#I have been hurt by a fictional character

[duendepika]

There are a lot of rumors going around now ever since 420 that it's "not AFO" anymore, but these theories all seem to assume that the AFO we know is a regular human. The reality is that Horikoshi has never given us any indication that he is or was, and he has indeed done much to tell us that AFO is NOT human.

This post is primarily a character study of AFO (Part 1) with two theories added onto the end.

AFO is a unique entity in that he IS his quirk and always has been.

AFO and Yoichi are two halves of a whole, the human and the physical manifestation of the first quirk.

AFO-OFA are the same, and the singularity event already occurred. This theory is 3-fold, though I'd say the second and third parts are tangential and messier. I don't include panels for every single section, but I reference which chapters to check! I am use official translations and the Japanese originals ONLY. I know there are some issues with the official translations, but I cross-check with the Japanese. I have found far more errors in the fan translation.

Part One - Character Study

Many wonder how much quirks "control" or drive a person versus how much a person's personality and character at birth drives their quirk. The discussion is especially common with villains, but when it comes to AFO, it's largely irrelevant. He is more quirk than human to begin with.

AFO as a person has very limited emotional depth and personality (311). He consciously built his personality around a fictional character. He requires other vessels because he doesn't have enough emotion or strong will (305, 408). He only exhibits any emotion after we know he had been "contaminated" by his connection with Shigaraki. Before even getting into the theory proper, I want to point out that lacking a strong will is NOT merely a sign of being a villain. We have seen plenty of villains with extremely strong wills and feelings that have been acknowledged by the main characters. Giving villains a strong will and emotions are how Horikoshi humanizes them. AFO is unique in that he lacks these for the most part. From very early on, Horikoshi has very intentionally presented AFO as apart not just from the heroes but from any other significant villain with depth.

AFO does frequently present himself as something other than human, and while this could be wishful thinking or him trying too hard to be that "Demon Lord", there are plenty of instances in the story where it seems that he genuinely is not quite human. 1) This is even reflected in his appearance (entirely white and washed-out with blank, matte eyes without irises, etc) and his mannerisms. He isn't depicted with facial expressions or any semblance of emotions until he decides to be All For One, the Demon Lord as a teenager (407, 408). In fact, he seems to become MORE human once he decides to become the Demon Lord.

2) His choices and attitudes are completely arbitrary (365, 407). All we have is "he was born with nothing and decided everything therefore belonged to him". There doesn't seem to be any deeper logic, some originating hurt, behind his behavior. He picked a goal and an identity that seemed entertaining and just went with it.

3) Total inability to engage with fiction in a meaningful way, and given how much of this narrative centers around "stories", this is noteworthy. He latches onto one particular element of Captain Hero as opposed to engaging with the story as a whole and getting any meaning out of it (193, 333, 407).

4) He lacks the most basic human emotions. Hawks' and Endeavor's commentary on how something missing in him were not merely "o he's a villain" comments, but a reflection on the character as Horikoshi writes him. He is fundamentally incapable of experiencing his own emotions (beyond limited ones) and therefore relies on others. We see him clearly excited in 333 when he is finally starting to feel something due to his connection with Shigaraki.

Despite the fact that he can objectively manipulate people, he has a very limited understanding of human relationships. This is seen not only in his constant surprise/confusion over totally normal human behavior by others, most notably by Machia (382/383), but in his very language. When he says he loves Yoichi (193), the Japanese he uses is abnormal: 愛する is VERY rarely used despite it being the most widely-known form of the word; it's like he just used whatever word he heard first without understanding the meaning behind it. The same goes for how freely he uses the word friend (193, 333).

5) He's been acting for most of his life, not just as the "Demon Lord", but as a human at all. There are suggestions that he tries to act like other people (116) and offhand comments about human behavior as if he has to study it (234). Granted, these could be interpreted as generic villain-esque statements, but they hold much more meaning given what we know of his backstory. While his brother made an attempt to be a normal member of society, AFO made zero effort there for quite some time. He acted like a wild animal, and given that his brother was raised in the exact same environment, it can't be said it's just because of their situation. The term "people suit" very much applies to him.

6) Moving on to physical elements, he's already been brought back to life once. We are initially led to believe that he somehow survived/escaped (57, 59), but we later learn that he did actually die and was clearly dead for hours if not longer (408). If Kyudai Garaki really could resurrect the dead as a general rule, I think that would be a bigger plot point, so this is clearly something with AFO, not with the doctor.

7) He can live without his body as long as the quirk passes on, which is so powerful that he can just hijack other bodies. It's not like other quirks which, when stolen or passed on, allow people to live on as helpless ghosts in someone else's mind when their bodies die.

8) He has an abnormal ability to withstand extreme mental situations. Even though characters in this series have absurd physical limits, mentally nobody is depicted as really super-human besides AFO. Most people could not control their thoughts to the extent he does (116). He also must control what is likely hundreds of quirk vestiges at all times when awake, given that when he sleeps, they take over his nightmares (287) and when he's weakened (356/57, 409), they can rebel. (Worth noting that chapter 287 explicitly explains how it is not guilt or anything of the sort). I'd argue that this mental power level is inhuman even within the context of the manga because it requires such detachment from what is considered fundamentally human.

9) Furthermore, he was wholly sentient and aware from birth (407). AFO as a newborn infant thought and acted like a 2-year-old, and throughout his entire childhood he acted much older than he was. It's possible Horikoshi simply did this to make him more "creepy", but it's so utterly bizarre that I think there's more behind it.

10) AFO's backstory is unique among all characters in that he is presented more like a monster, for lack of a better word, than a human. Unlike all other villains given a backstory, there is no attempt made to "humanize" him. Considering the fact that even other "unforgiveable" villains like Overhaul were still presented as slightly tragic characters who had potential to be good and/or had some redeeming qualities, this is unusual. While the circumstances of his birth could be considered tragic and it's even stated that his own brother doesn't have any faith in him any longer (407), AFO was never portrayed as a victim, never presented as someone readers could be sympathetic towards or relate to.

That said, the base nature of his quirk is "emptiness". He has virtually nothing other than what he takes from others. Therefore, the argument can be made that he is "controlled" by his quirk and that he can't help it because his quirk compels him, but I believe he is a unique entity in that he and his quirk are one and the same. There's no internal conflict there.

I'm not claiming that he is wholly inhuman, as he does have some very basic human tendencies (needing attention, though arguably from him, it's rooted in an infant need to survival and not the kind of attention-seeking kids and adults want) I suspect that simply by living in the world, he does have some semblance of humanity, either from his connection to his brother or because he has been acting long enough.

AFO, as of right now, still does not have a name. 407 /408 made it very clear that "Shigaraki" was something he invented later in life (very likely with Dr. Garaki's influence given the similarities). He was the one to name his brother, Yoichi. I suspect that either: (a) he genuinely has no name other than AFO because I can definitely see Yoichi just not naming him back OR (b) Yoichi gave him a name in return, one he alone knows, and Yoichi using this name will be part of AFO's downfall. If he has a name, and Yoichi uses it, AFO will be called back to whatever slight sliver of humanness he has.

Part Two (Theory)

There is a possibility that AFO and Yoichi are literally two halves of a whole, the human and the human manifestation of the first quirk. OFA is the ghostly remnant of AFO, and neither is complete without the other. Perhaps as the original quirk, it truly was meant to be "kind" as Yoichi said, but it needed a human element to function as such. Because they diverged in the womb, we ended up with AFO the person/quirk.

1) The terms "One for All" and "All for One" are generally said together as a single phrase outside of the manga, and this seems to be the case within the Captain Hero comic that AFO got the names from.

2) AFO is perhaps so obsessed with "owning" Yoichi because he feels incomplete without him. He might not know why, but he knows he needs to be with him, that without his brother, he's not "whole". The current known narrative is that he wants him back simply because Yoichi was the first thing he ever had or "owned" and therefore, he needs him back. I think we can all agree that he goes a tad too far there though (277, 408), given that he seems to be having an ongoing narration to Yoichi in his head (333). As with other things, it could just be to up his creep factor, but it seems like there is possible something more going on.

3) AFO makes a comment about needing Yoichi in 409, though in the Japanese he explicitly says, "I can't do it without you" (my copy of Volume 40 is in the mail, so you'll just have to trust my memory on this until I get it and can update this post with an image). This could simply mean, "I can't go on without you", but it could just as easily mean that he needs Yoichi to be truly complete. This is further exacerbated by his comment in 419: without his brother, there's no point to his final goal at all.

4) Their umbilical cords are connected to one another, not to the mother. This could simply be to demonstrate how connected by fate they are, but it could just as easily have a deeper meaning re: their individual identities.

5) The hand that grew over AFO's mouth in his new body is very likely Yoichi's (419). The 40th volume release included a note about how AFO kept Yoichi's hand for decades and carried it around. If this is the case, then Yoichi's hand grew from his own flesh. Yes, it seems like he chose to have his hand grow there, but if he can alter his appearance at will, then he would surely fix other issues with the body. This suggests, again, some deeper connection between him and Yoichi.

6) AFO's preferred vessels such as Nine and Tenko look very similar to his brother. He wants to inhabit a body that looks like Yoichi's, which is. Something. Sure, he did make an offhand comment suggesting he would have inhabited Hana's body if he got to her earlier, but narratively, the only definite examples we have are Yoichi clones. (just showing hrksh's Nine art here...we all know Shiggy)

Part Three (Very speculative theory)

NOW finally tying all of this back to the Singularity concept.

In chapter 193, Yoichi says we've already passed the singularity (特異点はとうに…過ぎてる), which is odd given that so many characters and readers seem to think we are moving towards that. This is well before Shigaraki's transformation, so unless he's referring to some yet-to-be-revealed secret about Deku himself, this is almost certainly referring to AFO, who Yoichi continues to have some weird mental connection with to some extent. If the singularity already happened with AFO, this probably happened either a) when he was brought back from the dead, or b) simply when he was born at all. Any understanding of the singularity has been misguided from the start.

Perhaps AFO is the real OFA, but because the quirk was too powerful for the "hardware" right from the beginning, the OFA user and AFO diverged in the womb. The whole story has been about them coming together, which also explains why AFO is so obsessed with finding and inhabiting vessels that look identical to his brother.

Notes: There are a couple of minor things I considered going into, but I hesitated to due to lack of evidence in the manga. However, I will quickly mention them here in case anyone is curious: (1) Quirks vs. Human Personalities: AFO-the-body-with-the-copy and AFO-the-original-quirk seem to think, act, and speak exactly the same. Unfortunately, because we only have one other example of a quirk outside the body (Hawks/Fierce Wings) exhibiting sentience and it was only for a couple of panels, I can't say if this is simply "normal" or not. (2) Quirk copies: Again, not enough in the manga to really say one way or another, but I suspect that his copies are unique in that he is just duplicating HIMSELF.

#all for one #afo #mha theory #bnha theory #yoichi #character study

[katerina-marie]

The Hot Mic Incident (Feel Like Falling in Love)

Sukuna x Reader

A sequel to this and part 2 of a larger (unnamed) series. I do recommend reading part 1 first to be able to understand certain references in this one.

If someone asked you who was most likely to accidentally spill the beans about your new (and still secret) relationship with Sukuna, your answer would have to be your white-haired co-star. But when an unintentional hot mic reveals to the world what wasn't ready to be shared, let's just say it wasn't Gojo Satoru at fault for once.

Notes: A continuation of my Sukuna x Reader celebrity!au inspired by music (though only loosely, so don't look too closely at lyrical meaning). In this case, it's Feel Like Falling in Love by MeloMance. I'm writing this series as inspiration strikes, so these fics may not always be posted according to the series' linear timeline. I will make sure to note when each chapter takes place in relation to the others (this one takes place a couple months after part 2). I will also get around to making a master list of them in chronological reading order as more comes. I hope you enjoy:)

Content: bandmember Sukuna x actor female Reader (referred to as such, but left descriptively vague), no y/n, manager Nanami, bodyguard Toji, actor Gojo, other favorites who have small supporting rolls, all fluff, crack, and humor, innuendos, illusions to sexting, but no actual sexting occurs (sorry), so please read accordingly, out of character and fluffy Sukuna. Please let me know if I miss something!

WC: 4.3k

——————————————————————————————————————————

“Isn’t it a little early in the morning to be sending naughty pictures to your boyfriend? It’s like 7:00 am.” 

You jumped half a foot in the air and clambered to juggle your phone in your hands before it tumbled out and slid four feet across the backstage floor of the talk show studio. 

“You need to be wearing a bell, Satoru,” you hissed over your shoulder at the menace that had appeared behind you so suddenly, “and it was not an inappropriate photo. I was completely dressed.” 

You teetered over in your heels to grab your phone off the floor and prayed that it wasn’t cracked down the middle, lest you make Satoru cough up punitive damages to make up for it. 

“In my experience, being fully clothed is not a prohibiting factor.”

Satoru snickered at the look of disgust on your face and gave you a small shrug, “Who knows, maybe Sukuna’s into th—,”

You threw yourself forward to try and cover his mouth with your hands, but even in heels you still lacked the necessary height to make contact. You settled for pinning him in place with a glare.

“Will you keep quiet please? I swear, if you and your fat mouth reveal this to anyone, I’m going to have Toji leak that photo of you from one of our nights working on that period piece last year!”

You watched with glee as Satoru’s eyes widened in abject horror, and he reached out to grip the tops of your arms and drag you close to his face. A quick peek from your peripheral confirmed that the staff lingering around the studio probably hadn’t been close enough to hear, but they were certainly watching with poorly disguised interest. 

Were you and Satoru contracted into a false relationship in order to help promote the upcoming movie the two of you were co-starring in? No, that only happened in fiction. Was it firmly implied by the producer that some offscreen tension and chemistry during the course of the film would promise to be advantageous to you both? Yes, and you presumed that in the pursuit of a paycheck some simple flirting couldn’t hurt anyone…though that was a year or so ago, and you were now closer to sending Satoru to an early grave than jumping in bed with him like fans and media were hoping for. 

“Suguru swore he made you delete any evidence of that!” 

You stuck your tongue out at him and pulled back against the hold he had on your arms, but he didn’t loosen his grip in the slightest. 

“He did, but didn’t bother to check with Toji. Looks like that weird phobia you two have of him is coming to bite you in the ass now.” 

Satoru released you with a shiver and took a large step back, his eyes roaming the expanse of the studio as if he expected your bodyguard to be summoned out of thin air at the sheer mention of his name. You didn’t blame him, however, because Toji had a habit of doing just that. 

“It’s not a weird phobia,” Satoru muttered, rubbing his throat absentmindedly and pouting down at you, “it’s PTSD.” 

You snorted. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“It was too!” Satoru cried, “He punched me in the throat and nearly sent Suguru through a wall!” 

“You and your idiot manager were trying to break into my house at 2:00am, drunk as skunks I might add! What did you think was going to happen? We barely knew each other then.” 

Satoru looked down at you aghast, stunned that you didn’t sympathize with his emotions. You considered it even more bewildering that he seriously thought that you would pick his side. You were about to let him know such when your phone dinged twice in quick succession, effectively capturing your attention. 

“Look,” you huffed at him, waving your phone in front of his face so he could catch a glimpse of the time (and hopefully ignore who’s name had popped up under it), “we only have like thirty more minutes before we have to get out there and I need some time to decompress, so I’m going back to the dressing room.” You started to turn away before throwing over your shoulder, “Don’t get into any trouble in the meantime.” 

Satoru rolled his eyes at you, and—in that intolerable way of his—couldn’t let you possibly have the last dig at him and jerked his head to the phone in your hand. 

“It’s not me I’m worried about. Have fun sext—,” 

“Goodbye, Satoru!” You made yourself scarce before he could say anything else, eager to find the privacy of your dressing room so you could fawn over your boyfriend in peace. 

By the time you made it into the safety of your dressing room a few minutes later, your heart was pounding—and not just from getting lost in all the maze-like hallways—and you tried to decide if hiding in the attached closet to talk with Sukuna on the phone or sitting on the couch in the open with a lovesick grin on your face would look less suspicious should someone walk in. Neither option promised much. 

Before you could make up your mind, your phone was ringing, so in order to be able to answer the call as quickly as you could, you dove for the couch and tried not to sound completely breathless when you answered with a quiet, “hi, good morning.” 

“Hey,” Sukuna replied back to you, voice equally soft but tinged with a dry hoarseness that usually followed him out of sleep. It made your toes wiggle uncontrollably against the floor. 

“Oh I’m sorry, did I wake you with the picture? That wasn’t my intention. I just wanted to keep you up to date with my day,” you murmured to him. 

“Don’t worry, you didn’t. And besides, even if it did, it’s not a bad way to start my day.” His words made you melt back into the cushions and you kicked your feet in silent giddiness before tucking them underneath you. “You look stunning, by the way.” 

“Thank you,” you giggled, “though getting here to get ready while it was still dark outside was borderline torture. I’d say that it’s an unfair slight against women, but I’m pretty sure Satoru’s hair and skincare routine took just as long.” 

Your boyfriend let out a disgusted scoff at the mention of your costar’s name, “Please tell me that q-tip is behaving himself.” 

“Sukuna!” You chastised, though you couldn’t help the laughter bubbling up in your throat at the comparison, “You can’t call him that…even if it is somewhat accurate.” 

“It’s one hundred percent accurate,” he argued, “but I won’t call him that to his face…probably.” 

You shook your head in exasperated amusement, nibbling on the bottom skin of your lip before continuing on, “He’s behaving for the most part, aside from his two insinuations that our conversations this morning were of a sexual nature.” 

Sukuna was silent on the other end for a moment before replying back in a low voice with something that had you choking on your spit, “Would you like them to be?” 

He could be heard laughing as you nearly coughed your way into a premature death.

“I’m about to go in front of a live audience and on live tv!” You exclaimed.

“That’s not a ‘no’,” Sukuna pointed out hopefully.

“No.” 

He let out a dramatic sigh and you reached over to a nearby coffee table to unscrew a bottle of water and chug half of it down in the hopes it would help cool you off. 

“Speaking of,” he said, sounding just a tad hesitant, “I’ll uh, tune in to the show to watch if that’s okay with you.” 

You heart skipped a silly little beat at the idea that he wanted to watch some cheesy talk show just to get a glimpse of you. 

“I don’t mind,” you told him, “but it’s going to make me a little nervous knowing you’ll be watching as I stumble through this interview.” 

“Don’t be,” he chuckled, though something in his voice sounded just slightly wicked, “now you’ll get an idea of how I feel when I have to perform.” 

The innuendo had whatever sweet reassurance you had poised at the tip of your tongue fly out of your head, and you scrambled to come with a response that could be said back without implying anything further. The swinging open of your door, however, saved you from the task. 

“Hey, Princess,” Toji called as he leaned his torso around the door, “you need to be out there in five.” 

You startled from your spot on the couch, surprised to realize that your leg was bouncing from where it was propped up on your knee and your finger was twirling a piece of your hair.

Love made you stupid. 

“Toji,” you snapped, “have you ever heard of knocking?”

Your bodyguard rolled his eyes, “I did. Twice.”

Heat flooded your cheeks, especially because you could hear Sukuna cackling through the phone, confirming he heard what Toji just said. 

“Oh…I’ll be right there, okay?” You shooed him off with a flick of your fingers and Toji smirked at you as he began closing the door.

“Don’t be late or I’m sending Gojo in to fetch you.” 

The door closed shut before you could get a word in and you leaned back with a heavy sigh before returning your attention to your phone call, “I’ve to go. I’ll call you when the whole thing is over and I’m back home, yeah?” 

“Sounds good to me. I’ll be waiting for you. Good luck, okay?” 

You weren’t sure if it was all in your head, but you swore you heard a hint of disappointment in his voice.

“Thank you. Bye, Sukuna,” 

“Bye, Princess,” he sing-songed, and you couldn’t help but smile as you clicked off the call. 

——————————————————————————————————————————

Twenty minutes later found you and Satoru sitting next to each other on a platform stage surrounded by bright lights, a large live audience sprawled in front of you, and an all too perceptive interviewer who had started the interrogation just a couple minutes prior. You wiggled in your seat, uncomfortable from the various wires and clips that secured your mic to your back under your dress. 

“So,” she began, nailing you with a look that promised nothing good, “you and Satoru were supposed to film an advert on the beach early this last summer, but it ended up being you and the so-called ‘King of Curses.’ Tell me, how did that come about?” 

You hesitated a moment, thankful the question wasn’t anything too invasive, but you were still hoping to avoid talking about Sukuna altogether. Usually Nanami would heavily emphasize what could and couldn’t be spoken of before these appearances, but since he wasn’t here, you assumed it had been left to Geto. In that case, you knew he couldn’t be bothered since predicting whatever was going to come out of Satoru’s mouth during these things was an art not yet mastered.

 “Well,” you started, clasping your hands together so they didn’t shake, “it really just came about out of well-timed convenience and a favor to the director. We didn’t want to waste any of the crew’s time or have to worry about re-aligning schedules, so Sukuna saved the day by offering to help. Plus, ‘The Curses’ new song at the time got to debut in it, so it was a win-win for everyone! Except for maybe Satoru, of course.” 

In an effort to divert attention from your answer, you threw Satoru a faux-friendly smile and urged him with a widening of your eyes to explain his part. 

“Oh, yeah,” he replied, adjusting himself in the seat and setting a convincing pout on his face. “I just happened to get pulled into something personal last minute and was going to be late to the shoot. I’m appreciative that the “King of Curses” was able to step in and save the day.” 

You didn’t miss the obvious sarcasm dripping from Sukuna’s nickname when it came out of Satoru’s mouth, and you had to hide a giggle behind your hand at the thought of your boyfriend cursing at his TV at home. 

“But,” Satoru continued, jolting you into awareness when he turned to you and ran a long finger down the bare skin of your arm, “I’m super bummed I missed our chance to get wet together.” The smirk on his face was downright evil, and you just knew your face was a picture of stunned disbelief. The audience was tittering with amusement.

“You wear me out, Satoru,” you hissed at him, batting his hand away from where it still traced slowly over your skin. 

Satoru laughed and threw his head back against his chair before taking a quick look at the camera and then leaning in towards you until your noses nearly touched, “I’m flattered you’d admit that on live television.” 

Your jaw, and everyone else’s for that matter, fell to the floor and you could only gawk at him. Over the interviewer’s shoulder, you could see Toji backstage laughing his ass off as Geto stood at a respectable distance next to him shaking his head. 

We better get those damned bonuses from the producer.

“Well!” The interviewer laughed a bit nervously, breaking the tension in the room and turning to the main camera in front of you all, “That was surely something. We have to go to a commercial, but we’ll be back with these two in just a couple minutes!”

The outro music sounded over the speakers and you and Satoru were released from your chairs to scurry backstage. In between sending friendly waves to the audience and starting the walk backstage, you flipped the switch on your mic off. 

“I’m going to kill you, Satoru,” you spat under your breath as the two of you left stage.

The idiot had the gall to laugh, and in your frustration you took a couple large steps to get a head of him. And because the universe didn’t hate you enough, you felt the toe of your heel catch on a stray cable on the floor, pitching you off balance. In your flailing, you reached out to grasp at whatever object could possibly break your fall, and in doing so latched on to Satoru’s sleeve, jerking the poor bastard off his feet and onto you as you both tumbled to floor in a heap of tangled limbs. 

Your back hit the ground first, your mic digging painfully into your back with a suspicious crack of plastic followed by Satoru landing on your front, pushing all the air from your lungs with a painful “oomph.” 

You stared at the ceiling of the studio, wondering how quickly things would go if one of the giant studio lights fell from above and crushed you under it. You were never going to live this down, especially since it happened still in view of the cameras and the audience if the raucous laughter was anything to go by.

“You know, I never imagined I would actually get you under me,” Satoru mused, staring down at you for a second before lifting his giant self off and then pulling you up to follow. He held a hand against your lower back as the two of you made it to the cover of backstage. 

“Honestly,” you admitted, still a little dazed, “I never would have thought so either.”

Staff fluttered around you a minute later, offering water, smoothing your hair out, and ensuring neither of you were hurt…at least not physically. Your pride was a whole other matter. 

“Oh no,” you groaned, catching Satoru’s attention once everyone had cleared out around you, “he was watching. He just saw me eat it on live television.” 

Your co-star cocked a confused eyebrow at you, “You mean Sukuna was watching?”

“Oh please,” you muttered, “like you didn’t guess. And yes, Sukuna was watching, and now I’m not going to be able to look him in the eye this evening.” 

There was a general increased noise coming from the front of the studio, but you were too preoccupied with your own embarrassment to think much of it. 

“And why is that?” Satoru asked. 

You threw your hands up purely because you didn’t know what else to do with them, “I don’t really know exactly, but there is still something supremely humiliating about doing something embarrassing like that in front of my new boyfriend. He makes me nervous enough as is.” 

There was a sudden outbreak of hollers and clapping from out front, and you swung your head around to look and see if anyone had a clue as to what was going on. It took you a minute before you could see Toji running at you with a wild look on his face. 

“Toji, what the hell—?” You didn’t get to finish your question before he was spinning you around by the shoulders, yanking down the zipper of your dress, and ripping the mic from your back. You shrieked in disbelief as you whirled back around to figure out what in the world he had been thinking. 

“Toji!”

“Your mic has been on this whole time,” he growled, showing you the blinking green light on the cracked plastic box. You swore you had turned it off, but seeing as how it took the brunt of the impact when you fell on it earlier, you supposed it wasn’t unlikely that it had turned back on. 

With sudden cold rushing through your body and a sick ball of dread settling into your gut, you looked between Satoru’s dumbfounded expression and Toji’s face of pure exhaustion and immediately decided that if the ground wasn’t going to swallow you up whole, you were going home.

“Get me out of here!”

——————————————————————————————————————————

After finally making it to some undisclosed back alley across from the talk show studio, you were assisted out from your crouch in a trash bin by studio security and ushered to a small nearby out-cove to wait for your bodyguard. 

And you just wanted to be famous soooo bad. Glamorous life, my ass.

As luck would have it, you were made aware today of just how famous you, and especially Sukuna, were. For all the grief you gave Satoru about not accidentally spilling the beans about your newly minted—and still secret—relationship with Sukuna, you were the one that had the unintended pleasure of doing the grand reveal. So now the world was free to stir whatever frenzy they saw fit, from the intensely devoted fangirls of Sukuna’s band, to the entire acting community, and the worst of all…your mother. You suspected you were a couple minutes away from an angry phone call demanding an explanation as to why she had to find out from the internet that you were dating a boy with pink hair and face tattoos and how much longer it would be until she had grandchildren. 

All of this chaos and Nanami just happened to be in a whole other country. 

You suddenly regretted sending him on that vacation.

A sharp squeal of tires caught your attention and you looked up to see a shiny sports car peal around the corner and come to a rumbling stop a couple feet in front of you. Before you could even begin to guess who it could be, the head of your bodyguard appeared as the tinted black window of the passenger side door rolled down.

“Get in the car,” Toji hissed, eyes darting to and fro. 

You wasted no time and nearly dove through the open window in your haste to escape broad daylight. You had just finished buckling your seatbelt in the back when Toji mashed the gas pedal and the car leapt forward.

“Christ, Toji!” You gasped, clasping the headrest of the seat you were just flung into, “Whose car is this? It’s certainly not yours.”

He snorted. “Yeah, cause you don’t pay me enough.”

“Rude,” you muttered back to him, “and not true.” 

You tried to squint out the front windshield to determine where you might be, but brick buildings towered on either side of you still, and you assumed Toji was taking some alternative route home. “Seriously though, whose car is this? It’s not one of mine.” 

“Does it matter?”

You rolled your eyes at his bored tone, “Yes, it does. Toji, I’m not your wife, but—”

“Thank God.” He sounded entirely too relieved about that.

“Still rude!” You yelped, but brushed aside the sting of offense to figure out whose leather seats your dress was currently dropping glitter all over. “I’m not your wife, so I don’t particularly care to know what unscrupulous activities you get up to when I’m not keeping you busy—,”

“None,” he deadpanned, shooting you a glare through the rear view mirror.

“—which I’m pretty sure I had you sign a non-compete, but that’s besides the point. I really need you to tell me where you got this car. In case you aren’t aware, my name is going to be plastered on every social media post, blog page, and headline in the next 24 hours and I’d rather that not include my mugshot with “accomplice to grand theft auto” under it. So tell me who this car belongs to right now or I’m jumping out.”

Toji had the audacity to chuckle at you before reaching back to pat your knee.

“Relax a bit. You know I wouldn’t ever put you in harm’s way on purpose. This is Gojo’s car. Ours was being swarmed by the media out front after your little slip up, so I threatened Geto for the idiot’s keys cause I knew it was out back and the quickest way I could get to our little rendezvous point.” 

“Oh,” was all you managed to get out. Letting your racing mind settle down a bit, you snuggled deeper into the plush leather seats and kicked your feet up onto the center console. You got two seconds of peace before Toji opened his mouth again.

“I’m going to have to call Nanami.” 

“No!” You gasped, springing upright again and feeling a warm sting creep to your eyes as your throat began to tense up. “He’s on vacation! I promised we wouldn’t bother him unless one of us was dying. I’d never forgive myself if he had to come home to clean up my sloppy love life!” 

Toji shook his head and shot you a sad smile over his shoulder as he reached for his phone sitting in the front cup holder.

“We may not really have an option, Sweetheart. Not only is Uraume going to be a huge pain to deal with since this could affect Sukuna’s band, but you’ve also got contracts and appearances promised that may get shaken by the fact it’s been revealed to the world that you've been secretly dating the music industry’s favorite ‘hate to love’ rockstar. We can’t fix this without Nanami.” 

The panic that had been brewing in your stomach this whole time was starting to make your head spin up, so you blamed it on that when you lurched out of your seat and nearly over Toji’s shoulder to snatch the phone out of his hand before he could hit ‘dial’ on Nanami’s contact. 

Your bodyguard swore when you knocked him in the face with your elbow in your clamber and his hand gave a vicious jerk of the wheel that had horns blaring from either side of your car as Toji swerved to correct it. You were thrown back into the seat you had just previously been in and you waited with heaving breaths as the car jolted sideways once more before continuing on straight. The fact you barely missed crashing was a testament to Toji’s reflexes.

“Don’t you ever do stupid shit like that again, you hear me?!” You’d never heard Toji raise his voice at you and it did nothing to help quell the tears about to start pouring from your eyes, “I know you’re stressed and something big has just happened to you, I get it, but that’s no excuse to do something dumb! You just about gave me a heart attack,” he finished, his voice still at a higher volume than normal, but it was softened by the edge of panicked concern and the worried glances he was giving you. 

That was enough to push you over the edge.

“I-I’m sorry, Toji,” you sobbed, upset at yourself for messing up again, “I wasn’t thinking, and I don’t want Nanami to feel like he has to babysit me for the rest of his life, or you to think I’m an airhead or something. I also really like Sukuna and I don’t want him to hate me because of what I did!” 

You let your head fall into your hands and hiccuped through another shuddering cry as you struggled to get ahold of the overwhelming-ness of it all. You felt Toji’s hand on your knee again. 

“Hey, hey, take deep breaths for me. No one’s thinking that, I promise you. And I’m sorry for yelling at you like that. It was wrong. It’s no excuse, but that scared the crap out of me and I thought we for sure were getting into an accident,” he admitted. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.” 

You nodded through your tears, unable to respond to him in any way that was legible. 

“Look, we’re almost home. Try and deep breathe for me. Once we get there I’ll help you get comfortable and we’ll figure this out together, okay?” 

As was frequent with Toji, you valued his ability to keep you calm when you got into the worst of yourself and you were grateful for his steady confidence. You reached out and clasped the hand he still had stretched back on your knee to give it a squeeze, hoping it could convey all the thanks you had for him. The two of you kept driving in comfortable silence until you felt the car slow and saw a flash of a familiar gate out the front windshield.

“Hey,” Toji started, his voice suspiciously light, “you think Gojo would realize if we never returned his car?” 

——————————————————————————————————————————

Thank you for reading! I've got ideas for parts 3 and 4 already, so I'm hoping to work on those in the next coming days.

I'll also be posting this series on AO3 under Katerina_Mar if you would prefer to read there:)

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x you #toji fushiguro #gojo satoru

[theyanderespecialist]

(Remake) Base Yandere Husk Headcanons: Consent Is Key

[Hello, My Sexy Muffins I am back with a new chapter! This one is with Husk! Hope you enjoy this! So let's do this!] 

(Disclaimer: Husk is not yandere in canon this is just for fun and not to be taken seriously at all! Simping for fictional characters and yanderes is fine! Just do not be illegal or gross about it! Also, remember to separate fiction from reality and headcanon from canon! Yanderes are not ideal partners to have in real life.) 

-Base Yandere Headcanons With Husk From Hazbin Hotel- 

.Husk is a grumpy old sinner in hell, he used to be an overlord but lost it all. 

.Making a deal with Alastor to save his power, and now he is on that demon's leash. 

.Husk is a hazbin, having been an overlord and once at the top. He fell and now is an old shell of himself. 

.He drinks, he gambles, and he wallows. 

.There is one thing that does make him feel all warm and fuzzy, but he would never tell anyone about it. 

.And that is you, his sweet little kitten. 

.You have not been in hell anywhere close as long as him, so he kind of takes you under his wing. 

.He keeps you from making mistakes like making deals with overlords or getting so drunk that you get hurt. 

.He also hates when you are not being genuine or honest with him. He hates it more than anything else almost. 

.He wants to be someone you can come to when you need someone, be the person that you search for in a crowd, be your one and only. 

.He hates that he is not that, he thought he lost the ability to love long ago. 

.So at first he will try and drink his feelings for you away, though he knows that it is not doing anything for him. 

.It does not even numb the pain of not being with you, probably actually makes it worse. 

.He does not remember the last time he has been able to sleep without dreaming of you. 

.He does remember the last time that he has felt this way, if ever. 

.You become like his new bottle of booze, his new addiction and the more he is with you the more he NEEDS you, and CANNOT live without you. 

.He genuinely cares about you and wants you safe, and if anyone tried to take advantage of you, without your consent, they would be dead. 

.Husk does not, and will not play around with that shit. 

.Consent is important to them, for you to have your consent taken from you would make him so angry. 

.So he would never force you in any way, not even to make you love him. 

.He wants you to love him of your own free will and for it to be real. 

.He would die to keep you safe as a yandere he is protective of you, and very much a guiding yandere. 

.Guiding you to keep you safe, and a little bit of guiding in the romance to try and romance you. 

.He has not dated in a long time so of course he is out of practice. 

.His dream date with you is just snuggled together on the couch by the fire, him reading to you. 

.That is his perfect date. 

.He is also a no-nonsense or bullshit kind of yandere. 

.He is not going to let you lie to him, he will not let you try and pull the wool over his eyes. 

.He can be firm, but he is also understanding, especially when you are honest with him. 

.He would fight a war with Angels for you. 

.He does not care how hard it may be. He will win you over. 

.Cause eventually he cannot live without your love, and will not live without your love. 

.He has to romance you first and if he fails he will try and try again. 

.How does he deal with rivals? 

.First, he warns them to stay away, if that does not work, he either makes a bet with them that he knows they will lose and force them to leave you, or he kills them. 

.It depends on what they did to you. 

.He knows it is selfish, he knows it is not fair to you, but he has not loved like this in any part of his life, and he is not letting you go. 

.He would confess to you after he romanced you for at least months. 

.If you say yes, his heart will swell and he might even shed a tear. 

.If you say no, he will try and try again, he will never force you, but he is not giving up. 

.Consent is key and he will get you to agree of your own free will to be his and his alone! 

[YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS Another chapter is done! I hope you all enjoyed this, and stay sexy, all of my sexy muffins!] 

#yandere #yandere husk #yandere hazbin hotel #yandere headcanons #headcanon #headcanons #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin husk #husk x reader #reader #gender neutral reader

[melbatron5000]

The confines of a story

Any time you play a game, you need to know the rules. A puzzle has a border, you can't smash the pieces into a spot they don't fit with a hammer (I mean, you can, but it won't look right when you're done), etc.

My mental assumptions are that we are following the rules of stories as told in both novel form and video form. I'm not going to list ALL the rules associated with storytelling in both forms, because whole books and classes have been written about them and the parameters are way too big.

How do I know these rules? Well, I write novels, too. I'm not Neil Gaiman, (and I'm not going to go so far as to say I'm anywhere near his level, looking at you, Magic Trick OP), but the people who've read my books say they like them, so I think I do okay? I never went to school for any of it, but the library was and is my best friend, and I've read as many books and taken as many workshops as I can on this topic. Am I an expert? Nah. I know some stuff. There's always more to know.

So anyhow, some rules:

Rule one: the story has to be generally satisfying and not make people feel betrayed or angry. Hurt is fine, angry at the characters is fine, tricked is fine, but the reader can't feel betrayed or totally let down by the author at the end of the story. It's impossible to avoid this entirely, but most people in general have to agree that the story isn't a betrayal of the reader. The author needs to keep faith with their reader as best they can.

Rule two: in mysteries, all the cards need to be on the table at some point. Misdirection or downplaying of important information or use of double-meaning words are totally fair tactics, but the answer has to be there to be sussed out by a clever observer. (I got really mad when I tried to read murder mysteries for a little while. I figured this rule out very quickly on my own, and I could always spot the killer by the end of the second chapter. I gave up on murder mysteries. HOWEVER, another author I admire wrote a classic murder mystery-style book, and when I spotted the killer in chapter two like always, she had arranged matters so that the killer's motive was shrouded in deep mystery. I burned through that book to find out WHY he dunnit, and when the main character helped the killer escape at the end, I was troubled but satisfied.) But mah point is, all the pieces to the puzzle need to come in the box.

Rule three: (which isn't really a rule so much as an observation and something I myself struggle with), writing fiction can be very hard because people are naturally not good at knowing that other people do not know what they know. You know? Psychological studies have shown that when a person knows something, like where an object is, they develop this sort of assumption that the object's location is OBVIOUS, or that other people also know where the object is or can easily guess it, no matter how hard a time they had guessing it themselves before they were told. So not only do newer writers sometimes struggle to maintain what various characters do and don't know at different times in a story, readers can also struggle with the same thing. Gotta keep your eyes peeled for what information each character actually has, and also keep in mind how easy it is to be fooled when you think you have all the facts. I notice Neil and John taking advantage of this in Good Omens a lot -- the lies that Crowley and Aziraphale tell to the other angels and demons seem really obvious -- but that's because we know they are lying and what they're lying about. When we are lied to, we fall for it as easily as those angels and demons, because we assume we know what's going on. Watch out!

Rule four: you can't break the rules. If you're going to make a wild, avant garde, ground-breaking story, that's pretty much the whole point of the entire story. Twists are fine, emphasizing or de-emphasizing expected tropes or ideas is fine, subverting a trope is fine. Otherwise, you have to stick to ideas, formats, plots, structures, etc., that have come before. For example, just as I started seeing metas about the POV characters in Good Omens 2 jumping around, I had remembered an episode of the X-Files from way back where an "alien landing" is told from three characters' perspectives. When told from the POV of the alien conspiracy-believing kid, the story gets really weird with all kinds of wild things happening. When told from doubting Scully's perspective, it gets very boring and mundane. POV jumping is nothing ground-breakingly new. There won't be anything ground-breakingly new.

Rule five: it has to make sense. Mark Twain once said, "Of course truth is stranger than fiction. Fiction has to make sense." Once upon a time, a friend of mine who liked to embellish stories told me all about his new fiancee, who he'd met and proposed to all in a few months, who was head over heels for him, a gorgeous red-head, one of triplets. I never met this mystery woman, and then one day he called me to tell me she had died very suddenly and dramatically. I had my suspicions that she wasn't even real in the first place, so I made consoling noises and asked him when and where the funeral was so I could be there for him. I expected to be put off, told some crazy reason why there wouldn't be a funeral or it hadn't been planned yet and I would somehow mysteriously not hear about it until it was over. Instead, he gave me a date and location immediately. I was taken aback. I was even more taken aback when I arrived at the funeral to meet this woman's family, including the remaining red-headed pair from her triplet set, and hear all about what a whirlwind romance she'd had with my friend. If that had been a novel, I would have shut the book and told the author to give me a break. Books and TV and movies and plays can't push the consumers' credulity too much. Readers have to maintain their willingness to suspend their disbelief. It can't get too crazy. What's too crazy? Hard to say, it's kind a of a "I'll know it if I see it" sort of thing. And some people are certainly more willing to go along with something wild than others. The author can only try their best to maintain faith. To tell a story that can be believed.

Anyhow, I dunno if that's helpful at all, but it's sort of the litmus test I'm using to gage all my questions and theories. And what I'm using to shuffle in the metas and theories I like from others.

#long explanation #this is how my brain works for any who are curious #good omens #good omens 2 #good omens fan theory #searching out the ineffable mystery #the rules of the game

[i-d-e-g-a-f]

i ache for katara so deeply, she deserves so much better than her canon fate. i cannot express in words how much her story and how the fandom views/treats her physically hurts me

#anti kataang #katara deserved better #i know she’s a fictional character so ppl can say think and feel however they want about her and it the end of the day it shouldn’t matter #cus she’s not real but i just feel for her so deeply it hurts #katara my beloved #katara #katara my best friend who i have a DEEP parasocial relationship with i will always be on your side #they can never make me hate you #WE COULDVE HAD IT ALL #yes i’m being dramatic but also 100% serious #truly my favorite character of all time and she has been done wrong not only by the writers but by the fans too lord give her a break #i need her to get justice so bad against bryke and everyone who speaks ill on her #god please take all her suffering and give it to bryke #am i being hyperbolic right now? #your guess is as good as mine #zutara #for exposure ig #anti bryke

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

hi. here's a little over 5k words for the modern human au! entirely unedited, as usual! you'd think this is a full oneshot... ha... no... i actually have some warnings for this one - hospitals, panic attacks, major character injury / discussion of death / clinical description of injury.

in short, my writing comfort zone <3

~

The dial tone plays, and Barnaby looks down at his phone. Call ended stares back at him under Wally’s cheerful profile picture.

“He hung up on me,” Barnaby states. His lips twist and he tosses the phone onto the couch with a snarl of, “That little bastard.”

“Hey now,” Howdy says sharply, frowning at him. “That’s our friend you’re talking about.”

“Like he doesn’t deserve it! All I do is be supportive, understanding, and worry about his damn well being. And then he goes and acts like my very much well-founded concern is an attack!”

Howdy’s frown softens as he watches Barnaby pace, gesturing wildly.

“I love that RV. Maybe not as much as Wally, obviously, but it pains me that it needs to go. And it does need to go! Thing’s becoming a damn deathtrap.” Barnaby pushes his hair back and huffs. He glances at Howdy. “Right? I’m making the right call, here?”

“Of course you are,” Howdy says. “But-”

Barnaby cuts him off. “I tried to be nice about it. I tried to warm him up to the idea of retiring Home, yaknow? And what does he do instead of handling it - he revs up the tin can and runs. Home shouldn’t be started, let alone driven. It’s dangerous.”

It’s extremely dangerous. Wally is skilled at driving it, but no amount of skill will save him if it breaks in the middle of the freeway. What if the engine catches fire? What if a tire pops, or comes loose? Home is old, and wasn’t made to crumple in a crash. Barnaby doesn’t even know if the airbag still works. It’s not safe. 

The thought of Wally bringing Home hurtling down the freeway at ten at night in a - quite honestly - not great mental state turns Barnaby’s stomach. 

“I just wanted him to come back so we could talk about it,” Barnaby says. “I let him keep worming his way out of a serious conversation and now - now he’s -”

“Running away,” Howdy finishes. The point of his pen taps a rhythm against his notepad. 

Barnaby jabs a finger at him. “Exactly. One tough, necessary decision and he turns tail. This isn’t gonna go away if he skips town! Not to mention how he isn’t giving a thought to how this might affect the rest of us.”

“Especially you.”

Barnaby throws his hands up with an indignant look. “Now not only do I have to hunt him down-”

“That would be a we scenario, Barn.”

“But we,” Barnaby concedes, “gotta try to knock some sense into that thick skull ‘a his, and drag him back home - kicking and screaming if we hafta.” 

Howdy’s pen taps faster. “What if he doesn’t want to come back?”

“What if he-” Barnaby stops short and stares at him, wide eyed. 

That’s not. 

That wouldn’t happen, right? Wally would come back in the end. He wouldn’t decide to up and leave entirely, would he? He is in Home… all the essentials he needs are in that RV. Barnaby sits down heavily on Howdy’s threadbare couch. “What if he doesn’t want to come back.”

Wally would have to come back to clear out his studio - he’d never abandon his art. Then they’d have to go through everything inside the house and see what he wants to take, since not all of it is Barnaby’s. A lot of it is shared, so they might have to bargain on who gets what. 

Then they’d all have to watch Wally get into his motorhome and drive away. Possibly for good. 

Barnaby would be alone in that big house with Welcome, knowing that his closest companion is out of his life. Living somewhere else. It's sickening. 

“I’m sure it won’t come to that, Barn,” Howdy says, watching him with furrowed brows and a deep frown - if Barnaby were feeling like himself, he’d crack a joke about him emulating Frank. “I can confidently say that Wally loves you more than that old RV.”

Barnaby snorts. “You sure about that?”

“Unflinchingly. Believe you me, he’s going to wallow for a day or so, and then Home will come rumbling back down your driveway like it never left.”

“I wish I could have your faith,” Barnaby mumbles. He exhales and picks up his phone. No missed calls, no messages. “Maybe if I call him and ask him to just come back, no strings attached, he will.”

“That’s the spirit! Save the talk for another day - tell you what, I’ll help you corrall him so he can’t escape the conversation. I’ll tie him to a chair and bar the door if needed!”

“Good luck with that. Kid’s slippery.” Still, Barnaby hits call again. It rings only a couple of times before a robotic automated message states the caller as unavailable. Barnaby doesn’t enjoy being upset with Wally. However, it feels like his blood is simmering, and the wall is starting to look like great target practice for his phone. He grits his teeth. “He turned off his phone.”

From the corner of his eye he sees Howdy’s eyebrows shoot up as the man turns back to his paperwork. He exhales a controlled breath and writes something down. “I have to say, I’ve never known him to be such a-”

“Pain in the neck?” Barnaby offers.

Howdy clicks his tongue. “You said it, not me.”

“Yeah, well, he’s full of surprises.” Barnaby lets out a frustrated huff. He’s half tempted to run Wally down right now, but he wouldn’t even know where to start. There’s only one freeway out of town, but it goes both ways, and it branches. Wally would have hit one of those branches by now, and who knows which he took. North, south, east, west. Deeper into the woods, or towards the city? To the coast? Somewhere else entirely?

He has to face the facts - there’s nothing to do. He just has to wait until Wally pulls his head out of his ass and realizes how stupid and insensitive he’s being. Those are two words Barnaby would never normally use to describe Wally, but after tonight? They seem fitting. 

Barnaby can’t even muster up guilt for thinking such harsh things. He tried to be nice. He was patient. He’s always kept a lid on it whenever Wally frustrated him, which doesn’t happen often, but it does happen. And what does he get for caring? For being tactful and careful about a shitty situation? 

Avoidance, a shove, and a cut call. Wally left Barnaby’s been left to stew in his own anger and worry. Right now, he’s inclined to lock up that worry in a tiny box in the back of his mind. 

Barnaby pushes himself up with a grumbled, “I’m makin’ some coffee, want some?”

“If you’re offering then I will not decline.”

Barnaby pretends not to feel Howdy’s eyes following him to the apartment’s tiny kitchen. It’s hell to maneuver around in, and the frustration of bumping into something every five seconds only makes Barnaby’s mood worse. By the time the coffee is brewing, he’s ready to punch the cabinets. He won’t, but he wants to. He’d regret it immediately, but he stares at the chipped paint and fantasizes. 

The coffee machine breaks after brewing a whopping single mug. Barnaby stares at it for a long moment, and tallies up the consequences of taking a hammer to it. In the end, he just clenches his fists for a long moment and counts to ten. He takes the mug and sets it in front of Howdy, then goes to the window to brood. Thankfully Howdy is too reabsorbed in his work to notice beyond a mumbled thanks.

For the next hour, Barnaby’s thoughts are entirely composed of Wally. Different scenarios of what might happen next, how Barnaby might handle those situations without shaking Wally for doing something so needlessly reckless, and cruel daydreams of setting Home on fire. Barnaby wants to feel bad about that. He doesn’t. That damn RV has caused two different rifts between Barnaby and Wally - and Barnaby was the one to fix both of them, because both times Wally just left. 

He gets it. He really does - for a time Home was all that Wally had. It’s been with him since Wally was thirteen, and if the thought of retiring it to a dump makes Barnaby sad, he can only imagine how much it distresses Wally. Well, he can do more than make an educated guess. Wally practically told him tonight, if not with words than with actions.

Still. They’re adults - Wally is older than him, if only by a handful of months. When does Barnaby ever ask something of him? When does Barnaby ever push? Why can’t Wally see that Home is becoming a liability, and why won’t he listen? Barnaby can’t make it make sense. 

Wally has always been more inclined to avoid conflict, but this is too far. Barnaby swears, when he tracks Wally down he’s going wring that scrawny little-

His phone is ringing. 

Barnaby lunges for it, relief dousing his anger. He picks it up, ready to give Wally a piece of his mind and then beg him to come back-

“It’s an unknown number,” he says, shoulders slumping. Of course it’s an unknown number. Wally wouldn’t change on a dime and decide to be considerate for once. He exchanges an exasperated look with Howdy and declines. He goes to set the phone down - the number calls back.

“That’s one determined scammer,” Howdy says. He leans back in his chair and holds out a hand. “I’ll deal with ‘em.”

Barnaby is all too happy to hand it over. Let the poor sap on the other end of the line deal with a master swindler. 

“Howdy-hi, how can I help?” Howdy starts with a mischievous grin thrown Barnaby’s way? He leans back in the chair and hums. “Who, may I query, is asking?”

All at once, the ease drains out of Howdy and he stops fidgeting. He sits up, already looking at Barnaby with a paled expression that has something cold slithering down Barnaby’s spine. Something is wrong.

“He’s right here.” Howdy holds out the phone. His throat works uselessly for a moment before he plainly states the obvious, “It’s for you.”

Barnaby takes it, his mouth abruptly dry. Howdy is already up and moving - grabbing his coat, his keys. “Hello?”

“Is this Barnaby Beagle?” a professional feminine voice asks, tinny through the phone.

“B. Beagle, yeah.”

The woman introduces herself as the nearest city’s hospital, and Barnaby’s heart drops through the floor. She asks him to confirm that he’s Wally Darling’s emergency contact. He confirms, his voice sounding distant to his own ears. Howdy takes his arm and gestures to his shoes by the door, spurring Barnaby into motion.

“Is he okay?” Barnaby manages to say. He puts the wrong shoe on the wrong foot and almost curses aloud as he switches it. 

“Mr. Darling was involved in an automobile accident,” is all the hospital employee says. “He was brought in a few minutes ago.”

Barnaby steadies himself against the doorjamb, choking on a whispered, “Oh, god.” 

Keys jingle as Howdy opens the door and pulls Barnaby through, then locks the door behind them.

“But is he okay?” Barnaby asks again as they hurry down the short hallway to the stairs. 

“I’m not at liberty to disclose that information at present.”

It’s bad. It has to be bad if they won’t say anything over the phone. He must be silent for too long, because Howdy takes the phone, tells her they’ll be there soon, and hangs up. He tucks the phone into Barnaby’s pocket before opening the door to the store’s back lot. 

The frigid air slaps the shock out of Barnaby, and sensation comes flooding back in. He grabs the keys out of Howdy’s hand and strides to the car with long, powerful strides that would leave anyone shorter than Howdy in the dust.

“Are you sure-”

“I’m driving,” Barnaby growls, cutting Howdy off.

Howdy makes a disapproving noise, but relents. They get in and Barnaby adjusts his seat with harsh movements, jabs the key into the ignition because Howdy’s car is a dated hunk of junk, and peels out of the parking space before Howdy even has his seatbelt all the way on. 

Howdy clings to the ceiling handle as the car tears down the mostly empty street, going at least ten miles over the speed limit. Barnaby doesn’t know exactly where the hospital is, but he knows how to get to the city. They can figure it out from there. Several people honk as Barnaby brings them flying onto the freeway. 

“Holy Marilyn marmalade!” Howdy screeches as they narrowly avoid side-swiping a minivan. 

Barnaby ignores him and cuts off a pickup to get into the right lane for the interchange. Howdy whispers a string of something high pitched and strained and clings to the handle with both hands. 

It takes him a moment to parse out the constant ramble as, “-pull over pull over pull over pull over-” Two honks and a squeal of tires as Barnaby almost causes an accident, and Howdy yells in a louder and deeper tone than Barnaby has ever heard from him, “PULL OVER!”

Barnaby clenches his jaw and cuts across the carpool lane’s double whites. It only takes a moment to reach the shoulder. Howdy leaps out of the passenger seat as soon as the car stops, marches to Barnaby’s side, and wrenches the door open.

“Out,” he snaps, breathing hard. “Barnaby, I swear to all things priceless, get out. “

Barnaby meets his steely gaze for all of a second before unbuckling and getting out. Cars whip by. Howdy huffs at him and slips into the driver’s seat, muttering about recklessness and disasters and if you would wait to try and kill us until we’re right outside the hospital, if only to save us the ambulance fee-

When Barnaby gets into the passenger seat, Howdy waits for him to buckle in with fingertips drumming on the steering wheel. He merges onto the freeway smoothly and carefully. They go slower than the speed Barnaby had them flying down the asphalt at, and it makes something deeply impatient itch in him, but it’s safer. 

“I know you’re upset,” Howdy says, eyes still fixed on the road, “and I know that you’re scared. But what in hell’s bells was that, Barn?”

Barnaby side eyes him and grimaces, folding his arms. “I don’t know. I’m sorry - I shouldn’t have put you in danger like that.”

“You put yourself in danger too, you know.” Howdy sighs and relaxes his grip on the steering wheel. “We’re of no use to Wally if we get ourselves in a crash. What would he say?”

“Whatever he’d say would be hypocritical,” Barnaby says before he can think better of it.

Howdy glances sharply at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“He..” Barnaby’s voice fails on him, and he swallows hard. “He was in an accident.”

Howdy is silent for a full few seconds before he exhales a thin, pained sound. “Oh, Walls…”

He must not know what else to say, which is good and well, because Barnaby doesn’t either. A long few minutes pass of silence. Headlights of passing cars on the other side of the freeway flash over them before plunging back into darkness. The dials on the dash glow. The check engine light is on. They’ll need to get gas in order to make it home. 

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you’re thinking,” Howdy says. He’s tapping the steering wheel again. “It’s likely just a few scrapes and bruises, at worst a broken bone. Nothing Wally can’t handle, and certainly nothing to be concerned over.”

Barnaby can’t bring himself to agree. Maybe… maybe if Wally was driving slowly… but that wouldn’t matter if someone crashed into him with enough force. Home is a large, sturdy vehicle, but it isn’t invulnerable. Wally certainly isn’t.

Without the distraction of driving, all Barnaby can think about is the what ifs. Yeah, what if he’s only a little bit hurt, but what if it’s worse? All of the worst images Barnaby can think of roll through his mind like a messed up movie reel.

Wally dead on the scene, caught in a hunk of twisted metal. 

Wally, choking on his own blood in an ambulance, dying en route to the hospital.

Wally flatlining on a metal table. 

Wally’s small body covered with a sheet-

“Almost there,” Howdy says, slowing at a stoplight. It bathes them both in red. Barnaby didn’t notice when they got off the freeway. 

Barnaby squeezes his eyes shut and presses his forehead to the cold window. After a moment, a slender hand rests on his thigh and squeezes. It’s such a small, stupid thing, but Barnaby breathes a little easier. 

Despite the drive down the freeway feeling like it took hours, the drive through city streets to the hospital passes in a blink. Before Barnaby knows it the car is spiraling up to an upper floor of the parking garage. The floor is mostly empty - Howdy pulls into a spot right by glass double doors. 

Barnaby gets out a split seconds before Howdy, staring at the pristine white walls just inside the doors. In a moment he’ll find out if it’s not that bad, or if he’s about to have the worst night of his life. He’s been to a hospital twice. The last time was for Howdy, but he went with the knowledge that it was only a precaution. The other time was for Mama’s health scare. 

That had been terrifying. The waiting, the wondering, the too-bright hallways and the staff’s rigid smiles. It ended well, but it had still been horrible, and hospitals took center stage in some of his recurring nightmares. Barnaby never wanted to see another loved one in a hospital bed again.

Looks like he doesn’t have a choice. 

Howdy comes around from the driver’s side and lays a hand on Barnaby’s shoulder. “If you need a moment to-”

“Nah,” Barnaby says, his voice rough. He nods and adjusts his sleeves. “Better rip the bandaid off.”

They go into the sterile maze. The bright overhead lights dazzle Barnaby’s eyes after being in the dim parking garage, and he grimaces at the strong odor of antiseptic and floor polish. Howdy makes a beeline for the nearest receptionist and talks to her in rushed, low tones. 

Barnaby shuffles after him, rubbing his shaking hands together and eyeing every person in scrubs that walks past. Something beeps somewhere. He thinks he hears someone crying. This is a place without color, art, or happiness. 

“This way,” Howdy says, walking past him and tilting his head at the elevator. Barnaby follows, feeling like a lost puppy dropped at the side of the road. 

A nurse gets into the elevator with them and politely smiles before staring at the floor counter and pretending they don’t exist. It’s fine with Barnaby. If he has to make small talk right now, he might actually snap. The man’s pink scrubs are almost an eyesore in the harsh lighting. 

The elevator dings, and they all get out on the same floor. Howdy reads door plaques and wall signs like a hawk, his head turning on a swivel as he reads everything at lightning speed. Barnaby nearly has to jog to keep up with his hurried pace. 

Howdy changes direction without warning and heads straight for a door at the end of a short offshoot hallway. Barnaby reads the sign next to the door.

[can’t remember if it’s icu or the other thing, research later]

It’s bad.

The waiting room is small - longer than it is wide, and there’s a woman sleeping in a chair in the corner. It looks nicer than the emergency room, or where Barnaby waited to see his mama. The benches have colorful cushions, and the walls are a pastel green instead of white. There’s an abstract geometric painting on the wall next to the woman. 

Barnaby slowly takes a seat on stiff cushions, watching Howdy talk to the receptionist from afar. He nods and pats the counter before joining Barnaby. He sits close enough that their legs press together.

“Someone will get us up to speed as soon as there’s news,” Howdy says. “I tried to pry some more out of him, but he wouldn’t give up another word.”

Barnaby nods, staring down at his hands. His nail polish is already chipping, despite Julie painting them only last weekend. Barnaby picks at the bright red on his pinkie until Howdy pulls his hand away and enfolds it in both of his own. 

When Howdy takes a deep breath, Barnaby finds himself mimicking him. Their gazes meet - Howdy’s is unflinching, and steady. He smiles and runs his thumb over Barnaby’s knuckles, soothing the nervous trembling, and Barnaby is struck by how darn grateful he is to have Howdy with him. 

If he had to do all of this alone… Barnaby doesn’t think he could. Either he’d have gotten himself into a crash to join Wally, or he would still be sitting in his car, staring at the hospital doors. He doesn’t have the courage. But Howdy does, and Barnaby loves him for it. 

For once, Howdy lets the time pass in silence, though after a long stretch of indeterminable time he gets up to pace. The bench cushions are high quality, but they start to feel uncomfortable. Barnaby doesn’t dare go for a walk. At least they’re not the usual waiting room chairs - he’d rather stand than try to fit into those plastic, narrow things. 

At some point the woman in the corner wakes up. She startles seeing two strangers in the room with her, but quickly ignores them. Barely a few minutes pass before she leaves, mumbling something about coffee. She doesn’t come back. Barnaby spends a while wondering why - did she go home, or wait somewhere else, or did she receive news in the halls?

Howdy sits down again and starts typing furiously on his phone. When Barnaby gives him a curious nudge, he quietly explains that he’s texting the group chat. Barnaby feels a twinge of guilt at that. He completely forgot to let everyone know that there’s a… situation. Who knows if any of them will see it until morning. 

Message sent, Howdy gets up to pace some more. His rhythmic gait gives Barnaby something to focus on, seeing as the clock on the wall is silent, and the receptionist seems to be sleeping. Barnaby could probably pass time on his own phone, but every second spent distracted is a second he might miss someone coming to tell them…

What? Tell them what, exactly? That Wally is okay? That he can receive visitors? 

That he didn’t make it?

The door opens, startling Barnaby to his feet. Howdy scurries over from the far side of the room and rests a steadying hand on Barnaby’s lower back. A woman clad in blue scrubs enters, reading something on a clipboard. There are shadows under her eyes, and she looks beyond exhausted. Barnaby can sympathize.

“Mr. Beagle?” the doctor asks, looking between them. When Barnaby nods, she smiles thinly, gaze flicking briefly to Howdy. “Hi. I’m Dr. Allen. Before I disclose any sensitive information, I’d like to confirm what your relation to the patient is.”

The question gives Barnaby pause. He’s always had a difficult time putting his and Wally’s relationship into simple terms, because it’s anything but. Wally is his best friend, his dearest companion, the man he lives with and can’t imagine being without. 

“He’s my partner,” Barnaby settles on, because it’s a good umbrella term. Partner can mean a lot of things, and people don’t usually pry for specifics. “We’re as good as family.”

Dr. Allen writes something down on her clipboard. “No worries, I’m not going to kick you out if you’re not - you’re his emergency contact for a reason, after all. It’s just basic information that I’d like to have on hand.”

“Course - so how is he?” Barnaby cuts straight to the chase. He’s not in the mood for niceties. 

“Well, Mr. Darling is certainly giving us a run for our money,” Allen sighs. “He’s not out of the woods yet, but I believe he’s gotten through the worst of it.”

“He’ll make it?”

Allen offers another tight lipped smile. “We’re doing our best.”

Barnaby has seen enough hospital dramas to know that we’re doing our best means no promises, prepare for the worst. Howdy must feel the tension gripping him like a vice, because his hand slips from Barnaby’s back to his hand. 

“What are his injuries, if I may?” Howdy asks. 

“I’m not sure-”

“Please. We’d rather know than wonder.” 

Allen looks between them and sighs again. She flips a page on her clipboard. “Unfortunately, there was a bit of time between the crash and when emergency services were called. Between blood loss and the near-freezing temperatures, Mr. Darling developed mild hypothermia.”

Wally was dying, cold and alone in the wreckage of his home for who knows how long before anyone came to help. Barnaby sways in place, and Howdy helps him sit down on a bench instead of the floor. Allen looks apprehensive.

“Keep going,” Barnaby rasps. He needs to know.

Allen doesn’t look happy about it, but she continues. “Mr. Darling also suffered several low-grade lacerations from shrapnel, some fractured ribs, a compound fracture in his left tibia, and currently unidentified damage to his right hand and lower arm.”

Barnaby swallows a mournful sound. That’s fine, it’s fine. Broken bones heal - Wally will be painting again in no time. 

“He also developed an intracranial hematoma. It’s been treated, but we won’t know the extent of the damage until Mr. Darling wakes up.”

“What is that?” Howdy asks before Barnaby can figure out how to speak again. “Intracranial hematoma - tell me if I’m wrong, but that sounds like a head injury.”

“It is - in layman’s terms, it’s a brain bleed. Head trauma can cause bleeding inside the skull, which puts pressure on the brain. We caught it as quickly as feasibly possible, which should raise his chance of a full recovery.” Allen flips the clipped page back into place. “There may still be lesser complications and injuries we haven’t been able to diagnose or address yet. I’ll be forward with you - this is one of the worst crash cases I’ve seen in some time. Mr. Darling was lucky to be found alive.”

Allen goes on to offer platitudes that Wally is a fighter, and easily answers the flood of questions Howdy has about the mentioned injuries. It all sounds distant. Underwater. The room is too small and the air is stale - are the vents working? Is there a window they can open?

In a blink - and yet the conversation lasts ages - Allen promises to come back with more information as soon as she has it. She smiles one last time and leaves. 

“Barn?” Howdy sounds muffled. “Barn, are you alright?”

What kind of question is that? Of course Barnaby isn’t alright - his best friend is dying, likely on this very floor. There’s a chance he’s already dead. Barnaby might have already lost him, he just doesn’t know it yet. 

Mr. Darling was lucky to be found alive. 

One of the worst crash cases I’ve seen in some time. 

Mild hypothermia - brain bleed - lacerations - fractures.

Lesser complications and injuries we haven’t been able to diagnose or address yet.

We’re doing our best.

“He hung up on me, the little bastard-”

Barnaby is up and out the door before he registers moving. He staggers down the hallways in a blur, everything swirling together into a mess of sight and sound as his lungs struggle to get a full breath. He bypasses the elevator and takes the stairs down to the level they parked on. 

The cold air does nothing to help him breathe. Barnaby chokes on it as he leans against the rough wall grasping at his chest. Howdy is there immediately - he must have been on Barnaby’s heels the whole time. 

“Talk to me, Barn,” Howdy pleads, a hand on the back of his neck and the other over the one Barnaby has on his chest. “What is it - you’re not having a heart attack, are you? Tell me you aren’t, I can’t handle that right now.”

Barnaby doesn’t know. Maybe? He feels like he is. He can’t breathe. He tries to say so, but the ragged gasps his breathing has devolved into doesn’t allow it. Howdy must know something he doesn’t, because he doesn’t run to get a doctor.

“How can I help?” he asks instead.

“Don’t - don’t - know,” Barnaby wheezes. 

“Okay, alright, don’t worry, Barn, I’m here, I’m not going anywhere. Let’s try, ah - what were the steps? I didn’t exactly write them down, though in hindsight I should’ve - that’s not the point! It was… what a time to take after Eddie’s memory-”

It shouldn’t be helping, but Howdy’s constant stream of words grabs Barnaby’s attention. He manages to inhale nearly a full breath before it stutters back out and he’s struggling again.

“Breathing!” Howdy says. “Yes, that was it - Barnaby, I need you to focus on me. Copy my breathing.”

He sucks in a slow, dramatic breath through his nose and exhales just as slowly through his mouth. Barnaby catches on and tries to mimic him, but-

“Can’t, I ca-an’t,” Barnaby says. His chest hurts. 

Howdy presses their foreheads together. “Yes, you can. Come now, Barn, in… out. Simplest thing in the world.”

It doesn’t feel simple, but Barnaby tries. It feels like forever before he manages a full inhale. He butchers the exhale, but Howdy praises the minor win before launching right back into measured breathing. 

Barnaby finally manages a slow inhale and exhale, and suddenly it feels like the pressure filling his chest has vanished. He slumps against the wall, worn out. He puts his hand over Howdy’s mouth in the middle of another dramatic demonstration.

“You’re alright now?” Howdy says, peeling his hand off. Barnaby nods, and Howdy leans next to him with a whoosh. “Thank the stock market - I was starting to get light headed.”

It takes another few minutes for them to catch their breath. Barnaby straightens enough to rest his head on Howdy’s shoulder, breathing in his cheap cologne and homemade laundry detergent. Howdy cups the back of his neck and massages the tense muscle there. 

“This will all turn out okay,” Howdy promises. “Wally is stubborn - I think we both know that well enough. By this time tomorrow we’ll be moving forward.”

Barnaby wants to be that optimistic, but this is real life. For all they know, moving forward means making funeral arrangements. His breathing stutters and he forces it to even out before he can start hyperventilating again. 

A car pulls into a parking space with a gravelly sound. Barnaby pays it no mind until Howdy makes a surprised noise - Barnaby looks up, and his stomach churns.

Frank, Eddie, and Julie are all getting out of Frank’s car. They’re all in various states of dishevelment. Frank’s hair is a mess, and he has what looks like Eddie’s company jacket thrown on over his pajamas. Eddie is in little more than a shirt that says male? lol, more like mail! and boxers - he’s even wearing slippers instead of shoes, and his hair flops over his forehead in soft tufts. Julie’s hair is still in curlers, and though she’s wearing shoes, she’s in a too-long shirt over sweats that don’t belong to her. They’re paint-stained. 

They rush across the parking lot, all worried faces and tired eyes. They’re already asking what happened, is Wally okay, Sally is getting Poppy, they should be here soon, has there been any news-

Barnaby lunges at the nearest trash can and vomits.

#IM SORRY FOR ANY HOSPITAL/PROCEDURAL INACCURACIES IM NOT TRYING TO BE ACCURATE AT THE MOMENT #except for the injuries. those are realistic and i did my due diligence. read a lot of first hand accounts! medical pages! #ohhhh this was so cozy to write #i mean. not as familiar as actual on-screen injuries but yk #its been too fluffy in here. #this is a mild example of my usual tastes and habits when it comes to fic & fiction #WHUMP CENTRAL BABEYYYYYY #i like it messy and painful!!! Lets Fuckin Go!!!! #this is a prime example of me not being able to shut the fuck up when writing #my scenes & convos just go on and on and on and on.... #but yes! enjoy! the Crash arc is very thoroughly planned out in my head and lately its one of my favorite things to imagine before bed <3 #bedtime stories can be fictional characters going through horrible injuries & emotionally hurting each other #snippets from the bog #i will repeat what i have said multiple times before #i take the comic relief character. i hurt the comic relief character #i could have posted the little carnival half-scene. i could have #but ive been feeling stressed and caged and i need to let out some steam #and this is how i do that. controlled fictional violence <3

[asgardian--angels]

I honestly just think it's funny that so many people have been watching ofmd as a 'comfort show' lmao like I'm over here specifically watching for the angst. I crave pain and suffering. As soon as High On A Rocky Ledge played in the pilot I was hooked because I knew I was in for intense emotional turmoil. Red Flags is now my favorite episode of the entire series. I honestly didn't expect Izzy to survive as long as he did. His fucked up relationship with Blackbeard has fed me so well.

Of course I adore the love story, and the fact that Ed and Stede's love is an absolute, an immutable fact, of the show's premise allows me to enjoy the angst all the more. But I feel like some people need to be reminded: David Jenkins never promised you fluff. He never promised no deaths, no tragedy, no violence, no difficult topics. Personally I think including a fair deal of all of those makes the hope, the love, and the comedy shine all the brighter and have more meaning. You don't have to agree, but you can't assign expectations to a show that never made such promises. There was never false advertising. David set out to tell the story of two troubled, complicated adults navigating love and a long-term relationship in an often harsh and unfair world, finding community and making meaningful gains in self-actualization along the way. Ultimately it is a 'feel good' story but it's a rocky and winding road meant to mirror the messiness of our real world. Maybe you need to step back and re-evaluate where canon ends and your headcanons begin, and what the 'goals' of the show actually are that may differ from what you're looking for in media, and not blame Jenkins et al. for 'betraying you' when they're just telling their story the way they set out to.

#ofmd #ofmd s2 spoilers #our flag means death #actually this is a comfort show to me but our definitions of comfort differ i feel #like literally Seinfeld is the only show i watch when i want nothing bad to happen ever #this show causes me so much emotional distress but in a fun and good and cathartic way #it in no way bleeds over to my actual life or affects my mental state in any lasting way #and if you have built up a version of the show in your head that is so incongruent to how the plot ended up going #that you think you know the characters better than the creator (in season 2 of a show no less...we're not talking supernatural season 15) #or that your mental health spirals when a character dies because you 'trusted' djenks not to hurt any characters in the PIRATE SHOW #please seek professional help i mean it #i do honestly wonder if some of the people being the most drastic are teenagers because #i literally have not been this affected by a fictional character's death since i was like 15

[wisecrackingeric-2]

Luis Serra Navarro is my biggest “nobody gets him like I do” character and I mean that in the BEST way possible

#I have NEVER been so attatxhed to a fictional character so much that it actually physically hurts #I LOVE EVERYONES INTERPRETATION OF HIM I LOVE HOW DEEP AND COMPLEX HE IS I LOVE HOW HES HELPED ME COME TO TERMS WITH MY OWN TRANS AND QUEER #IDENTITY #I LOVE YOU LUIS #luis sera #luis serra

[bylertruther]

some of you never grew up in a small conservative town as a (gay) nerd that was bullied, harassed, and excluded for years on end for not fitting in and for visibly and enthusiastically liking geek things—geek things that then branded you a satanist in everyone's eyes and as something Other, Lesser, and Undoubtedly Unworthy of Basic Human Decency even though you were literally just an actual child with harmless interests and not a satanist or an evil disgusting subhuman thing, and it shows.

you cannot apply modern views and beliefs to a show that is set in the eighties, especially not when it's set in conservative midwest eighties which is a whole other beast. being a socially awkward and nonconforming geek is something that people STILL get bullied for if you don't do it in a way that the majority deems "acceptable", especially if you live in a conservative, religious area.

your experiences are not universal and your inability to relate to a certain motif or story does not make it "lesser" or "bad writing."

#stranger things #mike wheeler #<- tagging and then disappearing into the mist again bc i don't like it here lol. #girls when they love stranger things because they finally see characters just like them with the same exact experiences written with such #care and respect for those that have been Deemed Other but people who have not had those experiences refuse to believe that they're #realistic and STILL happen to people bc if they're fortunate to have not gone through that then clearly that means that it doesn't exist #and if it does then it's not Traumatic Enough or a good enough plot to cause such inner turmoil in the characters who experience that #💥🛼 #i got bullied for being a nerd in the 2000s and 2010s. you can absolutely get bullied for being a nerd and being a nerd is enough reason #for social exile in some places. when dustin said that no one was nice to him or mike? when lucas said that girls laughed at them? and it's #all because they're deemed freaks and satanists for liking fantasy things? that's Real and it doesn't hurt any less just because you think #it's not a good enough reason to bully someone. #i was called a satanist to my face by adults. people acted like i was some Creature or whatever just because i liked fiction and wasn't #interested in what the majority was interested in and wore dark clothing sometimes. like.. hello. school shooter jokes? the way #that neurodivergent people get treated when they're visibly ''different'' and enjoy things passionately? the way that liking star wars was #a thing to ridicule until it suddenly became Acceptable and Popular to like? i feel like i'm living in a different reality than so many #people here with the way that they talk about certain things in this show. and don't even get me started on the way people approached #the angela and el situation.... #maybe just be glad that these things did not happen to you and stop acting like it's lesser or a bad story bc of that? just a thought.

[atanx]

I see people bringing up Nishiki slapping Reina so fucking often and I'm so fucking tired of it.

Let's get this out of the way first: was it good of Nishiki to hit Reina? Should he have done it? OF FUCKING COURSE NOT. While violence is the answer to a not negligible amount of problems, here, it WASN'T.

HOWEVER.

People tend to act as though Reina was a poor uwu victim who didn't do anything wrong. So lemme explain the situation here:

1) Nishiki just saw someone he cares about A LOT get sexually assaulted or even raped.

2) Nishiki just brutally killed his boss because of an emotional / trauma reaction to witnessing said assault and was very shaken up by it, having collapsed to his knees when Kiryu arrives.

3) His brother just took the fall for it and will have to go to prison for a very long time.

4) Sawamura disappears from the hospital, leaving Nishiki with most of his support network gone in the blink of a fucking eye.

5) He goes to update Reina on the situation and she starts screaming at him, accusing him of being weak and useless, of failing her by not being able to protect Sawamura and Kiryu.

Great fucking reaction on her part, isn't it? He's just lost two of his siblings at once and she is telling him that it's his fault. Yes, Reina probably didn't mean it like that, but she still says it. And when Nishiki interrogates her on it, she doesn't retract it.

It's not helping that Nishiki's mental stability is already shot to shit because of various pressures, such as an important surgery for Yuko coming up, Kazama's clear favouritism, Kashiwagi's distance.

I reiterate: NISHIKI GETTING VIOLENT WAS BAD. HE SHOULDN'T HAVE DONE THAT.

And he apparently does slap her quite hard. But he also immediately regrets it, looking at his hand with shock. As someone who not only has a lot more physical strength than Reina and is in organised crime and is thus the stronger party in the power imbalance, it was his responsibility to try and counteract the power imbalance by restraining himself. And he failed at that.

My point is that Reina said what I consider to be unforgivable things, even if she didn't mean them. And she knows this because when Nishiki confronts her, she is scared. She knows she fucked up. Yet she doesn't try to retract her accusations or to reformulate what she feels.

They're both horrible in this interaction and this is why I don't like them as a pairing. Reina clearly is way over her head in the Yakuza world. Which is perfectly fine, not everyone can deal with it, in fact I'd wager that most people can't, yet she both involves herself in it and is involved in it by others. And then she deals with being exposed to the dark sides of the yakuza world by toxically unleashing it, here on Nishiki.

Another thing I don't like is the "he hit a woman because she hurt his feelings he isn't an uwu baby". Oh, so it would have been fine if Reina had been a man? No it wouldn't have. Why bring gender into this? Either say that no one deserves to be hurt or say that everyone deserves to get slapped every once in a while.

Let all genders be slapped and let all genders slap. All or nothing, cmon.

#I actually dont like reina as a person #I tried to keep it out of the post if it shines through though i apologise #Lemme know if you have a totally different view im open to discussion :) #Just reina saying all of that was uncalled for and incredibly cruel #You cant tell me that shes in love with him but doesnt know about his inferiority complex and fragile mental state #I get aiming to hurt people in an argument #It happens yknow but that was not an argument up until nishiki hitting her she was just beating down on him verbally #Like if it had been me in nishikis place i would have ended the friendship immediately #Like i wouldnt have hit her because ive been taught by society that if I have an emotional breakdown im being hysterical #But i would have given her a piece of my mind and then just straight up ended the relationship because its not okay to say things like that #nishikiyama akira #yakuza #rgg #akira nishikiyama #my rants #I still maintain that nishiki should not have hit her under any circumstances #I just dont like how people use that he hit her to argue that nishiki is evil and shit #Like is he a good person? No???? No fleshed out character in the Yakuza world is its organised crime ffs #But it doesnt fucking make him evil now does it #Why am i writing long posts about fictional characters when i should be studying for uni #Im so gonna fail at least one course this semester

[luminisvii]

if you're sitting here complaining about "shiver simps" endlessly, you are a bigger problem than any shiver fan could hope to be. this is frankly ridiculous and a lot of you need to either grow up or stop playing outright until you learn how to act

#splatfest #i ran across some team frye whos names were mocking shiver fans #and its like. you are being more toxic than any of them #there has just been more bitterness and toxicity coming from people who are strangely obsessed with a fictional octopus woman #i just have zero fuckin sympathy for this behavior. if you're gonna come at me like “shiver stans are sweaty tryhards!” #don't even bother bc i'm not interested in hearing excuses #splatfests have always been this way and there's no mob of evil toxic shiver simps ruining it #ive been in and out of splatoon fandom since the first game and this is the worst discourse of it all #so good night and have a merry put the damn game down if it's making you this upset #like im sorry if a fictional character is making you this upset you should just stop. she can't hurt you

[anidealistatbestburntoutatworst]

chuuya: “can i drink alcohol on this medicine doctor?”

doc: “well one drink will make you feel like you’ve had four,,,,”

chuuya: “oh so i’ll be saving money!!”

doc *concerned*: “well i suppose?”

#yeah i’m reading stormbringer and yeah i’m not taking it well #bsd doc #bsd the flags #bsd stormbringer #i miss them every day bro it’s awful #screaming and crying over the fictional characters again #humor is my coping mechanism (isn’t funny) #bungo stray dogs #i love him *sobs violently on the floor* #please god let me have an original thought it’s been days already #chuuya my beloved #when will it be their turn to be happy #the fictional media is devastating #i’m not ready and honestly never will be #i need comfort for the hurt of this book #ouch fr #i have lost my pizzazz #the lackluster content is lacklustering #chuuya needs a hug #i didn’t know what color to use for the other character flame me if you feel so inclined

[seraphlin]

Thought abt taking a break from 🍏 bc the fandom is exhausting me to the core that whenever I see him in fanart, I feel tense and uncomfortable more than anything

But the moment I thought abt sitting him down to tell him I needed some space, having a panicked expression as his reaction and suddenly asking me questions in the calmest way that he can on what was I wrong, something in me breaks and I just. Can't

#I just. can't #I can't do that to him. I can never do that to him. not when it's things have gotten this far #I could never drop him but I feel like something in me dies a little whenver I see him these days /slightly neg #it sucks. it hurts. and it probably hurts him just as much to see me hurting #that hurts too #I know he's fictional but listen to me- I use these characters to cope with a lot of stuff #unrelated but I've always been immersed in my own fantasy world as a child and that has been the only actual place I've felt safe in #it's the reason Caelum (my imaginary world) exists. it's why Jayce still exists #it's why I treat these characters like they're real because in my head they technically are #maybe I sound crazy but I'll be honest now that some parts of the world has failed younger me in more ways than one #and these characters make up for those failures #that got off track real quick so back to the main topic already #🍏.... I feel like my feelings rn are just going dormant rn #I know I still love him. but sometimes things get so complicated #fortunately for him really- my feelings are rlly strong enough to keep him on the list #my sentiments on him are so deep that it's gonna take everything to get me to drop him #you're gonna have to pry him from my cold dead hands. #unlike a certain red hoodied gun loving someone else that I used to f/o #but anyway. that's all #the clouds cry too (vent)

[crimeronan]

Honestly I'm starting to feel bad for Nova. I know she's the worst and I'm a Devin stan first so she should probably kill herself for everyone's sake. But she's also so pathetic I kinda want to give her a hug?

HELP. FAVE MESSAGE EVER. THE PROPAGANDA IS WORKING 💕🥰👏👍☺️🙏

#nova is at her core a white woman shocked and hurt to be yelled at for trusting cops and doing what she's told #she's the main antagonist because the harm these women do when digging their heels in is. immeasurable #but Most People know or have been a nova at some point. she's easy to sympathize with because she's real #her personality and motives are VERY different from belos but my approach to writing her is the same in like #i know exactly who you are and what you want and why youre doing this and how youre hurting #and juxtaposing that against the motives/desires/fears of the other characters n #exploring what makes her an antagonist versus a protagonist..... all my favorite parts of developing a narrative #it's SO INTERESTING. anyway i love this message. ruby coded honestly. #replies #original fiction #nova #suicide m

[lady-of-disdain]

I think that every time I see the take “[insert evil character] doesn’t deserve love before they get a redemption arc” or any variation thereof I’m gonna write Killer getting his dick sucked right after murdering someone.

#this take is not specifically exclusive to the undertale fandom or killer sans per say #I’ve simped for a lot of villains and slashers in my day so I’ve seen it pretty often #and I just have to laugh every time I see it because like #this is the big scary murder man fandom my dude? #i’m here for it #if you want to have big scary murder man redemption arcs where they find love AFTER their rehabilitation by all means go for it #but don’t act all high and mighty like this is the only way the character should be enjoyed #mentioned killer specifically because I’ve been seeing a little bit of this in the ut fandom too with th bad sanses #like cool if you want to give them all redemption stories have fun #but no thanks I’ll take my murder boy self insert romance WITH the side of murder thank you very much #and please don’t come at me acting like that makes me a terrible person #it’s all fiction Brenda Nightmare didn’t hurt your family

[dirt-str1der]

Self shipping is always the morally correct thing to do

#Listen to my problems #sometimes self shipping includes the slow and painful process of getting killed over amd over by your f/o thats okay youll get him #eventually. orrr herrrrr (motivational speaker voice). #let me think hm theres been three guys ive loved enough to be this crazy over. self shipping is always correct #if youre not self shipping thats okay but if you want to you should you should draw yourself vivisecting him while hes squealin and giggling #you should write about the two of you biting eavh other until you hit bone you should literally kill him with a knife and them cry over the #body and then bring him back to life and do it again just so you can cry over the body again #you have to grip him by the shoulders and spit in his fave and use all the things he trusted you with against him and you have to make him #hate you you have to make him unable to forgive you then you have to make him forgive you then you have to apologise to him #and then. ohh and then you hit him with all that shit again but make sure you quick save before that because he might not forgive you again #you need to make him swallow pennies before getting into the mri machine and you need yo tell him that itll be okay smd you both know hes #going to explode but he does it anyway because he knows youre going to bring him back and he fucking loves it he wants to do it #oh he doesnt just love it hes addicted to it he wants it to happen and youll make it happen for him youll force it to happen even if hes #begging you not to do it again you can make him do anything you want. you can make him hate you if you want. if thats what he likes. you can #do it for him and you can do it for yourself and you can do it even if you both dont want it to happen you can make him get on his knees and #beg and then you can do it anyway and you can make him so angry that he hurts you right back and you can let him end it and after that you #can do it all over again if you really wanted to ... anyway you self ship to scratch an itch i self ship to scratch an itch everybody wants #different things out of the fiction they consume .. we should get more character reacts when you say youre pregnant but kiryu would be like #um. (blushes) wait is it mine ? <- and you can tell him anything and he’d have to believe it #god i need to go to bed ... wish i was playing yakuza rn ......