness train, cereal companies are now leaning in the opposite direction: more sugar, more artificial and more kid-like. According to CBS News, Post stopped selling the high-protein version of Honey Bunches of Oats and revived Oreo Os, which they had previously discontinued in 2007. (I purchased a miniature box of at my local bodega to confirm they do, in fact, taste like actual Oreo cookies). Similarly, Kellogg’s pulled its lower-sugar iteration of Frosted Flakes from stores and dispatched chocolate and cinnamon flavors instead, which boast a sugar content of 10 grams per (measly) 1/2-cup serving. And finally, my favorite: General Mills faced so much outrage for eliminating fake flavors, high-fructose corn syrup, and artificial dyes in Trix cereal (one incensed customer called it “basically a salad now”) that they actually decided to bring back the older, more colorful, corn-syrup-filled version.

“These companies know that the nostalgic brands, the fun flavors, the cartoon mascots that’s what’s selling cereal and that’s what’s going to make them be able to stabilize this category that’s lost shelf space to Greek yogurt and protein bars and things that people view as healthier for breakfast,” Gasparao told CBS.

A side effect of this shift in focus is the somewhat startling but nonetheless true revelation that cereal isn’t so much a breakfast staple anymore as it is a novelty food. In a culture ruled by social media, no edible thing can succeed unless it is “doing the most,” and if cereal couldn’t do the most when it came to health and wellness, then it would have to do the most in other ways — as a snack (perfect for grabbing a 1/2-cup handful), as an indulgent dinner option (I can’t be the only one who begged to eat breakfast for dinner as a kid), as an experience (ever been to Kellogg’s NYC café or Milk & Cream Cereal Bar?) or as 2018’s unique blend of viral-friendly nostalgia (colors and iconography that reference the past paired with the kind of fantastical branding that sounds good in a tweet or looks like-worthy in a photo).

Haley’s boyfriend Avi (to whom I reached out for comment due to his rumored expertise on the topic of cereal) kindly sent me a bulleted list of the 11 different types of Cheerios he took note of during a recent trip to the grocery store: Original, Honey Nut, Apple Cinnamon, Multi Grain, Chocolate, Frosted, Fruity, Very Berry, Honey Nut Medley Crunch, Chocolate Peanut Butter, Protein. “There is also now a Pumpkin Spice Frosted Flakes,” he added. “There are more than six types of Raisin Bran. Have we advanced as a society because of this? Is this the best use of our time and resources?”

The answers to these questions are debatable, but Big Cereal’s marketing efforts seem to have reached at least one prominent member of Generation Z (13 hours before this story went live, I might add):

last night i had cereal with milk for the first time. life changing.

— Kylie Jenner (@KylieJenner) September 19, 2018

Life-changing indeed. Last week, I myself stood on a chair, pulled my roommate’s stale box of Cinnamon Puffins from the back of our kitchen cabinet and poured it into a bowl with milk. I ate it alone, legs curled criss-cross-apple-sauce underneath me on the sofa, washing down each bite with a sip of chamomile tea. I ate it at 8:21 p.m., but don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll work my way up to breakfast eventually, and I’m sure Kylie will too.

Photo by Louisiana Mei Gelpi.

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