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polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup · 5 months

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what would megumi’s life have been if he was actually raised by the zenin from day one? like either gojo lost the custody battle or they were able to scoop him up before gojo ever reached them. i doubt they would want to keep tsumiki with them so she’s not there for little baby megs.

i think it would be really cool to see a zenin raised megumi interacting with his fellow classmates when he attends the school, not to mention the contrast between him and gojo. like on paper they both should have gotten the same treatment-being pampered and spoiled rotten but we also know that the zenin think that hurting little kids makes them stronger so it would be super interesting to see megumi realise that the stuff that happened to him wasn’t normal and for gojo to have a guilt trip bc he wasn’t able to help megumi when he needed someone to help him the most.

So I have a fanfic that I’ve half written (no idea if I’ll ever finish it—I’d love to, it’s just hard to find the time) about EXACTLY THAT that I talked about in this post for an ask game.

That being said, that entire thing happens from Tsumiki’s perspective, and I agree with you—I don’t think the Zenin would have ever actually taken her too. They don’t want her. She’s not Zenin. She’s not a sorcerer. They only bought Megumi. For the most part, Megumi is absent from that post, and you asked about Megumi. So this is what I think would happen on Megumi's side of that post I linked.

It comes down to two things:

1. He is never, ever happy with the Zenin.

2. He never lets go of his sister.

Megumi’s old enough to remember Tsumiki when the Zenin take him away. He's old enough to love her. And I think that Megumi loves very quietly, but he also loves very violently. He wouldn't let his sister hold his hand on the walk to school, but he would sacrifice himself for her future.

I think the Zenin took him from his sister, and I think he kicked and screamed and wasn't strong enough. I think they thought he would forget her eventually.

And then I think he bit most of the Zenin Clan.

At the end of the day, what Megumi wanted was the one thing the Zenin were not willing to give him. They were never like the Gojo clan, they were never going to pamper him, but there are a great many things in this world that they would give the Ten Shadows finally returned to them. But they would not give him a non-sorcerer, non-Zenin sister who would only be a weakness to him. They refused to let him have any contact with his sister, and that was the source of a lot of what soured.

Any Megumi that was taken in by the Zenin would have been taken in to Naobito's household directly. He would be announced as the one who finally inherited their most cherished technique, and he would be declared heir, and the Zenin would call him beloved for it.

They would keep him in a room that was large and empty and almost always dark, and he wouldn't be allowed to decide when he slept or woke, and the door would always be locked from the outside. They would give him a wardrobe of expensive clothes that he hated, and he would never get to pick which of them he wore.

Megumi would hate them. He would hate all of them.

He's just not the type to be comfortable with or enjoy the adoration of others--especially when it's not backed up by genuine love. Megumi is someone who very much values sincerity and depth to emotion--it's one of the reasons why he seems to respect Yuuji so much. Yuuji is a good person who follows through with what he says. He's not just going to talk about wanting to save people--he's there making the sacrifices as he does it.

The Zenin do not actually love him. And he knows it. He's experienced love before, and this isn't it.

They love the idea of him. The fantasy of him that lives in their heads. He has no interest in being their little god prince to contend with the Gojo's own. He knows who he is, and it's not this. He wants to go home. He wants to find his sister again. He doesn't want to do this anymore.

And I think that's a feeling Megumi never escape: he just didn't want to do this anymore.

Megumi would feel like a bug pinned beneath glass in the Zenin compound. He would constantly have people managing him--when he ate, what he ate, what he wore, when he slept, when he woke, when he trained, what he did. Having to become a jujutsu sorcerer signified an inherent loss of control, but it's nothing compared to the sheer objectification that he goes through when the Zenin have exclusive control over him.

He has no power of what clothes he wears. How his hair is styled. His schedule, his diet, the people he speaks too--he's suffocating and the Zenin are just increasing pressure on him.

I don't think Gojo ever thought that would be Megumi's life.

We’re gonna just have this imagining exist in the same world as the Tsumiki centric fic described in the linked post, and in that, the reason why Gojo never took him in was because he didn’t know Megumi had a sister. He showed up, saw the divine dogs, realized Megumi had the Ten Shadows, and decided he couldn’t do this. He was a mess. He was grieving Suguru and Haibara. Megumi looked just like the man who killed Riko, and apparently inherited the fucking Ten Shadows of all the goddamn things. The Zenin would lose their shit, and Gojo didn’t have the energy to fight and told himself he didn’t need to, because if Megumi was the Ten Shadows he’d be cared for like a prince with the Zenin. He turned around and left and spent the rest of his life with Megumi in the back of his mind, always nagging him with whether he made the right decision. It wasn’t until Maki got there and made a few worrisome references to Megumi's standard of living that he started to really worry that he had made the wrong one, and it wasn't until he found out about Tsumiki that he knew it was the wrong decision.

It's like this: The Zenin hurt Megumi in every world.

It would be bad no matter what, but it really gets bad because Megumi refuses to stop trying to get back to Tsumiki. She's his sister. They didn't have anyone or anything in this world, but they had each other, and he couldn't let these people just take her away. He’s feral about it. He refuses to fit the mold they keep trying to cram him in. He’s trying to scale the walls to escape. He’s increasingly desperate and angry and the Zenin are getting more and more frustrated the longer he fights them. He’s the heir to the clan, and he can’t stop trying to leave it to get back to some random girl who isn’t his real sister and isn’t someone they’ll ever allow him to have.

It gets bad.

They put him under increasingly strict levels of control. He’s constantly being trained, which means he's constantly being hurt. He’s not allowed to speak to anyone without the clan head’s approval. He is under absolutely constant guard after he manages to get over the wall and halfway to his old neighborhood before they catch him again. Tsumiki’s name is not allowed to be said aloud, or his old name. He forgets his name used to be Fushiguro, but he doesn’t forget Tsumiki. He doesn’t let himself.

I think it escalates until it hits a breaking point. Megumi becomes increasingly self-destructive and non-responsive to everything they try. They push him to extremes that start risking permanent damage.

I think Megumi would try to hurt himself, eventually.

He wouldn't be in his right mind. He's in the most shit situation possible. He's undergoing pretty severe abuse. He'd be at the end of his rope from the lack of control over his own life, and he'd be spiteful as hell towards the Zenin. And the only thing he has to hurt them with is himself.

As a character, Megumi has always considered his own sacrifice as an acceptable means to the end of getting back at someone. Mahoraga, intrinsically, requires him killing himself as a way of killing someone else. He'd hurt himself if it was the only way he had of hurting them.

Naobito would cover it up. He'd never, ever want the rest of the clan to find out that it happened. It was already bad enough that Megumi openly hated them--he couldn't have the Zenin seeing any vulnerability in what was meant to be their most powerful member. He'd put Megumi in total lockdown until he could make it all go away.

Then they'd make a deal.

A binding vow. Megumi could never purposefully hurt himself again. He could never again try to leverage his own safety against the clan.

And in exchange, Tsumiki would be taken care of.

The last time Megumi saw his sister, she was on a sinking ship. They were running out of food, money, options--he doesn't know if she even has food anymore. He doesn't know if she lost the apartment or if there's still running water.

They're not letting him see her. But they are letting him take care of her. He can sacrifice another piece of control over himself, and she'll never have to worry about money again. They'll pay for her housing, her food, her education, for her every desire for as long as she lives. The trust the Zenin set up for her will be a generous one, and it will be managed meticulously by a trustee who can make sure she'll be provided for until she's old and grey. And Naobito will vow to never hurt her or send someone else to hurt her. She'll be safe. She'll be taken care of.

Megumi makes the deal.

In the end, the deal's what sort of breaks him.

Because he doesn't promise to stop looking for her, but the Zenin manage to make it a part of the terms anyway. When they approach Tsumiki's mother with the offer to be her family's beneficiary, they include a requirement that Tsumiki be moved to another city entirely with no forwarding address given. She needs to be somewhere that Megumi can never find her again.

The Zenin keep the old apartment. They pay the rent every month. And the next time Megumi manages to make it off compound, they let him make it all the way there before dragging him home. They let him see the empty apartment with all its empty rooms.

Naobito wants him to know that Tsumiki's gone. He wants him to know that he'll never find her again.

He tries to run a few more times after that, but he never makes it very far. He doesn't have anywhere to go.

In the linked post, Megumi finds Tsumiki, just once. She's on a class trip. He's on one of his very few and far between allowed excursions off the compound grounds, and he sees her in the crowd and recognizes her, and he ducks away from his escort before anyone can stop him.

She remembers him. He didn't think she would do that.

She tries to save him. He didn't think she would do that either.

She still loves him. And he was always too afraid to hope she would do that.

It goes the same way it did the first time. There's a car, and the Zenin shove him in it. She's on the outside, and he's trapped within, and he wishes she didn't scream so loudly when it happens. The sound never seems to leave his dreams.

His sister still loves him. Naoya hits him in the back of the head. He wakes up, and it was like she was never there at all.

But they hit him harder, after. Like they're trying to beat the memory of her out of him. He has even less freedom, when he already had next to none at all.

But he still has a sister. He has a place to go that isn't here. He just has to figure out where that is.

He wouldn't really have anyone in the Zenin clan. Most people are just... weird about him. Naoya's violently abusive. Naobito's weird and violently abusive. Everyone wants him to be someone he's not.

Maki would be his favorite.

He doesn't care about whether she's got cursed energy--his sister didn't have any. And she's obviously strong. She doesn't treat him like a divine blessing or try to force him to act a certain way. I think they would have genuinely liked each other, but kept each other at a distance. They're both trapped in an abusive situation and keep themselves safe by keeping everyone else at arm's length.

He would have been happy to see her get out, though. He would have told her that she could have his spot as heir or head or whatever when she came back if she wanted it. She would have told him that if he ever got out... well, fuck it. They could be something then. Family. Whatever the fuck they weren't allowed to be here.

She would have told him she's sorry, and she would have meant it. The only one she she regretted more than Megumi was Maki. He would have told her not to be, that if she dared to be sorry for getting out that he would never forgive her, and he would have meant that too.

I think his relationship with his own techinque would be very different in a world where the Zenin raised him. In canon, his issue is that he doesn't view himself as someone who could be powerful or win in the long run, but in this world, all he ever hears is how powerful he is. Pride of the fucking Zenin. The most powerful of them in centuries. Meant to rival Gojo fucking Satoru himself.

I think his real issue would be controlling it.

His technique would be a source of negative associations for him. It's the reason why the Zenin took him away. Most of his interactions with it have involved getting beaten and hurt by either his family or a high-level curse they shoved him in front of. I think he'd have a lot more firepower under his belt than at the start of canon, but he'd have less of a fine tuned control over it.

He lost control over his own life because of his shadows. It think that would manifest in struggling to control his own shikigami at times. he's not as in-sync with them as he is in canon.

Eventually, he'd go to Jujutsu High. He would be the only one in the first year class at the beginning, just like in canon. And he'd finally meet Gojo Satoru, the man he's supposed to topple.

He looks at Megumi really goddamn weird.

He's... enthusiastic. About. Teaching. He guesses. And constantly asking prying questions about the Zenin, but not in the sort of way he'd expect from a rival. In the sort of way he'd expect from someone concerned about him. Which is stupid. And annoying. And weird. He keeps a distance from everyone. They've all heard about the Zenin clan heir, and he has no interest in having to fit or break whatever mold they've already cast him in. He's better off on his own.

Maki's there. She's cordial where other people can see it, and in private, she takes care of him in a way that's terrifyingly close to familial. He's not sure if he likes it. He's not Mai, and she's not Tsumiki, and they both want someone they can't have.

She isn't sorry she left. She is sorry she left him. He can hate her for it all he goddamn pleases.

Of course, if this is in the same world as the linked post, Megumi finds Tsumiki again. He finds her in Sendai.

He gets to keep her, this time.

Gojo Satoru, of all the goddamn people, intervenes and becomes his sister's benefactor. It's super fucking weird. He won't stop looking at Megumi strangely. He won't stop insisting that he didn't know he had a sister, like that matters.

That would sort of be the first time in a long time that life actually gets better for Megumi.

I think he would ask to go by Fushiguro again, once he asks Tsumiki what his name used to be. He'd ask her if she minded it, him taking the name again, and he'd ask the rest of the school to call him Fushiguro instead of Zenin.

Predictably enough, Naobito loses his shit when he finds out, but it's not nearly as big of a pain in the ass as he thinks it is? Because Gojo intervenes.

Gojo keeps intervening.

It drives Megumi nuts, because if anyone was supposed to hate him, it was this guy. If anyone was supposed to be against him, it was this guy. This is the guy he was supposed to rival. This is the guy who killed his shitheel bio dad.

Gojo's just... good to him. He keeps him safe. He keeps him safe from his own goddamn family, and that's--no one's ever done that. No one's ever protected him from the Zenin.

The Zenin try to remove him from the Tokyo campus and move him to Kyoto the second they find out Tsumiki's there, and Gojo just... says no. It causes an uproar, and he doesn't fucking budge. It's treading dangerously close to him kidnapping the Zenin clan heir, his refusal to let them remove him from the Tokyo campus, and he doesn't care about whatever problems it causes him.

Megumi's his student. He doesn't want to leave. So Gojo won't let them take him.

He personally goes to Kyoto and collects him, the one time the Zenin force him into a car and move him when Gojo's off on a mission. He tells the higher ups to get fucked. He changes Megumi's student I.D. to read Fushiguro, and he causes problems for Yaga and the assistants until they start calling him Fushiguro as well.

Megumi's different with the other students once his sister is there.

He's more connected with them. He becomes best friends with Kugisaki and Itadori. He gets closer with the second years. He's visibly happier, and it sort of casts in sharp contrast how unhappy he was before this.

And Gojo? Gojo's so goddamn sorry. He didn't know megumi had a sister.

The thing is that now that both Tsumiki and Megumi are on campus, it sort of haunts Gojo with what could have been. They're both fantastic kids--funny, smart, resourceful. And it's painful watching them try to rebuild what was taken from them. And it could have just. never happened. Because he could have saved them both. He could have been their family.

It's sort of painfully obvious the Zenin abused Megumi, and it fucking haunts him. He doesn't even have to read into Megumi's behavior--he sees it happen, right in front of him, with how they try to control him and push him around. He wants to kill them for it. He wants to hate himself for it. He could have saved Megumi and he just. He didn't.

He wishes he did.

#jjk #fushiguro megumi #fushiguro tsumiki #gojo satoru #zenin clan #zenin maki #also featuring in this au: itadori absolutely torn because his best friend's long lost brother is extremely pretty and he HAS to be in #violation of some kind of bro code. the boy is in crisis. there he is. enrolled in fucking wizard school. his best friend tsumiki finally #found her long lost brother. said long lost brother proceeds to give him his gay awakening. he's fucking sweating. kugisaki stop laughing #gojos latent desire for fatherhood has been violently awakened in this and no one is safe. he's everyone's dad now. no one wants this.#yuuta in africa: sensei it's three am why are you calling is everyone oka--what do you mean what color do I want you to paint my room. what #room. what are you talking about.#yuuta keeps getting the weirdest goddamn updates from japan and he thinks he's having a stroke. what do you mean zenin-kun is fushiguro-kun #and he has a fucking long lost sister and gojos possibly going to gently kidnap him. is it kidnapping if he wants it too but the people who #has custody of him doesn't. what do you mean he needs to come back and help maki kill her entire family. maki explain your words explain #yes word of god megumi is also yuutas boy in this one i decide this for no other reasons than i want this #it's not the same way as in sea glass gardens. Maki just said some worrying things when yuuta first met him and he decided to keep an eye #out for him. he didn't seem all that happy. and he seemed alone. yuuta didn't want him to be.#megumi's sort of blindsided because he went from being raised in a clan where he was barely a person to having a bunch of medically insane #people decide that his wellbeing was their personal crusade. like. no one ever cared about /him/ before this. they just wanted their idea #but not who he really was. he felt like he was screaming and no one could hear it. then suddenly these people he barely knows are like #okay so we're going to punch your shitty bio uncle and also set his car on fire. yes we will call you by the name that makes you most #comfortable. yes we will help you get a new wardrobe full of clothes you're actually comfortable in.#he hadn't heard his own name in years. he's just been the ten shadows. never fushiguro. only rarely megumi.#everyone calls him fushgiuro at the school. his sister calls him megumi. he sort of wants to cry about it but he doesn't.#his shitty uncle shows up and makes a big stink about him being called zenin and inumaki and panda keyed his car. is this what love is.#is it a keyed car.#Low key he does NOT know what's going to happen the first time the school goes on break because gojo keeps making comments about how #megumi's not going back to the zenin compound and he says it like a joke but. he may not be joking. is he not joking. is. is megumi being #kidnapped. again. this is getting statistically improbable. did gojo just. decide. to keep him. when did that happen.

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sarielsnowings · 7 months

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Awoooo ✨🌙

Spooky season is for SELF INDULGENT ART ONLY.

The paragraph that follows goes into my own body image issues around body hair and transitioning so if you don’t feel like reading some personal thoughts you can skip it! ^^ I just felt like sharing a bit of the thought process behind this piece.

I’ve been getting more hairy ever since starting testosterone (to be expected, of course) and I’ve had encountered feelings about it. On one hand it’s exciting to see the changes but on the other, having always been a fairly hairy person (and presenting feminine throughout my teens) I had a lot of self hate and insecurity around my body hair. It’s dark and strong and grows everywhere, but getting rid of it was an immense ordeal since I’d have to shave very often (and took forever to do so) and more long lasting methods like waxing or any other form of pulling hair out would usually just cause injuries. I felt ugly and unlovable because of something my body was just naturally programmed to do in order to keep me safe and protected. I’m glad I could change my mind, slowly dismantling all the fucked up expectations and beauty standards my surroundings (family, friends, society) had implemented so deep in my brain. For me, realising I was non binary was a huge help, as I didn’t feel like I had to conform to the idea of “womanhood” anymore, but most people don’t have the luxury of that first encouraging push! If you’re a woman, or if you’re anyone who’s ever felt pressured to have a particular relationship with your body hair (and your image in general), you should still be able to live your life as comfortably as possible within your body. You shouldn’t have to feel ashamed of the way you look. It should be YOUR decision whether you’d like to shave or not, for aesthetic reasons or comfort or health or otherwise! YOUR choice. Anyway… a few years have gone by, I’m glad I have a much healthier and kinder relationship with my body in that sense. Then I started testosterone treatment (which has made me incredibly happy so far) and I noticed more hair growing, and some of these thought came back to haunt me. The insecurity and fear… but I’m not 13 anymore. I’ve lived through the anxiety and the stress and the insecurity and now I can face this with new, slightly wiser eyes. And it’s alright. It’s ok! I look how I look, it’s cute! It’s affirming. I love seeing the changes, I love discovering the pattern in which my faint beard grows, just like a musketeer’s, I love my happy trail spiralling down into my bellybutton. And if I ever want to change things up, I can always shave, on occasion, but I’m glad I no longer feel like I HAVE TO. This new stage of hair growth made me think of werewolves and their transformation, and you know what? Maybe that’s it. Maybe I’m not a ghoul, a vampire or a skeleton this Halloween. Maybe I’m a fluffy wolf howling at the moon. A wild creature baring fangs, eyes shining in the underbrush. A soft, tail-wagging friend happy to receive head-pats... It’s all good. I’m alright.

#sarielsnowingsart #Halloween #personal thoughts #werewolf #body image #body hair #queer artist #trans artist #non binary #furry #self portrait

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dead-dove-yandere · 2 months

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Seeing your content in my feed always makes my day🥺🥺 but im a huge softie teenager in love curling my toes while rolling in bed squealing like a child for Cayce, which is ironic cuz her character as a whole is

Violent 😓😍 so i was hoping to get juicy content for her cuz I've been thinking about Cayce and her development with reader? Like lowkey student president darling that always pays attention to her in an aloof manner (i can't express it but basically, nonchalant?) Or is just paying attention to her in general but like what does she feel when darling pays attention to her the same with the others? Does she start to harass the other students instead?? Or does she directly assaults darling-

Awwe, thank you!! I’m so glad you like my writing, and Cayce! I think she’s more likely to harass the other students if they were getting attention because she might find it easier to scare them off, especially since she’s already known as a mean girl. I hope this is okay!!

You looked sternly at her bloodied knuckles as she sat with her arms crossed, refusing to look at you. You sighed, looking at the fresh yellow detention slip that was crumpled sticking out of her pocket.

“Cayce,” you say, but she turned her nose up at you.

“What?”

“You realise that you’ve set back all the work I did with Stacy to the very beginning, right? I’d almost got her on track, but if you’re getting her involved in fights, then she’s just going to go back to how she was.” Cayce turned her head and looked in the other direction, huffing. She shrugged, looked at you, then shrugged again, as if floundering for an explanation.

“Why did you fight her?”

“‘Cause she’s a fucking slag,” Cayce answered. “She’d rut against anything that moved.” Normally you’d have scolded her, but you just sighed, rubbing your eyes.

“That’s a horrible thing to say.”

“Well, it’s true, isn’t it?” She said, rummaging through her bag and pulling out some gum to chew. You shook your head, too tired to tell her to spit it out.

“Cayce, you have to understand there’s a cycle here, surely?” You asked her, pleading with her to understand. “I try and help these students get on track, you get mad and beat them up, then you get put in detention. You hate detention so then you get angry and go and take it out on the other students I’m working with. You must see that you’re doing this to yourself, right?” Cayce frowned, glaring at you as she chewed her gum.

“The real cycle is that they all think if they break a few rules they can get special treatment from you and get your attention, and you let them like a mug,” she said.

“And you’d know, would you?” You asked. Cayce glowered, pausing chewing her gum, before leaning forward, baring her teeth at you.

“You think you fucking know it all, don’t you?” You didn’t flinch, waiting for her to back up as you stared at her blankly. She slouched in her chair with another huff.

“Now we’re both stuck here Cayce. You because you can’t seem to stop this weird obsession with fighting randomers and me because I have to look after you in detention while the teachers clean up the bloodied face you gave Stacy.”

“Like you wouldn’t have been staying behind after school anyway to do something lame,” she moaned.

“I want to go home, Cayce.” Her brow furrowed more and she clenched her jaw before standing up.

“Where are you going?” You ask, startled. She shrugged.

“Home.”

“You realise you’re going to get suspended if you skip detention, right?”

“Well I thought you didn’t want to babysit me anyway,” she said, stomping to the door. She paused, then turned back to you. “And the next time I see that slag trying to get something out of you, I’ll kick her head in ten times worse.” Cayce stormed out, dashing down the hallway and out of your sight. You sighed - it was remarkable how much Cayce had actually mellowed out since you met her.

Divider’s Credit: See Pinned Post

#yancore #yandere #yandere blog #yandere fic #yandere imagines #yandere x darling #yandere drabble #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #female yandere x darling #female yandere oc x reader #female yandere oc #female yandere #yandere female #Ask #Story #Cayce #shes like if tracy beaker had an even more violent disposition

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wjehfshs · 1 year

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Reader who is very sweet and kind, his vibe is " :D ", he is so happy that everyone likes him even valeria, secretly gets special treatment from everyone but doesnt realize it. Also goes along with anything, you just casual lift him up and take him away when he was having a conversation? Ok! Plans change at the last second? Sure, doesnt bother him. Bakes and crochets during his free time and gives the things he created to the people in base. Loved by everyone, everyone also loves him. (Baby of the group, and babied by the group)

Thank you for reading this, take your time, rest if you need to♡

Omg just :D reader

Hyper happy reader, a lot of COD MW/MW2 characters and COD Ghosts characters are in this don’t ask why, even Valeria likes reader, oblivious reader, fluff, platonic, male reader, readers babied and compared to a fairy at some point

On the field you where like any other soldier

But off the field you where the definition of confetti as a person

Everyone just felt this need to protect you

They knew you could take care of yourself but they couldn’t help it

Valeria and Alejandro would regularly argue over who got to pamper you that day

“Ah [name]! I was wondering if you wanted me to run you a bath?”

“Don’t listen to him he would do it right, it would be gross and cold. Let me do it for you!”

For the next 15 minutes they argued in Spanish over who got to run the bath for you

God even Graves loved you

You where the only one who was allowed to cuddle with Ghost and play with his hair

König would let you climb him (maybe or maybe not inspired by another one of my fics lmao)

The thing is you didn’t even realise how much everyone loved you

You knew they loved you, and you loved them but you never knew the extent of it

Normally people would just sit wherever they could during their meals but you had a saved seat

“Leave room for [names] seat”

“Is that seat taken?” “Yeah [name] is sitting there” “what? But he’s in the shooting range?” “[name]. Sits. There”

Keegan would let you use him for piggy back rides

If you wanted you could bother Price all day in his office and he would be more than happy to let you ramble on

Hesh would let you paint different patterns on his face each time he had to go out on a mission

Stars, hearts, stripes, dots, whatever he didn’t care if you pained it on he was wearing it

If someone was mean to you Roach would sign to them, chewing them out for being rude to you, his hands where going so fast you couldn’t even read them

You and Soap where a chaotic duo

Screaming, running around, laughing, and doing stupid shit

Once you where talking to König in a crowded situation, he was starting to get stressed out so he just picked you up, threw you over his shoulder, and walked off with you

You didn’t even stop talking, it was like you didn’t even notice you where now basically 7 ft in the air on a man’s shoulders

Gaz would send you a stupid amount of Tik Toks daily, you would always watch them and get excited

Once for Christmas you went out of your way to knit scarfs for everyone. Like quite literally EVERYONE. You explained you spent the past year on this project

Some of them started crying with how sweet you where

On multiple occasions you would just be in a chair knitting something random

You also crochet most of your own accessories and clothes

“Ah this is so pretty [name]!” Farah told you, feeling the fabric of your crocheted beanie “May I please have one? I’d love to match with you!” She asked

You happily agreed, ecstatic to start the new project

You skipped away to grab your materials happily

You also loved to bake things for people

When it was Soaps birthday you made a cake for him, decorated with sugar flowers and leaves

It was so cute

Everyone was hesitant to eat it because they didn’t want to ruin it

They opted for all taking like 50+ photos each

You where literally a fairy in their eyes

#cod x reader #cod #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw2 #cod mw x reader

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hazshit-hotel-hater · 1 month

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I’ve been spending the past like hour looking at your page I love it sm! I have some questions :3 1. Does Rosie have a design in your au yet? I’d love to see her being actually super scary- 2. Do velvette and vox know how Val treats angel? 3. Where is angel’s brother. Just what is he doing in hell.

Just for you anon I have drawn Rosie incredibly quickly and she kind of looks like garbage but ive never drawn her before im so sorry

For any issues in this (a few I can already spot) I will be fixing when I work on her full body design 🙏 I like her original smile and hollow eyes but honestly sunken in eyes that are barely visible are a lot scarier to be so she gets that. Ive also considered making her blind but we’ll see if I go through with that (I would love to design her a really fancy white cane though… something with that umbrella it does things to me..)

As for Vox and Velvette, I don’t think Velvette is anywhere near as aware as Vox is. The majority of her knowledge is some horrible things have probably happened but she’s never seen it or explicitly gotten any confirmation her suspicions are true so she refrains from prying into it because it’s “not her problem” and finding out would make things more complicated for her image and work, though she absolutely does hat Valentino and is 100% okay with killing him and has discussed kicking him out with Vox multiple times, however they have yet to settle on this.

Vox is definitely aware of what Valentino does but doesn’t actively engage himself in it aside from very sparse talks with Angel on set that usually involves Angel becoming irritable or jittery in Vox’s presence. Vox does detest Valentino’s behaviour and treatment of Angel and will frequently roll his eyes at the mention of Angel since in his mind “its always something with him” and by now any complaints Valentino has about Angel get filtered out after so many years of hearing the most mundane things Valentino is upset about. (ie. Angel moving even though he didn’t live with Valentino to begin with) Even though he heavily disapproves of what Valentino does he still turns a blind eye to it and leaves Angel with little to no help, only ever giving him a few words of advice or a brief warning if Valentino is in a bad mood that day.

Velvette is also unaware of Vox and Valentino’s actual situation as well as basically everyone else. On the surface they come off as “friends with benefits” however Vox is in a (very loosely) similar situation to Angel. Valentino will make similar threats and statements to Vox as he does Angel and currently, Vox doesn’t realise that Valentino is exploiting him. As of now, he hasn’t processed “I don’t actually want to be doing this” or “I am uncomfortable in this situation”. He is still suffering the effects of an abusive work relationship since Valentino does still hit and yell at him, he just hasn’t processed the sexual aspect of what they do was pushed onto him unnaturally rather than him consenting to it openly. Hopefully this makes sense? If it doesn’t feel free to DM me about it or send in another ask and I can clarify more

Angel’s brother currently is still in the mafia and is mingling with crime as usual, however a decent few years ago he ended up gambling away +65% of the families earnings at Husk’s casino back when he was an overlord and ended getting himself stripped of all respect and ranking and is currently attempting to repay his family and work his way back up while trying not to get killed. He is also vaguely homophobic still but has become more tolerant of it after being around and meeting more people. He definitely doesn’t think its “natural” but he knows when to keep his mouth shut and will probably understand more about it someday. Not anytime soon though. He also hasn’t seen Angel for around 8-10 years now and by seen I really just mean yelled at him from across the street and then got a brick thrown at him probably

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player1064 · 3 months

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reverse of ur outed!gary fic: Jamie comes out early in his career (all aggressively "so fucking WHAT??!!" about it). Cue closeted gary (who still hates scousers) trying (and failing) to ask for tips on coming out whilst still playing.

Jamie doesn't realise Gary's gay until they're proper friends, YEARS after retirement

I've been thinking this one over trying to work out how I wanna do it and well anyway today I finally sat down to write it and uh at what point does a drabble stop being a drabble and start being just. a fic. bc this one comes in at 1.2k words so like. hi!

---

“Is Neville staring at us again?”

“I mean –” Stevie quickly glances back over his shoulder, “—yeah, he is, but he’s always had that sort of –” he looks at Jamie and widens his eyes in an imitation of Neville’s default glare, “—y’know, he’s just stare-y. ‘s probably nowt to do w’you, don’t be so vain.”

Except, all day Jamie feels eyes burning into the back of his head, and every time he turns around Neville is there, pretending he’s not been looking straight at him.

It’s Jamie’s first England camp since coming out, and until now he’s been so safely wrapped up in the bubble of the Liverpool dressing room that he’d almost forgotten that the rest of the England squad, especially the Mancs, are fucking dicks. Always have been, and among the Mancs there is none more dickish than Mister Manc himself, Gary fucking Neville.

He’s always ignored the Liverpool players, has always shot glares at them from his little huddle of friends, but Jamie’s pretty sure it’s worse this time around. And only one thing has changed, so.

Homophobic little prick.

Neville may always be surrounded by his little gang but Jamie is too, he’s got Stevie and Mickey and Redders, so he doesn’t have to make any attempts at civil conversation and everyone can just go on ignoring each other, both on and off the pitch.

(And people wonder why it’s been so long since England won a trophy.)

But then Jamie sprains his ankle during five-a-side, and he’s fine, really, but he’s sent off the pitch to the treatment room.

The treatment room, where Neville – who’s done his calf or his hamstring or his who-gives-a-shit – is going through his physio exercises.

Neville stops when he walks in and, surprise surprise, he stares, his lips pressed tightly together.

“Carragher,” he bites out in greeting.

“Neville,” Jamie responds with a curt nod. “Don’t worry your ugly little head, I’ll just go back to my room. Can’t do much to me ankle ‘sides rest it, anyways.”

“No, you should – I mean, you can stay. Makes no difference to me, like.”

“Fine. Cheers, then.”

He limps over to the mini-freezer that holds the ice packs, then hops up onto a bench and rests his foot on a cushion.

Neville keeps staring at him, the whole time.

“’s not catching, y’know,” Jamie grumbles.

“Wassat?”

“Bein’ gay. So you can stop fuckin’ lookin’ at me like that, ‘s not like I’m gonna try anything. Not w’you, that’s for sure.”

Neville blinks a few times. “That’s not what –” he scowls. “—yer not special, y’know, just ‘cause you like suckin’ dick. Yer not special at all, are you, how many minutes’ve you played for England now?”

“Fuck off, you’re the one who won’t stop starin’ at me. ‘scuse me for not wantin’ to get beaten up by some skinny Manc.”

“I’ve not been starin’.”

“You fucking have. I’d ask if you ‘ave a crush but I think I’d rather take the beating, thanks.”

Neville scowls again, his cheeks flushed, and then he storms out of the room.

Jamie doesn’t speak to him again that international break.

“’ve I got somethin’ in me beard?”

Gary must not have realised he was staring, because he blinks and ducks his head, mumbles a “sorry, Carra,” just like Jamie knew he would.

Because Gary’s always staring, it’s just what he does. Jamie’s used to it by now, that intense focus of his. It’s almost nice, sometimes. Flattering.

They’ve finished shooting for the day and are sat in a pub near the Sky campus. Jamie’s just finishing his third pint, while Gary’s still nursing his second. Probably for the best, really, he can be such a lightweight.

Case in point: Gary suddenly turns all serious, frowning at Jamie and saying, “Carra,” with all the same gravity as if he’d used his full name.

“Yeah?” Jamie asks lightly, because who can be bothered with all that.

“Carra, why d’we never talk about it?”

“Talk about what, Gaz?”

“Me ‘n’ you.”

Jamie splutters into his drink. “You what?”

He must be going insane, is the thing, because he’s pretty sure Gary’s just asked –

“About me. ‘n’ you. And whatever that might’ve – meant. Back then, I mean, obviously not – obviously not now, ‘m not –”

“Gary, what the bloody ’ell are you talkin’ about?”

Maybe it’s the alcohol, or the lighting, but Gary’s flushed a delightful shade of pink. He stares down at where his hands are resting on the table, fidgeting.

“Why’re you makin’ me say it, I were young, it – it’s embarrassing.”

Jamie waits, arms crossed.

“Ugh, fine,” Gary huffs eventually, “since you’re insistin’ on bein’ all obtuse, James, fine. We’ve been workin’ together for years now, I’d like to think we’re friends, and I were just wonderin’ why you’ve never mentioned the crush I used to have on you, in England days. I mean, I know you wouldn’t – like, I am aware, that I’m not – y’know? But you tease me about everythin’ else, I never understood why not that, too.”

It takes a second, to process.

You can’t blame Jamie for that, surely, because what the actual fuck. Like, what the fuck.

Gary’s staring at him again, expectant. Nervous, maybe.

What the fuck.

“You –” Jamie starts, because he worries if he doesn’t say something soon Gary might get all wobbly. “You – Gary, you what?”

Gary’s flush deepens.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. I know it’s – I know I weren’t exactly your type, back then. Or now, I s’pose, though, ha, don’t think I’m really anyone’s type, am I? Y’don’t need to rub it in, I were just wonderin’ why y’never mentioned it.”

“You –” Jamie tries again, still unable to get past his first sticking point. “Since when d’you like men?” Since when did you like me, he wants to ask, but that seems like far too dangerous a territory for three beers deep on a Wednesday night.

“You what, Jamie? ‘ve you been hit in the head?”

“I could ask you the same! You’re straight!”

“D’you need me to call a doctor? Straight, Jesus. Me? ‘m fucking gayer’n you, I’ll tell you that for free.”

“I – we’ve been workin’ together nearly ten year, why’d you never tell me?”

“Why the fuck would I ‘ave to tell you, you’ve known since 2004!”

“What do you mean, I’ve known since 2004, d’you not think I’d know if there was another gay footballer in the prem, or ‘re you forgettin’ all the shit I went through just because I was the only one.”

They’d not even been friends in 2004. They’d been barely civil, even when they were teammates at England. When the fuck would Jamie have had the chance to –

“Oh my God. ‘re you telling me that whole fucking nightmare of an international break you spent glaring at me like I’d killed your nan was because you fucking liked me?”

“You didn’t know?” Gary screeches. “You’re the one who said it!”

“Oh my God,” Jamie repeats. “We could’ve been doing this for twenty fucking years.”

“What, arguin’? I think you’ll find we –”

Jamie kisses him, both as explanation and because sometimes he really needs to learn when to shut up.

#this was sooooo fun to write thank u for the prompt!!!!#carraville #drabbles

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ace-touya · 6 months

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Dabi, and His Parallels to Early Izuku

Weird start. These are two characters who really don’t seem like they’d be foils of each other. (Dabi has a lot of foils, Shoto being the most obvious, but also Izuku, Keigo, Katsuki, Geten and Toga. If anyone wants me to talk about any of the others, I will. I have a lot of thoughts. But back to Izuku.)

The obvious thing is the disability coding - both are disabled. Dabi has a quirk that is incompatible with hid body, Izuku doesn’t have a quirk at all. Their disabilities both result in them being outcasted. For Touya, this is within his family structure, and for Izuku, it’s at middle school.

When Izuku first gets One For All, their situations become even more similar, as they both have quirks that their bodies cannot handle. Also, when Izuku breaks his bones, it’s shown visually by his skin going purple, just like Dabi’s scars. And both of them are similarly self-destructive.

Take this line from Recovery Girl to All Might in the sports festival arc:

“You lit a fire under this child and pushed him too far. Look at what he’s done to make you proud.”

And compare to these Touya quotes:

“You lit this fire under me, dad!”

“After all these years, you’ll be proud to have me as your son!”

Both of those are from the dub, I don’t know if the sub lines are different but its worth pointing out regardless.

Their physical states aren’t the end-all-be-all of their similarities, though. Perhaps more interesting is the similar determination both middle school Izuku and young Touya have to become heroes, despite everyone around them believing those dreams to be futile.

As far as I can tell it’s a pretty common belief among the fanbase that, if not for Enji, Touya wouldn’t have wanted to be a hero in the first place. Rei says something along these lines herself, about thinking he’s looking to impress his father rather than saving people. There’s obviously no denying that this is a big factor in Touya’s ambition, however, he was clearly enthusiastic about heroism before his disability was diagnosed and before he knew that Enji’s love for him was conditional. He was asking to learn ultimate moves at the age of five, he clearly loved training.

(I may also do an analysis on how Touya’s attitude toward his training affected Enji’s treatment of Shoto, if anyone wants that, because once again, I have thoughts)

I don’t think I need to go into Izuku’s ambitions. We all know being a hero is important to him. But the point is that both of them were surrounded by people who were very adamant they wouldn’t achieve these goals - Katsuki and Enji, respectively (the parallels between those two are even more interesting) - and neither of them let those expectations of failure get in their way.

The difference between Izuku and Touya, the thing that makes them foils, is the vastly different lives they had growing up. Izuku says himself to Shoto in the sports festival that their lives are so different. While he grew up idolising heroes, Touya grew up quickly learning how corrupt they were. That’s the thing that changed Touya’s path in life, just as much as wanting Enji’s attention.

He decided that he’d rather tear down the system that hurt him rather than work for it, but the realisation of hero society’s dark side came much later for Izuku, and he still believes in the good that it can do.

We know from things like his fight with Shinso at the sports festival, or with Gentle Criminal and La Brava, that Izuku is incredibly empathetic. I’d love for him to have a moment of understanding Dabi, but from the few manga spoilers I haven’t been able to avoid, I doubt it’ll happen.

#touya todoroki #dabi #izuku midoriya #deku #my hero academia #boku no hero acedamia #mha #bnha #mha analysis

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ectospacecadet · 10 months

Text

Post AGIT SPOILERS

Dark Danny character arc

Ok so Dark Danny, or Dan for short, is now in a clone body of his past self. Cool. Personally I’d like to think that Clockwork made the transfer possible by having Dan’s time ectosignature be back to Danny’s own in this timeline. So he’s not got a 24/50-something year old ectosignature anymore BUT he still retains his memories of course. So he’s basically 16-17 years old now.

Why do I think his ectosignature being resynced to this timeline, so that he’s 16-17, should be a thing? Well mostly because I can see the darker NSFW side of this fandom rubbing their hands together and saying “well he’s an adult technically”, need I say more? 🤢

Anyway, aside from that, where can I see Dan’s character growth in the series?

Well, he’s human again for the first time in 12-13 years, he’s going to have to deal with teenage hormones once again. That’ll suck. Imagine going through puberty 3 times?

I don’t think he can go into his human form at first, I feel that seeing his own true human face would give him some form of PTSD. “Well he didn’t react before in UE” Because it was an illusion, not his actual human face. It’s different when it’s a fake face, but when it’s the same, flesh and blood, that you killed? That’s going to hit hard.

This is something he can work on with Vlad, giving Dan a chance to open up about all the wrong he did in his timeline, Vlad has no idea what Dan did, he just knows he’s a messed up ghost hybrid of himself and Danny.

———

I don’t think Dan will be at 100% power, not because he’s reverted to his 17 year old state, but because he’s still recovering from that battle. It doesn’t just mess with him physically but also mentally, so he trains at first but eventually it leads to a hesitant therapy treatment with Jazz.

This also gives Dan room to talk to Jazz about what he did to her, his own guilt towards that, and how he sees his family. Remember, he tried to kill them twice now, that’s going to really effect him. He lost his family from a stupid accident, but knowing he actually wanted them intentionally dead? How messed up is he that he would try to kill his family? How will he react now to seeing them and how affectionate they are with Danny?

As for Sam and Tucker, I think he’ll get jealous of that too, he tries to reconnect with them but it’s a bit difficult when he also tried to kill them. I don’t doubt that he’ll admit to them that he really did miss them, he says so himself in UE, his reaction when they hug him leaves him in a stunned shock too. Then he snaps out of it when Tucker insults him xD But yeah, I think he will try to befriend them again but shortly realises that their friendship wont be like before, that he needs find new friends.

———

Another thing, Vlad’s clones. UE takes place BEFORE Kindred Spirits, meaning that Dan had no idea that the clones existed, so how do you think he’ll react to seeing those for the first time? “What, you had a bunch of these just lying around?” Vlad can explain it all to Dan, about how dozens failed, “died”, and that’s gonna really piss him off.

Then Vlad lets him know about Danielle, a clone that somehow survived the process and surpassed the other clones despite being ‘imperfect’. Dan goes to find her in the GZ at some point, using Vlad’s own ecto-signature tracking device (based on the Boo-merang), he finds her in the frozen Tundra with Frostbite.

She’s with Frostbite because now she’ll be 14-15, meaning her ice powers started to kick in as Danny’s did, so Danny lead her to Frostbite’s world. It’s here that she stayed, found a home and her own identity. Her new name is Ellie. Dan then trains to learn how to use his own ice powers but struggles as he’s got two infused ghost cores. In these training sessions he learns more about Ellie and asks how she survived, he also relates to her more than just being his clone but also another one of Vlad’s ‘mistakes’. ✨Sibling energy✨

She explains that she’s regained her self confidence and her own identity, she liked being called Dani but felt that it was too close to being Danny, she didn’t just want to be ‘his clone’, she wanted to be herself. Dan takes a moment to consider this and offers for her to visit anytime, Vlad is trying to be better now.

———

Onto Valerie, Danny was only starting to have feelings for her around the time of UE, so Dan had those too. But obviously due to their animosity in the future and how he nearly kills her repeatedly, that’s gonna suck big time. He tries to get to know her again, much to Vlad and Danny’s dismay, Valerie isn’t exactly sure on how to feel about Dan since he looks so much like Danny. Which is explained with the statistic there’s an almost exact duplicate of you somewhere around the world, Danny found his and wanted to meet them, not only that but they had similar names, Dan being short for Dathaniel… Danny’s not great at making up shit on the fly, but Dan simply admits he uses the short version because of how dumb the long one is. I also believe that she’s working alongside the Mayor in the anti-ghost protection teams, her dad and the Fentons being the ones to help supply with Anti-Ghost weaponry. Also I do see Dan and Val trying to make it work romantically.

Again this is why Dan needs to be 16-17 again because dear god the implications behind a 24-50-something ghost in a 16-17 year old’s body just makes it so damn confusing on a ‘shipping’ level. I feel that it needs to be 100% clarified at some point otherwise it could get very VERY messy and people will scream p*do no matter which way you go because of the implications 💀

Alright, previous timeline Valerie. I am in agreement that there are 2 Valeries, you see them both in different places in the book so I don’t think they’re the same person. I’m gonna call her Val for this section.

Val is definitely not on Danny or Dan’s side, she wants to out both Danny and Dan as ghosts to Amity Park but struggles to provide proof. Both Dan and Danny have to work together when it comes to Val because she is a genuine threat, but also Danny thinks she can be reasoned with. Initially Dan doesn’t agree but over his redemption arc he basically winds up reasoning with her instead of just wasting her.

—��—

Alright, what about his relationship with Danny? Well… I don’t think he and Danny will get along initially, he’s… grateful that he didn’t leave him to disappear, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t resent him. Danny got his happy ending, Dan has to work hard to build things he’s lost, he’s not going to like being around him. They do start to act like brothers eventually, but Danny is clearly the favourite child when it comes to that. Dan eventually learns that he never really hated Danny, he just hated himself. He also asks how he managed to save his family, Danny says Clockwork helped.

Clockwork… OKAY BUT for real, why did Clockwork help Danny and save his parents, but not Dan’s??? Clearly he could have, but didn’t. “Everything’s the way it’s supposed to be”, so Clockwork must have seen a timeline where Danny would have to face himself twice just so he can become the bridge? Ooh Dan’s not going to like that. He had to suffer, to kill himself, his family, everything and everyone who died, just for the possibility of this outcome??? Damn. That’s going to suuuuck.

———

Final note: Dan isn’t going to be a good person just because he’s put in a clone. He has to relearn everything, go back to school to gain better social behaviours, try to learn how to fit into society again. He wouldn’t just be a ‘good guy’, think of him more as an anti-hero Danny Phantom. I don’t doubt that he wouldn’t agree with Danny initially about wanting to ‘help’ ghosts, but is quickly reminded about how Danny could have just left him to disappear.

I do also think Danny will take Dan to the old Ghost Runes, Dan is going to need his own purpose now. I’m not sure what that will be.

Thanks for reading!

#danny fenton #danny phantom #going ghost #nicktoons #dp #danny phantom a glitch in time #danny phantom agit #dark danny #danny phantom spoilers #danny phantom headcanon

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hypnotisedfireflies · 1 year

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(DISCLAIMER: So this is more a thought to explore...rather than a prompt per say...but you could also treat it as a prompt if it inspires you!)

Our favourite bunnies go at it pretty fearlessly because Tess can't have any more children. How does that landscape change if she could?

I've read some fairly unreal Pregnant!Tess fics, that's not what I'm suggesting here. But I think it would be interesting to get the Arien treatment 😎 on maybe a conversation or a scare?

(idk, tbh, I really struggled with myself about this one, whether or not or put it to you, but then I thought, hey wth, why not!)

Hi! Thank you for sending this thinky piece to me! I’m going to answer it here rather than a prompt (hope that’s okay) as I’m not sure I could do this justice as a full story, but it is certainly interesting to consider. I’ve been turning it over in my mind for a few days to get my thoughts in order.

Making Tess infertile in Drifters was deliberate to avoid traversing into some very dark territory because, other than the killjoy of pregnancy scares, I knew I’d be looking at going into multi-miscarriage territory. I think given the diet, the lifestyle, the tension and the constant dangers, bringing a baby to full term would be extremely difficult. And while bringing a baby (or a dozen, given these bunnies) into the story could’ve had its moments, I think it would have ultimately drawn focus away from what I wanted to do. And I also felt, well, they had enough to worry about without tormenting them with that, too.

I’m also kind of untraditional myself, so the progression of in love = married = babies isn’t really my jam, even though I still find the concept kind of intriguing from a fictional perspective. (I mean, Tess and Joel as parents?? It is appealing. And I kind of flirt with that a bit with the fever dreams).

So with my rationale of why I did not do this out of the way I can now just give you a brain dump of Tessjoel pregnancy ideas that I might have done something with (and who knows? Still might somehow ...!) So trigger warning out there, this would be dark:

Tess finding out she’s pregnant between Missouri and Tennessee and hiding it for as long as she can, hoping it will just go away on its own or more likely

Joel figuring it out before she does because he is Attentive Father and Husband 101 and being like, “… is there any chance that maybe you might be … pregnant there, Tess?”

Violent morning sickness resulting in the trio holing up somewhere we didn’t see in the story – Tess quickly unable to travel, basically.

Everyone being extremely miserable and scared about it the whole time.

Tess ultimately miscarrying and then a whole lot of trauma and guilt because she wanted that to happen.

Joel not there when it occurs and Tess only telling him like, days later that it’s gone.

Joel wanting the baby the whole time, because his key jam in life is to be a father, and although he was sensibly scared about what this would all mean he actually felt good about it.

Tess then breaking things off with him entirely, not so much because she was afraid of falling pregnant again but because of the guilt being amplified when she realises that he really wanted it.

Meeting up with another group a few weeks later when they get moving again and Tess deciding that she’s going to leave with them.

I don’t know, maybe not seeing one another for awhile? Months? Maybe a year or so?

Finding one another again, maybe somewhere like Sioux Falls/if not actually Sioux Falls.

Naturally they’re at it like rabbits again, nothing has changed about the way they feel for one another.

Things are good for awhile, they’re careful.

She’d fall pregnant again and this time they’re like, okay, maybe this is something good, maybe we should do this.

Tess extremely stressed, maybe not so ill this time around but not really coping so well.

Joel being the one to have a handle on it, he’d just think she was so fucking beautiful pregnant it’d be sickening lol. He’d be rationing himself to give her the best food etc.

Another miscarriage, this time Joel is there and with her the duration.

This time it pulls them closer together rather than pushes them apart.

… I did say it’d be pretty dark, lol. So yeah, I think that’s probably the kind of journey the Arien Treatment would’ve given that storyline. It would have changed everything.

#driftersverse #tessjoel #joel x tess #tlou #asks

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house-of-slayterr · 2 years

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Being autistic is weird as fuck, because you’ve never experienced NOT being autistic. Like autism is unfortunately measured by how not allistic we are. Like it’s directly proportional. It’s not autistic people decided that were different and that difference is wrong. But HOW THE FUCK ARE WE SUPPOSED TO KNOW WERE DIFFERENT?

I’ve never been anyone but myself. How am I supposed to know that I don’t feel things the same way as everyone else? How am I supposed to know that I talk weird? Like how should I know that I can’t read social cues, if I’m unable to read social cues? Hello? My inability to understand the task, makes me unable to understand that I’m unable to understand the task!

Like to get an official diagnosis you have to rely on the fact that other people looked at you as a kid and went “that’s weird, it’s not supposed to do that!” And then their “cure” is to just tell you “well stop doing that.” Like gee thanks bud, never thought of that. If I could just turn off my autism you think I wouldn’t have tried by now? You’re the reason my autism is even stigmatised in the first place!

My autism specifically comes with the complete inability to introspect. Like so much of my problems as a kid would have been solved if I just realised “oh, this is an autism thing” instead of being like “oh, well I just must suck at everything, and this is how everyone feels, so why am I the only one having a mental breakdown?”

But also phrases like “everyone’s on the spectrum” are so harmful, cause they just aren’t true!!!! When I was having anxiety attacks as a kid, my mom would always say “well everyone has anxiety.” Which made me think I was just weak, when in reality I have a mental illness that had treatment options and I could have gotten help the whole time, if people stoped minimising disorders.

“We’ll everyone’s a little depressed.” No- no they are not. There are people out there that have never experienced having a brain with mental illness. But my brains always been sick, and when you can only view the world from a sick brain, how would you ever know there were healthy brains out there?

Especially since things like mental illness and learning disabilities or physical disabilities are all hush hush. We aren’t supped to talk about them because it’s “inappropriate” somehow. And then they make you feel crazy when you do talk about it. Like parents who beg their kids to “just be normal” THIS IS MY NORMAL!!! I can’t be like you because I’m not you, and I don’t know how to pretend to be. And I shouldn’t have to!

You don’t suddenly become autistic when someone slaps the label on you. Which is why I always respect self diagnosis, because you know you better than anyone else ever could.

Another story to prove my point. Let’s talk about being LGBT on top of that. My entire life I always thought everyone was Bi. Like I assumed everyone just happened to end up in straight relationships, because how could people not think boys and girls are both pretty? I had no reference to know otherwise.

And after that, I assumed everyone was asexual. I didn’t have a term for it at the time, but I genuinely though everyone was joking about enjoying sex or being horny. Because I’d never experienced those things before, I couldn’t fathom what they were meant to feel like. And if I didn’t feel it as a “normal” human, everyone must just be playing an inside joke I don’t understand right?

But if I just had labels when I was young, I would have understood these things. People who ask “why would you want to diagnose your kid, they’re so young?” Or parents who withhold a diagnosis cause you think if you ignore it, your kid will be “normal” somehow. That’s not how it works. A diagnosis or label can make the world less scary, and often times it can bring you to people who can help you navigate the world. Instead of trying to force you to see it through their eyes.

Autism isn’t dirty. Mental illness isn’t dirty. Disabilities aren’t dirty. And being LGBTQ isn’t dirty!

Children of all ages should have access to knowledge of these things. Because to the people who are part of these groups, labels and information are vital. They’re a huge part of who we are and they aren’t going to go away just because you don’t want to say the words.

Children should have access to knowledge about how their bodies and brains function. This would help kids feel less ostracised and alone, and prevent a lot of pain and trauma in the world.

#self diagnosed autism #autism #autism diagnosis #autism rant #fang rambles #neurodivergent #autistic #autistic women #queer #gay #gay rant #lgbt

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promptsinpanem · 2 years

Text

Every Part of You

Summary: Peeta, as his life falls apart and gets pieced back together

Prompt: Round 1, Day 4 - The Victory Tour

__________________________

The spread of food before us is sumptuous, the tables piled high with glistening meats, frothy soups and delectable looking cakes. Purple banners drape elegantly from the ceiling, trimmed in gold and shining with the twinkling lights that have been threaded around them. The room is filled with lively music, and the constant chatter of conversation. All anyone wants to do is talk to us, while I want to do anything but. I’m not in the mood for conversation right now, and Katniss never is.

But of course, we’re here to put on a show. And right now, it’s more important than ever.

We smile, and talk, and weave our way through the crowded room with our arms tightly linked. I see Effie, her mouth stretched in a clownish smile as she speaks to the Mayor, likely conveying her displeasure in her earlier treatment. I spy Haymitch snatching a small, clear bottle from the beverage table, pocketing it for later. Both mine and Katniss’ prep teams are chatting away gaily, clearly loving being the centre of attention, even if it is just from little old District Eleven.

“How are you?” I mutter under my breath when we finally get a moment alone, and I see Katniss shrug out of the corner of my eye. Her shoulders are bare, her dress pale pink and strapless, her hair a tumble of ringlets cascading down her back. The expanse of exposed skin makes me want to trace my fingers along her delicate collarbone, even though I’m still angry at her, at Haymitch. Keeping me in the dark for so long, treating me like a child. Excluding me, from everything.

“As good as I can be, I suppose,” she eventually replies, turning to face me. “You?”

“I can’t really say I’m in the best of moods,” I reply honestly. “Hasn’t been a great day.”

She has the decency to grimace, then quickly replaces it with a false smile for those around us. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I realise now we should have-”

I cut her off with a firm shake of my head. “No more apologies, Katniss. Just remember to keep me in the loop next time, please. Then I won’t inadvertently risk someone else’s life.”

Katniss bites her lip. “You did the right thing out there today, Peeta. I…it was perfect, what you said. You have to know that.”

“Was it perfect, though? Really?” My tone is filled with disbelief. I remember when the thought first came to me, in the middle of writing my speech. Wondering how I could show the Capitol that I wasn’t just a piece in their Games, how I could use their Games to my own advantage, even in the smallest way possible. How I could repay the two people who had helped to keep Katniss alive in the Arena when I couldn’t. How I’d thought it was the perfect solution. “The outcome might not be great for Thresh’s sister, Rue’s parents. Wasn’t great for that old man.”

“Oh Peeta,” she murmurs. “Don’t blame yourself for him. That was - that was me. All me. That’s my fault.”

I go to correct her, to remind her that I was the one who started to go off script. But I can see the grief on her face and acknowledge that we’re both carrying our own worries from this afternoon. I might be hurting, but so is she. “Let’s not talk about this now,” I reply instead, reaching out and tucking an invisible piece of hair behind her ear. I feel her briefly lean into my hand as I do so, watch as her eyes flutter closed for a moment before I drop my hand away. “There’s nothing we can change about any of that. All we can do is make sure we get through tonight, and the next, and the next, and prove to President Snow that we’re madly in love. Right?” The words stick in my throat, because, really, what do I need to prove? There’s nothing I need to pretend about there.

“Right,” Katniss agrees softly. “But-” She pauses, glances towards Effie across the room, the poor Mayor still bailed up with her. “But we need to make sure your promise is kept.”

“We will. I’ll speak to Effie, she’ll know what to do.”

“Is it even legal, do you think?”

I look at her wryly. “You’re worried about doing things by the right side of the law now?” Katniss flushes, knowing as well as I do she’s been on the wrong side of following the Capitol’s rules for a long time. “Regardless, it doesn’t matter. If I know Effie, she’ll tell me something like You’re a Victor, and if a Victor can’t get what they want, who can?” I mimic Effie’s Capitol accent in the hope that I can tease a smile onto Katniss’s face, and it works. “Of course I’ll have to make sure she’s well over the Peacekeeper incident from earlier before I bring it up. Wouldn’t want to stress her out even more.”

Katniss purses her lips then, and we fall into silence. We watch the room revolve around us, the reality once again sinking in that everything we do, everything we say, impacts every single person in our lives. I grimly wonder what chain of events we've kicked off with what's happened today.

“Let’s dance,” I say suddenly, wanting to be rid of the conversation - and my thoughts - for the night, and draw her onto the small dance floor. Others immediately follow, as though they’ve simply been waiting for our lead, and soon the room is filled with couples twirling and spinning. We don’t twirl or spin though, instead dutifully following the steps Effie has so painstakingly drilled into us, Katniss’ hand on my shoulder, mine resting upon her waist. But the more we dance, the closer we draw into each other, until my entire arm is around her slim waist, and her head is upon my chest. Breathing in together, breathing out together. Comfort, in the only place we can find it in this room. Maybe in the only place we can find anywhere.

I close my eyes, and surrender to the fact that no matter what Katniss Everdeen does or doesn’t do, whatever she says or doesn’t say, I’ll never be able to let her go.

__________________________

We sit on the roof, lazily sipping on tart orange juice and munching on long, sugary twists of dough that Katniss keeps dipping in liquid chocolate. We stare up at the sky, and she points out a cloud that she insists looks just like the plant that is her namesake. I show her one that I say reminds me of Buttercup, but she vehemently disagrees. The cloud is far too pretty to look like that bag of bones, she tells me, and I laugh.

We’ve spent our day doing nothing of importance, possibly for the first time in our lives. No food to hunt, no bread to bake, no Arena to fight in. Zero responsibilities. Instead we’ve spent the hours playing silly games, weaving nets that we pretend to wear like Finnick, stuffing our faces with sweet Capitol treats that both of us know we’ll never get the chance to have again. It’s like our last stand, the last moments we’ll ever have before the end begins.

I regret all the time that I’ve wasted, moments like these that I could have had with Katniss but will never get. The time I wasted by not speaking to her before we were reaped. The time I wasted by being so bitter after the Games, just because she did whatever she needed to do to live. The nights I wasted not wrapping her in my arms on the train because I was too angry, then upset, then miserable, about everything that happened in Eleven. The sessions where I pushed her to the edge while we were training for these Games, instead of trying to enjoy what little time we had left.

But there’s nothing I can do about any of that. I can only appreciate the time I have right now.

I twist my fingers in her hair, the strands silky and shiny and free from their usual braid. I attempt a lover’s knot with one of the long locks, then give up knowing I would have never lasted a day on a fishing boat in Four. Katniss weaves together flowers she plucked from the beds around us that are in full bloom, petals in shades of lilac and peach and vermillion. The sun is warm and the breeze is surprisingly gentle considering how high up we are. The windchimes dance, and block out the cacophony of the Capitol below us. Birds flying overhead call out musically, and I bet if they landed on the roof and Katniss sang to them, they’d stop to listen too. I pop a strawberry into my mouth, bite into its sweetness, and smile.

With a start, I realise that tomorrow we head into the deadliest place in the country, and yet I’ve never felt more sated, more at peace, more alive. Because no matter what tomorrow brings, today has been, quite literally, the most perfect day of my life.

My fingers still as that knowledge sinks in.

“What?”

I know Katniss isn’t going to like what I want to say, but I have to say it anyway. This type of opportunity will never come to me again - there will never be another moment where Katniss is lying in my arms, bathed in the afternoon sun, her face relaxed and unworried. It’s how she should always be; she should never have to worry, should be able to live her life without the fear of the Games. But for her to be able to have that, it means I cannot. Which reiterates the absolute necessity of what I need to say next, and I hope against hope that she’s okay with it.

“I wish I could freeze this moment, right here, right now, and live in it forever,” I murmur, my heart thundering in my chest, and I wait for her to push away, to put up the wall I’m so used to her putting up whenever I say anything that makes her feel uncomfortable. But she doesn’t. In fact, she doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t even stiffen. She doesn’t look at me, just continues to twist the flowers together, creating herself a crown. And then she simply says

"Okay."

__________________________

My hand shakes slightly as I carefully lower the silver backed card onto its final resting place, covering a hole the size of my thumb. A jittery finger, the slightest shudder of breath; anything could tumble the house of cards in front of me, laying waste to what is possibly hours of work.

Hours? Maybe even days. Who knows?

After a few nervous heartbeats, it’s clear that the structure is going to hold, and I slide back in my seat with relief, settling into its plush cushioning. The tension in my body - held there while I'd painstakingly modelled my prison with pack upon pack of silver and gold playing cards - slowly releases, and I feel my shoulders slump, feel the ache flood into my arms from the constant building, placing, constructing that I've been focusing on. With the strain finally gone, a wave of exhaustion washes over me and I close my eyes for relief, but I immediately wish I hadn't. Because against the dark I see the sky explode, see Katniss thrown to the ground, see the world around me crumble.

I've lost count how many days it's been since everything happened, can't even tell if it's morning or night with the windowless quarters I'm being kept in. I sleep when I'm tired, I build another house when I'm not. The meals I'm delivered - the Avox who silently delivers it the only soul I've seen since my interview with Caesar - provides no discernable mealtime association. No warmed grains for breakfast, no sandwich for lunch. Just Katniss's favourite lamb stew over and over and over again. If Snow's intention is to slowly drive me insane by making my days a never ending cycle of sameness, he's well on his way to succeeding.

I’d expected torture, I’d expected a bullet to the head. Instead, I got a full body polish and a life of monotony. I have nothing but time on my hands, nothing but hours to build and try not to constantly worry, to not let my brain go where it always wants to go.

Katniss.

It's the longest I've ever gone without seeing her, and it feels strange, like something is missing, like part of me is gone. Even when we didn't talk between Games I still saw her every day - in the square, in her garden with Prim, reluctantly tending to Haymitch's liquor needs, sneaking away to the Meadow. It feels like my days and years have been measured by Katniss, and without her, I'm at a loss.

I worry about how she is, where she is, who she’s with. They tell me she's in Thirteen, but I still can't comprehend that it even exists anymore, let alone that she's there. They tell me they extracted her, and Finnick, and a handful of others. Rebels inside the Capitol, they say, rebels in the Districts - Haymitch being one of them.

I still can't correlate my drunken mentor with a rebel planning to overthrow the country, but everything they're telling me and showing to me points to it as being the truth. Except for Katniss. I can't believe for a second that she'd be a part of any rebel plot, not if it meant endangering Prim in any way. Being thousands of miles away from her sister while plans to overthrow the country were rolled out into play?

No, not in a million years. I stand by every single rebuttal I shouted at Caesar.

The knock on the door pulls me out of my reverie; I open my eyes and don't even have the chance to give a cursory 'come in' before the two Peacekeepers are already barging through the heavy doors. One roughly gestures to me to stand, his mouth curling with a snarl.

"On your feet, Mr Mellark," he demands. "It's time to go."

I look down at my nails, bitten to the quick over my nervous house building. "To see the Prep Team? I'll probably need it if I'm meeting with Caesar again." I hold up my hand to show the damage, hoping for a bit of levity, but neither crack a smile.

"It's not another interview, Mr Mellark," the second Peacekeeper replies. "You're not seeing Mr Flickerman today."

His tone makes my stomach drop, and I swallow heavily, lowering my hand back to my lap. "President Snow, then?" I still haven't seen him, and realise I've been anticipating this from the moment I was brought from the Arena.

"No more questions," the first says curtly, then steps forward and bats my knee with his gun. Not gently either; if it was still flesh and bone, I’d probably end up with a bruise tomorrow. "We're going to your new quarters."

New quarters? I look around the sparsely furnished room, likely the least opulent room in the mansion. No windows. A simple bed that my mother would clip me over the ear for not being made. A single table and chair. Something tells me it's not going to be an upgrade.

It's now that the fear starts to spread through me, but I try not to let it show as I rise and fall in line between them. I've felt plenty of fear over the last few years - telling the entire country on national television that I was in love with Katniss, being dumped into two Arenas knowing there was little chance I was coming out, the realisation that I might have caused more harm than good with my promise to Rue and Thresh's families. It's nothing new. But this is different.

The blindfold slips over my eyes, and I dutifully go wherever they're leading me. The walk feels endless. Hallway upon hallway, a twisting maze of corners until we stop, and I hear the faint swish of electronic doors sliding open and closed. The ground beneath me begins to drop, and I wonder how far down this elevator goes. It's deep; all I know is that my ears have long popped by the time we stop.

The doors open again and the Peacekeepers push me through them, ripping off the blindfold as I stumble forward. I blink to adjust to the bright lights, and I wish I had the blindfold back on.

White walls. White floors. White bars. All white, everywhere white.

Except for the people.

They stand out in stark contrast to their surroundings, some I know, some I don’t. My eyes are drawn to them involuntarily as the Peacekeepers march me down the aisle between the row of cells, my heart dropping the further we go along. A man in a long jacket that would be the height of fashion in the Capitol were it not for the smears of harsh red and sickly yellow that can only be blood and bile. A Victor from long ago whose name escapes me, but their broken limb doesn’t. The red-headed Avoxes who were assigned to us during our stay in the training centre, the girl whose name I still don’t know and Darius, whose bruised face reminds me of the risk he took to save Gale. Annie, the mad girl from Four who Finnick loves huddled in a corner, her hair a tangled mess and her eyes vacant. Johanna, her head shaven to an uneven stubble, her shoulder oozing blood from a nasty wound. Her eyes meet mine, and while they're full of disgust, they're also tinged with fear. Fear, from a woman who had the guts to shout out against Snow in front of the entire country.

“In here,” Peacekeeper One suddenly tells me, gesturing to the open cell door beside Johanna’s. I step inside the empty room, hear the clank of metal as the door slides closed behind me. I don’t turn around to watch them go.

It’s quiet, quiet enough for me to hear the stomp of their boots as they walk away, the sound of the elevator doors opening and sliding shut again. It’s only once they’ve left that I hear the occasional shuffle, a slight moan, the cry of someone obviously in pain. My throat constricts as my new reality sinks in, and I know that my days of building card houses are over. The only thing that I’m grateful for right now is that Katniss isn’t in one of these cells. I don’t know if I’d be able to handle it if I'd seen her broken body in one of them as I’d passed.

“Figured you were dead.”

The words filter through to my cell, and even though I can’t see their owner, I’d recognise Johanna’s blunt tone anywhere. I go over to the wall that separates us, slide down so I’m sitting with my back against it and draw my knees up to my chest.

“Not yet.”

Johanna snorts. “Might be better if you were.” She coughs, and it’s chesty and full of phlegm. "Where's Katniss?"

"You don't know?"

"They're not very forthcoming on details down here," she replies wryly. "A fair bit of taking, not a lot of giving."

I reach out a finger, draw patterns on the floor like I drew on the morphling before she died. "Apparently she's in Thirteen."

"Huh." She's quiet for another moment. "Is Finnick with her?"

Her response makes me realise that while she may not have known where Katniss was, she still knows more than me. The mention of Thirteen hadn't shocked her one bit. "Yes. And Beetee, apparently."

She snorts. "Good old Volts gets picked up, but I get left behind. Figures."

"You knew about it," I say, and try not to let my feelings cloud my tone, especially after seeing what they've done to her. But I can't help it. There's a bit of anger in there, a dash of betrayal, a side of accusation. How long is the list of those who knew?

"Some," she admits, and I wait for her to finish, but she clearly doesn’t want to tell me any more. That, or she knows someone else is listening. Probably the latter.

Our silence is loaded with questions that will never be asked, never be answered, and it's another few minutes before Johanna speaks again. “Well I hope you enjoyed whatever stay of execution you had prior to joining us, Peeta, because welcome to your new Arena.” She cackles maniacally, until it gradually peters out into a sob. “You’re gonna hate it.”

_____________________________

The lights beating down on me are hot, and sweat pops out on my lower lip, along my hairline. I feel sticky and sweaty in my suit, and the bruises underneath ache from the stiffness of the material pressing against them. My foot taps an erratic and unsteady beat along the footrest of my stool. A Capitol attendant carefully blots at my face again, their face blank but their eyes saying more than I need to know.

I’m definitely not camera ready.

The days have not been kind to me. My cell mates have grown fewer, my ‘sessions’, as they so kindly call them, have increased. Some I remember, some I don’t. Some I come out of feeling like I’ve been sent to hell and back, others I feel nothing but emptiness. Sometimes, when they’re over, a darkness slowly creeps over me, and I beat my clenched fists against a wall that will never beat me back. Johanna tries to talk to me, but most times all I ever do is hear her scream.

I don’t even know if Annie is alive anymore.

The attendant gives my cheek a final sweep of blush and steps away, leaving me alone under the studio lights. There are people out behind the lights where it’s dark, but I can’t see them, can only hear the hurried instructions called out in their affected accents. The only person I can see is President Snow as he crosses the room towards me, confident and steady, his signature white rose adorning his lapel.

“Mr Mellark, how lovely to see you,” he greets, as though we’re old friends. I suppose we are; we’ve seen a lot of each other recently. Much more than we ever had when Katniss was around.

“President Snow,” I reply stiffly. There’s really no other way for me to speak. Every breath is an effort, every word feels like it could be my undoing. The pain in my body, in my mind, makes everything feel like it’s too much to handle.

Snow tuts disapprovingly, his hands held in front of him as if in supplication. “Oh Mr Mellark, I do hope you’ll be able to perform better than that for our little broadcast. I would hate to have to…expand on our sessions.”

I swallow heavily and think of everything I’ve witnessed, everything I’ve heard, everything I’ve felt. What more can they do to me? I’m not sure I want to find out. “Of course,” I reply, forcing myself to sit up straighter. I’d put a smile on my face, but I don’t think it’s going to help.

“Good. And you understand the assignment?”

I nod. “I just have to read from the teleprompter. No ad-libbing. Just the script.”

“Correct. I wouldn’t want you to say anything that hasn’t already been prepared for you. It didn’t end so well on a previous occasion,” he says, and walks away without another word. I swallow heavily, remembering the last time when I added my own inclusion to a speech. What happened afterwards.

I grip my hands together to steady them as I watch a technician deftly mic up President Snow. It’s a smooth operation, something they’ve all clearly done a thousand times before. A countdown starts, the Capitol anthem plays, and then President Snow greets the country, a condescending smile on his puffy lips. I’m not really listening to what he says, but eventually I hear him mention my name, suggesting to the audience that I have something to share.

So I do.

I read the words streaming across the prompter, my tone agitated and frustrated as I narrate the acts of war playing out across the country. I don’t know if this is the performance that Snow is looking for, but it’s all he’s going to get from me right now. I gesture to the images that flash across the map of Panem projected beside me, the words seeming to grow with importance and clarity the more I read them aloud. The rebels…the rebels…the rebels…

And then suddenly I can no longer see myself on the monitor.

It’s Katniss. In front of the bakery.

My bakery.

A shell, nothing but the misshapen remains of our oven left behind.

Where is the bakery? Where is my family?!

Katniss?

The monitor flickers, and I'm back again; I can see the confusion on my own face. Did I imagine that? Was it real? I look around blindly, but I can’t even see President Snow anymore, just white dots dancing in front of my eyes.

And Katniss. Katniss.

I don’t know what else to do, so I keep speaking, picking up the speech where I left off. I’m tumbling over my words, not eloquent in the slightest, but I stop mid-sentence when the District Thirteen symbol flashes up on the screen, and then suddenly there’s Finnick, talking about Rue. He looks broken, nothing like the confident man who strutted around the Capitol in an outfit made of nothing but rope and -

BAM!

I’m back again. And then I’m not, and then I am, and I simply give up on speaking, watching dumbfounded as the Capitol technicians fight to control whatever is happening to their broadcast. Katniss, Finnick, Rue. The bakery. Thirteen is doing something. I don’t know what, I don’t know how. But I do know one thing beyond a shadow of a doubt. Katniss is with them.

And I am not.

Whatever the technicians do finally manages to stop the broadcast fighting, and the Capitol seal is displayed on the monitor while demands continue to be yelled from the control booth. The screen flickers, and suddenly our set appears again. I can see my wild eyes staring back at me, Snow attempting to speak over the chaos as he informs the Capitol that we will resume when we have security under control. And then he asks me, after the demonstration that I just witnessed from the unrepentant rebels, if I have anything to say to Katniss Everdeen.

I feel my chest constrict, feel my mouth twist in frustration. Without the teleprompter, I don’t know what Snow wants me to say. I don’t even know what I want to say. Is she with me? Is she against me? Is she my friend? Is she my enemy?

I don’t know.

Eventually, the words burst forth, spewing out in a rush. “Katniss…how do you think this will end?” I barely understand what I'm saying, only that I have to get the words out before my head explodes. It’s pulsing, pulsing, pulsing, and I struggle to breathe. My thoughts whirl and battle with each other, snapping and snarling like the mutts from the first Arena. I only have one that's coherent, a conversation I’d heard when the Peacekeepers were done after a session, and they’d assumed I was unconscious. I push through, knowing that this is my last chance, my only chance, to say it. "And you…in Thirteen…” Do it, Peeta, do it! “Dead by morning!"

It's chaos. Snow rises to his feet, his face the very picture of fury. People are running, barking orders. Cameras tumble to the ground while I rise to my feet and continue to yell. Scream. Can anybody hear me?!

I feel the crack against my head and I cry out, tumbling forwards onto the ground. My prosthetic leg twists up awkwardly beneath me, and the pain it causes in my thigh fights with the burning in my skull. My fingers slip wetly on the red streaked tiles and I realise with horror that it’s my own blood.

The whistling sound of a Peacekeepers baton swings through the air, closer and closer until -

_____________________________

“Good luck, Soldier Mellark. Make me proud.”

The words echo in my ears long after I’ve left Thirteen, over and over again. Make me proud. Make me proud. Make me proud. I know only one thing that will make her proud.

Kill Katniss Everdeen.

Oh, President Coin will never admit it, but I know that’s what she wants. I know, because like recognizes like. I know, because I know how much I want to. How much I need to. To feel the warmth leech from her skin as my fingers tighten, tighten, tighten around her throat. The delicate, olive skin of her throat…of her shoulders…of her hands…encased in mine. Gripped together. Holding on for dear life. Her lips on mine, her tongue tangled with mine. My heart beating wildly with the love that it’s filled with, for her.

Love?

I close my eyes and clench my fists tightly, press against the metal encircling my wrists until it breaks the skin. Focus on the sound of the train as it runs along the tracks, the steady bom-bom-bom-bom of the turning wheels. Trying to pull myself to where I need to be, not to this stupid place the head doctors in Thirteen insist on attempting to get me back to. The place where Katniss is my friend. The person I love.

Hate.

They keep trying to tell me she isn’t evil, she isn’t my enemy, but nothing they ever tell me makes sense. Delly tells me things that don’t match the images in my head. Footage is replayed over and over again, and jars with my memories. Friend. Lover. Victor. Enemy. Fiancee. Target. Mutt. Neighbour. Hunter. Tribute. The words jumble in my head until nothing seems straight and I have to fight my way back to where I want to be, to where I feel triumphant, free.

Standing over her dead mutt body.

I stare out the small window and feel the rage flood through me again; I welcome it like one would an old lover. I watch as the crops of Eleven come into view, the orchards in the far distance. Remember the last time I travelled through here, a lifetime ago, when we all got people killed just because we lived. Because of what we said, what we did, who we trusted.

We won’t all live any more. No, not when I finally get to Two, and join Plutarch’s precious Star Squad.

I’m not going to kill her because it will make President Coin proud; I couldn’t care less about her. I’m going to do it because I want to. Because I have to. Because I need to.

I need you.

_____________________________

“Don’t do anything foolish.”

I lift my head and look into her grey eyes in the dim light. My fingers rub along my wrists, unused to feeling them unshackled.

“No,” I tell her when it’s clear she needs an answer. “It’s last resort stuff. Completely.”

Katniss pauses, then leans forward and wraps her arms around my neck. I don’t know what to do at first, the feeling of her wrapped around me tied up in a million different complicated emotions. But then I reciprocate and bring my own around her waist, the familiarity to our embrace almost welcoming. I close my eyes and breathe her in, finding that the brutal urges I’ve become accustomed to have made way for something else. Something I used to know. Something sweeter, hungrier.

“All right, then,” she finally says, and pulls away. I feel cold and hot all at the same time at the loss of her, and there’s something on the tip of my tongue that I want to say, but I don’t know what it is. Instead, I remain mute and simply watch as she steals out the door, Gale at her heels.

A few minutes later Tigris sends me on my way with a gentle pat on the cheek, as though she feels sorry for me.

At first I’m cautious not to get too close to Katniss and Gale as we make our way down the alley and onto the avenue with the Capitol refugees, but it’s almost impossible to keep track of them around the fighting breaking out, the pods activating, the people dying. Hysteria is rife, eyes are looking around wildly in fear, and I secure my scarf back over my nose and mouth as tight as I can. Every so often I see a flash of Katniss’ red cloak and it helps me to reset, to remind myself of what I’m doing, where I’m going. What I’ve promised to do if it looks like they’re going to get caught.

But it’s chaotic, and it’s obvious that any plan we may have had is pointless now. Shopfronts around me shatter and people fall to the ground, I have to crawl my way across pavements slick with blood. Screams drown out every other sound as a new pod detonates. I look into eyes that are staring, lifeless, and feel the pressure inside me building and building and building, and I bite my lip until my mouth fills with copper and salt. The pain brings me back.

When the road ahead of me cracks open, swallowing people into its depths, I stare in horror and wonder if Katniss has gone down with them. I press myself against the wall of a perfumery, its sweet scents warring with the putrid stench wafting from the street, and scan ahead, frantically trying to see her. Instead I see Gale, barely clinging to some decorative ironwork, his feet kicking out into space. And then - and then I see her. Katniss, dragging herself up over the far edge of the abyss. Alive. But far away and completely inaccessible to me.

I have no choice but to double back to an alleyway I’d noticed earlier; it connects to a cross street where I’m able to blend into yet another crowd. Whether it’s luck or simple Capitol snobbery, no one pays any attention to the limping stranger swaddled in a purple fedora and pale gray coat.

The screams go on and gunfire pops as the rebels continue to break through. Every shot I hear takes me back to that day in Eleven, and the bullet in the old man’s head. Would we still have ended up here if I hadn't made that pledge in honour of Rue and Thresh, when I helped to fan flames I didn’t even know were being tended?

I shake my head and pull my coat tighter around me. There’s no point in wondering.

Eventually, I stumble into the City Circle behind a family huddled together, their lime green coats the same stricken shade as their terrified faces. It’s a mass of bodies, bracketed by President Snow's mansion on the right and the avenue's grand dame edifices to my left. Giant barricades before the mansion are a dam holding a lake of children.

The ultimate in defence, I think in disgust.

I suddenly catch sight of Katniss hoisting herself up a flagpole ahead of me, the hood of her cloak falling back across her shoulders. She surveys everything around her, her eyes scanning the crowd. And then she looks up in surprise, and I follow her line of sight.

It’s a hovercraft.

Everything about it looks as it should; the gleaming paint, the Capitol seal, the shiny silver parachutes that start to fall from its belly. But it doesn’t feel right, nothing about it feels right. My gut is warning me, telling me that something is wrong. President Snow is evil. He is sadistic. He uses his own Capitol children as a shield. But this…this does not feel right. If he had a hovercraft at his disposal, he’d have already been on it, away to whatever secret bunker he would have built for himself long ago. He wouldn’t be offering gifts to his citizens with no strings attached.

I sprint forward, leap over a raised flower bed, ram a fist into the face of a Peacekeeper who shows a hint of recognition when he sees me. I have one focus, and one focus only, and that’s to get Katniss away from whatever this is. I keep running, and I’m almost there when everything explodes.

I stumble back, and in my head I see the Arena raining down upon me. In reality, it’s blood and gore and bone, and I have to stop myself from throwing up. I need to get to Katniss.

People have pushed towards the barricaded area, making my path to Katniss all the easier. I’m so intent on her that it takes me a moment to realise who else I see, the other braid that streaks past me right into the horrors.

Prim.

Her hand clutches a medical kit, her medic jacket still slightly too big for her petite frame. I open my mouth to call out to her, but I’m too winded from running, and she’s too far away now for her to hear me. She’s just gone past Katniss anyway, is kneeling down to help someone, and Katniss will call out to her and-

She doesn’t.

Even from here, I can see small, shivering hands still clutching onto the precious parachutes that didn't explode before. Can practically see the moment they light up, shattering into a million fiery pieces.

Taking Prim with them.

My heart stops, my brain shuts down. Flames steal across my forehead, but I barely feel them. Prim is dead.

Prim is dead.

Finnick is dead. Mitchell is dead. Boggs is dead. Mags is dead. Rue is dead. My family is dead. Everybody is dead.

No. Katniss isn’t.

I run towards the flagpole, shoving others out of my path in my haste to get to her. She’s waving her arms around wildly in an attempt to put out the flames that billow around her, but it does nothing but enrage them. I don’t even think when I finally reach her side - I push her to the ground, roll her over the snow until the flames engulfing her back finally dissipate. The coat she wears feels like a furnace, and I try to pull it off her, tearing the black lining. The delicate fabric burns my fingers and palms even more, but I keep going, tugging and tugging until she’s free of it, and I toss it aside. I draw in a deep breath, but immediately start to cough; the smoke and flames around us are too strong, too out of control, and we can’t stay here.

Prim is gone. I don’t know where Gale is, or Cressida, or Pollux. It’s only me and Katniss. And the only thing I’ve ever wanted is for her to live.

It’s the surest thing I’ve ever known.

I position my arms underneath her back to lift her up, my prosthetic buckling as I straighten. I look around, no idea where to go other than as far away from the mansion and the City Circle as possible. So I move, and keep moving, further and further away, around the sobs, cries, moans, screams. I chance a look down at Katniss’ face - it’s contorted in pain, her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth twisted in a grimace. The only word that crosses her lips is Prim, and each time she says it, it’s accompanied by a guttural moan.

The exposed skin I can see on her is a mess, and she emanates a heat that is painful where she rests against my own injured arms. I don’t even want to imagine what her back looks like, what damage has been done to her. Katniss Everdeen, the girl on literal fire.

I finally reach a point where I can’t take it anymore, and slump to the ground beside a building with a brightly coloured sign that proudly proclaims that it’s Winter Sale Time! I cradle Katniss against me, staring dumbly at the damage I can still see in the City Circle, even from here. Broken bodies, scarlet covered snow, wailing parents. Rebels wandering around in shock, Peacekeepers not knowing what the hell to do.

All the fighting to overthrow the Capitol. All the battles in the Arena. All the appearances to appease a President who was never going to be appeased. After all of that, this is what it’s come down to. Even more innocent children lost because of a Game that should never have been played.

I look down at Katniss again, feel the warring in my head begin. I don’t have the pain of cuffs around my wrist to tether me to, so I say the only thing that makes sense to me right now.

I whisper to her that she needs to stay with me.

_____________________________

The air wafting through the open bedroom window is sweet and carries the promise of a warm day ahead. I inhale deeply, enjoying the scent; spring is here, and there’s something about this season that’s always made it a favourite of mine. I know it’s Katniss’ as well - she told me once with a melancholy smile on her face, though she never explained why.

I rise from the bed, twitch the curtain slightly to look across at her house. The windows are closed, but the chimney is smoking, meaning Sae has already beaten me there. My stomach grumbles at the thought of bacon, and I hope I haven’t missed breakfast. It’s become part of our routine since I finally returned from the Capitol - sharing breakfast in the morning, spending time tending the overgrown gardens of all the Village houses, working on the memory book that Katniss has started. There are days where Katniss goes into the woods alone, or I take long walks around the edge of town furthest from the bakery when I know I need to be on my own, but for the most part we spend our days together.

If anyone had told me this when I first arrived in Thirteen, I would have laughed. Then tried to kill them.

I’ve come a long way.

I grab the pants I flung across the foot of the bed the night before and slip them on, snag a soft blue t-shirt from the bureau drawer. I jog downstairs, grab the freshest loaf of bread from the bread bin and jam my feet into shoes that I know were hand-picked by Portia, acknowledging the pang the thought of her brings. There really isn’t much in my life that doesn’t remind me of someone or something I’ve lost; it’s something I’m still learning to live with. But Dr Aurelius tells me I can’t ignore it, or things will never get better. And I really, really want things to get better.

I head outside and cross the expanse between our homes, letting myself in without knocking. I follow the scent of food through to the kitchen, pleased to see the high pile of bacon beside a platter of eggs on the table.

“Morning,” I greet, sending a small smile to Sae and her granddaughter Sadie, before glancing across to Katniss in the rocking chair. It’s still her preferred spot, and she’s sitting in it silently, biting into a piece of bacon. She doesn’t say anything, but it’s nothing out of the norm.

“You’re late,” Sae admonishes, but it’s said with no heat, more playful than serious.

“I slept well,” I say simply, and she just nods, knowing as well as I do that those nights are rare. I drop the loaf on an empty plate, picking up the knife I know was left there for me for this very purpose. Another piece of evidence for my progress - a knife, in the same room as Katniss, with not a single inclination to kill.

No, the feeling of wanting to kill Katniss is long gone.

The bread is sliced thickly, shared out between the four of us as we pile our plates high with food. Sae offers a little conversation, Sadie sings a tune that I vaguely remember from my childhood. Buttercup hisses and whines until someone slips him some bacon. Katniss remains silent, and I wonder if today is going to be one of the days she leaves me for the woods.

Eventually, the front door shuts behind Sae and Sadie, and I turn to Katniss questioningly.

“You okay?” I ask quietly. She nods.

“Yeah,” she finally says. “I had a dream last night.”

“Oh.” This, I understand.

“No, it was a good dream,” she tells me. She shifts uncomfortably in the chair, and I suddenly realise her feet are bare but for a thin pair of socks. No boots. No boots means no woods. This is good. “I…I dreamt of Prim, and Rue. And it was…it was nice.”

Nice dreams are a rarity for me, almost unknown for Katniss. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

Katniss licks her lips, glances down at the hands folded in her lap. “I don’t think so. But I think…I think I’d like to draw Rue today. Is that okay?”

I stand and cross to her, then crouch in front of her chair and wait until she catches my eye before I speak. “Of course it’s okay. Whatever you want.”

We set up in the front parlour, where the light is best in the mornings. The low slung coffee table is our work space, side by side with our legs crossed. I sketch on loose pieces of paper, Katniss ruminates on what she wants to write. It’s not our first entry about Rue, and it likely won’t be our last.

We settle on Katniss’ memory of Rue sharing her love of singing. I begin to draw her sitting in the Arena woods, light dappling across her face and a slight smile on her lips, and I think of the siblings she left behind, the ones who stared at us so solemnly on the Victory Tour. The ones who’ll never get to hear Rue sing again. I test out a dozen different shades of green before I land on the right ones for the leaves, and take far too long trying to get a curl of her hair the way I want it to fall. It’s when I’m halfway through that another memory jags at me, and I drop my pencil like it's on fire. I can feel the panic rising in my chest and fight to steady my breathing, fight to tamp down the multitude of feelings that threaten to overwhelm me. My head pounds, behind my eyes, behind my ears, at the base of my neck. I push away from the table, my fingers digging frantically into the loomed wool of the rug beneath me.

“Peeta? Are you alright?” I can vaguely hear Katniss over the roaring in my ears, and I stare at her blankly, willing it all to go away, go away, go away, GO AWAY. Then her hand rests tentatively on mine, and slowly everything recedes, until I’m hollow, spent, and all I can feel is her touch.

“Sorry,” I mutter when I finally feel settled. I pull myself to my feet and drag my hands over my eyes. "I'm alright. I'm okay."

"Are you sure?" I nod and place my hands on my hips, drawing in a deep breath. "What was it?"

It takes me a few minutes to muster up the courage to speak. "They just…in the Capitol. When they used the venom…” I trail off, trying to align my thoughts. “They used it while showing me footage of you and Rue. When she died. The memories are shiny. And they’re, um…they’re not very favourable to you.”

“Oh.” Katniss' eyebrows draw together in concern, and I can see the worry at what they might have shown me. What conversations we might have to have later. “We don’t have to draw her, Peeta, not if it’s going to affect you like this.”

I wonder why this has never surfaced before now, even though we've talked about Rue plenty of times. Why this twisted ‘memory’ has decided to claw its way free today, when the morning has been such a good one. Why my brain works the way it does these days, flipping between normal and madness at the flick of an invisible switch.

"It's okay. I just…I just don't like being around you when I'm like this. You shouldn't have to see me like this. I should go."

Katniss shakes her head and rises to her feet, reaches out to touch my hand again. I allow it, and our fingers tangle together tightly. It took us a long time to feel comfortable with each other’s touch again, before a hand would reach out and be welcomed, an embrace easily returned. Now Katniss is the only person who can make me feel anchored when everything feels like it’s turning upside down. The only one who can reach me, who can help me to hang on, who can help to bring me back.

"Peeta, you know you don't need to hide from me."

I look down at her sadly. "What if I hurt you? You don’t know what these other…parts of me are capable of."

"You won't hurt me," she says firmly. "And I know you, all of you. Every part of you is Peeta. I know you won’t hurt me.”

Her words undo me, and I lower my head until my forehead rests against hers. Our eyes bore into each other, unblinking. Every day I wish… I hope…I wonder. If she feels the way I do, the way I always have, the way Snow could never take away from me. And after what she’s just said…right now I have to do more than just wish and hope and wonder. I need to know.

I reach up, gently brush the back of my fingers across her cheek. I can hear her breath hitch, feel my own heart thud. But it doesn’t thud like it did only moments ago; it thuds in a good way, and the feeling spreads out into my stomach, out to my limbs, to the tips of my toes. I turn my hand over and cup her cheek with my palm, then dip my head slightly as I feel her hand gently rest on my chest.

The thud turns into a frantic drumbeat, and I don’t waste another second. My lips find hers, and hers find mine, and it feels so good, so damn good, that I never want it to end. It’s gentle and searching, and it’s a promise of things to come.

Eventually, we pull away, and we smile at each other shyly, as though we’ve never kissed before. We both look down at the unfinished entry on the coffee table, and with unspoken agreement, lower back to our positions, cross-legged, side by side. I finish my sketch, Katniss closes out the accompanying text. And when we’re finally done, she closes the book and turns to me.

“Do you want to stay for dinner?” she asks hesitantly. I watch as her gaze flits, ever so briefly, to my lips, and my heart soars. “It won’t be much, probably just some leftover venison, some greens-”

“I’d love to,” I tell her. “I can bake us some cheese buns to go with it.”

The delight is clear in her eyes. “Deal.”

And with that, we have a new addition to our daily routine.

__________________________

Today our kisses are lazy and sweet, our movements slow and languid. Sometimes we’re frantic in our need for each other, limbs tangled, hands gripping forcefully, with no time for finesse. Other times we’re as gentle as a whisper, as though we’re worried that if we go too hard we’ll break before we reach our peak. But this is our middle ground, where we’re almost playful, where a laugh could just as easily be followed by a moan as it could a whimper. Where we’re not afraid to try something new, exploring each other in all the ways I never dreamed we’d get to.

After, Katniss lies in my arms, her naked skin bathed in the afternoon sun. A strand of her hair tickles my cheek, but I don’t move to brush it aside. In all honesty, I could lie here forever - the woods are my favourite place to make love to Katniss, any inhibitions that she might still have disappearing beneath the broad limbs, the rustling leaves and the gentle lap of the lake nearby the only sounds other than the ones we make ourselves. But the sun will set soon, and making my way through the woods back home in the dark with my leg is not ideal.

We dress slowly and leave the lake, our feet crunching over the golden leaves of fall. We walk back through the centre of town, our hands linked, and say hello to Thom and Delly outside their store, wave to Dalton as he passes us on his way home to his farm on the outskirts of town. We reach the edge of Victor’s Village, and laugh as we settle in on the steps of our front porch, watch as Haymitch runs after a goose that’s gotten loose from his garden.

“Laugh all you want,” he grunts loudly once he has the goose back in his arms, before none too gently dumping it on the other side of his front fence. “I’ll laugh at the two of you when you’re chasing your own two legged thing around a yard.” He comes over to us, jerks his head towards Katniss’ gently swelling belly. Katniss blushes, the faintest flush creeping across her cheeks.

“I’m sure you will, Grandpa,” I reply with a smirk, and he grimaces. I know it’s all for show; for all his crotchety and rude ways, I know he’s just as amazed and excited and terrified as Katniss and I are for the change that’s coming our way.

“You heard the news?” He reaches into his pocket, pulls out the disgusting beef jerky he’s taken to munching on as an alternative to drinking 24/7. Katniss and I look at each other, shake our heads. “Eleven has a new District representative to the President.”

“Oh?” Katniss’ response is wary, and her fingers tighten around mine.

Haymitch’s voice is soft when he responds, as gentle as his gravelly tone will ever allow. “Rue’s sister,” he tells us, and pauses a moment to gauge our reaction before continuing. “Heard her interview on the radio. Said she’d been inspired to represent their District because of the courage of her big sister. That she’d been given a gift, long ago, and had been able to get a better education because of it. Wanted to use it so she could keep making their District a better place to live. She’s young, but young blood can be a positive thing.” He reaches over and touches Katniss briefly on the shoulder, gives me an approving nod. “You kids always remember you did good, okay?” He clears his throat of all the sentimentality, then walks back to his house. He turns at his front door, tossing a final comment out over his shoulder before going inside. “Oh, and I’ll be back for dinner. Make sure it’s none of that meatloaf shit.”

We’re quiet for a few moments before Katniss tips her head to rest on my shoulder. “Things are good, aren’t they?” she finally says, and I smile gently, even though I know she can’t see my face. I wrap my arm around her, pulling her even closer. We both know that it’s not always going to be like this, that not every day is going to be easy. But she’s right - right now, things are good. We are free to live as we want. We’re growing our own family. And a young woman from a poor fruit farming family is representing a District to a beloved President, something that would have been laughable 15 years ago.

I realise with perfect clarity that the impacts of our actions - mine, Katniss’, Haymitch’s, Rue’s, countless others - will be endless. But so, too, will the opportunities.

And that indeed makes everything good.

#promptsinpanem #specialchallenges #fivetenfifteen #submission #sponsormusings

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sandinmybed · 1 year

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Passive vs Active Mike analysis: El is going to have to be the one who dumps Mike.

I’ve been having a discussion with some twitter mutuals and we’ve drawn this conclusion, I thought i’d share it with you guys

Mike is very passive in their relationship. In s1, he calls El pretty and kisses her, but that’s the only times he advances their relationship intentionally himself. In s3 they spend a lot of time kissing, but think about that awkward makeout scene - Mike pulls away to sing at her. Mike keeps pulling her hands down away from his face. When they ditch the Party at weathertop, El is the one who says they have to go home. Later in s3, El is the one who dumps him, and he’s pissed off, but he just takes it. He shows no clear desire to get her to take him back (unlike Lucas, who’s pretty concerned with getting the olive branch from Max.) And then the contrast to his fight with Will that we’re all so familiar with - Mike fights with El, gets dumped, he takes it. Mike fights with Will, Will runs off, Mike actively chases after him through pouring rain to apologise and beg him for forgiveness.

In the S3 end scene where El comes up and kisses him, he just stands there. They don’t talk about getting back together. Mike doesn’t visibly reciprocate in any way, doesn’t even smile. He is passive, he just sort of lets it happen. He even sort of blocks her from kissing him when they’re all hugging as the Byers leave. When Will comes up to him to dump his DnD books, Mike is active, he asks the question to confirm their standing with one another - "What if you wanna join another party?" - and is happy with Will's response.

Another example of Mike's passivity in their relationship is the way Mike takes very little responsibility for their problems. For example, treating El “like garbage/like a pet” in her words, during their relationship in s3. When he lies to her and tries to apologise, he has no idea what he's doing and lets Lucas lead him. The few efforts he does make towards getting her back are supported heavily by Lucas, in fact. When she dumps him at the mall, he's like okay, whatever, no girlfriend then. But when he’s a dick to Will? Instant regret as soon as he realises he's gone too far, he doesn't wait around trying to analyse the situation, he's right out the door and he goes full on grovelling hands-and-knees begging to apologise.

In S4 the same thing happens - he pisses off El, can’t say her loves her, but instead of accepting that responsibility, he denies it and says he does say it (clear lie) and that El’s being ridiculous. When he pisses off Will, he’s straight in there to take responsibility for ignoring Will, he says Will didn’t deserve the bad treatment (and honestly, Will’s not even fully innocent either if you wanna get into that lol). He even apologises going back months and months. He’s passive with El, allowing her to yell at him and makes no real effort to defend himself or fix it. With Will, he’s active - he makes the move to apologise and reconnect.

Excluding their kiss in s1, every time Mike takes initiative and is active in their relationship, it’s never a romantic action. When he’s giving her shelter and food, when he’s calling her every day trying to find her (after she vanished in front of him) and when he and the Byers go on the road trip to find her, none of that is inherently romantic. The one time he says he loves her, she isn't even present, but Mike is desperate not to lose her/for El not to get hurt by their plan. Mike is active when it comes to protecting her.

The one active step he does take in their relationship is the monologue, but is that actually active? He's pretty much constantly being told by other people that being with El is the "right" thing to do - Nancy in s1/2 assumes he's into her, Lucas in s3 tries to help fix their relationship, just like Will in s4. Mike has been led to believe by Will that this will save their relationship, and he has an immense amount of trust in Will, so he follows what he thinks is right and tells her he loves her, because he's afraid she will literally die if he doesn't.

This is why I think El is going to have to be the one who officially dumps him. Mike never takes the initiative in their relationship. He didn't want to talk to her about getting back together in s3, and he didn't want to acknowledge their issues in s4 either. I've seen plenty of people (myself included) who believe that during the scene in Surfer Boy Pizza, El was going to officially break up with him. They got interrupted, and then it was too late.

But starting with s5, we've got the painting lie, and we've got Hopper back, and Mike is back on good terms with Will. El isn't talking to him, and they're dealing with the apocalypse, and it's strongly implied that El knows he was lying to her. I think El's going to dump him in s5, and he's going to ask about the painting, which she knows nothing about. I think that's going to happen fairly early on in the season, maybe even before the time skip, and be the catalyst for a lot of changes (and hopefully some more personal growth for both of them!) But Mike will not take that step himself.

#i was meant to be writing my dissertation lol #mike wheeler analysis #mileven analysis #anti mlvn #milkvan analysis #anti milkvan #eleven #stranger things analysis #stranger things theory #st5 theory #byler #< target audience #mike wheeler is gay

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connorwhumpaddict · 1 year

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“A whole new world (without pain)” (Connor whump w/Friendship gender neutral reader) ❤️‍🩹

Summary: Connor is wound up and in constant pain from his overused and strained muscles and joints, but doesn’t realise it isn’t normal since he has functioned like that since his deviancy. Until reader, a physical/ massage therapist working at the DPD offers him a massage and is horrified to find him so tense. Reader takes the time and care to bring the poor android some much needed relief.

Warnings: none

A/N: I want to specify that I’m in no way a trained physical or massage therapist and therefor I do not guarantee for accuracy in this fic. I did the best I could with research and my own experiences from physical therapy when I’ve been treated for various sport injuries. That said, please be lenient in your judgement if you have better knowledge than me on the area. I just wanted to write a whumpy massage fic for pleasure 👏🏻

Banner: By me

You’d been working at the DPD for a few months by now. The management had decided to try and do something to nurture a more healthy environment for the precinct’s increasingly stressed out personnel and one of their initiatives was hiring you as a full time physiotherapist. You had been offered a well equipped treating area upstairs where you offered treatment, consultations and the occasionally rehab session for all the precinct’s officers and other personnel.

Every Tuesday and Friday however people could book you as you’d do rounds and offer 15 minutes of shoulder/ neck massages at peoples own desks to help them loosen tight muscles that inevitably would come from being hunched over a computer screen for too long at a time. Today was Tuesday and your were making your was down to the bullpen. You looked at your pad to see who was your first appointment; Chris Miller.

You smiled as you entered the open office. You loved doing what you did and the people you worked with. You loved to help them feel better, to soothe aches and ease peoples pain. It might not feel like much, but you knew how much difference you did for your patients and that was reward enough in itself.

“Time to get to work.” You muttered cheerily to yourself.

You entered the office and was immediately greeted warmly by most of the people on shift, many which you had appointments with during your day. But first thing first, you made your way to officer Miller’s work station. “Chris you and I have a date my man!” You called in a cheerful voice.

Chris looked up from his screen and smiled. “We sure do! Thank god you’re here Y/N, my neck is killing me. I’ve been looking forward to this all week!”

“Well, lets see what we can do for you then.” You replied as you settled behind his chair. You set the 15 minute timer on your watch and placed your hands on his shoulders to do what you did best.

—

Your day went ahead as scheduled until you reached your last appointment of the day. You looked around the office for Officer Pearson who wasn’t at her desk, as was protocol when you’d been booked.

“Anyone seen Pearson?” You asked out into the room.

“Yeah, she had to go home with a stuffed nose and fever ten minutes ago.” Lieutenant Hank Anderson answered you from his own desk.

“Oh, poor her. I hope she feel better soon.” You said in compassion.

“She asked us to offer you her apologies for not having enough time to cancel her appointment with you, but she didn’t want to risk infecting you.” Connor, Anderson’s partner and more or less adopted son, added from his own seat across from the lieutenant. You’d spoken to him a few times and found him really kind and sweet, but he’d never booked your services himself even though he’d made Anderson come see you a few times when his back would act up, as the man was often too stubborn to do anything about it before he was in incapacitating pain.

“That’s alright, but seems like I have a slot open then. Why don’t I work on you Connor? You’ve never taken advantage of my service before, its about time I’d say.” You offered the kind android.

Connor seemed a little taken aback by your offer and made his LED spin yellow a few times in contemplation. “I’ve no need of your service, I’m functioning at full capacity.” He answered.

“Yeah, but you can still enjoy a massage without it having to be about increasing function. I’ve worked on Susan and Michael plenty of times and they seem to enjoy it.” You said, referring to the precinct’s android receptionist team, and made your way closer to the desks. You’d found that android’s synthetic muscles weren’t all that different from human’s. The anatomy was basically the same, but android’s muscles were more durable and could handle a lot more strain before getting injured, tense or pulled.

“It just seems like a waste of your time, Y/N. There’s probably someone more in need of your attention than me taking your last appointment for simple.. Enjoyment.” Connor rationalised.

“I promise you it’s not a ‘waste of my time’ and you’re not hogging my time from anyone else.” You reassured the detective.

Connor seemed on the verge to protest again when the lieutenant cut in. “Come on kid, you deserve to unwind a bit. You’ve been working cases back to back for the last three weeks. Treat yourself a little. I promise you it’s worth it.”

“Yeah Connor, seriously try it! Y/N’s the best!! You’ll feel like you’re floating afterwards.” Chris Miller added from his seat across the room.

Connor was silent a few seconds later, but finally gave in. “Alright then, I suppose I could try it.” He agreed.

You smiled warmly and made your way the last few paces to take your stand behind his chair. “Can you remove your blazer please, the less layers the better.” You requested as you set your timer.

Connor did as you asked and removed his grey blazer to lay it across his desk before he leaned slightly forward, resting his forearms on there as well, as he’d seen your other patients do to give you a better reach to his neck and broad shoulders.

You placed your hands on each shoulder with your thumbs at base of his neck and applied a firm pressure to work into the muscle and.. Nothing.. Despite your strong force there was absolutely no give in the tissue beneath your fingers. You bit your lip and applied all your strength which were saying something (in your profession you had to have strong hands to work) and this time you did manage to make the muscle give just the tiniest bit as you swept your thumbs upwards. Beneath you, you heard Connor let out an almost inaudible hiss an saw his LED switch to yellow at his temple.

You eased up the pressure again and lowered your hands to asses across and under his shoulders, feeling your concern grow as you already had a suspicion on what you were going to find. Sure enough, you might as well have been trying to palpate a brick wall! Never in your life had you felt this tight and wound up muscles and it went down his whole back. The fact that android synthetic muscles were much more resistance to exactly this kind of tension only made it that much more horrifying that it’d gotten to be this bad. This wasn’t just something he’d developed overnight, this had been accumulation for a long, long time, how was he even functioning?! You knew androids feel pain because of a mutation in their code when they deviate so he had to be in absolute agony!

You tried to switch over to using the entire heel of your hand so you could use your entire body weight to try and loosen the rock hard knots under his right shoulder.

Connor’s light abruptly turned red and he let out another hiss of pain although much louder this time, his eyes pinched shut. “I’m sorry to say this, but.. This is not as pleasant as you made it out to be.” He groaned through clenched teeth.

“Yeah, no kidding!” You groaned yourself, but you from exertion. “My world Connor, what have you done to yourself? I’ve never felt anyone this tense!”

Anderson looked over at the two of you his eyes starting to show a growing worry. “What’s going on son? Did you hurt yourself again and didn’t tell me?” The older man’s voice held a slight hint of accusation, as if it wouldn’t be the first time Connor had been hiding injury from him.

“No Hank, I-” Another pained gasp interrupted him as you kept trying to make the unrelenting musculature give under your ministrations. “I promise I didn’t!” He finished his head leaned forwards to hide his pinched, pained expression.

“Well, I saw you literally lift a car yesterday to help a man fix his flat tire, you sure you didn’t pull something?” Officer Thomsen chipped in from his own workspace.

“That car only weighed 55% of my maximum capacity.” Connor defended himself.

“And you did jump out a window from the second floor last week when you chased that Red Ice dealer.” Tina added.

“I rolled when I landed!” Connor exclaimed as if that was a reasonable explanation.

“Oh, maybe it was when you..”

“Alright, I think I get the picture.” You interrupted before people could add to the list of reckless behaviour the android may have overtaxed himself while doing. You could feel him tense up even further (how little possible that should have been) beneath your hands. Clearly Connor weren’t comfortable being the centre of attention like this so you thought better to save him from the situation.

“This is an issue Connor, but not something that isn’t fixable. I can’t work probably on you like this however, this needs special attention.” You explained and pulled your hands off him, Connor’s LED turned back from red to yellow in relief. “You need to come see me first thing tomorrow morning in my clinic upstairs though.”

Connor turned slightly in his seat to look at you.“But, I’m working the Jackson case, I can’t..”

“Don’t worry about the case son, Thomsen and I got it covered you just.. Do what you need to do to get better.” Lieutenant Anderson interjected.

“But Captain Fowler expects me to..” Connor tried again.

“I expect my officers to prioritise their health and well-being so I don’t have to worry about sending them out in the field!” Captain Fowler suddenly appeared from the break room, holding a cup of coffee in hand. “If Y/N deems it necessary for you to receive immediate treatment that’s what you’ll do detective.” The man said in a voice that left no room for discussion.

Connor visibly deflated a bit in his seat. “Yes sir.” He still replied respectfully.

“Sooo.. Shall we say 8am tomorrow?” You asked Connor directly for affirmation.

Connor offered you a nod. “Yes, I’ll be there.”

“Alright then, see you tomorrow then Connor.” You walked out the office towards your clinic, you needed to go into this prepared.

—

The next morning Connor walked into your clinic at 8am sharp.

“Good morning.” You greeted the detective cheerfully.

“Good morning Y/N. I’m here for my appointment.” He greeted you back professionally.

You grinned a bit. “Yeah I figured. Please take off your jacket, shirt and shoes, but keep standing. I need to do some mobility tests first.” You asked as you lay a clean white sheet across the treatment table.

Connor did as you asked and removed his blazer, draping it across the back of a nearby chair before he tugged off his black tie, unbuttoned his white dress shirt and laid them on the chair as well, lastly toeing off his shoes.

You moved to stand behind him on his right side, but made sure you were still visible in his periphery vision. “First, make sure to let me know if anything feels too uncomfortable of painful, alright?” You instructed.

“Yes, I understand.” Connor agreed readily.

Satisfied you began your examination. “Can you bend forward as far as you can please?” Connor did, he bent all the way down until he was touching the floor flat with both hands. It took you slightly aback that he could manage it after you’d felt how tight his muscles were yesterday, that movement should be much too painful to preform to that extend. As that thought crossed your mind you noticed his LED had changed from a calm blue to a fast spinning yellow at his temple, but his expression was as calm as ever.

“Okay, and back up.” You instructed.

Once again Connor did as you asked and you watched as his LED returned to a flicker between blue and yellow. You gently placed a hand on the side of both his shoulders. “Now stretch as far as you can to the left.” You guided his movement as he did while you watched both the range of his movement but also his LED. You made him repeat the motion to the other side and, as before, he seemed to have full range, but each time he was in outer positions his LED would flicker to fast spinning yellow.

“Have a seat on the table please.” You asked and Connor got up on the surface in compliance.

“Just relax as much as you can while I guide your joints through some movements and remember, tell me if anything feels too painful.” You repeated and did some extensive mobility checks on both of his elbows and wrists and then had him lay down flat on the padded table and tested both his knee and ankle joints as well. You could move them all in almost full range, but you felt a distinct resistance in all of his joints while doing so. Throughout it all Connor’s LED again spun yellow and if you hadn’t been looking so closely you’d probably never have noticed, but you could see how his eyes tightened just the tiniest bit in discomfort as you worked. The android never uttered a single complaint however. When you stopped you noticed Connor let of a small sigh of relief.

“Okay, please sit up for a bit.”

Connor sat up in a fluent motion and leaned back on his hands braced on the table behind him and looked at you intently, showing he was listening. You pulled up a desk chair and took a seat so you could sit facing him.

“I just want to talk to you a bit before we begin treatment to understand you a bit better.” You said, making sure to keep you voice soft and empathic.

“Okay.”

“During these initial range of motion tests we just completed, did any of them feel just slightly uncomfortable or painful?” You asked him.

Connor looked a bit confused by your question. “Yes.” He answered honestly.

“Did it feel very uncomfortable or painful even? I saw your LED shift quite a lot.” You pushed.

Connor looked a bit hesitant to answer, but eventually did. “I suppose it did, yes.”

“All of them hurt you to do, right?” You stated more than asked and was confirmed when Connor answered with a simple. “Yes.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything? I told you to let me know if anything hurt.” You asked, careful to not sound accusing, but more curious and maybe a bit worried.

“Technically, you told me to let you know if anything felt too painful or uncomfortable and it didn’t feel any worse or more painful than it has always been whenever I move around, so I saw no point in stating the obvious.” Connor explained in a very matter-of-fact way.

You looked at him for a few seconds, only blinking a few times as you processed that sentence. Once you’d gone over it a few times in your head and was sure you’d understood correctly you opened your mouth to get clarity. “I’m sorry Connor, but.. Are you telling me you’ve been this tense and felt pain whenever you’re moving? Like.. Since you deviated?”

Connor started to look very confused. “I mean.. Yeah.. The pain is always there in the background it always has been. It’s worse when I move or I need to push myself physically in the field, of course but..” His confusion ebbed away into uncertainty as he watched your expression change into one of deep worry and sympathy in front of him. “But.. Isn’t that.. Normal?” He finished in a thinner voice.

You shook your head slowly. “God.. No.. No Connor.. Your body isn’t supposed to hurt all the time.. That’s..” You paused, collecting yourself a bit. “Can you tell me if you suffered any injuries before you deviated?”

Connor’s eyes turned unfocused and his LED spun yellow, this time because he was processing his time from his activation up until his deviation. It only took five seconds before his brown eyes returned back to you, alert once more, and he started to sum up his findings;

“I was shot in both my shoulders, I was gut punched by detective Reed, been tackled, I was hit by two cars on the highway, I fell off a building twice, fell through a window, I was in a few fights, once a deviant ripped out my thirium pump and stabbed my hand to a counter with a kitchen knife then-”

“Alright, I get it. That’s plenty, thank you!” You interrupted his list sensing he wasn’t near done but having heard plenty to make a calculated conclusion “Your body suffered so much trauma and injury before you deviated, that being in constant pain has become your ‘normal’, because that’s how its always been for you ever since you became deviant.. It’s horrible that’s how it’s been for you, but it explains a lot.”

Connor seems to process your words for a few seconds. “Oh.. I suppose that makes sense..” He muttered then rubbed his neck and sighed. “Well, I feel a bit foolish now to be honest.. I just.. I really thought it was normal to feel this way..” He looked at you slightly lost. “It wasn’t until yesterday, after you seemed so shocked at my condition, I began to suspect something wasn’t right..”

“Hey.” You placed a gentle hand on the android’s knee, catching his eyes again and offered him a soft smile. “It’s not foolish Connor. Not at all! This has just always been your reality. The important thing is now you know this isn’t how it’s supposed to be and I want to do everything I can to help take his pain away from you so you never have to suffer alone like this again, deal?”

Connor seemed to peak up a little by your reassurance and managed a small smile of his own. “Deal.” He agreed.

“Good. Now tell me.. Where do you find your pain to be most intense for you most days?”

“My shoulders, lower back and both my knees usually causes me most discomfort.”

“Then that’s the areas we’ll focus on first, starting with your back today. Now I’m sorry but I’m afraid this won’t be very pleasant, at least not to begin with, but it’s a necessary evil. Just promise me to let me know if you need a break or if something feels off, I know your pain threshold is high but that just makes it that more important for you to comunicate with me, ok?”

Connor nodded. “I understand Y/N. I’ll do my best.”

Satisfied you instructed Connor to take off his pants as well and get situated under the sheet draped over the table on his front, to make sure he was as comfortable as possible and giving you unobstructed access to his entire back without issue. You left the room briefly to give him some privacy to get settled and used the time to fetch the oil you were going to use. When you returned the android was laying as instructed.

You made sure to announce your presence before you gently placed a hand on his bare shoulder. “Since your synthetic muscles in your entire back is so tense and knotted already I’m going to use a massage gun-” You showed him the device in your other hand under the table where his face peaked through the hole supporting the head. “- to help me loosen you up while sparring my hands a bit. It uses a combination of vibrations and heat and can feel a bit intense, but it hardly makes any noise so again, if you need a break or anything else just let me know.”

“I will.”

“Good, I’m gonna begin then.” You turned the gun on a medium setting, making the rounded ball in the front vibrate back and forth. You touched the tip and could feel a pleasant warmth emanating from it as well, ready to seep in and help loosen the tight muscles. With practiced ease you pressed it down to run along his upper neck and down the trapezius muscle on his left.

Connor let out a soft groan as no doubt the sensation aggravated his sore synthetic tissue. You winched a bit in sympathy, but there really was nothing for it and repeated the motion on his other side with the same response. You worked over his neck and shoulder area for about 10 minutes and then moved on to run the palpating device down along the dorsi muscles next to his spine. The hand not holding the gun ran ahead, feeling out where the worst knots were located so you could pause and work out the worst tension where it’s most needed. Connor kept as silent and stoic throughout the session as well as you suspected, but still couldn’t suppress the occasional hiss or groan of discomfort whenever you needed to work out a tight knot. You managed to reach his lower back where, sure enough, the tension was worst. You’d just located a particular hard knot on the right side and moved the gun over it when you felt Connor tense up gripping the edge of the table and pushed his chest off with a gasp.

“Break..” He called out. “I need a break, please.” He groaned out in a pained voice.

You immediately pulled away, turning off the massage gun and setting it on a table next to you. “Of course.” You walked over to a storage cupboard where you’d stacked up different kinds of thirium packs and selected a lemon ice tea flavoured one, you’d been assured by Hank was one of the detective’s favourites. “Here, try and drink a bit of this.” You offered.

Connor looked up at the offered drink as he lay with his elbows resting on the surface of the padded table. His face was flushed blue and there were a tightens around his eyes. He accepted the blue blood and took a generous drink. “Thanks.” He breathed and allowed you to take back the half empty pack. “Sorry, I just.. That spot has always been.. Troublesome..” He explained, avoiding eye contact and looking slightly embarrassed about his outburst.

“No need to apologise, I know this isn’t pleasant, but you’re doing really well. I you prefer we can call it a day and pick up again tomorrow.” You proposed.

Connor shook his head gently. “No it’s okay.. I can take it.”

“It’s not an issue being able to take it Connor, I know you can, but this is not a race. Your health is what’s most important and we’ll get you sorted in a tempo your body is comfortable with and no faster.”

Connor looked at you and seemed to muse over your words for a few moments before he nodded solemnly. “I understand, still.. I feel okay to continue for a bit more.” He said honestly.

You took his words at face value. “Alright, I promise I’ll be gentle.”

After he’d settled back down you picked up the massage gun once more, but adjusted it to a lower setting. You positioned it back down on the knotted tissue, being careful to only apply a mild pressure. Connor tensed up again for a few seconds before you felt him pulling a few deep breaths, forcing his body to try and relax as much as possible. You worked the area over, taking your time as you gradually increased the pressure, feeling the muscle give little by little. Once there was some give and the muscle beneath had been penetrated with enough warmth you turned off the machine and picked the good oil, pumped a bit into you palm to warm in your hands.

“I’m just going to try and loosen you up some more with my hands, keep breathing for me.” You informed softly.

“Okay..” Connor huffed.

You placed your hands down and glided across the still tense muscle to work the oil in. Using your thumbs and heel of your hands you worked slowly deeper and deeper into the straining fibres. Your patience was rewarded when you finally felt the hard knot release.

Connor couldn’t hold back a deep and long groan of pure relief as he felt a huge portion of that constant tension that’d been his companion all days suddenly easing. “Aaaahhhh!”

You smiled triumphantly. “There we go.” You coaxed as you kept rubbing the area throughly for a few more minutes. You shifted over to work out the worst tension on the left side as well, using your own body weight to borrow deep, goading more deep groans of content from the android. You worked your way upwards again, this time keeping your touch and pressure more gentle and alleviating, letting the soothing oli and warmth from the friction of your hands do their things. Returning to the shoulders and neck, you kneaded the muscles along the natural alignment on both sides until you reached all the way up to the hollow in the back of the neck, moving and working down one arm then the other and repeating.

“I’m.. Starting to see why- Ahhh~ People enjoy yo- oohhhh~ ur treatments.. Ah! That’s good right there!” Connor groaned as you worked out yet another knot under his left shoulder blade. He could feel more and more tension melt from his overworked muscles the more you worked.

“See, told you I was good.” You joked with a smile, pleased to see that Connor’s pain and discomfort had eased considerably already. You worked and loosened the tight muscles for another 10 minutes, then did a last sweeping, calming rub down of his entire back area before you pulled back after one last lingering touch. You took one of your soft, white flannels and gently wiped down the excess oil from the android’s back in soothing motions.

“There, I think that’s enough for today. Try and sit up, but do it slowly, you might find yourself a bit lightheaded.”

Connor did as you asked and pushed himself up to sit on the table, keeping the sheet covering his legs. He experimentally rolled his shoulders and twisted his back slightly from side to side and looked at you with a smile and joy in his eyes. “It feels so much better already! This is amazing!!” He grinned.

You couldn’t hold back a wide smile of your own. Seeing the immense relief and restitution just one session had helped the strained android detective was what made your work so rewarding. There was still a long way to go, but this was a good start. “I’m so glad. We’ll get you up and running pain free before you know it. Here..” You handed him the last half of the thirium pack. “Drink this up before you get up and get dressed and let’s set you up for another treatment tomorrow to work on you joints, sounds good?”

Connor nodded his consent as he took a sip of his thirium. “Yes, very good. Thanks for taking care of me Y/N.”

“Of course Connor, always. That’s what I’m here for.” You smiled softly. “Take all the time you need ok, I’ll be in the other room filling out your chart, but let me know before you’re leaving.”

“I will, thank you.” Connor smiled back.

—

Over the course of the following three weeks Connor came to you for treatment several times a week to work out his many issues. Many of your sessions would start off painful and uncomfortable for the android, but he said the initially pain was worth it for the relief you’d always bring him at the end of each visit. During this time the two of you grew closer and closer and a rewarding friendship formed between you as you found each other’s company both highly enjoyable and humorous. Little by little Connor improved, thanks to your expertly help and guidance, until he’d made a full recovery and could finally feel how much easier he could move and work without being in constant pain. It was a whole new world for him and he treasured every minute of his new existence.

It was the annual DPD barbecue party and Hank had graciously offered his yard and house to host it. Since Connor had entered his life the previously grumpy lieutenant had grown much more sociable and outgoing as he’d learned to enjoy life once again. The entire precinct, you included, stood spread out in the sunny yard. Hank and Ben were manning the grill as people talked, laughed and enjoyed a cold beer or other beverage. A few of the younger officers were taking advantage of the spacious lawn to play a game of football, which Connor participated in very enthusiastically. You watched in amusement as Connor caught the ball and dodged several attempts at tackling as he advanced towards the designated touchdown area in the other end of the yard. He made it all the way and threw the ball to the ground with a joyful cheer and then proceeded to do a freaking backflip in celebration to the chorus of cheers and laughs from his teammates.

“Are you sure your aren’t using you preconstructive softwear to cheat?!” Chris panted with his hands on his knees after having unsuccessfully chased Connor.

“I am not! My speed and dexterity has just improved 21% after Y/N helped me. It’s not my fault I’m too fast for you!” Connor teased in a laughing voice.

Chris looked towards you where you sat in a lawn chair under the shadow of a parasole, drink in your hand. “Damn it Y/N! Why’d you have to make him so damn fast?!” The man yelled at you, clearly joking.

You laughed and lifted your drink in salute. “Because I could! A little competition is healthy Chris!”

“Ah, you young folks are just too soft on him, let me show you how it’s done!” Captain Fowler suddenly chipped in and ran over to join the lineup.

“Alright captain! You’re going down now punks!” Tina cheered and made some taunting gestures towards the opposing team.

“Bring it on!” Connor replied, backing towards his own lineup with his arms spread invitingly and grinning.

“That’s right, give them hell son!!” Hank cheered and clacked his grill tongs loudly.

You laughed heartedly at the joyful atmosphere that filled the warm summer air and you felt proud and happy to see how much Connor could now enjoy life a whole new way thanks to your help.

THE END

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